Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sam tugged on the brim of his baseball hat, pulling it lower over his face while he waited at an intersection for traffic to pass.
Good ol’ Detroit Tigers shielding him from any roaming paparazzi.
His sunglasses helped. And so did his jacket, hiding his signature tattoos.
It was a beautiful, brisk, sunny day in New York City. A horn blared down the street, and the angry answering honk came a moment later.
Sam sipped his coffee and sighed. He loved New York.
Traffic thinned, and he walked across the street, arriving at the opposite corner as the walk sign turned from red to white.
Treacherous Studios was a fifteen-minute walk from his apartment. He could have hired a car to drive him from his apartment to the studio, but he loved walking in the city. Most of the time New Yorkers were too busy getting from Point A to Point B to glance twice at him.
But the sights, sounds, and smells were only fun for about two weeks. Then all of the extra-sensory input became grating and he needed a break. When he came back, it was fresh and fun again.
He preferred the pace of Crane Cove. The quiet streets. The fresh air that always seemed to smell faintly of rain. How people treated him like a person. The coffee—the cup in his hand was not Stardust, that was for sure. Sybil had ruined him forever. He tossed the half-full cup in a trash can before he entered Treacherous.
“Oh my god, he’s on time!” Jenna Fox shouted gleefully from the black leather couch in Studio B.
“Only for you, J,” Sam said, dropping onto the couch next to her and accepting her enthusiastic hug.
There was something to be said for friends who’d been around for a long time. Sam had met Jenna when they were both teenagers fumbling around in the music business, two tiny fish in a pond full of sharks. Jenna had been there for the spectacular rise and epic crash of his one significant romantic relationship. She’d never abandoned him, even in his most awful moments when he could barely stand to be around himself.
“I can’t believe you agreed to do this,” she said, resting her head on the back of the couch. “I would’ve thought a movie soundtrack would be beneath you, oh great artiste.”
Sam chuckled. “I’m trying to beat Peter to the EGOT. I think he’ll keel over if I get an Oscar before he does.”
“Are you really?”
“No, but it would be fun.”
Jenna studied his face for a second, a small frown almost appearing in her forehead.
“You look tired. When did you get in?”
“Um, I got to my apartment at about three this morning,” Sam said, taking off his hat to run his hand through his hair, then he put it back on. “Had a hard time getting to sleep.”
That wasn’t exactly true. After he’d cleaned the cum off his belly, he’d slept like a rock. Better than a rock, if that was possible. It wasn’t until he’d woken up an hour ago that he’d had the time and presence of mind to start overthinking what had happened between him and Lacey on the phone. Back in Crane Cove, he’d been distancing himself a little from her because spending time with her blurred the lines between fiction and reality. He’d tempted fate too much by bringing her lunch all week. If his alarm to leave for his flight hadn’t gone off when it did, he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done next.
Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Why did you get in at three?”
“I got a dog,” Sam said.
Jenna gasped and backhanded his chest. “Shut up! No, you didn’t.”
“I really did.” Sam dug his phone out of his pocket and opened up his photo gallery. The last dozen pictures he’d taken had been all Daisy. “Her name is Daisy. She’s a rescue.”
“Oh my fucking god, she’s adorable.” Jenna snatched his phone from his hand. “Why didn’t you bring her? I want to kiss that face.”
“Because I just got her and thought this might be overwhelming,” Sam said, reaching for his phone, which Jenna held out of his easy reach.
“What made you want to get a dog? I didn’t even know you were thinking about it.” Jenna swiped through his photos, making happy noises with each new photo.
“I wasn’t. I kind of adopted her as a favor to a, um, friend.”
Jenna’s head snapped up. “You hesitated on ‘friend.’ What’s going on?”
And that was the problem with long-term friends. They knew him too well. Jenna would probably know if he coughed wrong.
“Nothing is going on,” Sam said, trying to grab his phone again but Jenna was more determined to keep it from him. “Give me back my phone, Jenna.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on. You’re hiding something. What is it? Are you seeing someone? Oh my god, you’re seeing someone!”
