As he walked toward the front door, though, he heard Emily’s raised voice. “Are you kidding me? You asshole!” Clay couldn’t hear what her boyfriend said through the tinny-sounding laptop, but it was some sort of lame protest—Clay could tell that much. “It sounds like you already have a party going on there. Why the fuck do I have to be the porno entertainment for your fucked up party?”
Clay could hear the next thing her boyfriend said. “It’s not like that, Em.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don’t hang up.”
“I am. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Oh, come on, Em.”
“Fuck off.”
Clay thought he heard her slam the lid to her laptop. At this point, he knew he should have been ashamed for everything he heard; instead, he felt bad for Emily. If he’d been able to piece it together, she’d thought she and her boyfriend were alone, so to speak, and had been mutually engaged in Skype sex, but he was under the impression—from what little he’d heard—that the guy had had at least one other person on his end, someone she hadn’t seen in the room. Maybe she’d been so into it she hadn’t seen someone else come in. Whatever the case, she sounded humiliated and angry, and he couldn’t pretend to not know now.
* * *
What a fucking asshole. She was angry to the core. She’d said the f word more times this day than she ever had in one week before. She was so pissed at Bryce. She wasn’t sure how many guys had been listening to her bringing herself to orgasm, but it would have been nice to have been warned. What a slimy thing to do. How would she ever be able to look at those guys in the eyes again?
And what did that say about Bryce? Didn’t he love her? Why would anyone want to share his girlfriend—hell, his fiancée—that way? It made no sense to her.
She took a deep breath. Part of her wanted to just bury herself under the covers and sleep off all the negativity, but the other part of her knew she shouldn’t. She was technically “on the job,” and she knew she should be hanging out with Clay and his bandmates so she could get to know them.
Besides, she really did want to see the ocean. It would do her good.
So she got off the bed and went to the dresser, pulling out the hot pink bikini she’d put in there. She pulled off her clothes and slipped it on. Then she pulled out her brush and a ponytail holder and pulled her hair up. She found her sandals and slipped them on, and then remembered she’d packed a beach towel too. She grabbed it and then found her room card and phone on the nightstand and opened her bedroom door.
She almost screamed when she saw Clay sitting in a chair in the living area. She took in a deep breath. When she found her voice, she asked, “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
What did that mean? Had he heard her yelling at Bryce…or had he heard what had happened before? She didn’t want to think about it. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to come back for my phone.”
She swallowed. So why the hell was he just sitting there? Was he mad at her and thought she’d stolen it? He was acting strangely, and it was freaking her out. It didn’t help, because she was still emotionally charged. “Well, I’m gonna head to the beach.” She walked over to the front door.
“Wait.” She turned around and Clay was right in front of her. She looked up in his eyes. “That guy has no idea how to treat a lady.”
It took her a second to realize he was talking about Bryce. She didn’t know what to say. If he knew she’d been thinking about him when she’d climaxed, what then would he be saying? Still, she had to force herself to look in his eyes. Part of her felt like she should defend Bryce, but the man was beyond that. He had acted like a cad, and he didn’t deserve any defense from her. Clay was right. Still, she couldn’t find any words. It didn’t help that Clay was so close, way too close to her. She could feel that electric charge between them that she’d often felt when he’d been nearby, the one that told her she should stay away. She could feel the warmth from his body in spite of the cooled air inside the room. He felt hot, like he was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers. And that’s why there were no words.
His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and she was convinced he was going to kiss her—and she would have let him. Instead, he spoke. “I know you said you were engaged. Clay will respect that…but if you want a real man who’ll treat you right, Jet doesn’t give a fuck if you’re engaged, married, or a nun.” She parted her lips to speak—or maybe invite him in?—but he interrupted her again. “Just think about it.” He took a deep breath and removed his hand, stepping back. “Do you need me to walk with you?” She shook her head. “Text me if you can’t find them.”
She opened the door and found her voice. “You coming in a bit?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
She closed the door and paused. She had to catch her breath. What the hell had just happened, and how could she go on acting normally when everything had just changed in such a short time?
* * *
The awkward feeling between them faded, leaving in its wake relief. Clay felt so much better having said what had been on his mind in the short time he’d known Emily. It didn’t change the fact that he’d had a hard time sleeping that night.
The next day, though, it was as though nothing had happened. Emily told him the agenda, but Clay laughed. “We’ll be there most of the day. Don’t you wanna see these bands?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“No I guess. You’re gonna watch some of these bands, and you’re gonna like it.”
“Where?”
“Much as I’d like to mosh, I can’t get away with it anymore. We’ll find an out-of-the-way spot and watch the big screen. We’re there to listen anyway. Nothing like live music.”
Emily nodded. “I do love a good concert, but I haven’t been to one in a long time, not since…”
“Since?”
She shrugged. “It’s been a while. I’m looking forward to it.”
Before they left, Clay put a baseball cap on, tucking his hair underneath it. Emily smirked, and he grinned back. He knew what she was thinking, that the cap did nothing, but it hadn’t failed him before. And then they all got in cabs, and she almost laughed because it was such a short distance to the arena. Still, the place was already packed.
