5. Ian
Beau’s houseon Tybee Island was rocking like party central. Cars lined Bay Street, and it pissed me off that I had to park so far away. I could hear the music pumping as soon as I swung open the door to my Ferrari.
After making sure the car was locked, I jogged up the street, and made my way inside through the unlocked front door. A crush of bodies filled the main level—that’s what happened when you left your doors unlocked—and wound my way past the iron staircase into the kitchen, where I grabbed myself a longneck from a cooler before edging my way through the living room and out toward the pool deck. Phew, that obstacle course could’ve been a qualifier for American Ninja Warrior.
A blonde stepped into my path with a ready smile and a pair of tits that couldn’t possibly be real. Her eyes lit up and her lips parted. That was all the invitation I needed. I pulled her close so we were chest to chest before I tilted her head back, edging her lips and slipping her a little tongue to let her know I was interested. A soft moan escaped, which had me grinning. I pulled back, gave her a wink. “Don’t go and disappear on me tonight now, darlin’. You hear me?”
She ran a hand down the front of her shiny vinyl dress and slyly cupped her palm over my semi. “I’ll be waiting,” she purred.
I had no clue who she was, but unless there was another blonde chick wearing hot pink vinyl, I’d have no trouble finding her later if I wanted.
I fucking loved being a country music star.
Around the pool, there was a crowd of bodies, bumping and grinding to the music. Given the expertise of some of the ladies, I assumed Beau invited a few of the girls from one of our favorite strip clubs. I spied a tattoo of angel wings attached to a heart as big as a dinner plate, dripping bright red blood that I’d recognize anywhere. “Hey there, darlin’,” I crooned into the ear of the owner of that tattoo as she rotated her hips like she was workin’ the pole tryin’ to make rent. Tawnie spun around, blonde hair flying, and threw her arms around my neck.
“There’s my man.” She pouted her over-plumped lips. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
She pressed her body to mine, and my hips swung along with hers. Guess we were dancing. “And miss seein’ you? No way, sweetness.” I sucked on her neck for a few seconds, before pulling away.
“Don’t you go and disappear on me now,” she drawled. “I’ll be lookin’ for you.”
She dipped her head and looked up at me coyly—as if she could pretend innocence. “Promise?”
Lowering my head, I mimicked her gaze and tried hard not to laugh.
“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”
Trying to make my way around the pool to where I’d seen Beau stretched out on a lounger like fucking royalty was like picking my way through a goddamn maze.
I grabbed a chair and dragged it toward the little prince and then dropped my ass onto the seat. “What the fuck, bro?”
Looking annoyed that I’d interrupted his solitude, Beau quirked an eyebrow.
“For someone throwin’ a kick-ass party, you look like somebody cracked the neck on your ’59 Gibson and then ran over your puppy.”
His stormy visage turned darker. “You missed the bus.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I had shit to do.”
He snorted. “In Philadelphia? Instead of getting on the fucking bus to head home after our final show of the tour, you suddenly had shit to do?”
“That’s right.” I dug a blunt out of my pocket, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Holding the sweet smoke in my lungs, I passed it to Beau. That fucker needed to lighten up.
He snatched the blunt from my fingers. “Other than Liane, you don’t know anyone in Philadelphia. And she only deals with you when she has no other choice.”
True. Our publicist never hesitated to tell me that I was riding her last nerve.
Beau took a deep drag, held it for a second, and handed back the blunt. I wanted to tell him to keep it. He needed it more than I did. Me? I was always chill. Far as I was concerned, life was one big party. I had the world by the balls. Grammy-Award winning singer/songwriter, bass player in the world’s most popular country rock band, gold and platinum records lining the walls of my condo in Nashville. A historic home here in Savannah. A Ferrari 812 GTS convertible.
I worked my fucking ass off and loved every second. As a result, I had it all.
You’d never catch me pining for some old high school girlfriend I hadn’t seen in six years like he was. I didn’t pine over women. Not now, not ever. Life was too short. Me, Beau, Barrett, and Zac—aka The Gravel Hill Boys—we’d made names for ourselves, and I planned to ride that wave until I landed in the old folks home.
“So who’d you hook up with in Philly?” Beau asked.
“Who said I hooked up with anyone?”
“Gimme a break. I’ve known you since grade school. You’ve been chasing tail since you sprouted your first pube.”
“I don’t need to chase tail,” I said smugly. “Tail chases me.”
I took another drag, closed my eyes, and leaned back in my chair. The women that warmed my bed or bunk on tour passed through my mind like they were moving through a revolving door. All but one. The chick in Philly.
