Chapter 6
(Draven)
“I am not going to stand beneath Marilyn’s skirt so you can take a picture of me looking at her panties!”
I’d made sure my text to speech device was on its loudest setting when I’d hit play, so I knew Johnny heard me, not that it made any difference to him or Jagger, who was on the other end of that phone call.
“You gotta do it,” Jagger said, the rest of my traitorous bandmates chiming in behind him. “For the website, we haven’t had anything new to put up since the neon church at Rocktoberfest.”
Growling, I started typing as fast as I could, while Jagger filled Johnny in on the haunted cave tour they’d been on earlier that afternoon.
“See, there you go right there, pictures,” I said.
“We forgot to take any,” Keegan remarked over Jagger’s shoulder, the hint of a blush creeping over his nose. “We were, uhhh, preoccupied.”
I heard Robby snort from somewhere off camera and had a good idea of exactly what they’d been so distracted with that they hadn’t bothered to take any selfies. My fingers flew over the screen as I typed my response to them.
“If I find photos splashed all over the internet that someone else took of the three of you preoccupied, you are not going to like what happens next. I hate issuing takedown notices, you know that.”
“I don’t think anyone noticed who we were,” Keegan said.
“You don’t think. I know you don’t think. You never think. Then I find a picture of your naked ass somewhere with that very distinct tattoo of yours and I’m back to issuing takedown notices again. For fuck’s sake, my guy, damn. That’s it, that’s the final straw. I’m getting Damage Control back under contract and they will meet up with you guys wherever the fuck you are going next.”
Of course I had a moment of pause to appreciate the irony of warning them against making a spectacle of themselves when me and my loud ass device had managed to draw a small crowd. Cell phones were out, mostly pointed at Marilyn but one or two kept swinging our way, like they were just waiting to see if something newsworthy played out.
I should have just taken the damned picture and kept my mouth shut.
Johnny knew it, too, the rat bastard, because he cocked an eyebrow at me and waved his phone in my direction.
“Fine!” I snarled, throwing up my hands as I stomped back beneath the statue.
I knew he hadn’t heard what I’d said, but I couldn’t type a middle finger, which was what I wanted to give him. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the crowd and my refusal to offend anyone.
At least he’d have to get off the phone to take the picture.
“Yeah, yeah, he’s under the skirt now. I’ll send it to you to post in a minute,” Johnny said as he ended the call, then snapped off a few shots of me scowling up Marilyn’s dress while I plotted my vengeance.
“That last shot was perfect,” he said as he shoved his phone in his backpack. “You could use it on promotion materials or even the inside of the case.”
There he went again, forgetting that I wasn’t going to be on the inside of any more CD covers. I was just the band’s manager now, not its lead singer, a fact Johnny should know since he’d sent his best friend to us to fill my slot. Instead of reminding him of that, I just took his hand and kept hold of it the rest of the way to Club Sensation, otherwise known as Club Sin, where I couldn’t wait to get a look at the outfit Johnny had on underneath his purple trench coat. As warm as it was, I hadn’t understood why the fucker had insisted on bringing it along in the first place, instead of leaving it with the rest of his stage gear. Now I knew exactly why he’d carefully wrapped it up and tucked it into the bottom of his bag. Was a good thing the rest of his wardrobe, or so I’d thought, had been comprised of shorts and tank tops. What the hell did he have on under that thing?
Whatever it was, I was betting it matched the high-heeled leather boots he’d bought right after we’d eaten breakfast at the most amazing little French café. Open air, twisting vines woven through iron overhead, forming a living canopy, complete with birds that nested there and shared their beautiful songs with diners. Was just too bad that my first time feeding him had to be in public, because I’d been in a bit of an excited state by the end of our meal. Between his hooded gaze every time he wrapped his lips around my fingers, to the feel of his tongue lapping the maple syrup from my skin, he’d had me fantasizing about taking him right there over that table.
Fuck.
And now I was hard again.
And there was a line stretching half a block past the awning of the club.
