by Megan Hart
SAM STEWART.
Tonight—9:00 p.m.
I stared at the flyer for a long time, closing it only when Shelly brought my drink and opening it again as soon as she left. The drawing had captured so much of him there was no question who it had been meant to represent. His long, long legs, the big hands, the swoop of his hair along the back of his neck. The face was turned so only the profile had been sketched, but there was enough there to remind me all too fiercely of the way his mouth curved.
This was dangerous ground. Wanting this. Him. I couldn’t forget how Sam had been a stranger to me, or how easily he could stop being one, if I let him.
I wanted to see him again, there was no question of that, but if I went to watch him play, he’d know I wanted to. Or he’d think he knew, and I suspected just thinking would be enough incentive for Sam. His interest and attention were flattering, I wasn’t going to deny that. And part of me believed that if he got what he wanted, he might not want it anymore, because that was sort of the way those things work. That same part refused to admit I didn’t want him to stop wanting me, even as I refused to admit it.
Yeah. I was conflicted. I was also weak of will, unable to go watch him play on my own and see what happened and unable to convince myself not to go.
I shoved away the sound of my bank account squealing like a pig as I picked up my phone and dialed a familiar number. A few hours of Jack’s company would cost me more than I could afford, but would save me from a much greater price in the end.
“You look pretty.” Jack walked around me to admire my outfit.
I still wore my suit from work. Blessing Mrs. Parker’s addiction to reality TV, I’d hurried through the arrangements just as she’d wanted and not even bothered to change before heading out. I’d run a comb through my hair and brushed my teeth, swiped my cheeks with powder and my lips with gloss, but hadn’t even put on new panty hose.
“Thanks. So do you.”
“You like it?” Jack buffed his nails on the front of his blue button-down shirt, which he wore open over a white T-shirt tucked into faded jeans. A thick black leather belt completed the outfit and matched his black motorcycle boots. He looked more appropriately dressed for a night in a club than I did.
“You look scrumptious,” I told him. “I’m glad you were free.”
He gave me that grin, and God, how could I have ever thought I was going to pay only for his conversation? “I had to juggle a few things, but that’s okay.”
I’d met him in the parking garage, as we planned to walk together to the club to see Sam play, and I grabbed Jack’s arm to steady me as we crossed an uneven block of pavement. “Did you?”
“Yep.” He held out his elbow for me to take a better grip, his hand stuck into his jeans pocket. I didn’t let go even once we’d passed the bumpy sidewalk. “Just for you.”
“Oh, Jack.” I laughed. “Stop it.”
He looked over at me. “I mean it, Grace.”
We stopped in front of the Sandwich Man. “You canceled other appointments to take mine?”
“Yep.” The smile.
There was no earthly way any woman could look at that face and not return the grin. “How flattering.”
He shrugged as we started walking again. “I like you.”
“I like you, too.” He walked slower so I wouldn’t stumble on another ragged section of pavement.
“Good.” He looked over at me again.
It’s a compliment when your hired fuck tells you he’d rather be with you than another client, but it’s also rather disconcerting if the reason you hire men for sex is because you’re trying to avoid relationships.
“Jack.” I stopped again, this time just inside a small alley. “Look—”
Jack leaned in close, surprising me with the brush of his mouth along my ear. “Don’t freak. It’s still business.”
Which of course made me happy and a little disappointed at the same time.
“Where are we going?” he asked in the next second, saving me from having to react.
“The Firehouse.”
“Mmm. Dinner?” Jack put his arm around me as we walked, a position that felt less formal than my hand on his elbow but no less comfortable.
“Depends. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” He patted his stomach. “I can always eat.”
“Bastard.” I patted his lean hip. “Must be nice.”
“It’s all the exercise.”
Jack’s leer sent me into laughter, and everything was all right. “Uh-huh. Well, I’m on a very tight budget, but I think I can spring for an appetizer.”
