Hot As Sin: A Bad Habit Novella (Bad Habit Book 4)

by J. T. Geissinger

  “I forget. I’m sure Barney knows. He’s a movie buff.”

  I shrug, shaking my head. “Nope.”

  I can tell Grace knows I’m full of shit, but hell if I’m about to admit I know it’s from The Meaning of Life filmed in 1983, and the fat guy’s name was Mr. Creosote.

  Even if Brody does have Grace, I’m not asshole enough to one-up him in front of her.

  Chloe says, “I’ll follow you guys to the kitchen and make sure A.J. hasn’t demolished all the food yet.” She laughs. “I can’t leave him alone around a buffet. It winds up looking like a hurricane blew through.”

  As they head toward the kitchen, Brody’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and looks at the screen. “It’s my mom.” He gives Grace a kiss on the temple, then turns away and answers the call, strolling off as he speaks.

  Grace and I look at each other. After a moment, she says quietly, “You’re a good man, Barney. Whoever you are.”

  A funny feeling squeezes my chest. I look away. “I’m just a regular guy. No different than the rest.”

  She softly laughs. “Sure. And I’m Elvis Presley.”

  When I glance back at her, she’s shaking her head, obviously amused.

  “What?”

  Her gray eyes flash with humor. “Nothing, tough guy.” She laughs again, but quickly sobers. “Do me a favor.”

  I’m immediately on guard. When I glance at Brody, she’s quick to clarify.

  “It isn’t anything that would put you in an awkward position.” She pauses. “At least I don’t think it would.”

  I fold my arms over my chest and gaze down at her, saying nothing. There are very few things she could ask me to do that I’d refuse, but I’m interested to see where’s she’s going.

  Tucking a fiery lock of red hair behind her ear in an uncharacteristically shy gesture, Grace looks at the ground for a moment before looking back up at me. She says, “I had a strange dream last night. There was this dragonfly.”

  My heart stops beating.

  All the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end.

  She takes a breath, then goes in a different direction. “On this new job of yours, be careful. But also…be open.”

  I can hardly produce the word, but I manage. “Open?”

  Something strange is reflected in Grace’s eyes. An emotion I can’t identify. Thoughtfully, as if lost in memory, she murmurs, “You deserve happiness, Barney.” After a beat, her look sharpens until it’s as if she’s seeing straight down into my soul. “But you can’t find happiness where you lost it. Look ahead of you, not behind. Be open to the change that’s coming.”

  Change is coming, Nasir. Remember who you are. Remember what you promised.

  A tremor runs through my body as I remember Sevan’s words from the dream. I take a step closer to Grace. My voice thick, I say, “The dragonfly you saw—”

  But then Brody is back, laughing at something and taking Grace by the arm. “God, that woman is unbelievable. She wanted to know if we were coming for Christmas. ‘It’s July, Mom! Christmas is five months away!’ I said. Then she said, ‘But do you think Grace will want to fly in her condition in five months?’ And I said…”

  When Grace sends him a thermonuclear death glare, he trails off into silence, biting his lip.

  In her condition.

  Grace is pregnant.

  Just the universe letting me know in no uncertain terms that my decision to start another job was the right one.

  Realizing I’ve put two and two together, Grace looks at me apologetically. “We haven’t told anyone yet. Can you keep a secret?”

  “Secrets are my specialty, sweetheart,” I say, smiling. “Congratulations.”

  A flash of color catches my gaze. Outside on the patio, a dragonfly flits past the glass doors, its wings an iridescent blur of blue and green under the summer sun.

  2

  “Well, well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite bodyguard.”

  A.J. grins at me from where he’s standing behind the huge marble island, a big bowl of steaming chili in his hands. His amber eyes are focused somewhere over my right shoulder. I haven’t spoken a word since I entered the kitchen, but somehow he knows who I am.

  “How the hell did you know it was me?”

  “You have a certain intense energy, brother. Very bristly.”

  When I scoff, he laughs. “Okay, it’s your soap. You’re the only person I know who smells like a spicy citrus fruit.”