Classy, sassy, and fine as fuck. That was the best hookup I’d had on the whole tour, and we’d been on the road for most of the past eight months. My hand closed into a fist, and I could almost feel the silky softness of her blonde hair. Ice-blue eyes, satiny soft lips. There was a fierceness about her, but I’d bet anything that it was false; a means of protecting herself. Oh, she was prickly, for sure, but she’d built walls to protect her from whoever’d hurt her. After her first orgasm, those walls weakened, and there was no way to hide the sweetness deep inside. I’d seen it too many times that night. Multiple times.
I bit down on my bottom lip to hide my grin. There was no question that I played bass like a motherfucking god, and I fucked like a fucking rockstar.
Damn, I was getting a woody just sitting here thinking about her. Made me almost sorry I hadn’t gotten her name. Not that I was heading back to Philly any time soon. I had very few women on repeat. Some in Savannah, a couple in Nashville. I made it a rule to never hook up when I was home in Ashwood. That’s all I needed. Some chick running to my mother and giving her ideas of me settling down.
Never. Gonna. Happen.
“Hey. Asshole.”
Beau chuckled when I opened my eyes at the insult.
“Fuck you,” I grumbled.
He held out his hand and I passed him the blunt. Barrett, our lead guitarist, sauntered over.
We shot the shit for a few minutes, until I was finally fed up with the jokes at my expense. Barrett was the band’s resident Zen master, while I’d inherited the title of resident clown and fall guy.
I took a gander at Barrett with his easy smile and my best friend, who was fuming and scowling like this party hadn’t been his idea and stood.
“If y’all ain’t gonna have fun, no reason I can’t.” Three knockouts strolled onto the patio through the side door. “Some fresh talent has arrived, boys. I’m gonna head over and try to dazzle them without even opening my mouth.”
“It’s the least you can do, brother.” Barrett chuckled. He may be Zen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to bust my balls on the regular.
“Fuck you very much,” I snapped. “Fuck you both very much.”
I threw my shoulders back and shook off the negativity until I was feeling a little Zen myself. There was a bevy of sexy as hell women here tonight, and I had every intention of finding one or two to replace the memory of silken hair, satiny skin, and the sweetest pussy I’d ever tasted.
Every time I thought of that woman, my dick grew hard.
I spotted a blonde leaning against the stucco wall of the patio. She was pretty enough, but maybe a blonde wasn’t a good idea. Especially since another blonde had been living rent-free in my head for the past week. Then again, why not? She looked lonely but not desperate, and her tits and ass weren’t hanging out of her dress. I wasn’t in the mood for desperate, a stripper, or some chick fawning all over me. There’d been too much of that on the tour.
To be honest, I had a hankering for classy. Not one chick here tonight fit the bill. Shocker.
I strolled over to the girl near the wall and introduced myself.
“You look lonely.” I gave her a sympathetic smile. “Not having any fun?”
She turned on a coy smile. “I was lonely, but not anymore.”
Do these chicks take lessons on how to seduce a rockstar? It ain’t that hard, trust me.
“That’s what I like to hear.” I took her drink from her hand and raised it to my mouth. Sweet and strong. I grinned. Beau’s parties had the best bartenders. Of course, that was probably Aurelia’s doing. Since coming to work for him, she practically ran his life.—in a good way. We all loved her. She was Beau’s assistant, but made a terrific band mother as well.
“Want to get outta here? Go somewhere quiet?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
She took the glass from my hand, threw back the contents, and set it on the patio wall. Then she ran her tongue over her lips, presumably to lick off the remnants of whatever fruity shit she’d been drinking, but we—me, her, and my dick—knew exactly what that little move meant.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
I sighed internally. She might not look it, but she was exactly like every other girl at this party. Too late now. Beau and Barrett had pissed me off. Zac just glared at me from across the way. Then again, he glared at everyone, so I didn’t take offense. Time to hit the road. One chick was better than no chick, and besides, I could only fit one other person in the Ferrari.
I dropped my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s hit it then.”
“Don’t you want to know my name?” she asked.
With a sad smile, I shook my head. “Nah, not necessary. This is a once and done, darlin’. That okay with you?”
Her arm snaked around my waist. “Sure.”
Sure. Another sigh. I wanted this, right? I was taking this chick home and afterward, I’d put her in an Uber and send her on her way.
It was the best way I could think of to erase a memory that kept pricking at my brain.
I opened the passenger door, and as she slid in, she opened her legs wide enough for me to see that she wasn’t wearing panties. I closed the door and sighed, banging my forehead against the roof of my Ferrari. Since when did shit like that bother me? One taste of high-end pussy and I was suddenly a convert? Did that hoo-ha practice hoo doo?
My head began to ache.
I climbed into the car and made an executive decision. “Hey, sweetheart. I feel a migraine coming on. How about a raincheck?”
That faux innocence slid right off her face. “What?”
“Yeah, I can drop you back at the party or take you home. Your home,” I corrected in case she got the wrong idea.
She threw the door open, and I cringed.
“Fuck you, loser,” she snarled.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I called after her. “Headache. Remember?”