How the fuck did she do that? How could she look at him and know ?
“It’s new,” he deflected.
“It had better be new if this is the first I’m hearing about it. Tell me everything, or I’ll keep going through your photos.”
Sometimes it was like they were still seventeen hanging out on a tour bus.
“There isn’t much to tell—Jenna!”
Jenna’s eyes widened. “Is this her?” She turned his phone around to show him a sneaky picture he’d taken of Lacey and Daisy the day they’d brought her home. Lacey was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding Daisy like a toddler that didn’t realize they were too big to still be rocked to sleep. “Because if this isn’t her, you have some explaining to do. One, why do you have a sweet photo like this of someone who isn’t your partner, and two, what are you doing not dating her because yowza.”
“Her name is Lacey,” Sam said, taking advantage of Jenna holding his phone out to snatch it back.
“That answered none of my questions.”
“Yes, it’s her.” Sam shoved his phone back in his pocket. He liked to think it was safe there, but he never knew with Jenna.
“Has she met the boys?”
Sam frowned. “Sort of? She’s definitely met Graham, I think she’s met Jordy once and—wait, aren’t we supposed to be working? Doesn’t this place charge by the minute?”
“You’re not paying for it.”
“Your work ethic is astounding.”
“I haven’t seen Grim yet, so this isn’t even my fault,” Jenna said with a wave of her hand.
Julius Grimbe was their producer for the song. Sam and Jenna had both worked with him before, and it wasn’t like him to be late. On the rare occasions Sam was early, Grim had always been there waiting for him.
“Yeah, but we could still get ready. Some of us have dogs waiting on us.”
“And girlfriends,” Jenna teased.
“How’s Houston?” Sam asked pointedly. Houston Walker was an oil heir who fancied himself a DJ. He was also Jenna’s latest attempt at finding The One.
Jenna shrugged. “I think he’s going to propose. Or dump me. The two things are shockingly similar.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“I will be. It’s just hard right now. We’re both traveling for work. I haven’t actually seen him in like a month, and sometimes he still tells me I’m being clingy.”
“You know that’s not normal, right?”
“Sam, when you get serious about Lacey, you can lecture me on relationships, okay?” Jenna fished her phone out of the couch cushions. “I’m going to text Grim and see where he is.”
The studio door opened, and Grim came in, shadowed by his recording engineer.
“I know, I’m sorry. I was here early and got pulled into a session next door by Big Bruce, and then he wouldn’t let me leave.” Grim dropped into his chair. For someone everyone called Grim, he dressed like a psychedelic grandpa. Burnt orange shirt under a green and yellow daisy square sweater vest. His style was borderline atrocious, but he was a musical genius.
“Big Bruce Montgomery?” Jenna asked, looking at Sam for confirmation, like he knew.
“Is there another Big Bruce?” Grim asked, polishing his glasses.
There wasn’t another Big Bruce. Not that Sam knew of. Big Bruce managed some big names and had a lot of pull in the industry.
“He’s got a new guy he’s pushing pretty hard. Jace Kieffer. Big Bruce shoehorned him onto this project.” Grim put his glasses on. “He’s a little full of himself for someone who has one radio hit.”
“I miss having that kind of confidence,” Sam said, taking out his phone to silence it fully. There was a text message from Lacey. He casually shifted his position on the couch so his phone was facing away from Jenna before opening the message.
It was a picture of Lacey and Daisy in his bed, Lacey’s face mostly hidden by Daisy’s head.
Lacey
You didn’t warn me that someone is a bed hog.
Sam smiled.
Sam
I’m considering moving out to her dog bed. I’d have more space.
Lacey
It’s her world. We’re just living in it.
Sam got back to his apartment at nine that night. It had been a long, productive day, but no one felt quite finished with the song, so they were going to work on it on Saturday too.
