by Jessica Ashe
Damon turns towards her as she approaches, but I don’t hear what he says. She must be Emma; his ‘friend.’ This I have to see.
I keep out of the lights and quietly walk up towards them until I’m in earshot.
“Sorry, love, I had to stay behind until Naomi Price finished her performance. We haven’t spoken in a couple of weeks and needed to catch up.”
A couple of weeks? We only went twenty-four hours between meetings, and we certainly did not need to ‘catch up.’
Emma kisses Damon on the cheek and he returns one a little half-heartedly. Any anger she felt towards Damon has already disappeared.
“I can’t believe you’re part of Naomi Price’s support act,” the girl says excitedly.
“Support act?” I whisper to myself.
You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s told this girl that he’s my support act? My support act is a group of five clean-cut teenage boys who are almost as pleasing to my fans as I am. Damon certainly isn’t boy band material, and whatever music he plays or sings wouldn’t fit my crowd.
I’m surprised he didn’t tell me he was a musician. Whenever I meet musicians, be they singers, guitarists, drummers, you name it, they always want my help making it big in the industry. Of course, he’s probably not actually a musician. I’m sure that’s all part of the lie.
“It’s not a bad gig,” Damon replies casually.
Lying piece of shit. He wouldn’t be the first guy to lie to a girl to get her into bed, but I’m still surprised. He’d been so upfront with me about what he wanted. He’s still a scumbag, but until now I’d at least thought he was an honest one.
“What’s this?” the girl asks, taking something from Damon’s hand. It’s the program; the one I signed. She tries to look at it in the lights, but I can see she is struggling to make out what it is.
“I, uh, got Naomi’s autograph,” Damon says.
“For me?”
“Sure,” he says.
Visibility might be bad, and I’m twenty yards away, but even I can tell he’s on a sure thing now. Oh God, what if they get down to it right here. He looks like the type of guy who would just throw a woman up against the wall and fuck her roughly from behind. That’s pretty much what he propositioned me with. I close my eyes and sigh gently as I imagine what it would feel like to have my hands pressed up against the coarse brick wall while Damon yanks my panties to one side and fucks me like he’s about to fuck this girl.
How gullible is she? It’s really not fair to take advantage of someone like that. Should I say something? No clearly I shouldn’t.
But I’m going to.
I walk towards the soon-to-be romantic couple and clear my throat when I’m just a few yards behind them and standing under a light.
“Hi, Damon,” I say cheerfully as if he’s an old friend and not just some guy who’s barged rudely into my changing room on two separate occasions.
They both spin around with contrasting reactions. Emma looks initially confused, but then quickly delighted when she realizes who I am. Damon sighs and curses under his breath as he quickly figures out that I’m about to ruin his fun.
“What do you want?” Damon asks gruffly.
“Just thought I’d say hello.” I turn to look at the girl staring at me open-mouthed. She’s dressed like someone more into grungy music or rock ‘n roll. People like her usually pretend to hate me, or maybe they actually do hate me. Either way, they don’t stare at me like she’s staring at me now.
“You must be Emma,” I say to the girl.
“Well, no—”
“You’re lucky to have him,” I continue. “Honestly, he’s one of the hardest working laborers I’ve seen. No one can move a speaker like this guy.”
“What…I don’t understand.” She looks back up at Damon. “Why do you move speakers around? Don’t you have people for that?”
“Not exactly,” Damon replies.
“You’re not the support act are you?”
“No.”
Damon looks like the type of guy who’s never lost for words; he is now.
“You lied,” the girl says accusingly.
“Technically, I never told you I was a support act. You just assumed I was.”
Really Damon? That’s the best you can come up with?
Emma doesn’t seem all that bright, but at least she has the sense to walk away leaving me alone with Damon. On second thoughts, perhaps I didn’t think this all the way through.
“Thanks for that,” Damon says. “Remind me to pop up out of nowhere one day and ruin your sex life.”
“You lied to the poor girl. Besides, you used me as part of your little scheme. I have every right to call you out on your bullshit.”
“You know, if you’re jealous you can just say.”
I roll my eyes, although I doubt he can see in the dim light. “Jealous? That’s what you think happened here?”
“All I know is that you cock-blocked me. I can’t think of any reason for you to do that, other than that you want me for yourself. That’s especially annoying because I did offer my services.”
“And I did turn you down. That should have been the first clue that perhaps I don’t want you.”
Damon laughs and shakes his head. “It’s kind of sad really.”
“You not getting laid?”
“No. You. You have all this money and success, but right now all you want is my cock and you can’t bring yourself to claim it. You want nothing more than for me to bend you over and sling my huge cock inside your wet pussy. Where do you picture doing it? Dressing room? This alley? Your hotel room? I reckon you want it right here against that wall.”
There’s a lump in my throat and I can’t respond. No one’s ever spoken to me like that before. Not to my face anyway. I do want his cock, and it takes all my willpower not to look down at it now. Unfortunately, if I take his cock I have to take the man it’s attached to and the last thing I want is to listen to this arrogant jackass for any longer than I have to. He’s right though; I want him here and now in this alley.
