Love Song, Take Two

Prologue. Fletcher

Will you think of me after tonight?

Then, 2008 | New York City, New York

“So, what you’re saying is, you have a bucket list.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Less about me kicking the bucket and more about me wanting to live my life a little better.”

“All right, what’s on the list?”

“Fuck a rockstar, for one. Looks like I can cross that off right now.”

Fletcher gestured to himself with a smirk. “What else?”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed as she considered his question. Wearing only his T-shirt, this woman had all of his attention. They’d been at this for hours—talking and fucking and eating—and he was still desperate for more.

“Go on tour with Stevie Nicks.”

“Just Stevie, not the whole band?”

She lifted her shoulder in a shrug, his T-shirt sliding down slightly to expose her collarbone and the mark he’d left there not too long ago.

“ Stevie , huh?”

“We’ve hung out a few times, sure.”

Her eyes widened, twinkling at him as she sat up fully. “What’s she like?”

“Badass. Tiny, but an absolute force to be reckoned with.”

“She’s the best female rockstar in the world.”

He hummed and fought back a smile as her eyes narrowed to slits. “I think I might have to disagree.”

“I knew there had to be something wrong with you.”

“Stevie’s great, but we’ve also got Patti Smith, Grace Slick and Kim Gordon.”

“You forgot Karen Carpenter.”

“Cyndi Lauper too.”

A smile played on her lips as she said, “Ann Wilson and obviously Alanis.”

“Should have known you’d be an Alanis fan.”

“What can I say? I like badass women who follow the beat of their own drum.”

Just like you .

Their moment was interrupted by a knock on the door and he slid out of bed to pull on another T-shirt. A tray was pushed into the room, the tip was paid and then the door was pressed shut again. When he turned to face his companion, she was already digging into the food, her fingers and lips covered in bacon grease. She was the most unexpected part of the night, but the one element he wouldn’t change or trade for anything else right then.

Life as Fletcher Kelley, drummer and founding member of The Rescuers, wasn’t anything to sniff at. He played music with his best friends, sat in recording studios with some of the best music producers, and performed to sold out crowds. It’s what other musicians only dreamed of and he got to do it. He knew how lucky he was, how fortunate that he was able to follow this path and get paid to do it.

Leaving home hadn’t been as hard people would think. His family expected him to follow in their footsteps, but that was never going to be Fletcher’s life. So when his father told him to pick between music and the family business, he left them and their carpentry business behind to become a well-known rockstar. And damn, being respected by a group of his peers and being touted as ‘drummer of the year’ was a fantastic feeling.

The sudden shot to fame changed their lives. Everything was either cheap or free—food, alcohol, drugs, women—and rubbing shoulders with their heroes was startling. They adjusted to it pretty quickly though, but unlike the rest of his band, Fletcher didn’t get too caught up in the world of groupies. Sex was great, having someone want you like that was even better, but that wasn’t the life he wanted. Instead, he hung around with the roadies and crew members, learning about things behind the scenes, watching them set up and pull apart at venues. He asked questions and soaked up every bit of information they were willing to part with. To him, music was not only about the songs. It was about the experience, about each instrument and finding something you related to in every element. It was also about the feeling you got when standing in a bar with a hundred strangers singing along to your lyrics.

That’s how he felt when he saw her earlier that night. Truth be told, Fletcher had felt that way about her every night for the last three weeks. The Rescuers were on the final leg of their sold out tour and they’d made the decision to do slightly smaller, more intimate shows on the East Coast. After big stadiums, being that much closer to the audience was intoxicating. Especially when his eyes had moved through the crowd and he spotted her headbanging not too far from the mosh pit. She’d flipped her thick curly hair back at the end of the song and her gorgeous brown eyes had stopped his heart. When she’d turned to her friend, laughing and attempting to smooth down her wild hair, Fletcher found himself smiling.

It was one thing to be horny for a random woman, but another to be besotted by her on sight alone. Then he saw her the next night and the one after that, and every night until their last show a few hours ago.

“Otis, I need you to find someone for me,” he told their large mountain-sized security guard as he came off stage, rubbing the towel against the back of his head. “Brunette with thick curly hair, wearing a tee from the 2000 tour, prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.”

