by D. Kelly
I crash my lips back to Hailey and we fall to the bed. She sits up and lifts her arms as I grab the hem of her dress. I lift it in one swift motion as she claws at my shirt. She looks at my chest, panting and breathy she says, “Oh, I love your muscles.” She runs a hand across my abs, towards my jeans.
With Vanessa still prominent on my mind, I back away from Hailey.
She freezes a moment and then reaches again for my chest.
“Stop, can we do this another time? I have to go.” I can’t believe my own ears. Hailey frowns, moving lower on the bed towards me.
“Why should we stop?”
“I’ve gotta get up early.” I say.
“But it’s Saturday.”
But it’s Saturday I mock in my mind.
“So I’ve got things to do.” I say, retreating.
“You’re kidding right?” She reaches her arms around my neck and purrs against my skin. The vibration makes me uneasy and I hop out of bed. “No, I really have to go.”
My patience is wearing thin, and I need to leave now or she might pull the clingy act girls love to do.
Finding the right words, I head towards the door. “Maybe another night.” I yell, rushing out of the house.
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Prologue
Stories are meant to be told. I firmly believe that or I wouldn’t be a writer. And yet, some stories should never be told for a variety of reasons. My story…OUR story…is on the border of both of those thoughts. When I first met them, it was quickly decided I would write their story. And that is a great story—the story I want to tell with all my heart and soul. The only problem is, in order to tell their story I have to tell mine, too, and I’m not sure I’m ready to share my story, yet.
Sighing, I take a look around for a moment and appreciate the silence at the end of the day. It’s funny how so many things can change over the course of a few years. I live in the lap of luxury, a beautiful beachfront house with every amenity I could have ever wanted. But at the end of the day, it’s just a house, and a house isn’t a home until you make it one.
His ultimatum tonight has prompted all of this reflection. He wants to make this a home for us, but he knows my heart may not completely be his.
Is it?
I would like to think so after all this time, but I’m not really sure. The only way to know for sure what I’m feeling is for me to write THE story. His, mine, theirs, and ours—it’s the only way.
I fire up my laptop and uncork a bottle of my favorite Pinot Grigio, filling the largest wine glass I own. It’s cool and warms me going down. It’s soothing and I know that in order to do this, I need something to calm me.
It’s just a story, Amelia, you write them all the time. It doesn’t have to be published; you’re just purging it from your system and getting it on paper. But if anyone ever got their hands on it…
Closing my eyes, I wage the internal battle with myself. He gave me a deadline; I have seventy-two hours to answer his proposal. Three days. I just don’t know if three days is long enough for my heart to catch up with my mind. It doesn’t matter, he’s serious this time. The boys left and went camping, giving me time to do this, to gather myself. It’s time to put on my big girl panties and give him an answer. Which leaves me one, and only one option.
It’s time to write our story.
Chapter One
“Amelia! Are you really wearing that to the BAD concert?”
Bastards and Dangerous, otherwise known as BAD, is playing tonight, and from what I hear they are all of the above. I’m not a fan. I’ve got eclectic tastes in music, but they’re just a little too loud for me. And since I’m not a fan, I don’t feel the need to wear the ‘I’m a groupie’ BAD shirt Belle had brought over for me. Instead, I’m wearing my best curve-hugging jeans, my favorite black converse, and a dark blue v-neck sweater. The concert is outdoors at the Greek and it’s been fifty degrees out all week which is unusually cold for Southern California. I’m not going to freeze so I can fit in with the crowd.
“Yes, Belle, this is exactly what I’m wearing. Don’t like it? I’ll happily let you give my ticket to someone else,” I reply with a smug smile.
“No, it’s fine; you can come just like that. I just hope they’re not offended when they meet you and you’re not supporting them,” she says as she crosses her arms and pouts.
“I don’t know why you think we’re going to meet them; they are THE biggest band out there right now. And I highly doubt they’ll care that one person out of the millions they’ve met isn’t branded in something they make a commission off of.”
She rolls her eyes at me, “I’ve already told you it’s inevitable. We’ve got press seats, thanks to my kick ass job as music editor at Slam magazine, and VIP backstage passes so I can interview them.”
I laugh at her, I can’t help it. “Belle, I love you, but their manager said if they have time you can interview them. And you know as well as I do that bands don’t stick around the venue any longer than they have to. By the time we get backstage, they’ll be long gone.”
“Nope, that’s how it usually works but not tonight. Something big is coming down the pipeline; they’re getting ready to announce something. Everyone is talking about it. Slam is the biggest entertainment magazine out there right now and they want us there. They’ve never sent us backstage passes before. That’s why I took them instead of giving them to some rookie reporter. And that’s why I want you there, too; since you’re an author, you can help me craft an amazing story.”
“One book, Belle, I’ve got one book out. Using the word author is reaching a bit.”
“Amelia Greyson! Stop belittling yourself. You may only have one book out, but I know you have at least ten more on your computer you don’t think are good enough. Your one book has been number one on the New York Times Bestseller list for the last three weeks! That’s huge! That’s author status in its finest. You need to be proud of your accomplishment! I tell everyone I can about my best friend, the author. I’m so proud of you, Mel.”
