Good thing I’ve got my rape knife.
I’m going to use it to cut his jeans off and have my way with him.
Chapter 38
VICTORY
I totally can’t sleep.
I flip and flop around on the couch. I’ve laid here for two hours since Kellan walked into his bedroom. Sleep is nowhere in sight.
Gee, I wonder why.
All I can think about is Kellan’s butt and the way his jeans hugged it. It was the last image I saw before turning out the lights.
His butt is burned into my brain.
He wasn’t kidding about locking the door.
When I heard him latch it and click the lock over, he said through the bedroom door, “I’ve got a padlock on the inside. You’re never getting in.”
Not that I tried. But, boy, I considered knocking about a hundred times. Not that I would ever do such a thing. But I would give it serious consideration. Take it before the committee of opinions in my head. Let them vote on it. If the decision was unanimously in favor of knocking, I would have no choice but to knock.
Ladies? I ask the committee in my head. How do you vote? Knock or no knock?
I don’t even have to ask.
We all know the answer is yes.
But I can be a vicious dictator.
I will not knock!
I sigh heavily and stare at the dark ceiling.
The faint glow from streetlights and the apartment building lights outside glint off the sparkly flecks embedded in the popcorn pattern of the ceiling. Hoping to summon sleep, I try counting the artificial ceiling stars. It’s not sheep, but it will have to do.
Sadly, every time I close my eyes, I don’t see sheep or stars.
I see the top of Kellan’s perfect bottom.
The truth is, if I’m being honest with myself, Kellan is amazing. In every way. He makes me feel good, and I barely know the guy. And the way we play guitar together? When you set everything else aside, our guitar chemistry is unbelievable.
But the last thing I want to do is trash our musical connection with a frivolous rebound fling that can only end badly. Kellan is not a one woman type of guy. We’ll never be right for each other as boyfriend girlfriend.
But we can be friends for sure.
Besides, considering Scott dumped me and kicked me out of Skin Trade last night, there’s no way I’m getting involved with any men for months. Maybe years.
I need to grieve first.
But I can make decisions about friends. Everyone needs friends. And I need to put together a band. Kellan is perfect for both.
We can be friends and bandmates.
Nothing more.
And, ladies? Yeah, you guys? The panel in my head? The ones who keep telling me to go knock on Kellan’s door? We all know what happened the last time I slept with someone in the band.
Did you forget already?
Fucking Scott Walker?
Yeah, him.
Good riddance.
I’m not sleeping with Kellan.
End of story.
Go knock!!!!
SHUT!!!! UP!!!!!
Chapter 39
KELLAN
I’m wired.
Like I snorted a bag full of crank and I’m not coming down for another ten hours.
All because of Victory.
I want to jump out of bed and finish that song we started earlier. I know it’s good music. It won’t take much to work up the whole thing. I’m gonna find us a drummer. Maybe Joaquin, if he’s not busy.
Me and Victory need to start recording tracks A.S.A.P. We spun musical gold tonight. Or should I say platinum, because we’re going to sell a million fucking records of what we come up with.
Between me and Victory, it’s an endless stream of ideas. I’ve never worked with another guitar player as good as her or as easy to work with. She’s totally creative. Good ideas pour out of her.
I’m in heaven working with her.
It doesn’t hurt that she’s so fucking hot.
Man, I’m a little surprised I didn’t fuck her the second we walked into my apartment.
I chuckle softly to myself.
If she was any other girl, she would’ve begged me to bang her in the alley behind N.Y. & C.’s after we had pizza. But I have to actually turn up the heat with a girl for that shit to happen. It always works. But with Victory, I guess I just, I don’t know, didn’t think about it. We were too busy talking guitar and everything else except sex.
If Dubs could see me now, he’d rail on me for turning into a chick. He would totally flip.
I grin.
Whatever.
I don’t need to prove anything.
I flop onto my back and lace my fingers behind my head. My Jimi Hendrix poster on the wall between my Wild Child poster and my mirrored closet doors catches my eye.
I’ve had my Jimi poster for as long as I can remember. It’s the exact same one Victory had on the wall at her old apartment last night. No way I was letting her leave hers behind, which she almost did. I bet she’ll say something about mine when she finally sees it. But she seems to be avoiding my bedroom like it’s some kind of hot zone.
I smirk to myself. Any place where I’m at is definitely a hot zone.
She probably thinks I bring tons of chicks home all the time, which I never do. I always go to their houses so I can leave whenever I want. It’s easier that way.
If I ever get Victory in here, it’ll be a fucking inferno. Strangely, it’s turning out to be more work than I expected. I can handle it. I didn’t learn how to play guitar overnight. It’s taken years to get this good.
Given the proper motivation, I’m not afraid to work hard for what I want.
Funny thing is, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as bad as I want Victory in my entire life. Except maybe the first time my mom played Hendrix’s Voodoo Chile for me. I went nuts and begged her for a guitar. She said we didn’t have the money. Man, I worked hard then. I got a paper route, mowed lawns, raked leaves. Whatever it took. I wanted a guitar and nothing was going to stop me from getting it.