Last Five Seconds was on at three. They’d had a late big breakfast and planned on skipping lunch. They checked in backstage, and Clay and the band checked all their gear. When Clay was satisfied, he grabbed Emily by the hand and pulled her into the arena. She didn’t protest. He flagged down a girl toting beers around and bought two. Emily gave him a look like she didn’t want one, but she took it anyway.
Clay had no idea who the band was that was playing, but they were good. They sounded new and fresh. Best yet, they were heavy. Once they got in position, away from the crowd, he reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out two pairs of ear plugs. He placed a pair in Emily’s hand, and she gave him a confused look. He showed her that he was putting a pair in his ears. They’d be able to hear the music just fine, and with the plugs, it wouldn’t even sound muted.
Emily sipped at the beer and seemed to enjoy it okay. Clay smiled over at her. There were few things he enjoyed more than live music, and sharing it with a woman he cared about made it even better.
Yeah, he cared about her. It had happened quickly. They’d been working so closely together and part of his feelings revolved around the fact that he was grateful to her. More than that, though, was the fact that she was deep down a sweet and gentle soul. He’d known few people that kind deep down, but she tried to hide it from him. He wasn’t sure why.
He looked over at her. Her warm brown eyes were shining with excitement. He so wanted to grab her like he had last night and kiss her hard. Ever since then, his thoughts hadn’t strayed from her, and he couldn’t get the image of her out of his head. He could still hear her low groan from behind her
bedroom door, and he yearned to make her do that himself again and again. He swallowed. He was just torturing himself.
Still, after having heard her blow up at her boyfriend, he couldn’t help but hope that was a crack in their relationship. The guy didn’t deserve her. Not one bit.
Of course, she deserved better than Clay too. He knew that. But, unlike the douchebag she was engaged to, Clay would spend his life trying to be good enough. He’d try to be so good she wouldn’t notice he wasn’t.
She looked over at him and smiled, then threw up her right arm to sport metal horns that matched the crowd. Clay laughed and joined her.
He almost kissed her. Almost. And he thought it would be forgivable because he could blame it on the heat of the moment. But he stopped himself from doing it. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her and swayed to the music. So they weren’t headbanging. Clay dared anyone to say shit. But, of course, no one did.
Chapter Eleven
TRUE TO FORM, Clay was stressing Emily out by the time it was Last Five Seconds’ turn to perform. The two of them had been enjoying the band before, and she kept telling him it was time to go, but he’d laugh and say, “Just a little longer.”
By the time they started walking down the steps of the bleachers where they’d been hanging, Emily was freaking out. They still had to maneuver the crowd to get to the back, and the band that had been playing finished up. That meant the crew would start setting up the band’s instruments, and Clay needed to do a sound check on his guitar.
Halfway there, he said, “Would you relax?”
She made a sour face. “You don’t make it easy.”
“Trust me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd again. She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to do that, but he did. People just seemed to move out of the way for him.
And she couldn’t even admit to herself how much she liked his hand holding hers. That was twice today that he’d done it, and it made her wonder just how much he’d heard yesterday. Obviously, it was enough to make him feel protective of her, but she knew for sure he’d heard her going off on Bryce. God, she hoped he hadn’t heard her masturbating. It was embarrassing enough knowing all of Bryce’s goddamned friends had listened in and had either thought it was funny or hot. She was still angry and humiliated about that.
The beer was taking the edge off those raw emotions.
They got to the backstage area, and that’s when she saw Clay change. He became all business. She’d never seen it in the man, would have, in fact, insisted that part of him didn’t exist—until she saw it. He was serious and on task, but behind his eyes, she could still see the playful side of him ready to break out.
She and the blonde—girlfriend of singer Sam, whose stage name was Silver—stood just offstage with a great view of the band. The guys were still offstage while the crew put the finishing touches on the set. They had about three minutes to go. The blonde said, “So, you’re Clay’s PA? That right?”
“Yeah. I started about two and a half weeks ago.”
The blonde nodded. “God knows the man needs it. Good luck.”
Emily smiled. She actually felt like the hardest part was behind them. “Thanks.”
“Just…don’t fall victim to his charms. I know he can come on pretty strong.”
And what would she know about it? Why did she feel the need to give Emily unwanted advice? Instead of having its desired effect, the woman’s warning pissed her off, made her feel even more protective of Clay. She knew he liked his reputation as a bad boy, but aside from his little Jet speech the day before, he’d been mostly a gentleman.
But that pulled her mind into thinking about the day before. As the band started to play, Emily was doing exactly what Clay had encouraged her to do—to think about his offer to play around with him, no matter what her relationship status. What she found strange was how Clay talked about himself as two different people, as though Jet were someone he kept locked away until needed to deal with more objectionable activities.