I reply before my silence answers his question. “I guess we can’t have everything we want in life,” I say, making sure my voice oozes with sarcasm this time. “Fortunately I have enough money to make myself happy in other ways.” Does that sound like I buy sex toys? “You on the other hand…well, I think we both know how you’ll be ending the night.” I reach into my purse and grab a couple of tissues. “Here you go. Enjoy your evening.”
Damon takes the tissues before he realizes what’s happening, and I turn and walk away, a satisfied smile on my face. It’s not the satisfaction I need right now, but I take my victories where I can get them. Walking away from a man like Damon having got the last word definitely counts as a victory, even if I’m going to be doing the same thing as him tonight the second I’m in my bed with the lights out. I need my beauty sleep, and I can’t sleep when I’m this desperate.
Chapter Four
Damon
She thinks she’s won.
Naomi walks away leaving me with just a handful of tissues and an aching feeling in my balls. I stare at her tiny ass as it swings from side to side on her way back to the arena. She must be doing that on purpose. Surely women’s hips don’t sway like that naturally.
I consider chasing after her. I could tell her I never intended to sleep with Laura. It’s true. I hadn’t even intended to meet her tonight but Naomi’s security guy practically threw me out on the street and she found me while I was waiting for a taxi to come by.
I never would’ve gone through with it. Admittedly, I’m not all that picky when it comes to women, but I always make sure I give it my all. Tall or small, fat or thin, the women I fuck always get the complete performance. I couldn’t live with myself if I hooked up with a woman and only gave ninety percent. The second I saw Laura again I knew I’d have to let her down. The only woman I want to fuck right now is the one walking away from me.
Shame she’s a stuck up prima donna. I
usually know how to play women like her. I’ve met a few stuck up sorts in the past who thought of themselves as above me or too posh to spread their legs for a tattooed hunk. The trick is to treat them like shit. Don’t buy them drinks, don’t kiss their ass, and certainly don’t try to be like the snobby guys they’re used to dating. It’s worked for me before, but not this time.
I didn’t lie to Naomi. She really does need a good fuck. I genuinely believe that five minutes with me would make the world of difference. She might smile, for one thing. A real smile, not like that fake one she puts on for the camera. She’s so used to wearing that fake smile I doubt she even knows what a real one is anymore.
I take one last look and turn away to head back home. I’m never going to see her again; not in the flesh anyway.
Worst of all, Laura went home with the autograph intended for Emma. That’s three women I’ve pissed off tonight. Naomi, obviously, Laura, when she sees that the autograph is made out to Emma, and then Emma. I never told her I’d be getting Naomi’s autograph, but I did say I had a surprise in store.
Shit. I used to be so smooth; when did I become a walking disaster?
Would it be the worst thing in the world to go back and ask for another autograph? Let’s face it, Naomi probably has loads of those brochures lying around. I can’t imagine she’s ever more than five feet from a picture of herself. Tonight is the last night I have my backstage pass. Tomorrow I won’t be able to get within fifty feet of her.
Fuck it, I’m going back in.
I head back towards the door I’d been thrown out of ten minutes ago.
Naomi’s still outside, but she’s talking to a group of four guys. My first thought is that they are her security detail, but I don’t see that Lance guy among them. I slow down and keep my distance, but it soon becomes clear these guys are part of her adoring public. They’re a little older than her usual fans though, and definitely a lot drunker.
“You’re that singer,” one of the guys says loudly. He’s not stumbling around, but he has the confidence and exaggerated mannerisms of someone who would be better off stepping into a taxi and going home than trying to chat up a woman.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Naomi replies. She takes a step towards the door, but one of the guys puts his arm around her shoulder.
“You’re Naomi Price,” he says. “Guys, guys, it’s Naomi Price.”
“Fucking hell, we have to get a picture.”
The guys crowd around her, taking pictures, and putting their arms around her waist and shoulders. She looks distinctly uncomfortable but she smiles for the photos anyway.
Where’s her security? She shouldn’t be out here alone like this.
I could step in. I should step in, but she doesn’t look like the type to appreciate a white knight. She’s probably used to this; I can’t imagine she ever goes out in public without getting this kind of attention.
The guys take their photos, but they’re not done. “You have to come to the club with us,” the guy says. “It’s going to be absolutely banging tonight. You’ll love it.”
“Thanks, but I really must be getting back.”
A guy drags her back as she tries to leave; Naomi stumbles and has to steady herself by grabbing hold of the guy who pulled her over in the first place.
“Oh, you’re friendly,” he says.
Come on, Naomi. Call for your security and get the hell out of there.
As she stands up straight, the guy she fell against reaches around and puts his hand casually on her arse.
And that’s my signal.
“Oi,” I yell loudly as I walk towards the group. “Back off now, or you’ll answer to me.”
