by C. L. Riley
Her face brightens, and I give myself a mental pat on the back for quick thinking.
Now I know the aloof girl’s name, and I like it. I’m pretty sure Cadie is Irish. Not that I’m really surprised after getting lost in those green eyes and seeing her fiery curls up close. The splash of freckles dotting her cheeks was a pretty good indication too. I’d even gotten a taste of her Irish temper when I tried to kiss her.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, at least not with my head.
Because, believe me; I don’t make a practice of jumping off the stage and serenading my fans, let alone locking lips with them.
Though, in Cadie’s case, she doesn’t seem like much of a fan. More likely, her friend dragged her to the show, and for some reason, I’m okay with that. It proves she isn’t just another groupie panting for a chance to suck my cock, or some super-fan, obsessed with my life and desperate to claim any one-of-a-kind souvenir she can get her hands on.
Shit, from what I’ve seen so far, she’s an All-American good girl. She probably lives at home with mommy and daddy and is enrolled at the local community college. Not my normal type, not even close. Not to mention my no-redheads-rule.
Blondie is staring, waiting for me to say something else. “What’s your name?” The words rush out. I figure I should at least act interested.
Her cheeks flush and she smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Robin.”
My tour manager waves and points at the remaining winners before tapping his watch. It seems I’ve lingered too long. He wants me to finish up with the autographs.
Misty joins him, her phony smile in place. I hope she remembered I need more of the white stuff and some weed. She’s always on top of those things, so I’m not sure why I’m so anxious tonight. I give her a little nod that she returns, putting me more at ease. I turn my attention back to Robin.
“Once we announce the cruise winners, I’ll get your contact information. For the phone,” I add, making my intentions clear. I don’t want her getting any ideas. As attractive as she is, it’s her friend I have the insane urge to impress.
As if thinking about Cadie conjures her, I spot her talking with Roxie by the food spread. They’re both munching on whatever the caterer delivered. A few male contest winners are snacking too, checking out my rhythm guitar player at the same time. Her purple spiky hair is hard to ignore. I can’t help but smile.
What keeps me smiling is Cadie. It appears she likes to eat and isn’t shy about doing just that. The other girls are avoiding the food like it contains poison or might cause the next plague. I know what they’re scared of―getting fat. It’s almost like they think that simply standing by the table will add pounds and increase their BMI.
If they only knew, I prefer curvier women. Big full tits and a nice round ass are sexy as fucking hell. I don’t want to touch a woman’s ribcage or be poked by hipbones either. I want a woman not a skinny boy. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve fucked women of all shapes and sizes. I love pussy. But a woman like Cadie…I want to bury my face between her thick thighs and never come up. My cock swells at the image of her cunt, wet and tight.
As if sensing my scrutiny, she turns, catching my gaze. She pushes her glasses up and quickly turns away, once again ignoring me.
I feel something unfamiliar: the sharp sting of rejection.
I don’t like the feeling, in fact, I’m pretty fucking sure I hate it. My dick isn’t thrilled either, deflating with my mood.
Rather than dwell on the strange new emotion, I force myself to focus on the other winners and finish signing autographs. The two groupies I picked out earlier make an appearance, staggering in from behind stage right. Ronnie, our sound guy, is between them. He wipes below his nose and laughs at something one of the girls says, confirming my suspicions. They’ve been hitting the blow and have finished off at least a few beers.
In response, my gut tightens, anticipating the fresh boost that first, post-concert line will bring. If for some reason Misty hasn’t handled my delivery, I’ll borrow from Ronnie.
Cadie could never handle my appetites. I have no doubt, she’d never approve of my lifestyle.
Fucking hell. I need to move on. I mean seriously, why am I spending so much time worrying about someone who can’t even stand to look at me?
I’ll send her a cell phone and be done with it. She doesn’t belong in my world, and trying to force a square peg into a round hole is a waste of time, time I don’t have.