What disturbed her was she thought she was starting to see the difference. She thought she had mostly been dealing with the part of himself he called Clay, a mild-mannered nice guy who cared about people. Jet was the side of himself that wasn’t concerned about offending other people. Jet was a bad boy, in your face and loud. He also seemed to love women, all women, and he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
Well, no, that wasn’t true. He’d given her a choice.
Emily was relieved when the band started playing, sparing her from more awkward conversation.
Still, it had made her focus on the man with the guitar strapped around his body. Just thinking about him—Clay or Jet—made her feel warm. She could still feel the heat of his hand on her neck and how it had given her chills throughout her body. He’d promised to “treat her right,” but she wondered how that would work exactly, especially if she were cheating on her fiancé?
Well, as tempting as her boss was, there was no way she was going to do it.
Still, he made it damned hard. She’d never been to one of their concerts before, and he was sex incarnate onstage. Either that or it was her own imagination going wild. His fingers were flying all over the strings on his guitar…and that’s when she had a duh moment, realizing that was probably where the name Jet had come from in the first place. He was amazing. More than that, though, she could tell he was having the time of his life. He was pumped full of energy, moving from one side of the stage to the other, but then he’d pause in one spot when it was time for a solo, or he’d look out at the audience during an intense breakdown, communicating with them simply through his dark-green eyes. He and his crowd were sharing moments, and she knew it would be a show they wouldn’t soon forget.
She thought it was cool, because the band wasn’t getting a dime for this concert, and yet she could tell they were still giving it their all. She admired that.
But above the admiration, she could feel a slow burning in her gut for the man wielding the axe. The problem? She wouldn’t take Clay (or Jet, for that matter) up on his offer, but she had taken his suggestion. She was thinking about it. Oh, yes, she was thinking about it way too much.
* * *
Clay hadn’t expected it, but he didn’t like fame as much as he would have thought. He’d enjoyed being in a band back in the day when they’d played small venues and the largest audience he’d ever played to had a mere three hundred people. That was manageable. Hell, yeah, he enjoyed the admiration of thousands of fans and really liked the money he made from selling his music. But what he didn’t like about the fame that studio albums and nationwide (and even international) touring brought him was that it was overwhelming.
He’d first noticed that feeling of being sucked under a couple of years ago when he was on his Facebook fan page. He’d posted a picture of him and Brian goofing around a few minutes before going onstage. It was a funny, intimate shot, one he thought fans would appreciate. By the next morning, he had over a thousand likes and forty-two people had shared the picture. There were over fifty comments as well, and at first he’d been smiling as he scrolled through, especially when one woman commented that he and his bassist friend were her ideal sandwich. But as he continued to scroll, he just started feeling like maybe he wasn’t a real person to these folks. They somehow seemed to think he belonged to them.
It was unsettling.
Jet didn’t mind. Jet loved it, and it was a good thing, because Clay just couldn’t handle it.
It was the first time in a long time he was watching Fully Automatic play, and it brought back memories of days gone by, back when he’d played to smaller crowds, always dreaming about fame but not caring one way or another if it really came.
He didn’t have much chance to talk with the guys because they had to hit the road. They were in the middle of a tour and had another show the very next day across the country, but Brad did talk to Clay for a few minutes. After both asking how each other’s kids were, Clay had to know. �
�How’s Val doing?”
“Great. In fact, I needed to ask you when you guys are dropping your next disc.”
“Why?”
Brad smiled. “She’s starting a new project and is going to need to be an opening act. I was thinking—”
“Oh, hell, yeah. We’ll find a way to make it happen. You thinking the American leg of the tour or—”
“Not sure yet. They’re just recording right now.”
“I gotta know. All female?”
“No. The bassist is a woman, but she has guys on drums and lead guitar. She’s playing too.”
“You’re shitting me. Fuck. I can’t wait to hear it.”
“It’s amazing, man. Anyway, gotta go.”
“Wait. What’s the name of her band?”
Brad grinned again. “Oh, you’re gonna love this. It’s Val Hella.”
Clay laughed. He almost said, “God, I love that woman,” which would have been true, but he didn’t think her husband would appreciate that, in spite of their history together. He was happy for Val. She was a sweet soul who deserved a good life. Clay said hi to the other guys in Fully Automatic, including Ethan, Val’s ex-husband, but there was no love loss between the two. Ethan had always felt like Clay had stolen Val away from him, but the truth was the guy had lost her long before Jet moved in on her.
Still, it was water under the bridge. Val was one of the first women he’d used his full-blown Jet persona on, propositioning her one of the first times he’d met her. Nowadays, it was a standard act. Jet got all the action. Jet was the part of him that just didn’t give a fuck, and it was the part of him without deep emotion. It was the part of him that liked fun and play.
Clay was the man he had to protect. Clay was the part of him that could get hurt.
The problem was Clay was starting to fall for Emily…and Jet didn’t quite know what to do about that.
Chapter Twelve
IT DIDN’T TAKE long to settle into a routine once they got back home. Emily hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know the other members of Clay’s band, but she knew she would once they were on a real tour. At least she’d had an opportunity to learn their names and faces and personalities.
Feverish (Bullet #3) Page 9