Jack glanced at me. “Don’t worry about it.”
I did worry about it, of course, because this wasn’t a date, it was an appointment. I wasn’t obligated to buy him dinner, but I liked Jack. “I’m hungry, too. It’s okay.”
“Grace, seriously.” Jack’s fingers tightened on my shoulder. “I could’ve had dinner tonight. That’s not why I’m out with you.”
I didn’t want to ask what he was out with me for, because the swift flutter of my inner muscles already knew. By that time we’d reached the three-story brick building that had actually once been a real fire station. I did have cash for the cover charge, but the guy at the door recognized Jack and they did the whole clapping on each other’s shoulders and posturing so typical of men, and it turned out he knew Jack from working together at the Slaughtered Lamb, and we ended up getting in for free.
“Nice work,” I told him as we wove our way through the front dining room toward the stairs to the second level. “Thanks.”
Jack laughed. “I think Kent has the hots for me, that’s all.”
At the top of the stairs I paused to scan the room. While I could see a small stage set with a chair along the back wall, it was empty. Tables and chairs filled the rest of the space, most already taken, but at Jack’s words I paused in scanning the room to stare.
“You think so?”
He shrugged and gave me a smug smile. “He offered to give me a blow job once or twice.”
I blinked. “And did you let him?”
Jack laughed again and put his arm around my shoulder to pull me close so he could murmur into my ear, “That depends.”
“On what?” I turned my head to murmur into his ear, the gesture automatic.
“If saying yes would get you hot.”
The flicker of his tongue sent a shiver racing down my spine and peaked my nipples beneath my plain silk blouse. We were blocking the stairs, but since nobody was trying to go up or down, I didn’t care. I tried to answer but could only lick my mouth.
Jack nuzzled my neck briefly, his breath hot, but he didn’t answer my question with a yes or no, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to say.
He led me to one of the last empty tables, the one farthest from the stage and tucked into a corner by the swinging doors to the kitchen. The group next to us had taken two of the chairs for their own table, turning a four into a six, and while Jack and I only needed two, the way they’d seated themselves meant one of us had to be wedged along the back wall with little room to move. The other chair had been pushed into the path of the servers, and Jack insisted I take the seat that didn’t end up getting bashed by a door every other minute.
The perky waitress who came to take our drink orders informed us the kitchen was closed for dinner, but the bar was serving food, and that was good enough for me. I ordered an appetizer plate that was still expensive enough to dent my wallet but wasn’t going to break me, and we both ordered beers.
“I like that you drink beer.” Jack shifted his chair a little closer to mine, so our thighs touched. “That’s cool.”
“Is it?” From my seat I had a good, unobstructed view of the stage, but if I had to get up for any reason, I was in trouble. A single spotlight illuminated the still-empty stage, and I began to wonder if I’d read the flyer wrong. I looked at Jack, who nodded.
“Yes. Girls who drink beer rock.” He played an air g
uitar, and I laughed.
“It’s cheaper than something fancy, but I like the taste, so that’s okay.”
He nodded. “And you look fucking sexy as hell sucking on the bottle.”
I blinked again. “My, my, my, Jack my dear. Haven’t you been practicing the lines?”
“You told me to be myself,” he said, and pointed at his chest. “This is me.”
If that was him, I wasn’t surprised he’d been getting a lot of business. “I’m glad I could help.”
“You did.” He nodded and took a long pull on his own beer. “A lot. I don’t have to work at the bar anymore, and I’m going to start full-time school in the fall. Graphic arts.”
“That’s great!” I said sincerely. “Good for you.”
He shrugged, but looked pleased. “Thanks.”
Our conversation was significant only in how simple it was, and how easy. It seemed obvious to me that Jack felt far more comfortable in his role than he had before. Confidence is sexy on anyone, and on Jack it only accentuated his natural hottitude.
