I’m not a groupie.
I don’t care how fine that man is, I will never be the girl coming out of the bathroom straightening her clothes and wiping her mouth.
“I’m good.”
I can’t help looking at his hands and flaring my nostrils at the memory of that scent—her scent.
“Just a heads-up, maybe you should wash your hands before you offer them in greeting.”
He raises two fingers to his nose and sniffs.
One eyebrow raises slowly. Understanding and embarrassment compete for real estate on his face.
Good. He should be embarrassed because that’s just nasty.
“Come on, Jess,” Jake says.
I follow my brother toward the other side of the room, and for the rest of the night, every time I look up it’s to find Daniel’s intense gaze focused on me. Not the pretty redhead or the dozens of other women littering backstage, but on me.
It’s hot and sexy and I want to rewind the clock to meet him under very different circumstances. As it stands, he fits the stereotypical picture of a rock star.
Slutty. Self-indulgent. Privileged.
I’ve been around men like him my whole life: rich, handsome, charismatic. And if I was the kind of girl to jump feetfirst into a one-night stand, he would be the perfect candidate.
But I like my sex good with a side of emotion. And my men?
I prefer them sweet.
Who in their right mind has time for a manwhore? Even one as fine as Daniel Xu.
I don’t know about other women, but you can miss me with that noise.
Chapter 4
Daniel
Where did she go?
The stage lights finally go down and I’m off the throne behind my drum kit before I can locate the rail lights.
I had Jessica in my periphery for the last couple of hours. She’d been standing in the wings at stage left most of the concert. She must’ve slipped off during the last transition. Lights went down and came back up and she was gone.
Probably somewhere holding a brown paper bag up to her brother’s face. For the entire concert, that man was prowling backstage like a junkyard dog. I was sure when Sin bent down to take a fan’s hand, he was about to snatch our lead singer off the stage.
“Oh my God, that was so hot.” Kara—or was it Karol—squeals. She slides a hand through the sweaty strands of hair at the nape of my neck and tries to pull my head down for a kiss. I jerk my head back and bracket her waist, maintaining the distance between us.
We had a moment before the concert. Nothing spectacular or life-changing. As far as head goes, she needs a serious tutorial and I’m not that cat. I didn’t even hit it because the shit was subpar all the way around.
“You ready to get out of here? I know you must be tired,” she says, turning hopeful eyes up to mine.
Not with you, sweetheart, but good try. I never understand how these girls think a little tickle behind closed doors will turn into a permanent relationship.
“You’re a cool chick, Karol, but you go ahead. I have to handle some shit right quick. I’ll get with you later.”
“Kristal. My name is Kristal,” she snaps.
“Right. My bad. Kristal.”
“Here.” She holds a glitter-covered phone up in front of my face. “Put your number in my phone. So…”
“I’ll catch you later, Kristal.” I step around her, ignoring the request to exchange info and the crestfallen expression, as I leave her standing in the same spot where I found her. I know that game and your boy isn’t about to play.
Plus, I’m on a mission: find Jessica Johnson.
Because God. Damn.
I’ve been all over the world and I haven’t seen a woman who came close. Not even a little bit. She completely caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure where to look first. At the body cradled against mine that turned soft and pliant under my touch or the heart-shaped face with the feline eyes that I watched shift with her emotion from a greenish brown to golden amber.
The zing of attraction was thick and immediate between us, but it was something totally different to see it. To watch it unfurl in her eyes like a flower, one emotion at a time.
Curiosity turning to interest, and that interest shifting into attraction, and that fledgling attraction getting shut the fuck down when Kristal showed up.
I’m almost to the dressing room and the only people I run into back here are burly stagehands, dressed in all black and moving with stealth like rock ‘n’ roll ninjas, but no Jessica.
Shit. I missed her.
My gaze travels up one half of the long hallway before turning to move up the other side. The door to the locker room opens and out stumbles a visibly shaken Jake. His normally crisp suit is wrinkled, and the carefully cultivated boss demeanor is wilted.
I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. I say ‘almost’ because after all the havoc he wreaked with Sin, a part of me feels like his worry is the proper penance for the pain he’s caused.
Jessica is standing at his back. From my position I can’t make out her words but it’s obvious she’s talking him off the ledge. I take a couple of steps in their direction but pull up short when our bassist Miles’s deep voice says, “Leave ‘em alone, D.”
“What?” I look at him briefly before looking back toward the other end of the hallway to make sure Jessica is still there. Yep. She is.
“Don’t think I didn’t peep you earlier. We do not need any more drama in this band. Fucking with Jake’s little sister will get all of us caught up.”
“Who said I’m trying to fuck with her?” I shrug but can’t quite pull off the innocent tone. Miles knows me. Before Kisha locked his ass down, we partied, drank, and screwed our way across cities and time zones in the way that young men with no responsibilities or expectations do.
So, if he says he saw something earlier it doesn’t make sense to try to deny it.
“She’s bad, though, right?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side, giving me an irritated look. “Really. You for real going to take it there?”
