by Joy Eileen
“Holy crap, my boys are famous!” I yelled when I pointed to their sign.
“Fuck yeah, we are,” Jet said. He spun Amy around, almost knocking down a couple with their suitcases headed toward the doors.
“Come on, be professional,” D hissed, walking over to the man.
“Come on, be professional,” Jet mimicked to his back.
Van was the last one to follow. He was in a heated discussion with Bailey. She didn’t want to let our traveling arrangements go.
She needed to go, and soon.
“We’re the JackholeS,” D said.
The man lowered his sign to shake D’s hand. “Hello, I’m Gunther. I’ll be your driver for most of your stay here.”
I elbowed Jet in the side when Gunther uttered his name, knowing full well he was going to say something stupid.
“What? I was going to be good,” Jet whined, rubbing his side.
Van and Bailey still hadn’t moved from their spot by baggage claim.
“Van, come the fuck on. Bring your baggage if you must,” Jet yelled over to him.
Bailey shot Jet a death glare and stomped over to us. She left Van to wheel over his luggage and her pink zebra striped suitcase by himself.
We piled into the van the label had sent, and Gunther drove to the house. We would be staying there until the album was done and their headlining tour started.
“So, Gunther, what did you do before driving?” Jet asked, earning a hit in the back of the head from Amy.
“I was a paid assassin,” he answered.
“No shit,” Jet exclaimed. He looked around at us, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“I’m fucking with you. Man, you should have seen your face.”
We busted up laughing. Kill patted Jet on the shoulder.
“I like him,” Jet said to Amy before stealing one of her licorice sticks.
Gunther drove the van up a long driveway to the front of the house we would be staying at. Well, house was a huge understatement. The circular driveway was graced with a fountain, which was eclipsed by the sprawling mansion. Everyone’s mouths dropped when the white columns standing sentry in front of the massive double wooden doors came into view.
“Hell yeah,” Jet screamed, climbing over all of us to get out first.
“Stop,” D yelled after him and not quite catching him.
The rest of us went to the back to unload our stuff with Gunther. Jet was lost in the marvel of the house.
“Who the fuck is that?” Bailey asked in a bitchy voice. She stood next to the van, not bothering to help us.
We all looked over to see a woman standing in front of the door talking to D. She wore a black blazer with a white camisole underneath it and a red skirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She held her tablet out to D, and they nodded as they studied it. Jet looked bored with their exchange and ran back to help Amy.
“Sorry, Candy. I got excited,” he told her sheepishly, taking her suitcase.
“Who is that woman?” Bailey asked again since we ignored her the first time.
“She’s the label rep. Her name’s Lissa,” Jet answered her before he walked away with Amy and their luggage.
“Come on, Slick. Let’s go find our room.” Kill rolled our stuff toward the door.
Before I was out of earshot I heard Bailey complain to Van.
“I don’t like her. You better stay away from her.” She stomped by me, reaching the front door before Kill.
I held back so Van would catch up. “Van.” I sighed.
“She’s not as bad as you think she is.”
“Just be happy, Mr. Snuggles. We love you and that’s all we want,” I told him as we made our way through the front door.
“I’m trying, sis. Just remember, I thought I found the one that made me happy. Look how that turned out.”
Lissa stood in the foyer as we gathered around her. I tried not to stare like an idiot. The house was extraordinary. Straight ahead was a sunken in living area with a sleek black leather sectional couch. Two staircases on each side of the wide foyer wound up to the second floor. Under both sets of stairs were arches leading to different areas of the house. The house was all sharp lines filled with blacks and reds.
“Hello, I’m Lissa, your label rep. I’ll be helping you with your needs while you’re here and later with your tour. I have all your scheduled press junkets. There’s another band living here as they record their album as well. They’re on the left side of the house. The right side has been designated for the JackholeS. You have three hours to rest and get situated before your meeting. These are your room assignments. I’ll meet you in three hours. Do not be late. I will not tolerate it.” She turned on her patent leather black pumps and walked out the door before we could respond.