Me and guitar have been inseparable ever since.
I feel the same way about Victory.
I want her.
Like the first guitar I ever bought, I’m going to do whatever it takes to make Victory mine.
Whatever it takes.
Even if I have to mow Victory’s lawn or plow her furrow or plant my seeds or rake her leaves.
I grin.
I don’t even know what raking her leaves means. But when it comes to Victory, I’ll do it.
I cackle quietly to myself and try to sleep.
Chapter 40
VICTORY
A thin sunbeam slicing through a gap in the window blinds wakes me up, spearing right into my closed eyes. The inside of my eyelids glow bright red. I squinch my lids and roll over, burying my face into the couch cushions.
The apartment is silent. I don’t know what time it is. I’m guessing from the angle of the sun and the relative quiet outside, it’s still early. Too early. But at least I slept for a few hours. I don’t know how I did it.
I need to get ready for work at Big Momma’s.
I grimace.
The Contrares.
What are Johnny and Karen gonna say when they see it?
The case sits on the floor to the side of the couch. I so don’t want to deal with it. Everything in its time, or whatever Johnny said.
I hope their usual hippie mellowness is in effect when I show them the guitar. Maybe I can say I forgot it? Leave it here and deal with it next weekend? I will take that into serious consideration.
But now I have to go to the bathroom.
I slide the covers back and tiptoe to the bathroom.
Kellan’s bedroom door, which is four feet from the door to the bathroom, is wide open. Kellan is sprawled out on the queen sized bed.
Naked.
He lies on his back, one muscled arm folded behind his head. The corner
of his sheet covers his privates and part of his thigh, but he’s pretty much naked.
I make a strangled gasping noise that is way louder than necessary. I slap my hand over my mouth, holding it in.
His body is truly incredible. Lying down, he’s as hot as he was standing up. He is flawless masculine muscled perfection.
I’m hypnotized.
He stirs in bed, not quite awake, and the sheet moves, seemingly under its own power, or else there’s special effects guys off camera pulling it with a fishing line so I look like an idiot staring at Kellan’s hidden junk like a traffic accident about to happen. In a good way, of course.
A second ago, the sheet was rumpled over his jumblies. But now, so little is left covering him, it drapes neatly over his magnificent morning wood, leaving little to the imagination. Big Sur has never seen Redwoods so big.
My hand is still clamped over my mouth. I’m openly ogling. Kellan’s going to wake up any second and catch me peeping.
To the bathroom!
I spin in the hallway and slam my shoulder into the sheetrock. Doesn’t hurt my shoulder, but it makes a nice hollow thump loud enough to wake a dead redwood.
Oh, wait. The redwood is already awake.
I stumble through the bathroom door and lock it behind me before Kellan sees me.
Disaster averted.
I heave a sigh of relief while I sit on the toilet.
Now, if I can only get out of the bathroom and grab my garbage bag of stuff and get out of here before he wakes up, I’m in the clear. But if Kellan wakes up before I’m gone, I’m gone. If I know what I mean. And I do know what I mean.
Redwoods…
Between Kellan’s guitar playing, and a body equally as good as his guitar playing, he’s the most criminally sexy man ever invented. And with him lying around naked and hot, how am I supposed to keep my hands off him? I don’t stand a chance.
Geez! How long does it take to pee!
I finish up five seconds or five hours later. I quietly open the door an inch, peeking out to make sure Kellan hasn’t woken.
I nearly jump out of my skin when he’s standing right in front of the crack in the door.
I blurt, “Kellan!” and slam the door in his face.
He laughs.
My heart races and I’m breathing like a steam engine at top speed. There’s no way I’m leaving this bathroom. He could be completely naked. The door was only open a split second before I closed it, so I didn’t have time to survey between his legs for record breaking redwoods.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
I singsong, “I’m not in here!”
He chuckles.
“Go away!” I say.
“I need to take a leak.”
“I’m not coming out!”
“It’s my apartment. I need to pee. Show mercy,” he snickers.
“No!”
“Don’t make me go in the kitchen sink.”
I grimace, “You’d pee in your own sink?”
He sighs, “It’s that or the rose bushes outside. My neighbors hate that.”
“That’s their problem!”
“Come on, Gigi.”
“Gigi?” I bark, “Who’s Gigi? One of your countless girlfriends?”
“No, I said, Gee Gee. For Guitar Goddess. Since you don’t want me calling you Vic, I needed to come up with a new nick name for you.”
In that case, I kind of like Gigi.
“I really need to go,” he says through the door.
“Fine. Are you dressed?”
“No,” he says casually.
“Put some pants on! I’m not walking out of here until you do!” Yes, saying that was physically painful for me, but it had to be said.
“Hold on,” he groans, his voice muffled as he pads into his bedroom. “Okay. Pants are on. Can I piss now?”
I snicker, “Say please.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me beg in my own apartment.”
“It’s just one little word,” I coo, “a magical little word, and fewer syllables than abracadabra or open sesame.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he grumbles.