“Okay, everyone,” Rod’s booming voice silences the room and my thoughts. “It is time to select our two cruise winners. Portland is the last city on our schedule for this promotion. One of you will win two spots aboard the luxurious Starlight Sea Queen. And, I’m sure you’re already well aware that Crude Element will be onboard for your ten day voyage.”
A few people cheer, and hushed whispers ripple through the group. Everyone appears eager to win.
Well, not everyone.
Cadie once again looks like she wants to be anywhere but here. Despite my ‘don’t have time for a girl like her’ resolution, I attempt to catch her gaze, but she keeps her eyes trained on Rod, her expression blank. Robin, on the other hand, can barely stand still. She bounces from foot to foot, and a huge smile reflects her excitement. From what I’ve seen so far, the two women are complete opposites.
“And…I have another surprise. The winner from this stop will be sleeping in the presidential suite,” Rod pauses, allowing the announcement to sink in. “And there’s more. That winner and their guest will be seated with the band every night for dinner and be in front of the stage for every performance.”
The room erupts with applause, a few hoots, and excited laughter. Again, I find myself searching Cadie’s face for a reaction. Robin whispers in her ear, but as before, Cadie’s expression remains unreadable.
The girl is something else. What would it take to get her to smile?
“Shag, you wanna do the honors?” Rod is holding up a baseball cap I know contains the local winners’ names.
Making sure to play up my role for the press piranhas, here to cover the contest results, I swagger toward Rod, a smile plastered on. Misty, the master of phony pleasantries, taught me well how to smile when I really want to tell the world to ‘fuck off.’
Wiggling my fingers, I raise my hand before plunging it into the hat. Part of me wants Robin to win, in hopes she’ll bring Cadie. The other part is telling me, yet again, to forget the sullen woman with the red hair and flashing green eyes.
Letting luck, fate, whatever you want to call it, work its magic, I pluck a ticket from the hat.
Rod accepts it with exaggerated enthusiasm and reads the name, “Our grand prize winner is…”
Stix interrupts with an impromptu drum roll against the closest wall, using the sticks he keeps tucked in his back pocket.
“… Robin Barber!”
She screams and hugs Cadie, who stands stiffly in her embrace.
Robin weaves through the now, long-faced contestants, who at least manage to clap politely. In all honesty, they look like they’d rather tear her apart and take her place on the cruise.
I glance a final time toward Cadie, curious how she’s taking the news. I shouldn’t have wasted the energy. She squints behind her glasses before meeting my gaze. There’s no denying, she is none too pleased by the results and not for the same reason as the others who are still wishing they’d won.
What the fuck is wrong with this chick?
Before I can over analyze her borderline hostile reaction, the two groupies move in. One squeezes my ass before taking a place on my left side, while her friend ends up on my right. I sling my arms over their shoulders and decide to put all thoughts of Cadie to rest, for real this time.
A night of high grade blow and two sexy-as-sin women will do wonders for my mood. I lean down and plant a kiss on left-side groupie’s hair. She smells like vanilla. My cock responds accordingly, anticipating what comes next.
I’ve done my duty here. It’s time to play.
I saunter out to the waiting limo with two gorgeous females clinging to my sides, leaving all thoughts of a certain red-haired beauty behind.
* * *
Cadie
One Week Later
The six hour flight to Miami isn’t so bad in first class. In fact, I am impressed by the superb service and my seat is beyond comfy. Never one to enjoy flying, I’m truly surprised by the differences between first class and coach.
Because we’re Crude Element’s grand prize winners, we’ve been receiving rock-star treatment since the moment the limo picked us up at home and drove us to the airport. If only I didn’t have to see Shag Steal again so soon, everything would be perfect.
As for the star treatment, in reality, it started a few days before our flight, when two, pre-paid visa cards, each loaded with $2,500, arrived by courier. The accompanying instructions made it clear we were supposed to use the money to purchase vacation wardrobes, including a minimum of one, but preferably two, evening gowns.