  I look at Chloe, who’s seated at the kitchen table beside her nanny, an older Filipino woman with a salt-and-pepper bun and silver glasses. Chloe and A.J.’s beautiful baby, Abby, is on Chloe’s lap, gurgling and grasping with chubby hands at her mother’s long blonde hair. I say, “Is there some way you could monetize this freakishly good sense of smell of his? Get him a reality TV show or something?”

  “I know, right? It’s kinda crazy. I swear he can smell a change in the weather coming days away.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” says Nico. He’s on the other side of the kitchen near the fridge, feeding Kat saltines from his fingers like she’s a spoiled pet. “His head is big enough already. He’s starting to think he’s superhuman. Yesterday he told me he could hear sunlight.”

  I lift my brows and look at A.J. He’s smiling like he has a juicy secret he can’t wait to share.

  He says, “Wait’ll I tell you about my improved sense of taste. I always loved to eat, but now that I can taste every little nuance of flavor…” He smiles in Chloe’s general direction. “I’ve always gotta have a mouthful.”

  When Chloe presses her lips together and flushes red to the roots of her hair, I get the feeling he’s not talking about food.

  She glances up at me. I wink at her, happy that everything seems to be going so well for her and A.J., and her flush grows deeper.

  “Now that we’re done over sharing, will someone please get the guest of honor a drink?” she says.

  There’s about a dozen caterers in uniform hustling around the kitchen, bringing in big aluminum pans of food and various pieces of heating and serving equipment from the vans parked in the driveway outside. Bottles of liquor are already lined three deep along the counter by the sink, and bars are being set up around the pool outside and in the living room. It looks like we’ve got enough alcohol to get an entire army drunk.

  With the crew that’s coming, I know we’ll need it.

  “What can I get you, sir?” A bubbly girl with a pearly white smile and bright eyes bounces up to me. An actress, no doubt. Fresh off the bus from Kansas or some other flyover state. She’s still got that hopeful fresh-faced look that any significant amount of time spent in L.A. would’ve already beaten out of her.

  “Whiskey. Neat.”

  “Any particular brand? We’ve got like a million of ’em.”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Will do!” She flashes me another megawatt smile and bounces away.

  I decide she was captain of her high school cheerleading team. Miss Small Town Popularity, fucking the homecoming king and dreaming of making it big in Hollywood.

  By the time she hands me my drink a few moments later, I’m depressed. I want to take her by the shoulders, shake her, and tell her to get her ass back on a bus to her hometown before she winds up bitter and middle-aged, waiting tables in a dive bar on the strip and wondering where her youth went.

  It’s not like I haven’t seen it a million times before. They say New York City is a hard town to make it in, but at least it’s got soul. L.A.’s a wasteland where everything looks good on the surface, but it’s all rotten underneath.

  Or maybe I’ve just been here too long. All the sun has baked what’s left of my brain.

  I down the whiskey and motion to the perky Miss Popularity for another.

  When Brody and Grace walk into the kitchen, I decide it’s getting a little crowded and head to the john. I splash water on my face and wash my hands, still preoccupied by the odd coincidence of Grace’s dream about t
he dragonfly.

  But I don’t believe in coincidences. Things happen in the order they’re supposed to, for the reason they’re supposed to, even if we don’t know what that reason is. I decide to stay open, like Grace said, and see what comes of it.

  When I pull open the bathroom door, Miss Small Town Popularity is standing right in front of me.

  “Oh!” She jerks her hand away from the door handle. Her eyes go wide. “Sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in there!”

  “Nothing to apologize for. I was just coming out.” I step aside. She gives me a flirty little smile as she passes, holding eye contact as she closes the door.

  I chuckle. She’s too young for my taste, but it looks like Kenji was right about the vest.

  “Bro! There you are!”

  I turn and see Ethan and Chris coming through the front door, accompanied by a curvy brunette with breasts so large her little black dress is having trouble keeping them in. She’s in between the two men. Each has an arm slung around her shoulders. Her arms are wrapped around their waists.