“She seemed...nice,” Jet said, causing all of us to chuckle.
“She told me she runs a tight ship. Dealing with rockstars has made her cynical. Give her a chance,” D explained.
“Whatever. Van, I’m tired,” Bailey pouted.
I rolled my eyes, making Kill smirk. At the top of the stairs we settled into our assigned rooms. Each room had an enormous California king with a black comforter. A red couch was on the side near the fireplace, next to the huge window overlooking the city. The dressers were made of a durable shiny material with a hidden TV inside the wall. Every room had an adjoining bathroom decorated in stainless steel fixtures with a shower and tub.
I fell onto the bed face first, exhausted. Kill came up behind me and ran his hands up my jean clad legs. He didn’t stop until he cupped my ass. I lifted up into his hands as he kneaded it. He ran his hands around me to unfasten my jeans, then pulled my zipper down in a slow, erotic move. As he slid my jeans from my legs his teeth nipped the skin on each leg as it was revealed to him. My body broke out into goose bumps. By the time he threw my jeans on the floor I was panting.
“Relax.” His strong hands wrapped around my calf.
He slowly worked his way around my sore muscles, paying extra attention when he found a tough knot. I melted further into the bed as he continued massaging me into a puddle of goo. By the time he made his way to the other leg my breathing was shallow and I was drifting off to sleep.
“Killer, you have magic hands,” I murmured, sucking in the drool that tried to escape.
“You have a magical body,” he answered, his strong hands encircling one of my feet. After he tended both of my feet, he threw his jeans off and pulled the covers over us.
“We don’t have much time,” I said, snuggling further into him.
“Shhh, Slick. I’m tired. Let’s just take a quick nap.”
“Are you tired? Or are you trying to get me to rest?”
“Does it matter?” He kissed the top of my head and tugged me closer. “We need to take advantage of any free time we’re granted,” he whispered. “This is a dream come true. With you next to me I feel invincible. The schedule’s going to be crazy. If at any time it’s too overwhelming for you, let me know, and I’ll back it down. You’re not completely healed, and I don’t want you to overdo yourself.”
“I’m a big girl. I knew when I agreed to be in this relationship, you were going to be pulled in a thousand different directions. I’m not going to get clingy on you. This is for you and the band. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’re a big girl. I just don’t want this to interfere with us. Or your health. You mean more to me than this. And before you protest, everyone in the band feels the same way.”
“I know, but what I need you to understand is I care about you boys too. I want to see your dreams come true. If that means sitting in this huge house alone while you go schmooze with the press, it’s a hardship I’m willing to endure.”
Kill kissed my cheek, the warm air ghosting over me. “I like the idea of you getting all clingy. Jealous Faith’s kind of hot.”
“Get some rest, Killer. If the severity of Lissa’s bun showed her personality, I have a feeling she’s going to
run you ragged starting tonight.”
He murmured what sounded like a sleepy I love you before his breathing evened out. It didn’t take long for me to slip into dreamland with Kill wrapped securely around me.
A banging on the door ripped us back into consciousness in what seemed like seconds later.
“What?” Kill yelled at the door.
“Kill, we have an hour before we have to be downstairs,” D explained to the closed door.
Kill took a frustrated breath. I elbowed him in the stomach, pushing it out.
“He’s excited,” I hissed.
“Thanks, D. We’ll be down there in time. I promise,” Kill grumbled.
“Okay, I’m going downstairs now. I’ll meet you down there.”
“Now was that so hard?” I teased him, maneuvering out from under his arm.
“No, I know he’s excited. Wait. Where are you going?” he asked, trying to tackle me back to the bed.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
“Good idea.”
We let the four showerheads do their work, bringing us back to the land of the living. Afterward, Kill lay on the bed to watch TV, while I got ready. I wasn’t sure if there was going to be paparazzi, so I decided to curl my hair. I wouldn’t get caught looking like a hag next to Kill. I wasn’t going to allow the headlines to start picking our relationship apart just yet.