“But I bet I’m nothing like the pain in your bladder.”
“Fuck it. I’m using the kitchen sink,” he grunts and I hear thudding feet.
I open the door, “Okay! You can use the bathroom,” I giggle.
He’s half way across the living room, on his way to the kitchen. He’s wearing boxer briefs. Holy shit, he’s totally sexy. Sex perfection. The briefs hug his butt. Ohhhh gawd. I’m melting all over again.
When he turns, and I see his abs, I whimper. I hope he didn’t hear me. I’m paralyzed in place, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom.
“May I?” he asks, standing right in front of me.
I’m blocking the doorway. I can’t actually walk, but I manage to collapse against the doorframe.
He squeezes past me, his chest brushing up against…mine.
He suddenly stops.
He’s not moving a muscle.
I can’t move a muscle.
He gazes down at me, cocky as hell.
My heart whirs like a blender in my chest. My insides spin out of alignment. My nipples go rigid. Heat explodes between my legs. I’m only wearing my panties and the Whitesnake t-shirt I slept in. My nipples poke against the soft cotton. At least the shirt is black so it’s hard to notice. But I feel entirely naked with nothing to shield me from his heat.
His eyes are on fire.
I can only imagine what his redwood sized white snake is doing right now…
But I can’t look down to find out.
My eyes are locked on Kellan’s.
He leans toward me.
He’s going to kiss me.
If it ends up being anywhere near as good as when I kissed him in front of Scott, I’m going to have sex with him. I won’t be able to stop myself.
His mouth is half an inch from mine.
I feel his heat.
This is it. I’m so ready.
His lips peel into a grin. “You’re lucky I have to pee,” he smirks and pushes past me.
I stumble into the hallway and the bathroom door slams in my face.
That was way too close for comfort.
I have zero willpower when he’s nearly naked.
There’s no way I’m getting out of this apartment without having sex with him.
Unless I leave before he finishes peeing.
Good thing I don’t have much stuff.
Living in your car has certain advantages.
Chapter 41
VICTORY
“Are you leaving?” Kellan asks, standing in the bathroom doorway.
I gasp and nearly jump out of my boots. I’ve got my jeans on, my garbage bag of stuff is on top of my big Marshall speaker cabinet, as is the Contrares in its case, and I’m pushing everything out the front door.
I’m afraid if I turn around and see him in his boxer briefs, I won’t leave. Over my shoulder, I say, “I’ve got to get to work.”
“Don’t you want to shower and eat something before you go?”
Do I detect a note of concern in his voice? Or perhaps disappointment? I think I do. My heart warms at the thought, mostly against my will.
One of the various committees in my head starts a shouting match. Don’t fall for Kellan! You’re rebounding! Get out while you still can! He’s a total male slut! Run away!
“Uh…” I stammer over my shoulder, “I don’t want to be late for work.”
“What time is work?”
“The shop opens at eleven.” I still can’t look at him. I hang my head over my Marshall.
“You realize it’s only seven thirty?”
“There might be traffic.”
“On a Sunday?”
“It’s L.A.”
“Not three hours worth.”
“You never know,” I wince. I don’t even believe it myself.
“Take a shower. We’ll
go get breakfast around the corner.”
I finally turn to face him. Abs. Chest. Shoulders. Tats. That was a mistake. I examine my fingernails, considering. “I really could use a shower. But you have to put on a shirt and pants if you want me to stay.”
He laughs, “I told you, you totally want to have sex with me.”
I roll my goggling eyes, then command, “Pants, shirt. Now.”
He chuckles but doesn’t move.
I push my Marshall toward the front door and say, “Bye!”
The little caster wheels catch on the metal threshold plate and the Contrares case rockets off the top of the Marshall. It bangs on the ground. “Fuck!” I blurt.
“Ooh!” Kellan grunts. “I hope you didn’t break it again,” he says sarcastically.
I whip around, fuming, and glare at him.
“What? You said it was totaled.”
I shake my head, “You…are a complete ass.”
His face softens sympathetically. “Relax. Take a shower. Get some food in you before you go to work.” He takes a step toward me.
My palm shoots up like a stop sign. “Pants. Shirt. Now!”
“All right,” he sighs and walks into the bedroom. He returns a minute later in shorts and a Lynch Mob t-shirt.
“I said pants!”
He shakes his head, “No deal. It’s too hot for pants.”
I reluctantly break into a smile. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
“George Lynch rocks.”
“You know he’s almost sixty and he’s still a total hottie?” I almost tell Kellan he’ll probably age just as well as George, but don’t. His ego is already too big. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.
“I wouldn’t know,” Kellan says. “Get cleaned up, and let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
“You ate a 20 inch pizza right before bed and you’re hungry?”
“Good point. I’ll go for a run while you shower. Don’t lock me out,” he grins.
Before he leaves, Kellan pulls the Marshall inside and puts the Contrares back by the couch. He gets clean towels out of the linen closet in the hall and hands them to me.
Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3 Page 19