I thought at first Johnny didn’t notice it, only he just smirked when I stopped short and inclined my head in the direction of the disgruntled people who were glaring at us as Johnny led me up to the door. A wall of tatted up muscle stood behind a petite man with a wicked blue mohawk, who grinned at Johnny and rushed to hug him. Between the squealing and the jumping around, it was easier to just step up beside the muscle, who had at least three inches on me, and stunning green eyes. The woman was a knockout and damn, another time, another me and I’d have loved to get her number.
“Sky!” Johnny declared, hugging her like they were long lost friends. “Are you still keeping this little menace out of trouble?”
“When he remembers to listen,” she replied. “So don’t you go getting him into any tonight or you’ll have me to answer to.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said as he stepped back from her embrace to draw an X over his heart with his finger.
“Where have I heard that before?” she replied, messing up his hair.
“Boston, Newport, Providence, Fairhaven, Burlington, New Bedford, Worchester, New Haven…” Johnny rattled over.
“Okay, okay, forget I asked, ya shit,” she said, giving him a nudge that almost knocked him over.
“You need to make this one eat more,” she said, acknowledging me for the first time. “He’s still as skinny as he was the last time I saw him.”
“Sky, this is my boyfriend…” Johnny began, only to have the little guy cut him off .
“Oh, we know who Draven is, don’t we, Sky?” he said. “We just didn’t believe you were telling the truth when you said he’d finally stopped threatening to put you over his knee if you kept hitting on him.”
“That’s ‘cause he finally figured out that I considered it foreplay.”
Well, clearly they knew who I was, but I still had no idea who the blue-haired man was, or how either of them knew Johnny.
Some rumbling started up from the line behind us, I guess because it had stopped moving, only the little man lowered his shades and shot them such a look that I felt my balls shrivel when I saw it. They fell silent while he turned his attention back to Johnny.
“Now, are you gonna make me ask or are you gonna take off that wicked coat and show me what you’ve got hidden underneath?”
“I suppose,” Johnny said, coyness dripping like honey from his tongue as he batted his eyes up at me. “I had threatened to make him wait until we were in the club, but I guess this is close enough.”
“It’s gonna have to be, cause I’m not letting you through that door until I see what’s gonna have everyone panting after you tonight.”
As long as all they did was pant, I didn’t give a shit, though a part of me wished that we had a member of Damage Control with us tonight because something told me that whatever ensemble Johnny had put together was going to be fuckin’ droolworthy. Judging from the wicked smirk on Johnny’s face, he knew it, too, and preened while he undid the belt, then turned away, the little shit, giving the crowd a little shoulder show, before turning back to us and letting it spill from his shoulders to pool on the ground.
Holy.
Shit.
I knew my mouth was hanging open.
Johnny was wearing black fishnet stockings and a purple leather miniskirt made to look like it was crafted from dragon scales. Instead of a top, leather stripes were wound around his body, crossing in places, buckled in others, accenting his curves and the sway of his hips as he swiveled them and spun, showing off the outfit to an array of catcalls and whistles.
Screw a member, I needed the whole Damage Control crew for this, and a personal assistant for all the takedown notices that were going to have to be issued after all these photos went up on social media. Snatching up Johnny’s coat, I wrapped it around his shoulders and pressed my lips to his ear.
“Behave,” I growled and felt him shiver.
He’d sure as hell heard that. Then that brat had the nerve to grin, wink and press a kiss to my lips before whispering, “Now what would be the fun in that?”
Oh, we were fixing to have fun tonight, I thought as I escorted him in, one hand pressed to the small of his back, which he promptly tugged down to cup his ass before grinning at me again. So of course I pinched it, he’d damn near invited me to pinch it by putting his hand there, so when he jumped, I just gave him the same smirk he was giving me.
“Game on,” he hissed, grinning as he tugged me out on the dance floor.
Between the beat and the roll of his shoulders, it was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the dance and the way he had eyes only for me. Talk about a rush. After so many years of performing, I could feel when there were eyes on me, I didn’t have to see them, and yet, even when he spun away, he watched me over his shoulder as he straddled my leg, grinding against my thigh as I held him in place with my fingers splayed across his belly. It was impossible to ignore how well we fit together when he leaned back, hooked one hand behind my neck, and rode me like a stripper pole, to the point where someone actually did toss a bill at him while others cheered and whistled.