“I’m not saying but I’m saaaaying. You’re married, not blind.” He rolls his eyes and I laugh because we both know back in the day, that woman with her honey-kissed skin, hazel eyes, and curves that make the palms of your hands itch with the need to explore is exactly the type of woman he would have gone for.
“She can’t be more than, what? Twenty-one, twenty-two? Grow up, fool.” I dodge the baseball glove–sized palm swinging at my head.
“All I heard was legal. Just because your wife keeps your balls at the bottom of her purse doesn’t mean I’m ready for the manacle on my ankle, thank you. But I must admit, castration looks good on you, bro.” I push his shoulder and do another quick scan of the hallway. Jessica and Jake are leaning on the wall closest to the dressing room.
When they both perk up, I turn to see a sweaty, smiling Sin and an equally sweaty Adam coming toward us. Followed by a hoard of roadies and a couple of sound techs.
Tonight was big. The last time we were all together on stage it was pandemonium. There was blood everywhere. Sin was down on the ground shot. I couldn’t tell if all the blood was hers or if Adam had been hit too. Miles was nowhere to be seen.
The night of the shooting easily ranks up there as one of the worst days of my life and being in the hospital looking at Sin-a-sticks, one of the most vibrant people I’ve known, lying in a hospital bed unnaturally still, and ridiculously small, I knew with certainty that the band and this crazy train we’d been riding for the last ten years was over.
How could it not be?
We have always been friends—family before anything else. I know I wasn’t willing to put Sin, or any of us for that matter, at risk. Neither were Adam or Miles, but Sin fought for the band. For the crazy dream that four kids concocted sitting in
a small high school band room, and here we are.
Sin’s and Adam’s voices are loud. The leftover excitement from the stage and the audience bouncing off the walls and down the long corridor. They’re still in the zone, riding that high that comes from performing.
Jessica’s head snaps up at the noise. Her gaze traveling down the hall, breezing past me before bouncing back.
Vibrant hazel eyes latch on to mine and everything around us melts into the background. Her eyes are expressive. A barely contained fire that crosses the narrow space between us, warming my skin.
I wonder if she’d burn that hot underneath me.
Shit, based on that look alone she might be too hot to handle, but I want to find out.
If the slight squint of her eyes, and the full lips that part slightly like she’s trying to suck in just a little more oxygen, are any indication, Jessica Johnson wants to find out too.
She may not want to.
She might even question if she should, but when stripped down to the energy of her stare, the chemistry buzzing the molecules in the air between us is elemental.
Surprised because I hadn’t realized that I was walking, I look down at the dark brown hand pushing against the center of my chest and blink up at Miles.
“Dan, my man, that girl is a bad idea. You need to leave it alone.”
He’s right, but since when has right ever dictated how I move?
There’s no hiding it.
I like her, from the perfect pronunciation and the well-manicured nails to the take-charge attitude that had her squaring off with me and refusing to shake my hand. Everything about this girl does it for me. And I have enough experience to realize that I do it for her too.
Jake pushes off the wall and heads straight toward Sin. His hands shaking when he cups both sides of her face. I can’t hear the conversation between them but it’s fast and urgent. Punctuated with hard kisses and soft sighs.
“Doesn’t look like we’re going out tonight, boys. I think Sin and ol’ boy have something a little more private in mind,” Adam says with an irritated chuckle.
Sin doesn’t even make it to the dressing room. She disappears with her man in the direction of the private parking lot and just like that, we can kiss the baby on celebrating our glorious comeback.
“You know, we can still go, because why wouldn’t we? We live, and play, and love in the party city, and tonight is a celebratory occasion.”
“Nah. I think I’m a call it a night too. Kisha is a mess ,” Miles says.
“I’m going to tell her you said that,” I say to his back because he’s already walking away.
“She can’t keep anything down. I don’t know why they call it morning sickness if it’s worse at night.” He looks at me over a shrugging shoulder. “I’m going to pick her up some wonton soup from USS Fish and Chips. It’s the only thing that settles her stomach.”
“Be careful over there. The east side of the valley isn’t what it used to be.” Thanks to the concentration of rival gangs.
“That’s facts, but I got it.” Miles stops and turns around, tired eyes meeting mine. “By the way, it’d be a total waste of time to call Kisha. I’ll hit you tomorrow.”
Chapter 5
Jessica
I look around my childhood bedroom for any lingering items that I may need for this new phase of my life.
The furniture stays.
There’s no room in my one-bedroom apartment for the oversized four-poster bed or the tall dresser that sits in the corner. I barely have room for my clothes and study desk.
The walls have been stripped of my posters. The furry carpets that my thirteen-year-old self begged to have, have been rolled off the wooden floors. Everything that made this room mine is gone. All except the tiara that my grandmother had worn at her wedding and gave me to wear at my cotillion.