I put my makeup on while I sat on the bed next to Kill. He was leaning on the headboard, watching a comedy and laughing. His arms were propped under his head, making his biceps bulge. I had a hard time trying concentrate on what I was doing.
I caught his expression in the mirror when I was applying mascara. His half smile crept up on his face.
“If you keep making that face, we’re definitely going to be late.”
“Being a man, you don’t understand. You cannot put on mascara unless your mouth is open in the perfect O,” I replied, finishing the other eye.
“What other faces do you have to make when applying your makeup?” he asked, eyeing my makeup bag.
I laughed and swatted him on the arm, putting everything away. “Only mascara, Killer.” I climbed off the bed and unzipped my suitcase. “What should I wear for tonight?” I stared at the clothes I’d packed.
“Whatever you wear you’re going to be hot.”
I rolled my eyes at his typical guy answer. “Okay, what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
Kill rolled over and pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, still stranded on the side of the bed.
“Tonight, we have dinner with the owner of the record label and the producer of the album. After, it looks like we’ll tour the studio.”
“Fuck, I don’t know what to wear.” I started to panic. Why didn’t I pack more?
I was afraid I would embarrass Kill by wearing the wrong thing. We hadn’t been here twenty-four hours yet, and I was already failing. Kill got off the bed still naked and walked over to me. He gripped my shoulders and started kneading them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. His thumbs worked out a knot in my neck.
“I don’t know. I want to make you proud, and... Fuck. I don’t know.”
The tension started to drain from my body. I leaned into him.
“You could never make me anything but proud. Stop worrying. You’re a smart, confident, sexy woman. And you’re mine. Throw on a pair of jeans and T-shirt, and I’ll do the same. We’ll match and be the hottest fucking couple in LA. If they don’t like you, I don’t like them.”
His kiss replaced his thumbs on my neck. He was right. I needed to be confident. It didn’t matter what anyone thought of us. We’d been through too much to care what other people thought.
“You’re right. I’m just nervous.” I turned around and kissed him. I pulled out a pair of dark jeans and my fitted JackholeS T-shirt.
“I’m always right. You’ll learn eventually.”
He smacked me on the ass and rummaged through his suitcase before strutting to the bathroom. He came out with his hair artfully messy. True to his word, he was wearing a pair of dark jeans and an Ashes To New T-shirt. I shook my head as I assessed him. In the thirty minutes it took me to get ready, he still looked better than I did in the five it took him.
“See something you like?” he asked, putting extra swagger into his walk.
“Nope,” I replied.
He came over and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly to him. “Liar.”
“Nope, I see something I love,” I responded.
He inhaled sharply before his lips planted on mine. I kissed him with abandon, wondering how much longer we had before we needed to be downstairs. When his arms traveled to cup my ass, I pulled back.
“Rain check?”
His jaw clenched, and his dimples flashed their hello. “Rain check,” he finally agreed.
We walked downstairs hand in hand to meet the rest of the band. Jet and Amy were already waiting with D. They both had licorice sticks hanging out of their mouths when they noticed us. Bailey and Van were the last to arrive. Before their feet hit the last step, Lissa walked in.
She had a shocked look on her face. Maybe D had a point. Dealing with unruly rockstars made her jaded. I had a feeling she wasn’t expecting the boys to actually comply with her request to be on time.
“Good. I see you’re all ready,” she said after she carefully removed her stunned expression. “The van’s waiting to take the band to the restaurant.” A hint of irritation seeped into her voice as she eyed me, Amy, and Bailey.
“We’re all ready,” Kill said, pulling me closer to him as Jet did the same with Amy.
“This dinner’s for the band to get to know the people they’ll be working with. I’m sure your girlfriends won’t mind staying back for one night,” Lissa responded.