To celebrate we went out to dinner. After way too much wine, I promised Robin I would wear trendy clothes of her choosing and my contact lenses, for the entire cruise.
I regret drinking with my sneaky best friend. I should know better by now. She even went so far as to hide my favorite old jeans, ratty t-shirts and sweatshirts while I was sleeping. Devious bitch!
Adding to the unexpected developments, I received a replacement cell phone, courtesy of my roommate and Shag Steal himself. Robin admitted she’d guilted him into sending me a new one. In addition to buying the newer model, he’d programmed his personal number into my contacts. I deleted it after texting a quick thank you, afraid the number might become a temptation I couldn’t or wouldn’t resist using. When it came to Crude Element’s front-man, I wasn’t sure about anything.
I’d replayed the night at the concert over and over―his lips on my cheek, our almost real kiss; his heated stares; the way I felt when he handed back my glasses and our fingers brushed―all of it. What burned was my final impression. Watching him stroll out the door, without so much as a glance back, was a painful hit to my already fragile ego. The two, ultra-slim, ultra-gorgeous girls―groupies―I’m sure, hanging all over him, didn’t help.
My practical side gets it and wasn’t that surprised. He is a famous musician, after all, a household name. Women who look like supermodels are the type of women men like him spend their free time with. My feigned disinterest was simply a challenge for him to overcome. When I didn’t respond right away, he moved on. I wasn’t worth his time or any added effort.
Why I believed, for even a second, he was actually interested in me, is ridiculous.
Adding to my crazy, post-concert, pre-vacation week was my father’s anticipated disapproval. He voiced his reasons why I shouldn’t go on the cruise via email, phone calls, and he’d even stopped by my job to present his case when the other methods failed to get the result he wanted. Sighing, I let the stilted conversation play out in my mind:
“When are you going to grow up, Cadie? For God’s sake, you’re a college graduate working at a bookstore. You have a degree in business management and a minor in public relations.”
I reply with my canned answer to this common criticism. The only thing new I have to tackle is the ‘college graduate’ portion of his argument. He acts like I’ve been out of school for years and should be secure in some lofty, high-salaried position, planning for retirement. But I’m not, and he needs to be reminded of the truth.
“Yes, I graduated, not even two weeks ago, and I work at Portland’s premiere bookstore, as a department manager, which happens to be in alignment with my career track. My PSU advisor agreed with the choice, remember?”
My words do nothing towards removing his scowl, and he moves on to his next complaint. “How does this place feel about your sudden departure for an unplanned vacation?” He makes the word ‘vacation’ sound like a cardinal sin. I suppose in his mind it is, considering his propensity to work until he can hardly move.
“You might find this hard to believe, but they were really excited for me. I’ve never used my vacation time. I have a good staff, and my department is well organized. In other words, it was approved.”
He makes a humph sound and shakes his head. “Thought you were scared to go out on the open sea?”
I’d been waiting for him to throw my own words back at me and am ready with a rebuttal. “You’re right. I am scared to go out on a small craft, deep sea fishing. But I’ll be on a large, luxury cruise liner. It’s not comparable. And Robin won tickets, Dad. It’s a free trip.”I don’t mention how she won the tickets. He’s not a big fan of the music scene.
Sensing defeat, he changes the subject. “I knew you moving out with that Robin girl wasn’t a good idea. You should have stayed at home. She’s not a good influence.”
It’s my turn to sigh. I’ve heard the whole “your friends are a bad influence” ever since high school. He always makes sure to throw his opinion about Robin into any disagreement, which is often.
Following my mother’s death, my father turned into a different man. He became paranoid and took out all his frustrations on me by attempting to control my actions. He’d also liked Mitch, hoping I would marry him. When he learned of our breakup and the reason behind it, he wasn’t very supportive, half blaming me for the split.
It took Robin and Josh to convince him of Mitch’s abusive behavior. Even then, he believed I should have been more flexible in our relationship.