Exhaustion hung over him like a fog. Jenna had teased him about being an old man because he wanted to eat dinner right after they wrapped up at seven, when a lot of the people they knew wouldn’t even entertain the idea of dinner before nine. New York might be the city that never sleeps, but Sam wanted to be in his bed before the next calendar day.
He dropped his Tigers hat on the console by the door, then his wallet. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to undo a day’s worth of hat hair with his fingers. The apartment was dark, or as dark as it could be with the city lights coming in through the large, arched windows, as Sam went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.
He filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil, then boosted himself up on the counter to wait.
What did Lacey find so appealing about sitting on his counters?
While he waited, Sam sorted through his unread texts. One from Graham asking about Thanksgiving again. An entire series from Peter about absolutely nothing important, but it felt nice to be included in the train of thought. Jordy had sent him a few funny videos.
Lacey should be back at his house by now, feeding Daisy and cooking her own dinner.
Did she really come home after a long day of work to no missed messages? No one curious about her day? It broke his heart when she’d said she didn’t have any friends to text. How could a rain cloud like him have friends and that ball of sunshine have none? It wasn’t right.
Sam opened Jordy’s text thread.
Sam
Not weird, but could I have Annie’s number?
Jordy’s face lit up his screen thirty seconds later.
“Hey,” Sam said, hopping off the counter then putting his phone on speaker.
“Why do you want my girlfriend’s number?” Jordy asked with a hefty dose of wary skepticism.
“It’s not for me. It’s for Lacey,” Sam explained, grabbing a lemon from the bowl on the counter. “I figured since Annie screamed ‘I love her,’ maybe they might want to be friends.”
There was no way that if Annie already had her phone number Lacey would be saying no one ever texted her.
“That’s not a bad idea, actually. I think Annie needs a friend outside of me and the people she works with— Yes, I am talking about you. Sam wants to give Lacey your number.”
Sam listened to their muffled side conversation while he sliced lemon for his tea.
“Chicken parm sounds great. Takeout sounds great, too…No, whatever you want is fine, sweetheart…”
“Jordan.” Sam snapped his fingers. “What’s the verdict?”
“Sorry. It’s dinner time, and no one wants to cook.”
“You can’t cook,” Sam reminded him.
“I signed myself up for a class once I get out of my sling,” Jordy told him. “I’m finally going to learn now that I have some free time.”
“No way.” Sam smiled. “You got a girlfriend, and you’re going to learn how to cook. Will the wonders never cease?”
“Ha ha ha,” Jordy deadpanned. “Be nice or I won’t give you Annie’s number.”
“I have alternate avenues,” Sam reminded him. “Graham could get it from Eloise.”
“Damn.”
“Speaking of Graham, did you and Annie decide if you’re coming to Crane Cove for Thanksgiving? I think Graham is getting antsy.”
Jordy chuckled. “Graham passed antsy two weeks ago. I think he’s in mild panic. Yeah, we’re going. We were looking at flights before you called.”
The kettle on the stove screamed, and Sam turned off the burner.
“Should I bring Lacey? Or ask her? She might have plans already…” He took a mug out of the cupboard, then got out his glass jar of rooibos tea and his metal basket infuser.
“Do you want to bring her?” Jordy asked.
Sam spooned tea leaves into his infuser, put it in his mug, then poured the steaming water into the cup. His friends were his safe place, and he guarded that safety fiercely. Even wonderful people like Eloise and Annie had felt like intruders at first. If this were a real relationship, would he be ready to let Lacey into that sacred space?
“I wanted you to tell me, not make me think about it.”
“Mr. Control Freak doesn’t want to make his own decisions? Is this one of those situations where you say something weird so I know you’ve been kidnapped?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “No. I think I’m overthinking it.”
“That definitely sounds like you. Does Lacey want to come join our chaos?”
“She is chaos.” Sam smiled softly. “I haven’t asked her yet. I didn’t want to bring it up if it was a terrible idea.”
“Well, start there,” Jordy said. “Maybe she has plans.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“When I had a PhD move in with me.” Jordy chuckled. “I love you, but I need to help Annie decide what we’re getting for dinner because she has four different menus out and she’s started scrolling her phone.”
