Chapter 3
Kingsley
Cornelius better be right about this shit helping my image, I thought as I looked out over the crowd gathered in front of the stage at the newly built Greater Chicago Zoo.
My manager had a list of things he was convinced were going to get studio execs to hire me in the upcoming Hosier biopic, and starring in something like that about a massively talented singer-songwriter could catapult my own career to a whole new level.
Everything in my career had come easily to me. But this role was highly competitive, and I didn’t have any acting experience. Cornelius was betting my reputation as a genius songwriter would outweigh my reputation as a playboy and PR risk.
Since I had never attempted to look respectable, this shit was way outside my purview, so I had to trust him.
But this whole project shit was not starting off very well.
Firstly, this whole crowd at the zoo amphitheater appeared to be mostly families, which meant my manager had gripped my arm and hissed, “don’t forget to change all that stuff you normally say. You can’t swear now! Look at all these grannies out here!”
Change what I said? I had a list of prewritten banter I rotated through, and I did not know any family-friendly banter.
“Maybe you should put a jacket on,” Cornelius hissed in agony. “Remember you have a tattoo with some serious profanity on it.”
“I’m not putting a jacket on,” I snarled. “It’s ninety-five fucking degrees outside.”
“OK, OK,” he said. “You can only see part of it anyways. Who knows, it might say fuchsia.”
He scuttled off and I felt irritated that I’d even agreed to this.
Eunice the reporter was already pissing me off, buzzing around me like a little bee and asking about my writing process and how did I come up with my ideas.
It would have been so fucking funny if Rosalie had been there, her eyes all lit up with amusement, adding some funny shit like, “he gets his best ideas in nature” or “the sunrise really brings out the poetry in his soul.”
But apparently she was not talking to me.
Also, Rosalie always did vocal warmups with me before a show, her saucy little voice always stretching and flexing mine with the perfect pitch and range, and now that she was pissed at me my voice felt tight, raw.
Even worse because it wasn’t like my normal show, so I had to do the warm-ups right there in the amphitheater.
Somewhere, a baboon howled.
I felt irritation prickle down my spine. Rosalie wasn’t even backstage watching. She was ignoring me completely, off on the outskirts of the crowd, pointing out some baby elephant or some shit to Matt, when she was supposed to be backstage.
“Man, we need to get going,” Mick my drummer said. “Some of these grannies look pretty restless.”
I glanced over at Rosalie again.
If she wanted to be a brat, fine. I wasn’t going to beg her to help me warm up.
Although I had never known Rosalie to be jealous, this must be about Dolly.
That was the only explanation for her behavior.
In that case, I absolutely wasn’t going to tell her the truth.
I was just going to let her be jealous as long as I could, because it would serve Rosalie right for not coming to my hotel room.
That was like a pretty fucking necessary part of my pre-show ritual and now I was all off balance.
“Dolly, want to help me warm up?” I called out loudly, but Rosalie didn’t even turn around.
Dolly came over, her face shining up at me like a sunbeam, which was pretty fucking annoying with the kind of headache I had.
I wanted Rosalie to come over and kick me in the shins instead, but I had to make do with what I had, and maybe if I really played this up, Rosalie would be pissed off enough to come over.
Dolly instantly started off with an operatic trill that pierced my skull, and I attempted to follow. But our voices weren’t really complementary at all, and I finally waved her away.
Whatever. Time to do this shit.
“Helloooo, Chicago!” I called to polite applause.
Well, this was going to be a new type of concert. Usually by this time the crowd was half-drunk and singing at the top of their lungs.
“Chicago, you are lucky to be the first city to get to meet someone very special to me,” I boomed into the mic, “My new girlfriend, the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. . .Dolly!”
I looked over to where Rosalie had been, but now she appeared to be at one of the food carts, pointing something out on the menu to Matt. It was like she hadn’t even heard me.
Must be fucking nice for my friends to be pissing around not even supporting me.
“Finally met a woman who might be able to force me into marriage like a whipped pus--simp,” I joked, choking on the word “pussy.”
This joke was greeted with complete silence.
Oh fuck, shit, they probably were all married.
“I HAVE TO GO POOP,” I heard a child’s voice holler out loudly.
Cornelius looked like he was sweating bullets, pulling at his collar, and shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.