  The keyboardist and bassist for Bad Habit have a tendency to share everything. Judging by the body language here, I’m guessing their big-breasted companion is no exception.

  All smiles, the three of them approach. The guys are dressed like twins, in white T-shirts and ripped jeans, their wrists sporting chunky watches and leather cuffs. Both have full sleeve tattoos and a two-day growth of beard. Ethan, interestingly, has scratches down one side of his face. Then I notice Chris has scratches on his neck. I suppress a smile.

  Looks like their new girlfriend has some sharp claws on her.

  “Hiya, kids. How we doing?”

  Ethan disentangles himself from the busty brunette and grabs me in a bear hug. “I’m still fuckin’ mad at you for leaving, you dick,” he says gruffly, pounding me on the back. “Who’s gonna watch my six?”

  “I know for a fact Nico already hired my replacement, so quit your whining.” I pull back and grin at him. He’s the more sentimental of the pair, always getting choked up at weddings and cooing at babies and dispensing sudden hard hugs.

  “Nobody could replace you, man. You’ll be missed.”

  “Don’t you cry on me now, princess,” I say affectionately, seeing the moisture in his eyes.

  He grumbles, “Fuck you,” and gives me a friendly punch in the shoulder.

  “What about you, Chris?” I turn to him with a smile. “You gonna start the waterworks, too?”

  “Nah. I never liked you much. You’re too uptight. Be glad to see the back of you.”

  We share a hug, then grin at each other like morons until Busty clears her throat.

  Chris says, “Oh, shit! Sorry. Barney, this is Heather. Heather, Barney. It’s his party.”

  “Nice to meet you, Barney. I’ve heard an awful lot about you.” Heather sticks out her hand.

  I shake it, impressed by the firmness of her grip and her straight, no-nonsense gaze. “All lies, no doubt. These two are so full of shit their eyes are brown.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, they are. The first thing they told me when we met is that they were madly in love with me and we should all get married.”

  Ethan says, “That wasn’t bullshit, babe.”

  She shakes her head, chuckling. “Yeah, right. And my tits are real, too.”

  Chris and Ethan take a moment to gaze admiringly at her breasts, while I laugh out loud, unexpectedly charmed by her.

  “Well, you good take care of my boys when I’m gone, Heather. They need somebody to look after them so they don’t get into trouble.”

  She glances first at Ethan, then at Chris. Her smile is small and fond. “Oh, they’ll be well looked after, don’t you worry.”

  The three of them beam at each other. I can’t help but laugh again.

  “Sir?”

  I turn to find Miss Popularity holding a whiskey out to me.

  “You left your drink in the kitchen.”

  “Oh. Great. Thanks.” I take it, giving her a mock salute. She responds by giving me a curtsy and another flirty smile before flouncing off.

  When I look back at Ethan and Chris, I can tell by their faces what they’re thinking. I shake my head. “Keep it in your pants, kids, she’s too young for me.”

  “Looks legal to me,” says Chris.

  “Legal or not, I’m not interested.”

  Ethan says, “Dude! Are you a fucking monk or what?”

  “Not the last time I checked.”

  “You should be tapping that tonight! Did you see the ass on that chick? If she looked at me the way she looked at you, I’d already be balls deep in her!”

  I look at Heather, but she merely smiles. Guess she’s not the jealous type.

  “I’m on a plane to New York in the morning, in case you forgot. Not an ideal time to start a relationship.”

  Chris barks out a disbelieving laugh. “Relationship? Just take her into one of the bathrooms and bend her over the sink.”

  I say drily, “Such a romantic.”

  “Seriously, though,” says Ethan, sounding concerned. “When was the last time you got some, bro?”

  “Seriously, bro, none of your fucking business.”

  Chris and Ethan look at each other. “He ever had a girlfriend that you can remember?”

  “What, you think he’s gay?”

  “No, but I mean, we’ve never seen him with a woman. Ever. What’s that all about?”

  I sigh heavily. “I’m standing right fucking here, idiots.”

  “Maybe he just likes to keep his private life private,” suggests Heather.

  Chris and Ethan peer at me suspiciously. Chris says, “You got a secret life, bro?”

