She added the last part for him.
Tyler loved rhyme time.
“Besides. My security team can take care of any…unfortunate events? Can we call it that? Yes? Awesome. So. Where was I? Unfortunate events, as the mob says? Thank you. Any who. Security team. Commencing with the carving. Your genitals. Unfortunate events. That might occur. To you. Sergeant Stupid.”
She stopped long enough to rub Dion’s arm soothingly. Assuring him she was alright.
He frowned murderously at Ty. Making a cutting motion with his hand. Slicing it across his neck.
The universal sign for I love you, truly, madly and deeply.
At least that’s how she was sure Ty took it.
He thought everyone was secretly a little in love with him.
Ty put his middle finger in his mouth.
Sucking it out slowly.
Dion looked totally offended at the obscenely erotic gesture.
Lena ignored them both, and continued.
“One word from me you’ll be singing soprano the rest of your very short life. So that would be a big, fat, next?”
Tyler grinned. Showing a perfect smile.
With rows of dazzling white teeth.
Even more amazing considering his lifestyle.
And the junk food he ate on a regular basis.
One of life’s great mysteries.
That, and why fat, balding European men wore Speedos on the beach.
“You love me. Additionally, do you know any cannibals?”
She felt her anger dissolving, but had to at least pretend not to let him off the hook.
“This remains to be seen, jackass. I’m sure your groupies have eaten more than their share of human flesh. Perhaps consensually, knowing you and the slutty male counterparts you call band mates. But you get my point. One more try.”
“Baby. You always say the sexiest things.”
He swiveled her bar stool around to face him, kissing her on the lips. His touch surprisingly gentle.
But then, Ty was always a contradiction in terms.
His lips were soft. Warm. A little squishy.
He’d been drinking. He always got extra touchy feely when he was sloshed.
Lena was not amused.
Her lady parts might have been. Slightly.
Maybe someone giggled inside.
Maybe it was her.
She wasn’t telling.
She refused to give the motherfucker any kind of satisfaction.
She gave a quick nod to Nikko, the head of security. He and the other bouncers retreated. She figured she’d better call them off. Before they yanked Ty by his throat.
And put a real hurting on him.
The things she did for her friends.
“None of what you just said is reason not to mutilate and maim you terribly. And, I don’t appreciate choking and coughing up a lung because you think it’s fun to scare the shit out of me.”
She scowled, pushing him away.
“Oh come now. Surely you don’t want me dead before you can experience all this?”
Ty moved her hand over his zipper.
She hesitated a fraction of a second over his semi-hard erection. Then pulled her hand away.
Jesus Christ.
Had he always been that large, and she just never noticed?
Lena blinked. Wisely ignoring her own question.
He laughed. Mercifully overlooking her obvious pause.
“Cut it out, Ty.”
He smirked. She, on the other hand was not pleased.
“I’m serious.”
“Ok, ok…I’ll behave.”
“And as impressed as I am with your somewhat drunken, always less than witty repartee, why are you here? Don’t you have autographs to sign, groupies to fuck, puppies to kiss? Possibly in that order?”
“Hey now. What’s this? Aren’t you glad to see your best friend in the whole wide world? A best friend, who might I remind you, took time off Retribution’s sold out tour to grace your little club with his presence?”
Lena rolled her eyes.
“Here we go. And thank you for telling me the name of your band. I might not have known it otherwise.”
Oh, but Ty was just warming up. Of that she was sure.
“A best friend who forgives you constantly when your security team, on your order I might add, is relentlessly trying to kill him at the slightest provocation or whim of your violent, bloodthirsty little heart?”
So he had noticed.
This warmed her soul.
She smiled, showing lots of her own flashy white teeth.
Maybe a little wolfishly. But good mood restored.
“Well, alright. I’ll forgive you. And my club is fabulous, you silly boy.”
She gave an impish grin and giggled. Fascinated he could possibly think otherwise. To her, everything she did was fabulous.
“You know I was never going to let them truly kill you anyway. Just beat you with horrendous malevolence is all. A few broken ribs. Maybe a fractured spleen. Perhaps the finishing touch of three or four loose teeth? But that’s it. Scout’s honor.”
She held up her hand, beaming at him.
Earlier transgressions all but forgotten.
Tyler eyed Lena.
It did no good to wonder about her sanity.
He always knew she was nuttier than a fruitcake.
It was why he loved her so fucking much.
Love.
Now there went a four-letter word he always avoided.
Except when it came to her, of course.
She was always his one exception.
To practically every rule he had.
Chapter 3
Ty knew it years ago, when he first saw her.
She was always destined to completely fuck up his world, and everything in it.
If he had any sense at all, he would have run, not walked, in the other direction.
But he didn’t.
It was the best decision he ever made.