It’s sitting on the dresser; the delicately crafted filigree bands still sparkle unmarred by age and time. The diamond encrusted fleur-de-lis that sits at the center, a testament to my family’s New Orleans Creole ties, reflect rainbows and fragmented pieces of fall sunlight that bounce off the walls, painting the room in varying shades of red and orange.
Every princess needs a crown. That’s what my grandmother had said when she placed the tiara on my head right before the overlarge white doors swung open, and my name was called out into an elegantly appointed ballroom with the members of Las Vegas’s most elite families turning to watch me, the Johnson family’s newest debutante, walk across the floor.
It doesn’t feel right to pack it up. It belongs here, in this house, with the other pieces of my childhood, and maybe one day when I have a daughter I’ll know exactly where to find it when it’s her turn.
Other than the tiara, the only other thing left is a corkboard covered with random pictures that have been pinned or carefully tucked behind colorful ribbons from cliché high school events that I barely cared about then and can now only vaguely remember why I agreed to attend.
I’m moving into one of the campus apartments. It’s not a shared dorm room, like the one my older brother Jake lived in when he first went to college. I won’t be sharing a bathroom and, technically, I won’t have roommates. It’s an actual apartment, although most of the tenants are college students. It’s my senior year so I figure it’s about time I get out there and try to see what the ‘real world’ is like.
“I don’t know why you feel the need to move out right now. You’re still in college; staying at home will give you financial freedom that you won’t have out there by yourself.”
I turned to find my mom standing in the doorway. As always, she’s a force. Dressed like a mannequin in the window of a high-end retailer. The deep plum dress shirt highlighting the gold undertones of her flawless skin and the high-waisted white dress slacks with plum pinstripes accentuate her narrow waist and long legs. Black heels with red bottoms at least three inches high complete the look. And just like when I was five years old, I think my momma is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
I think that superficial beauty is why we’re all so surprised at how deep and dark her mean streak can go.
“Mom, it’s not about the financial freedom. It’s about the fact that I want to see my brother and, yes, his girlfriend.” Although if the pictures I saw on Instagram this morning are real, the ones with Sin and Jake bed-rumpled and smiling big at the camera with her hand between them showing off a huge diamond ring, she‘s now his fiancée.
And my mother is seriously about to lose her shit, especially because that nice little tidbit isn’t coming from her son. She’ll find out on the evening news with the rest of the world. Jake didn’t even call to tell me. Which I’ll ignore for now because I know how hard it was for him to let Sin go for a second time, and when he told me he was going to London to get his girl I knew this was the most probable outcome. Still, they’re both going to get an earful when I see them again.
My mom and Jake are a whole different story. Those two have butted heads my entire life and it got worse when Jake first started dating Sin. My mom drew the line in the sand and Jake stepped over it without with “zero fucks given” and very little regard. When they broke up, my mom gloated, rubbing it in Jake’s face that Sin never was and never would be the right woman for him. That was a rough time. I thought for sure Daddy and I were going to have to physically separate them a couple of times. Thank God it never came to that.
Fast forward to Sin coming back to Vegas and all holy hell broke loose.
I don’t think Momma and Jake have spoken to each other in about a year, but sooner or later they’ll have to make amends. We’re family, so I’m hoping I can get them to sit down like two adults and work this problem out.
Daddy, on the other hand, is a whole different story. He pretty much backed Jake in his relationship and that seems like the straw that broke the camel
’s back. I’m not sure if my parents were ever in love. They’ve been partners, maybe even friends, but I’ve never seen so much as a casual touch or a peck on the lips.
“I wanna see Daddy,” I say quietly, diverting my gaze to the hallway beyond her shoulder because at the mere mention of my dad, she bristles.
“Oh, that’s right. I’m the bad guy. I was trying to look out for your brother. Just like I want to look out for you. Is that so wrong?” she asks, stepping deeper into the room.
“No, that’s not the part that was wrong. The problem is the nasty attitude and the rude comments. He has been in love with Sin for years, Mom, years. I don’t understand when you’ll finally get it.”
“I’ll get it when he finally understands that love doesn’t pay bills. Love doesn’t take care of your family. Man and woman and baby makes three doesn’t buy diapers or formula,” she all but yells in her frustration.
“You say that like Jake doesn’t have his own money or like Sin is poor.”
“Because SHE IS!” she bellows, bending at the waist. Her harsh breaths loud in the otherwise quiet house. “She may have money in the bank, but being poor is a mindset. How can a motherless woman raise kids? How can someone unwanted by her own family grow to love and nurture a family of her own? I know it’s not politically correct to point those things out, but mark my words, she’ll never be the wife he needs—one that’ll help him get to the next level.”
She stands to her full height and her eyes are red-rimmed. She meant every single word, which might just be the saddest part of this whole thing. She’s willing to give up her family instead of accepting a new addition to it.
“Maybe Jake is already at that level, or just maybe Sin is the next level. Did you ever think about that?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes before speaking in a low, wounded voice. “You and your brother weren’t raised to be enough. I raised you to be front-runners. To be great.”
I blink back the sting of tears. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mom.”
Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 3