Belle is beaming; her smile is as wide as I’ve ever seen it and I know she’s right. It is huge for me, but it could also be a fluke, so I’m not planning on moving out of my crappy one-bedroom apartment anytime soon.
“Alright, we’re wasting time being sentimental. Let’s get out of here and go meet your BAD boys.”
She giggles, “I’m hoping I can get one of them to be bad with me tonight!”
We both burst out in laughter and head down to the limo; Slam sends their staff out to events in style.
Once we’re settled in our seats, Belle is bouncing around like an excited teenager, but then again so is almost everyone else here. Thankfully, we’re in the press section so it’s not too overwhelming with overly excited fans. The people in this section at least pretend to tone it down a bit until the show starts. The opening act was good, but for the life of me I can’t remember what they said their name was. Belle is having a blast, just like everyone else. I’m trying to act excited with her, but it’s hard to be excited for a band you don’t really like.
Music starts blaring and lights begin to flash as the band runs onto the stage one by one.
“How the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”
The crowd’s response is deafening. Another band member picks up a mic, “I don’t think you heard Nick when he asked you, how the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”
The crowd screams even louder and I’m wishing I would have brought some earplugs to help take down the decibels a bit. A new band member comes from the side of the stage; he’s cute in a tatted down rock star kind of way.
“Alright, we’re about to kick this bitch off, but before we do and you all are too drunk and hyped up to remember, Sawyer has some news we want to share with you.”
One band member takes his spot on the drums, the other guys are assembling themselves with guitars, and Sawyer takes the mic. He looks a lot like the cute one, just a little more sinful. I think Belle mentioned there were brothers in the band. I can’t say for sure from here, but I think he even has dimples. Suddenly, I wish Belle’s wish from earlier would come true and we could get them to be bad with us tonight.
“Los Angeles, are you ready to rock?”
More deafening screams. I think a girl in the front row just passed out. Good God, it isn’t all that. They’re just men. Sexy as sin men, but just men, and self-proclaimed bastards at that.
“First, I want to say thank you all for coming out to see us tonight. There were no California shows on our tour schedule since we’re winding down the tour. However, we have some really big news to announce and needed to stop off to give Slam magazine an exclusive interview.”
I look at Belle and her eyes are wide as saucers; she had no clue the extent of their generosity when they gave Slam tickets and passes. They really wanted to keep this secret since Slam didn’t get a heads up, only an ‘if they have time’ statement.
“So we figured two birds, one stone. We play for you then do the interview before heading out. And encourage you to pick up Slam magazine in two weeks to read about our exciting news.”
More cheers and applause explode as the band kicks off the show. Belle has mellowed somewhat and I know she’s wondering how she’s going to pull this off in just a few days. I’ll definitely have to help her now. Slam just went to print with next week’s issue which should be out in a few days. She’s got a small window to write and perfect this article before next week’s issue goes to print.
Whatever her worries are, she’s over them in a flash and she bounces back up to dance and scream the night away. Of course, I’m not a total downer, so I dance along with her, sharing in her happiness. Even though I’m not a fan of the band I’m a huge fan of Belle and this article is going to launch her career even farther. I’m so proud of her.
Before the band comes back onstage for their encore, Belle and I make our way down to the backstage entrance. We’re not the only ones with this idea, but we are the only ones with the passes that grant us access to BAD. Thankfully, there are a few bodyguards posted and able to guide us thorough the crowd of crazy bitches. I seriously thought one was going to fight me just to get my pass. Hardcore fans are crazy—throwing underwear, yelling out they want to have their babies. Don’t they realize these men are just people? I don’t know how they can do this; I don’t think I would ever get used to that. How would you ever know someone wanted you just for you and not for all you can do for them?
We’re ushered down a hallway where we see the band standing, getting ready to go back onstage. From the looks of it, besides the normal crew and staff, we are literally the only people back here with passes. Interesting…
“We have to go past the band to get to the green room where they’ll meet with you later. Please, don’t make me get rough with you two. If you have fan girl shit to get out of your system, do it in the green room. Don’t say anything to them as we pass, don’t freak out and try to grope them. You’re here in a professional capacity and I hope you’ll continue to act that way.”
Belle and I exchange looks and I know she’s thinking exactly what I am: this guy is a dick. But he’s doing his job and I guess it’s got to be a hard one. Belle is a fan but she’s professional first. As for me, no worries; I have no need to fan girl over a band I don’t even like.
As we pass the band, their PA is giving them a two minute countdown. One of the guys looks up at us as we walk by with an interested look on his face. He’s cute, and from the smirk on his face, he knows it. I still feel his eyes on me as we walk by; however, when I cock my head to the side I see it’s not him, but the hot one with the dimples who is staring at my ass. These jeans were so worth the price I paid for them they make my ass look great.
Mr. gruff and serious puts us in the green room and lets us know we can help ourselves to anything and he’ll be right outside the door.