  My tone mild, I say, “Shut up, both of you. And thank you, Heather, for being the lone voice of reason. And now I’m leaving so you can speculate on my personal life to your hearts’ content.” I raise my glass to Heather. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  I head toward the backyard, waving a dismissive hand when the boys try to call me back. I hear Heather gently scold them for driving me away, then Chris teases that she’s attracted to me.

  She says, “Well, duh, of course I am. The man is hot as sin. What are those tattoos on his arms? They look like some kind of exotic language.”

  Ethan says, “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never seen them before. He’s never worn anything but a suit the entire time I’ve known him.”

  Heather’s voice is a throaty purr. “A mystery. Even hotter.”

  Chris chuckles. “You know he can probably still hear us.”

  I call over my shoulder, “Yes, I can. Knew I liked you, sweetheart.”

  I hear the sound of female laughter. Then, just as I pass through the open glass doors to the patio, she shouts, “Like you, too, mystery man! Hope we’ll see more of each other later!”

  As it turns out, I’d be seeing a hell of a lot more of Chris and Ethan’s new girlfriend than any of us could’ve ever imagined.

  3

  By eight o’clock, the sun is setting, the party is in full swing, and I’m on my fourth whiskey. That sounds bad, but considering I’ve paced myself to one per hour, I’m not even buzzed.

  Everyone else, however, definitely is.

  The crowd mingling around the pool and gardens is a raucous group, shouting and laughing, cursing and drinking, dancing barefoot in the grass and singing out of tune with the music the DJ is spinning in his lighted booth on the left side of the patio. Guests drink vodka shots poured out of an ice luge shaped like a huge penis. A peaked cirque-themed rave tent is set up on the far side of the lawn. A few dozen people are already in the pool. Some of them are fully dressed, some are wearing their birthday suits.

  And the air all around is scented with the sweet, pungent odor of marijuana.

  “Rock ‘n’ roll, baby.” Nico swaggers up with a drink in his hand, grinning. “You havin’ fun?”

  I look at the pool, where I’ve been watching a redhead with no top on bounce up and down
in the water. She’s got her eyes closed and her arms overhead, oblivious to everything but the music. She’s young, wet, and beautiful.

  “Yes. God bless America.”

  He follows my gaze and breaks into laughter. We toast, clinking glasses, then throw our heads back and down our drinks. When we finish, I look back at the pool, but from the corner of my eye, I see him watching me.

  “Kat’s havin’ a hard time,” he says, his voice lower.

  I know he doesn’t mean with the pregnancy.

  “She’s got you to look after her. She’ll be fine.”

  “She worries about you. Bein’ alone. On the other side of the country. Without family or friends.”

  I smile. I know how Kat frets over me. I think it’s sweet. Since her crazy brother-in-law tried to kill her—almost killing me in the process—we’ve grown close. Like siblings, except without the rivalry. She’s a great girl. Smart, strong, and mama bear protective of those she loves. She’s gonna make a fantastic mom.

  “She’ll have more important things to worry about soon enough. You pick out a name for the baby yet?”

  “Nah. She doesn’t want to jinx it.”

  I glance over at him. He lifts a shoulder and changes the subject.

  “So if I know you like I think I do, I should say my farewells now, seein’ as how you’ll be pullin’ an Irish goodbye and sneakin’ outta the party before it’s over.”

  He’s right. I’m always the first to leave a party. And I’m usually in stealth mode when I do. If there’s anything more I hate than being the center of attention, it’s saying goodbye. Which makes tonight a double whammy.

  “You shoulda kept me on the clock another day so I couldn’t leave,” I joke.

  “If I had my way, you’d be on the clock permanently, brother. We’d be old and gray on some county fairground stage in Pittsburg and you’d be standin’ behind us in your Armani suit squintin’ at the crowd like some geezer action hero who refuses to retire.”

  “Like Clint Eastwood from In the Line of Fire,” I say, liking the comparison.

  “Yeah, except you’d be protectin’ a bunch of droolin’ old rock stars instead of the president.”