“Send me her number.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Annie’s phone number appeared a moment later, and Sam copy and pasted it into his text thread with Lacey.
Sam
This is Annie’s phone number if you want someone to text.
He removed the basket from his mug and set it in the sink, then squeezed a lemon wedge into his tea. His phone buzzed on the counter.
Lacey
Sorry if I was bothering you today.
“Oh fuck,” Sam groaned. Stupid fucking texts.
He hit the phone icon next to Lacey’s name and listened to it ring.
“What?” Lacey said flatly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, pacing his kitchen in a short circuit.
“Sam, you’re not my boyfriend, you don’t have to spare my feelings, okay?”
“I’m not—” He growled in frustration. “It made me sad when you said you don’t have anyone to talk to. You like Annie. Annie likes you. I would’ve given Annie your number, but I didn’t know how comfortable you felt lying to her about us. Or if you even actually wanted to be her friend.”
“Oh.” Lacey’s voice was small and contrite. “Um, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Sam said.
“It made you sad that I’m a lonely loser?”
“Yes, it did.” Sam picked up his mug and carried it to his bedroom. “And you’re not a loser.”
“The evidence would suggest otherwise,” she joked hollowly. She sighed. “Do you ever have days where you’re sad for no reason? ”
“I find it easier to count the days when I’m not sad. You’re having a rough day?”
“Kind of,” Lacey admitted. “I think the best way to describe it is that I feel the way the sky looks.”
“Doom, gloom, and probably going to rain?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked, setting his mug on his nightstand.
“There isn’t much to talk about,” Lacey said, “and I’m actually a little worried I’m going to cry because it’s starting to settle in that you did a really sweet thing by getting me Annie’s number.”
“Please don’t cry, sunshine.”
“Are you workshopping nicknames for me?” she teased with a watery laugh.
“It just kind of came out,” he admitted. “Is sunshine worse than baby?”
“Oh, hell no. Baby is bottom-of-the-barrel lazy. Sunshine is acceptable.”
“Oooh, acceptable. What a high level of merit I have reached.” Sam undid his belt with one hand, then his pants. “Did you feed Daisy yet?”
“Right after we went potty when I got home from work—er, to your house.”
“Did you eat yet?”
“The ziti is in the oven,” Lacey said. “I followed the directions and…oh shit, I forgot to turn on the oven.”
Sam laughed. “How do you forget to turn on the oven?”
“I came home, took the ziti out of the fridge, took Daisy’s food out of the fridge, thought I started the oven, took her for a walk, put the ziti in the oven, fed her, and then you called.”
“You didn’t think it was weird that the oven wasn’t hot?”
“That really should have been a clue.” Sam could hear the smile in her voice. “Did you have a good day at work—wait, shouldn’t you be resting your vocal cords?”
“If I need to rest my voice after one day of recording one song that I’m not even the lead vocal on, my voice is in serious trouble.” He held the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could take off his pants. “And I have tea.”
“Well, if you have tea .” The oven beeped on her end of the call. “So did you have a good day at work?”
“It’s always nice working with friends,” Sam answered honestly, kicking his pants off. “Jenna, Grim, and I got dinner when we were done, but they both gave me shit about eating during New York early bird time.”
“You know someone named Grim? They sound like a Batman villain.”
“Grim might take that as a compliment,” Sam chuckled, sitting on his bed to take off his socks. “I wish I’d taken a picture of his outfit today. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“So who exactly are Jenna and Grim to this whole song process?”
“Grim is our producer, and Jenna is Jenna Fox.”
The silence lasted so long he thought he’d lost her.
“Lacey? Are you still there?”
“I’m sorry. I sometimes forget you’re fucking famous. Jenna Fox .” Lacey’s voice rose an octave. “You spent the entire day with Jenna fucking Fox. Do you know how much I love her?”