“Amelia! Pinch me! Can you believe this? BAD gave one and only one exclusive and it’s mine! Oh my God! This is going to skyrocket my career as long as I don’t screw it up.” I can’t help but laugh at her. Her work is amazing and she has no need to worry.
“Belle, you’ve got this. Get your squealing out now, take some deep breaths, and get ready for the story of your life. I’m so proud of you and I’m right here, so I’ll help take notes, too.”
“Thanks, Mel, I knew I could count on you.” After giving me a quick hug, she does indeed get her squealing out of her system while watching the band on the very large TV which is mounted on the wall.
I can’t stop thinking about ‘dimples’ watching me as we passed by. The thought brings heat between my legs. Even if I shouldn’t let it, he’s not relationship material and I’m nowhere in his league. Besides, all these men have a reputation for one night stands and unemotional flings. Those are two things I can’t do. When I’m sleeping with someone, it’s because I’m invested in them emotionally.
After the encore, we hear the thunderous applause from the green room. I could swear the walls are shaking from it. Belle starts tapping her foot and picking at her nails because she’s getting nervous.
“Belle, you need to breathe. They’re just people. You’ve interviewed tons of musicians before and I’ve never seen you this nervous.”
“I know, Amelia, but this is BAD and they are the holy grail of interviews. I can’t help but be nervous, and besides, they’re super hot.”
I can’t argue with her there, they are good looking men.
The voices resonating from the hallway are making their way closer to the room and the door slams open.
“That was fucking awesome! One of the best shows we’ve done this entire tour. The outdoor venues are so much better, don’t you guys think so?” As they talk amongst themselves, I’m drawn in by their excitement.
Watching these men come in on their post-performance high is captivating. Their happiness is almost contagious. Belle and I are taking them in, just watching them in fascination. They’ve got a posse of people with them. The PA I saw earlier is trying to wrangle them up while I assume a stylist is the one carrying a few extra shirts.
The cute one with the dimples takes one of those shirts, pulls his sweaty shirt off over his head, and I watch, mesmerized, by the way his muscles move. His abs are screaming at me to come and lick them, the beads of sweat he’s about to wipe off with the towel are crying out my name. I want to taste his essence on my tongue. But then as fast as the mini porn played out in my head it’s over as the shirt goes on. He catches me looking at him and gives me a sexy smirk again. I’m sure the flush I feel spreading over my face is nothing compared to how it looks.
I open my water bottle to try and cool myself down from the sudden heat enveloping my body. He’s watching my lips as they touch the rim of the bottle and I wish I was wrapping them around him. I drink slowly, knowing he’s watching me and as I glance up, I see him lick his lips. Holy hell, this is foreplay and yet at the same time couldn’t be anything further from that.
After about twenty minutes, they dismiss the posse surrounding them and finally sit down across from us. Their manager is an older man with a gentle smile who finally makes all the introductions.
“I’m Warren, BAD’s manager, and these are the bastards themselves.”
That elicits a laugh from us all and breaks the ice.
“Warren, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for extending this opportunity to Slam magazine. We’re honored for the exclusive. I’m Belle Dixson and this is my good friend Amelia Greyson but we all call her Mel.”
The cute one snorts out loud and it’s kind of a dick sound.
“Amelia and Belle. Look, guys, we’ve got our own Disney fucking princesses for the night.”
“Shut up, Sawyer.”
“Dick.” It escapes my mouth b
efore I have a chance to even think and Belle looks horrified. Sawyer actually shuts up and a hush falls over the room.
“That was fucking AWESOME! I’ve never seen anyone call Sawyer out on his shit and I’ve known him all my life. I’m Nick Weston and I’m very pleased to meet you, Amelia.”
I see Belle exhale then flash me a smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Nick.”
“I’m with Nick; that was great to see. I’m Darren and the guy at the end of the couch with his head in the book is Wyatt.”
Wyatt peeks up from the book in his lap and smiles at us.
“Sorry, I’m behind. I promised my wife I would read this book and I haven’t had much time. I wanted to at least try and squeeze in a chapter before we skype on the bus later.”
“You’re such a pussy, Wyatt. What man is actually reading The O Factor?” Sawyer laughs at Wyatt and my stomach plummets fast as Belle starts laughing. That’s my book and this is about to get really uncomfortable.
“One who loves his wife. Why don’t you just go find a chick to hook up with already so you’ll stop being such an ass.”
“What do you think of the book so far, Wyatt?” Belle asks him and I could kill her!
“On or off the record?”
“Off,” Belle replies.
“It’s interesting. I mean, I’ve never read a girl’s point of view on sex before…it’s crazy. It’s definitely keeping me reading for sure.”
“Well, it has been number one on the New York Times Bestseller list for three weeks so it’s got to be good.”
Couch, just swallow me up now, please. I close my eyes and take a breath.
“What’s wrong, princess Amelia? Are you too prude to talk about a sex book?” Sawyer asks.
Belle laughs so loud and so long tears are starting to pool in her eyes.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something here?” Nick asks.
Belle wipes the corner of her eye and outs me. She’s officially off my Christmas list. “Who wrote that book, Wyatt?” Belle asks sweetly.