As the waitress brought our platter of food, Sam took the stage. I paused with an onion ring halfway to my lips as he made a shadow across the chair, then took a seat with his guitar cradled on his lap. The light winked on his earring and in the brilliance of his smile as he looked out into the audience.
He waited for the brief spattering of applause to fade before he spoke. “Hey. I’m Sam.”
More applause and a few good-natured hoots and comments made him laugh. “Thanks.
Yeah. If you’re here to hear Green Eggs, you’re out of luck.”
His mention of another local music favorite earned him more applause and commentary, and he shaded his eyes to look out at the crowd as he replied. My heart skipped when his gaze swept over the room, but it was silly to think he could’ve seen me, tucked away in the darkness.
Nevertheless I imagined his eyes met mine, and that his smile was for me.
Hearing him play before hadn’t prepared me at all for hearing him perform. Sam had a low, easy voice reminiscent of Simon and Garfunkel. His fingers moved easily on the guitar’s strings and urged forth songs that sounded simple only if you weren’t paying attention. He covered classic hits and sang a few I had to assume were original because I didn’t recognize them.
The crowd loved him, probably more for the sly, self-deprecating anecdotes he fed them between songs. He sipped occasionally from a bottle of water, nothing stronger, and it was too soon when he finished, saying he would take another break and be back in fifteen minutes for his last set.
“Grace?”
Jack had been talking, but my mind was wandering until he pulled me back with the sound of my name. “Hmm?”
“You want another drink?”
“Yes.” My bladder screamed. “Just a soda, please.”
I fished for money in my wallet, but Jack waved away my hand. I watched him head up to the bar. Heads turned as he passed, women and men, and I thought of what he’d said about the bouncer at the door.
As much as I might have wanted to fantasize about Jack and some other cute boy in a lip-lock, there was no way my bladder was going to let me last that long. I inched my way from behind the table and headed for the glowing arrow pointing to the bathrooms. I’d expected a line, but whoever’d remodeled the fire station had done a good job. There were several stalls and women moved in and out of them in record time.
Sam had come back to the stage, though he wasn’t on it, just by it. He wasn’t alone, either.
Sam had a groupie. I wish I could’ve thought something mean about her, but other than the bright golden hair and tight-fitting T-shirt, she didn’t look trashy enough to get my hackles up.
Nope, what got my lip curling was the fact Sam was snuzzling with her. There was no other way to put it. They weren’t kissing…exactly. And they weren’t hugging. Not exactly. He was simply leaning in super close, as if he needed to hear what she was saying, except closer than that.
Body language says a lot.
I said his name before I knew I was going to, and he turned away from the blonde with stars in her eyes to stare at me for a full five seconds before he smiled.
“Grace. Hi! You made it!”
“I made it.”
The blonde’s smile wilted at the corners, but the stars managed to still twinkle. It would have been a cliché if she’d thrown daggers at me with her eyes, though I was sort of prepared for it. She merely gave me an inquisitive look and turned her adoration back toward Sam.
“Marnie, this is Grace.” Sam gestured.
“Hi,” I said.
We didn’t shake hands.
Women know how to cut each other down in ways men never see, and Marnie was very good at it. She’d even added the subtle touch to his shoulder to get him to turn his head toward her as she spoke. “So, Sam. I loved your song ‘Captain Backyards.’”
“Captain…oh.” Sam laughed.
The song had been “Cap On Backwards.” I knew because not only had I been listening, but watching his mouth, too. Marnie gave him a quizzical look at the laugh as Sam scratched his ear self-consciously.
I caught sight of Jack, his head bent to listen to something from the girl next to him. I’d seen her earlier. With her blue-and purple-streaked hair, she was hard to miss. Jack was smiling, though, so maybe she wasn’t an angry ex-girlfriend.
I looked back at Sam. His gaze had followed mine, but when I half turned toward him, he looked at me. “I’ve got to get back up there.”
He sounded apologetic, but I waved a hand. “Of course.”