As I get closer, I realize that perhaps I’ve underestimated these four drunken idiots. One of them is quite small, and the other three are only of average height, but they spend as much time in the gym as I do judging by the size of them.
“Piss off,” the short guy yells back. “We’re not doing any harm, right Naomi?”
“I suggest you get out of here if you know what’s good for you,” another guy adds.
“Not going to happen,” I reply.
I’m ten feet away now and have to make a decision quickly. I can try talking it out with these guys, but I hate talking to drunks. They’re so hard to reason with. If I go in hard, I have to do it quickly before they know what’s happening.
That’s exactly what I do. I head straight for the guy with his arm around Naomi and drag him off, throwing him to the floor in the process. He hits the ground hard, his knee, elbow, and head all making contact with the concrete. Unfortunately, being drunk tends to numb the pain and he’s quickly pushing himself back to his feet.
This might not be such a good idea.
“Go,” I shout to Naomi. She hesitates briefly—reluctant to take an order from me—but finally runs to the door and darts inside.
Mission accomplished.
Now I just need to get out of this situation alive and with as few broken bones as possible.
The four men haven’t surrounded me, but they have backed me up against the wall with nowhere to go. That shows me they don’t know what they’re doing. Unfortunately, there’s still four of them and only one of me, so this won’t be easy.
The alcohol in their blood and strength in numbers gives them the confidence to walk towards me slowly but deliberately. The first one is easy to deal with. As soon as he comes within arm’s reach, I grab him by the shirt and pull him in towards me. Then I let go and move to the side, letting his momentum send him straight into the wall behind me. He manages to get one hand up in time to brace himself slightly, but his head still hits the brick and he stumbles away.
I look back to the group just in time to see a fist flying towards my face. The guy’s aim is bad, but his fist still slams into the side of my head hard enough that I hear ringing in my ear. I quickly return two punches—one on each side of the face—and then sweep his legs out from under him.
Two guys left, and one of them is the guy who’s already gone to the floor. He’s limping, but still coming towards me. They both charge at me with surprising coordination and I end up pinned against the wall. Punch after punch comes at me, and although none of them hit clean, they still hurt like hell.
One of the guys lets go of me, and I brace myself for another round of punches. They never come. Instead I hear the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting someone’s cheek. I look up to see Naomi’s security guy dealing with one of my attackers.
The final guy looks confused and doesn’t know whether to help his friend or keep me pinned against the wall. In the end, he does neither, as I shake out of his grip and send him to the floor with one punch.
Lance and I look down at the four men who are now half walking, half crawling away from us as quickly as they can.
“Thanks,” I say reluctantly, before spitting blood onto the ground.
“You saved Naomi, so we’re even. I don’t want to see you around here again though.”
“That makes two of us.”
That girl’s nothing but trouble.
I nod again in appreciation, and then slowly walk back down the road. The guys must think I’m coming after them, because they force themselves to their feet and run as quickly as they can in the opposite direction.
My heart’s racing—it’s a while since I’ve been in a really a good fight. I’ve missed the excitement, but I know that in the morning I’m going to remember the downside. I spit blood out of my mouth and use my tongue to check that I still have all my teeth.
This is going to hurt like hell tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Damon
I don’t wake up until eleven, and even then I only do so because my phone is vibrating on my bedside table. I reach out to decline the call, but I can barely open my eyes and I answer it by mistake.
“Yeah,” I say groggily into the phone. My tone of voice makes it pretty clear that unless this is an emergency, the person on the end woul
d be better off hanging up.
“Damon?” a man asks. It’s a familiar voice, but I can’t place it.
“Who’s this?”
“It’s Kevin from Storage Logistics.”
My head is such a mess that it takes a few seconds before I realize Storage Logistics is the company I’ve been working for these past few nights. Rather, the company I had been working for.
Fuck. I bet Naomi grassed me up and now I’m not going to get paid. Shit. I really need that money.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to sound a little more human.
“Nothing’s wrong. Although you did forget to collect your pay last night. Can you swing by and get it?”
Damn straight I can.
“Yeah, I’ll swing by. When’s a good time?”
“Can you come over before lunch? I have to be somewhere this afternoon.”
“Sure. See you soon.”
I get out of bed and head downstairs, but nothing appeals for breakfast. I feel like I have a hangover, but can’t stomach cereal or even fried eggs. Something must be seriously wrong if I don’t want to eat fried eggs.
I head back upstairs and stand in front of the bathroom mirror with my eyes closed. I know it’s going to look bad. My right eye is pulsing, and my bottom lip is huge. I dread to think what the rest of my body looks like.
Finally, I force myself to open my eyes—as much as I can open them anyway—and stare at the mirror. I don’t look great, but it could be worse. My right eye is swollen, but at least it’s red and not purple. Small victories and all that. I have a huge cut lip and my hair is clumped together by dry blood.
I force myself into the shower and clean up the worst of it. There’s still no hiding that I’ve been in a fight, but Kevin isn’t the type to be easily phased by a few bruises. It doesn’t matter if he is—I’m still getting my paycheck.