Before the money, before the pr empire, she was always a force of nature.
He remembered showing up for that first interview with Rolling Stone Magazine.
He and Danny formed Retribution together, having been friends since high school. No real money to speak of, but by then a small underground following. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time. It was in the air. You could feel it.
Suddenly they were being dubbed “the next big thing.”
They were frustrated being the next big thing hadn’t translated into a record deal.
When they got the call Rolling Stone Magazine wanted to feature them in the “Best New Artist” issue, they knew this was the break they were waiting for.
Lena was senior editor at the time, but this was an interview she wanted to do personally. She’d been hearing buzz about the group for a while, admitting to him via email she was beyond curious.
He remembered seeing her for the first time.
She had her curls in a loose half-hazard knot above her head. Wearing no make-up, save for the tiniest bit of gloss on her full lips. One of which was between her teeth as she frowned at something on her computer screen.
Not that she ever needed any of it.
She was gorgeous.
Even then.
She looked like a teenager. Barely legal enough to be working at Rolling Stone, let alone senior editor.
She dressed simply, grey sweatpants and a worn grey t-shirt that said, “Harvard University.”
Below that in small letters, “Just kidding.”
As he walked up to her at the local coffee shop, all those years ago, she barely spared him a glance. Continuing to type on her laptop.
She didn’t look up.
“You’re late.”
It was true. With no good reason either. Thirty-three minutes late, to be exact. All because he got hung over the night before. Simply not feeling like getting out of bed.
Not really an excuse.
But then, he
never had to make one.
It never usually went that far.
No one ever asked.
He never offered.
Went with the territory.
“I ummm…traffic?”
He gave a helpless shrug and smiled. Trying to use his usual charm, charisma and various forms of other bullshit.
She stood. Interrupting him, leaning forward with a finger to his lips. Effectively silencing him.
“First. There is not a single, solitary fuck I give if traffic truly made you late. Which, I highly doubt, since I can smell last night’s alcohol on your nasty, stale morning breath. I suspect you are lying to me. I’ll get back to that shortly. In either case, professional courtesy dictates you at least call, email or text. Carrier pigeon where available.”
Something told him she was just getting started.
“Second. You either want this interview or you don’t. But let me tell you what I’m not here for. I’m not here to be that bitch, so enamored by all that is you, I’m going to overlook you wasting my time, disrespecting me. Showing up over thirty fucking minutes late without calling, is not cool.”
She jabbed him pointedly in the chest with her other hand.
“I’m not here to be that bitch, ready to listen to the superficial, fake ass bullshit you give all the other reporters. I want you. The real you. The aching, lonely, gaping rawness I see on stage when you perform. No more, no less.”
She grabbed his shirt, bringing him down to eye level.
Her voice lowered conspiratorially.
“Third. And you’re going to want to pay attention to this one. It’s the most important third you’re ever going to hear. You feel me? Nod if you do.”
Ty arched his brow, not saying a word.
He felt the prick of his temper, letting it simmer.
Giving a brief, barely perceptible nod.
“That’s good, Malone. Really good. You might not be as stupid as you look with that hair. Third. Don’t think for a motherfucking minute to ever lie to me again. I will always fucking know. Like I know you lied to me just now. Don’t wonder why. It’s magic.” She winked, nodding sagely.
“For all intents and purposes, think of me as a human lie detector. And here’s a secret. Most of the angry black women you know of usually are. Especially the ones with Italian fathers. But don’t repeat that. I might lose my Negro/Mafioso license. Oh yeah. It’s real.”
She smiled at him then. A genuine, beautiful smile.
It was at that moment he knew.
She was never truly angry at him.
Whatever angry was where she was concerned.
He got off unscathed. With just a warning.
She would make an amazing friend. Or horrifying enemy.
On a basic human level, his brain understood that. Filing it away for later.
“Lastly, my name is Lena Roman. It might be nice to meet you. I’m not sure yet. You, on the other hand, are thrilled to meet me. You’re so thrilled, you’re going to tell me it is fanfuckingtastic to bask in the wonder that is me. You’re going to be sincere, and do you know why?”
She released his shirt.
Keeping her finger on his lips.
“No, no. Don’t answer. I’m going to tell you why. Because if you’re very nice to me, and convince me you’re worth more than the dirt underneath my hamster Rodney’s nutsack, I’m going to make your band the biggest group on the planet.”
She removed her finger from his mouth.
“Yes, I have a hamster named Rodney.”
Without warning, Ty clasped her hand between his.
Instinctively bringing it to his chest.
“Hi, Lena Roman. I’m Tyler Malone. It is fanfuckingtastic to meet you.”
His tone a shade mocking.
And then, he felt it.
Something so brief and fleeting, he almost missed it.
Almost.