“Yeah, fuck that,” Jet answered, but Kill put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“I understand you’ve worked with a lot of different bands and had to deal with supersized egos. These girls aren’t just groupies, they’re a part of the band. We won’t be doing anything without them by our sides. If it means we have to give up the record deal and go back to playing at Ray’s, so be it. We aren’t here to smash up hotel rooms or pick up chicks. We’re here to play the music we love, and really, we can do that anywhere. And we happily will, as long as our girls are with us while we’re doing it. I’m willing to pay for their dinner if the label doesn’t want to pick up the tab, but they’ll be there.”
The boys nodded in agreement. I squeezed Kill’s hand for support. I hated they were willing to throw away the chance of a lifetime. I also understood what they had overcome to get where they were. Nothing was going to threaten their family. Swallowing my fear, I stood strong, showing my support in the decision they seemed to be so adamant about.
Lissa scanned us. I was sure she noticed my hand in Kill’s, Jet’s arm around Amy’s waist, and ugh, as much as it pained me, Van’s arm around Bailey’s shoulder. D stood in the middle of us, alone but supportive. After realizing we were a united front, Lissa sighed and nodded her head in assent.
“Fame does some fucked up things to people. I hope you realize what you’re getting into. And I hope you’re as strong as you think you are.” She gave us one last skeptical look before turning around and walking to the van.
Kill squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear, “She doesn’t know us.”
I nodded as we walked toward Gunther.
“Let’s eat. I’m fucking starving. I need to get sustenance in me so I can go full-on sex god tonight in LA.” Jet Picked up Amy and deposited her in the van as she giggled.
“Hell yeah. We need to show LA we’re here,” Amy responded, kissing Jet loudly on the lips.
Chapter 4
My head rested on Kill’s shoulder the whole drive to the restaurant. Lissa sat up front with Gunther, isolating herself from the band. She disregarded us after our discussion.
Her words had left a bad taste in my mouth, and by th
e way the band glared at her, I wasn’t the only one. She was now identified as a threat. To be fair, she wasn’t aware of the boys’ work ethic. That fact aside, Lissa was going to have a hell of a time getting back in our good graces.
The restaurant was exactly what I pictured a record label trying to impress its new rockstar clients would look like. The inside was dusky, with black leather booths lining the walls. Red lights were positioned around the dining area to give it a retro look. The waiters and waitresses were dressed in tight black pants and tighter purple shirts.
Lissa marched to the back of the restaurant to one of the larger booths. Jet followed right behind her, air-humping the space between them. D reached over and hit him in the back of the head, while I tried to keep from giggling. Lissa swiveled around, and Jet shot her one of his puppy dog faces. The epitome of innocence.
Lissa searched our faces, confusion evident on hers. When her eyes connected with mine, I smiled widely, snuggling further into Kill’s side. She returned a stiff smile, the embodiment of professionalism, and continued to lead us to the table.
Two men stood when we approached. When they noticed the band wasn’t alone, their eyes darted to Lissa, accusations on their faces.
The closest one to us wore a button-down navy shirt and dark washed jeans with a black suit jacket. He was tall and fit, looking as if he was used to being catered to. His blond hair contained so much product it appeared lethal. I wanted to throw Lissa on it.
The other man had similar clothing on as the boys—a Stone Sour T-shirt and ripped jeans. His combat boots and long brown hair that went past his shoulders was all the evidence a person would need to know he was a musician.
“Dirk, Randal. This is Killian Taylor, Donovan Gilmore, Daniel Cooper, and—”
“Jet Stone, just Jet,” he interjected before Lissa could give his full name. The hardness in his voice was surprising.
Jessie had warned me a long time ago never to call Jet by his full name. I guess she wasn’t kidding about his reaction.
Kill let me go and threw his arm over Jet, shaking him gently. Jet’s face returned to its normal happy self right before he kissed Kill on the cheek. Kill pushed him off, his job obviously done. Amy and I stepped between the two of them, preventing an all-out wrestling match in the middle of the restaurant.