Meanwhile Rosalie was pouring BBQ sauce and sprinkling pickled jalapenos onto a hot dog.
I wanted to call her name out, force her to look at me, but I bit the urge back and went into my first carefully curated song.
“Bro, pull it together,” my other drummer Rick hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with your voice?”
“It’s fine.”
But everything was warbly, scratchy.
I saw a few people start to look over at each other, wonder what was happening.
I tried to laugh it off.
“Live music, right? Something’s in my fuc—”
I choked on the words again. Damn, hell, this was supposed to be a family-friendly concert. No swearing whatsoever.
Rosalie always wrote my banter for me, tailoring it to wherever we were and who the crowd was, but since she wasn’t talking to me, we hadn’t changed it up.
And that must be why I sounded fucking awful—when she was there to bounce stuff off, I sounded better.
My eyes hastily scanned the crowd as some assistant brought me a glass of water.
But Rosalie wasn’t even in the damn crowd now.
She was over with Matt at the baby elephant cage, twisting around toward the stage, but she wasn’t even remotely looking at me, her eyes squinched shut with laughter as the baby elephant playfully twined his trunk around her leg, then sprayed her in the face with water.
“Bones in a spring bouquet,” I sang, my voice fucking cracking.
And still she didn’t even turn around, Matt with his camera out taking her picture now.
My band members attempted to compensate by playing louder but it didn’t work.
Shit, what were the words to this one? Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last shot of whiskey.
My god, what was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I get in tune?
I took a break after a few songs, took another drink of water.
“It’s good to be here in Chicago!” I said, but they all sort of stared blankly at me.
God, these tiny children were a tough crowd. That would’ve gotten a big cheer in Minneapolis.
“I saw a woman over there putting pickled jalapenos on her hot dog instead of mustard,” I said, riffing, hoping to get a laugh about the Chicago-style hot dog, and the absolute pin-drop silence afterwards was so complete that I could distinctly hear the moo of a cow in the barnyard section.
“Aw man, I’m joking, she’s here under my protection, I wouldn’t let you burn her as a witch.”
Not only did this go over like a lead balloon, but Rosalie was still ignoring me.
“Maybe I’ll dunk that little witch in water unless she stops being a brat.”
“Dude, stop talking about Rosalie,” Constantine hissed behind me. “Fucking pull it together!”
It went downhill from there. Dolly got a nice cheer for her harp solo, and I saw a few grannies nodding approvingly for my Gaelic folk song on the guitar, but otherwise it was a complete disaster.
If this was supposed to secure me a prestigious role in an Oscar bait film, it was not going well.
“What the fuck was that?” I snapped after it was finally over as Matt and Rosalie finally wandered back toward the stage.
“What do you mean?” Matt asked.
“I mean you weren’t even here for it.”
“Oh, bro, I’m so sorry,” Matt said instantly. “I didn’t think. We just had to see that little baby elephant. It was born this month, you know.”
He clapped his hand on my shoulder reassuringly, but I couldn’t have given a single fuck about him.
He wasn’t who I was glaring at.
Rosalie, however, didn’t even bother to apologize. She was only looking at her funnel cake.
“You better hurry or you won’t get any,” she told Matt, holding it up to him.
Matt bent over, and they took a bite of the cake from either side at the same time, making big puffs of powdered sugar fly into the air.
Rosalie was such a flirt, and apparently she was bent on really pissing me off as she licked her fingers clean of the sugar.
“What’s got your panties in a wad?” she asked indifferently when Matt went to throw the plate away.
“Why weren’t you there to help me warm up? That sucked.”
“Tough crowd, Kings,” she shrugged.
Suddenly I felt desperate for some private time with her.
Was there something else? Why the fuck was she this mad?
The post-show was a blur, and when we were back in our hotel suite again, I cornered her.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re acting pissy. What’s the matter? Talk to me, baby girl.”
“Don’t baby girl me, asshole. I’m not your baby girl anymore. I never was.”
I felt my jaw click and my teeth grind together.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She glared.
“Do I have to spell everything out for you? You said you weren’t a relationship guy. Apparently you are.”
I really wanted to keep making her jealous, but I felt on edge, buzzed, even though I was stone cold sober.
“Is this about Dolly?” I asked. “Are you jealous of her?”