“But I’ll see you after, right? You’ll stick around?” I looked over my shoulder toward Jack, just a quick glance, and before I could answer, Sam was shaking his head. “Don’t say no.”
“It’s late.” It was a well-worn excuse. “I have to be up early.”
“I’ll be here,” Marnie said, and earned a smile from Sam.
Ah. Here came the daggers. I smiled at her, but blandly. Funny how easy it is to defuse someone when you’re not willing to fight them for what they want.
“Bye, Sam.”
He snagged my arm as I turned to go. “Wait a minute.”
I watched Jack laugh at something the girl with the blue hair was saying and looked at the time. One way or another, my date was winding down. I’d only paid for four hours. The girl with Jack punched him on the arm as she moved away, and he rubbed the spot. He gave her the smile.
Wow.
I looked back at Sam. “I’ve really go to go.”
He turned to look toward Jack, who’d grabbed up the drinks and was heading toward us.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Sam let me go. I pushed past Marnie and met Jack before he could reach us. He handed me my glass of soda and put an arm around my shoulder.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Fine. Just a little tired. I should get going.” I smiled and drank my soda, and Jack gave a curious glance past me toward Sam, now taking the stage again.
“Do you know him?”
“Not really. A little. C’mon, let’s go.”
The crowd hushed as Sam took the stage again and the spotlight hit him, just so. I didn’t have to be looking at him to see that. I just knew the light would love him.
I put my soda down, half finished. “Jack, let’s go.”
He took another long pull on his beer but set the bottle down quickly when I told him to.
He didn’t question my sudden haste, just moved alongside me to put his arm around my shoulder as we pushed through the crowd. From behind us came the first few chords of a song.
“This is something new I’ve been working on.” The whole audience heard him, but his words were mine. “It’s called ‘Grace on the Stairway.’”
We were almost to the stairs when he said it, but I stopped so fast Jack kept going for a few steps. I didn’t turn to look toward the stage as Sam began to sing.
“Hey,” said Jack. “Grace on the Stairway.”
He was laughing, but I wasn’t. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Jack didn’t protest, though he did look over his shoulder again as we left. Outside, the August night had turned cool. Gooseflesh humped my arms, and I rubbed them briskly as we walked toward the parking garage.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I said as he backed me up against the smooth, cold metal of my car. “It was—”
His hungry mouth stopped me. His breath, redolent of beer and onion rings, seeped between my lips until I opened for him. His tongue stroked mine as the hand not holding his helmet and jacket gripped my waist.
“Don’t go yet,” he said against my mouth. “It’s not that late.”
“I can’t pay for a hotel room,” I told him honestly.
“Come to my place.”
I pulled away to look at him. “Jack.”
It was proof of how well he knew me by that point, because he used the smile on me without any show of remorse. “Come on. I’m horny as hell.”
His drifting hand slid to my back and pulled me harder against him. I wanted to laugh, but the press of his belt buckle on my stomach turned my nervous giggle into a gasp. Suddenly, I was horny as hell, too.
Jack kissed me again, then pulled away to look at my face. “Our date ended half an hour ago.”
“I know it did.” I tipped my head a little, my lips parted and yet my tongue still tasted him.
Jack took my hand and put it on his crotch, where under the faded denim his cock had grown. “Consider it my tip.”
I did laugh, then. “Fucking me is your tip?”
He grinned and rubbed my hand in a slow circle on his denim-caged dick. “Yep.”
I didn’t think it was such a good idea, me going to his place. Fucking him for free. It was a little dangerous, actually, but I simply didn’t have the cash to insist on the wall that money allowed me to keep between us.
And I didn’t want to be thinking about Sam.
“If you’re that horny, I’m sure you could find someone to go home with.” It was a last, feeble attempt, and Jack didn’t buy it.
“I’m not a slut,” he whispered in my ear and added a lick to my neck that sent a shard of pure pleasure straight down to my already slicking cunt.