If my mom was here, she’d be appalled by the way he talks down to me, but sadly, she’s not. I’ve been left with a shell of the man that used to be my father.
At last, his shoulders sag, an indication he is running out of steam. “Well, Cadie, as always, you’ll do what you want, in spite of my concerns. I hope when you get home you will finally buckle down and pursue a more lucrative career and work on improving your health. I’m worried. You put on weight this past year…”
I raise my hand, stopping him. “Dad, I appreciate your concern, but I am healthy. My doctor says I’m fine. My body size isn’t your business. I’m almost twenty-three.”
His expression softens, and he changes the course of our conversation, for what I hope is the final time. He finally confirms a few of my suspicions about his developing romance.
“I’m sorry. I just worry. And don’t forget. I want you to meet Regina. I may ask her to marry me. I know I’ve been gone a lot, visiting her. I’m sure that’s been hard on you. Did I mention she has a son? He’s a professional musician and public personality. You’ll have a brother.”
“Step-brother,” I correct, dreading the meeting and future ‘family’ merger, and I make no effort to correct his belief that his extended absences somehow upset me.
As always, my father is comparing my lack of success, in his mind, to someone else’s. Now it’s my future step-brother I’ll be competing with. And as it was with Mitch, pleasing my dad is impossible. All he does is hurt my feelings and find ways to belittle me, under the guise of caring, of course. Granted, my father loves me in his own way, but I’ll never live up to his expectations.
“Hey, girl. We’re landing soon,” Robin announces, breaking into my depressing memory.
The pilot makes it official a few seconds later, promising sunny weather in Miami.
Is there anything else but sun in Florida?
Robin downs the rest of her drink and slams the glass down on the tray in front of her, drawing a few curious glances. I’ve had one glass of champagne. I lost count how many cocktails she’s consumed. I’m not sure I want to know.
She passed the tipsy phase at least an hour ago; now it’s up to me to get her off the plane, corral our luggage, and drag her drunk ass through the airport…fun times.
Forty minutes following the pilot’s update, we are officially in The Sunshine State, and I am officially dragging her drunken ass in search of our luggage.
/> “It’s Miami, girlfriend!” she giggles obnoxiously, coming close to knocking us both over as she staggers along beside me.
Her ankles wobble dangerously in the high heels she was determined to wear, despite my misgivings. I warned her multiple times to wear flats while traveling. As usual, she did things her way and is paying the price.
Ignoring the stares directed our way and her mindless chatter, I grip her elbow and march us through the airport, wishing again Josh was here instead of me. The bountiful booze on the ship will not be good for my best friend. She likes drinking a little too much, evidenced by her binge on the plane. She’s always kept me busy at parties, and a cruise is one big party. I was hoping to relax, but I don’t see that happening now. I should have known better. I’ve always been the one watching out for her, the certified designated driver.
At least I won’t be hiding her car keys or taxiing her all over town, but it might actually be worse. I may need to stop her from falling, diving, or jumping overboard.
Considering I’m against the abuse of alcohol and drugs, especially cocaine, the watchdog role is a natural fit for me. Cocaine killed one of my best friends in high school and is the reason I am so vigilant when it comes to Robin and Josh. I also worry about Robin’s career choice; she wants to work in addiction recovery, at the center where she completed her internship, but she can’t see that her own tendencies are leading towards trouble.
Surely the band isn’t into illegal substances, and if they are, they wouldn’t dare indulge on the cruise with so many strangers. Would they?
“Hey…sexy!” my friend catcalls a handsome man talking on his cell phone. He shakes his head and grins.
“Robin,” I hiss. “We need to get our suitcases, and I can’t lug everything to the port by myself. I need you to sober up and not shout at strangers. We’ll find a cab in a minute.”
“You don’t have to lug anything or find a cab,” a woman says from behind, startling me.
I spin around, making Robin teeter. Somehow she stays upright. I find myself face to face with a woman I remember from backstage in Portland. She had been present when Robin was crowned the big winner.