“No,” Rosalie said evenly, crossing her arms. “Dolly can have you. I don’t want you.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of sexy scent into my nose. She always smelled like a Christmas tree you really wanted to fuck and I had a Pavlovian reaction to it.
“Stop,” I said irritably. “Fine, I’ll tell you the truth since you’re being such a brat about it. I’m up for a pretty big role in an upcoming Hosier biopic. And to get it, I need to convince these big studio execs that I’m not just a dirtbag fuckboy.”
“Good luck with that,” she said.
“I just need Dolly until I get this role. She’s good for my image.”
“How touching. You’re making me cry.”
Just then, Matt came out of his room. “Did you want to go see that graveyard?” he asked Rosalie. “I know you love to, like, walk around them and remember the people. Even though you didn’t even know them. Oh,” he added, seeing me. “Want to come, too?”
“No,” I bit out. “That sounds boring. I’ll be here when you get back.”
My shot failed on Rosalie, who only looked at me with cold eyes, the smoky gray stony and hard.
I didn’t need to go to graveyards with Rosalie to have her, I could have her whenever I wanted. And it wasn’t like Matt was a threat, Rosalie would never go for the nice guys.
She could go, have her fun, and she’d be begging to ride me when she got back.
That’s it.
Only I didn’t think I could hold out until she was begging.
I had a couple glasses of gin, and she still wasn’t back.
Dolly wandered out and asked if I wanted to go to some piano bar, but I refused. It would look good for the PR campaign, but I needed to be here when Rosalie got back.
Then I decided to give Ro something I knew she couldn’t resist, so I went into my bedroom and took a quick shower.
Slipping on my gray sweatpants, I lay back on the bed and pulled my dick out.
I was already hard thinking about Rosalie on her knees in front of me, or flipped around on the bed so I could spit into her asshole, or all wet and dripping in the shower. . .
I fisted my dick, seeing a bead of precum on the head.
Despite what my solid C- average in college might say about me, I wasn’t a total idiot. I knew I had a big hog. This picture was going to make her mouth water, and then she was going to come to my room rolling her eyes and pretending not to give a fuck. Then she’d fuck my brains out.
When I heard them come in, I texted her the pic.
Look what’s waiting for you
There was no response.
Brat!
It was late at night. I was horny. Her scent from earlier was still lingering in my nostrils, making more beads of precum drip down my cock. It was an angry red color, twitching as I could hear the two of them discussing reported ghost sightings at the graveyard.
And I knew she had seen it. Read 1:07 am.
I was not used to being left on read.
The fuck?
I want to lick your pussy
Bring that juicy pussy over, baby girl
That would get her over here.
But still no response.
What the fuck
My cock twitched remembering how she’d looked in that long black skirt and those heavy black combat boots.
Rosalie was going to try to outlast me? A spark of anger flared through me as precum soaked through my sweatpants.
Brat, I could have four dozen women over here in an hour and you’re playing these dumb games I texted before I could think better of it.
Don’t forget your Viagra
Fuck
I didn’t actually want four dozen women here, I wanted Rosalie.
I took a deep breath and sent her another picture, pointing my dick up so she could see the piercing and how precum was dripping down my shaft.
No response.
This shit was starting to feel like a Twilight Zone episode, because what the fuck was happening?
I heard Rosalie’s door shut and I swung off the bed, my dick leaking down my leg. Our balconies were next to each other, and I strained to look over the side. I could just barely see in her room, the reflection of her body barely visible in the glass door.
“Come on, baby,” I tried again. “I’ve got a fat cock here just for you.”
She pulled off her dress, letting it fall around her ankles, and my mouth went dry, hips straining at the balcony gate.
Both her nipples were pierced, and Rosalie stood on her tippy toes, stretching sideways, so I got a perfect view of her perky little ass in that thong.
I took a deep breath. I wouldn’t normally ever do this, but I felt desperate. And it was the one thing I knew Ro couldn’t resist.
“I’ve got a big bed over here,” I called over to her, “Why don’t you come over and cuddle all night long?”
But then Rosalie walked closer, my cock throbbing with each step she took, and she stood for a moment right in the doorway.
“I said I was through with you and I meant it. Better go put some ice on that leaking dick.”
Then she shut the door in my face and I had to walk back to my own bed, my dick spurting desperately with every step.