He remembered at that moment, feeling like someone punched him in the gut with a massive fist.
Like it was the first day of the rest of his life.
Like nothing else before that moment, ever really fucking mattered.
Seconds became eons.
Everything around them stilled.
Ty felt nothing but her hand.
And the rapid beat of his own heart.
He would have bet money she felt something too.
As their eyes met and held, someone cleared their throat.
“Would either of you like some coffee or tea?”
The waitress had stood there long enough.
If she didn’t get their order soon, Frankie, her boss was going to bitch. And today was just not the day.
He blinked, the spell broken.
Lena’s eyes flickered briefly, before becoming neutral as she pulled her hand away.
After he quietly put his ego in check, apologizing for real that time, they finished the interview.
And talked. Long after it was over.
They were pretty much inseparable ever since.
To this day, they never spoke about what happened.
He never lied to her again.
And she kept her word.
When she eventually quit her job at the magazine to manage their career, she made Retribution the best-selling band in recent history.
Perhaps their talent helped.
But not the way Lena told it.
It was her way.
Years passed. When she got bored, turning over full time management, or babysitting as she called it, to someone else, she launched her own magazine. Eventually founding Roman Devin Public Relations. Making scads and piles of money.
Her latest hobby was real estate. Including the recent purchase of her new club, Sadist.
She’d had it completely remodeled, going total BDSM theme. From the lines constantly waiting outside to get in, Queen Midas struck gold once more.
Through it all, he was there with her.
Reminiscing about the good old days. Eating ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Planning for what they would conquer next.
He didn’t know where he would be right now without her.
She’d done more for him then she ever knew.
God forbid she found out that dirty little secret.
He’d never hear the end of it.
He was never close with his family. His father taking off when he was little, his mother a drunk who never seemed to remember he existed. Or want him around.
When he got rich, he bought her a house. Setting up a fund his accountant managed, so he no longer had to deal with her. He had no brothers or sisters. No other family that gave a damn before he was anything.
So he in turn, didn’t give a damn about them now.
She and the band were it.
There when he was at his lowest. Never leaving.
Through the drugs, the numerous women, the emotional highs and lows. With him there were many.
She was one of the only people in the world who couldn’t give a fuck about the money, or the fame.
Lena always bragged she was richer than he was anyway.
He didn’t really believe her.
Well, yeah. Fuck it.
He kind of did.
She was never one to brag about her shit. Especially if she couldn’t find some way to back it up.
He refused to let her know he believed her. It was so much more fun riling her up and goading her instead.
He loved the way her eyes flashed. Her cheeks getting pink with color when she got royally pissed off.
He chuckled to himself. Like a crayon.
He always told her how much the pink in her cheeks really set off her honey kissed skin. She would then threaten him within an inch of his life.
Which he, of course, promptly ignored…And secretly loved.
It never seemed to matter much who they were in a relationship with, or otherwise fucking. They were, annoyingly to some, always…around in each other’s lives.
Significant
others either dealt with it or were quickly dealt with.
Yeah, he fucked with her constantly.
Lived for the times he stretched the limits of her sanity.
Ducked, as he missed several potential concussions from the various items thrown at his head.
But she was his best friend.
Period.
There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
Or to her, for that matter.
Another thing she didn’t need to know.
They harmlessly flirted.
Easily dabbled…
He might have jerked off a time or two, listening to the sound of her voice. But that was it.
Just friends.
He looked at her mouth.
Wondering what her lips would feel like around his cock.
Her blood red lipstick would probably stain his skin.
Maybe the sheets. Especially if they were white.
She’d look like a naughty little angel in his bed.
A fallen one. With a crooked halo, of course.
Ty closed his eyes. Willing the image out of his head.
He opened them and found Lena staring at him.
Her gaze pensive.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She looked away. Out onto the dance floor.
“Something.”
He followed her gaze. Bodies. Moving together. Distracting…sexual. Weirdly hypnotic.
“It’s just…for a second, you looked like you were thinking something pretty intense.”
She flicked an invisible piece of dust from the counter.
“Care to share?”
Ty met her gaze directly.
“Do you really want to know?”
His tone was teasing. Inviting.
Sexy as hell.
Lena cleared her throat, looking away.
“Never mind.”
He absently caressed a curl that fell down on her shoulder.
This time, she didn’t move his hand.
“Baby girl. What exactly am I going to do with you?”
He laughed softly, shaking his head.
“You know…sometime, I’m going to tell you exactly what I’m thinking. Whether you want to know or not. Maybe then we can finally have that talk.”
Lena busied herself with her drink, and didn’t answer.
He heard his voice, long before he approached.
On some instinctual level, Ty knew he was there.
Give and Receive: Books 1, 2, 3: An Interracial Menage Rock Star Romantic Series Page 2