“They’re gonna go to bed tonight dreaming about what you get to touch,” Johnny said as he spun so he was in my arms, our lips millimeters away from touching.
“You’re damn right,” a nearby dancer said, inciting the fury of his partner, who smacked him on the arm before stalking away.
And he’s gonna go to bed alone tonight , I thought as I tongue fucked Johnny right there for the world to see. At this point I didn’t care if I was going to die from terminal finger cramps after issuing a million takedown notices. I’d never felt such a sense of rightness and certainty as when Johnny Amaral was in my arms.
The beat changed and I lifted him, the two of us showing off a bit when he locked his legs around my waist and bent backwards until his hair was nearly touching the ground as I rocked him against me. One night, very soon, I was gonna pin him to the wall and hope they hadn’t used cheap plaster or I’d be paying to have a dent fixed. We were sticky with sweat by the time we sauntered up to the bar a few songs later, Johnny ordering a Kamikaze while I ordered a whiskey, neat, and downed it in one go.
“You get drunk on me, and I don’t know where I’ll get a shopping cart to wheel you back to the hotel in,” Johnny murmured in my ear before he nuzzled my neck and giggled, no doubt remembering the same night I was.
Come check out my gig in Fairhaven , he’d said, inviting my whole band down to meet his new bandmates. I’d been skeptical at the time, since he was already on his third bass player and the drummer had just joined them the week before. They’d turned out to be the pieces he and Rebel had been searching for, and now all these years later, they were not only going strong, they’d finally broken through to the next level .
They’d played two sets that night, and in between people had been buying rounds for the table while others had been sending over drinks and invitations to Johnny and Rebel, who had major reputations around that place. Rumor had it that they’d hooked up a time or two but…nope, wasn’t going to let my thoughts lead me down that avenue.
I wanted to remember what I could recall of the stars overhead and the metal digging into my shoulder and the back of my skull as he’d managed to hit every pothole on the street he’d been wheeling me down. I still didn’t get why he hadn’t let Keegan do the pushing, since outside of Rebel, who’d been passed out in the cart Robbie was pushing, he was the closest one to my size. Oh wait, I did remember why he hadn’t been pushing. He’d been puking over the edge of the cart Johnny’s drummer, Ozius, otherwise known as Ozzy, had been pushing. The man had to stop a few times himself, to barf in a bush, if I remembered correctly.
Someone had puked on someone that night, too, I was almost certain of it. Maybe it had been Ozzy puking on Keegan? I’d have to ask one of them if they remembered.
Talk about a night I wished someone had pictures of.
Had any of us even had cellphones with cameras back then?
Things had come a long, long way since the phone that used to be mounted on my grandmother’s wall.
“I still owe you for that night, too,” I typed into my device, showing it to him after I’d added, “I woke up with the worst headache of my life after you bounced me down the street.”
“I was just trying to get your attention.”
“And nearly got me killed when you lost your grip on the cart as we were coming down off the bridge,” I typed, leading to him snorting his drink all over my hand when he read it.
Grumbling, I reached for a napkin, shaking my head as I blotted my hand dry. Fuckin’ Johnny. He was the most beautiful wreck I’d ever seen.
“I’d forgotten about that,” he sputtered, giggling between words and completely oblivious to the dribble of alcohol dripping off his chin. “It all worked out in the end.”
“If by worked out you mean the cart narrowly missed getting nailed by three different vehicles before it struck the curb and tipped over, spilling me onto the sidewalk, then yeah, it worked out just fine.”
“It could have been worse.”
“How? What could have possibly been worse than the bruises that were all over my legs after the cart landed on me?”
“You could have broken them,” he offered, the look part imp and part sheepish as he peered out from beneath a fringe of hair at me. “Or hit a wall. Or actually gotten hit by one of the cars that missed you. That would have sucked. One of them was kinda big.”
“Kinda big. I love the way you describe a fuckin’ Bronco.”
“Could have been a fuckin’ Suburban.”
Oh, that was it. I might not have been able to keep up with his wittiness on my text to speech device, but I could sure as hell teach that sassy ass one on the dancefloor, and back in the hotel room later. And as a reminder, I made sure to swat him on his leather-covered rear on our way back out there, a prelude to what he had coming.