“Taking into consideration the pitch of your voice, I’m going to guess a lot.” Sam put his phone on the mattress long enough to pull his shirt off over his head. “We’re friends. Didn’t you know that?”
“I mean, I guess I knew that. Vaguely. Believe it or not, I don’t have posters of you on my walls anymore.”
Sam flopped back against his pillows, laying on top of his comforter in just his boxer briefs. “Anymore? You had posters of me?”
“I was once a reasonably straight teenage girl living in America. Yes, Sam, I had a poster of you on my wall. I think I got it out of a magazine.”
Sam wondered what a teenage Lacey had been like. When had she gotten tall? Did she ever have braces? When did she start experimenting with dyeing her hair? Was she one of those awkward ducklings that had blossomed into a swan, or had she always been a head-turner?
Her voice called him back to the present. “Is Grim Julius Grimbe, by any chance?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, nothing. I had an ex who would have committed actual murder to work with him. Now that I can put a face to the name, yes, Grim would make a great hipster Batman villain.”
“Did you look Grim up?”
“No. My ex had a vision board, and Grim was on there.”
It chafed that Lacey spared even a single thought for an ex of hers. In the next moment, he knew he was being ridiculous, because he’d spent years exorcizing the ghost of his ex. Hell, he’d done more than mention her in passing; he’d written an album trying to sort out what had happened.
“What’s Daisy up to?” Sam asked, needing to change the subject even if he’d decided to be a sensible adult that didn’t get jealous.
“She’s in her dog bed. I put one of your shirts in there. She really does miss her daddy.”
“She’s a good girl,” Sam said. A devilish thought popped into his head. “Have you been a good girl?”
“What happens if I haven’t been a good girl?” Lacey purred. Sam’s cock throbbed in response.
“You’re not going to come until I get home, so it doesn’t matter. Right?”
She hummed. “Mmm…might be worth it, though.”
“How about this,” Sam said, stroking his hardening cock through his underwear with the tips of his fingers. “If you’re good, I’ll bring you a treat. If you’re bad, I’m going to punish you.”
Lacey made a small noise, almost like a moan.
“Are you touching yourself?” Sam asked, squeezing his shaft through the thin material.
“You only said that I couldn’t come.” Lacey’s voice was breathy. “You never said anything about touching.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Mmm…how you slapped my ass and choked me in Barcelona.”
Sam slid his hand into his underwear and pulled out his cock. “Is that a punishment or a reward?”
“Both?” Lacey’s voice caught on the end of the word.
“Are you touching your pussy in my kitchen?”
“N-no,” she said, and another tiny moan slipped out. “I’m in your bed now.”
It was Sam’s turn to moan. This was torture. “Let me see you.”
“Nuh-uh. Not unless you let me…come.”
“That’s not up for negotiation,” he said as sternly as he could manage with a fist around his cock.
Lacey whined.
“I will make it worth your while, sunshine. I promise.”
Her face filled his screen, and he hit accept on the video call.
“This had better be good,” she told him.
Sam had no plan. He hadn’t expected that to work. He just wanted to see her with her hair on his pillow and her skin touching his sheets. It surpassed expectations.
“Did you like watching me come last night?” he asked, and Lacey bit her lip and nodded. “I’m going to like watching you come when I get home. I think it’s going to be in my bed. Where do you want me to sit while you make yourself come?”
Her wet fingers came into the frame, and Sam noted the way her chest was moving faster.
“I was getting too close,” she confessed, cheeks flushed. “I think I want you on the bed.”
“I like that.”
Lacey looked thoughtful. “I know what I want if I’m a good girl.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want you on the bed, but I want your hands to be bound so you can’t touch yourself while I get off.”
It was devious and cruel, and Sam was so fucking hard imagining it that he could have drilled concrete with his cock.
“And if you’re a bad girl?”
“You get to slap my ass until I come.”
It was the kind of win-win situation Sam craved and dreaded. He didn’t know how he wanted this to play out anymore.
“Now turn your camera around so I can watch you come,” Lacey commanded.