Otis gave him a flat look. “Soren asked me to find him the prettiest girl he’d ever seen too, so I need more.”

Fletcher rolled his eyes and focused on everything he could remember about this woman. He couldn’t see the rest of her clothes, so he was basing all of this off what he had been able to see. A flash of red popped into his mind and he grinned. “Bright red streaks.”

“All right.” He headed towards the exit. “What do I tell this girl?”

“Ask her if she wants to come backstage.”

“And if she says no?”

“Give her a T-shirt from this tour and thank her for being here.”

Otis shook his head and vanished out of sight. Turning around as his bandmates, best friends and brothers from other mothers bounded off stage, he smiled. The four of them had been making music, traveling the country and meeting people for the last ten years. The only thing they had in common was their love for music, but that’s what held them together as they navigated this new part of their lives.

“Was looking for you after the curtains went down,” Jack said, whipping his towel at Fletcher.

“Needed to find someone.”

Soren came up on the other side, sweaty arm slung over his shoulder. “Someone? Tell me more.”

“Fuck off.” He laughed and attempted to push Soren away, but his friend held on.

“Good for you, man. About time you participated in a little post-show fun.”

Fletcher rolled his eyes and let his friends drag him back to the green room. He had nothing against groupies, but they weren’t as fun as movies or other rockstars made them out to be. He often felt like the women were hooking up with them to brag about it to their friends later. Sure okay, fucking a random stranger and getting all your energy out with someone else was a good way to have fun. But that was no longer how he looked at sex. Maybe he was an old man, hoping to make a deeper connection with someone. Or maybe he had higher standards.

Jack had already filled up glasses with tequila someone had gifted them a few days ago, so Fletcher knocked back his shot and hissed as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. Grabbing a bottle of water, he twisted it open and took a swig as the doorway to the green room was filled with Otis’s giant body.

“There’s some people who want to see you boys,” Otis said, stepping to the side to reveal a group of scantily clad women. Shaking his head at the way the women squealed and rushed for Jack and Soren, Otis added, “Be safe, kids.”

Fletcher started to ask about his girl when Otis moved out of the way and she appeared. Her eyes were wide, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she surveyed the green room. He didn’t give a shit what the space looked like, because all he could see was her. Her extra large T-shirt stopped mid-thigh, revealing cut-offs layered over fishnet stockings. Her thick thighs and strong legs ended in well-loved red Chuck Taylors. His eyes dragged back up her body and found her watching him with an amused smile. Her full lips were pink giving them a soft and biteable look, her brown eyes were surrounded by thick lashes and dark liner. She was the opposite of every woman he’d ever known or hooked-up with, instantly making her the most interesting person around him.

She moved into the room, every step bringing her closer to him and Fletcher was certain he’d stopped breathing. When she stopped in front of him, he finally allowed himself to inhale—the heady scent of sweat and cookies wrapping around him.

“Was I wrong to assume that rockstars only hydrated with alcohol?” she asked, her voice was smooth like velvet and husky—probably from all the shouting and singing along she’d been doing—and fitting for a woman like herself.

“You missed the tequila shots.”

Her soft lips curved into a pout. “Think I could get some too?”

He nodded, but didn’t move. He was so captivated by this woman. Looking at him right then—ripped jeans, baggy sleeveless T-shirt, unkempt shaggy hair, patchy scruff and dopey look on his face—nobody would think that Fletcher Kelley was thirty.

“Fletch?”

He blinked, shaking his head as sounds and lights came back into focus. Fletch . Nobody called him that. Not even his bandmates, not his parents or siblings. Just this woman. And fuck if he didn’t like it.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed I could call you that,” she quickly corrected, a pretty blush spreading over her cheeks.

“You most definitely can.” He tucked his sweaty hair behind his ears and added, “Seems unfair that you’d know my name but I don’t know yours.”

She smirked. “Pour me a shot and I’ll consider it.”

This time, he didn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. Instead, he grabbed the tequila, poured out two shots and handed one to her. Her eyes stayed on his when she clinked their glasses and knocked the tequila back. His eyes were drawn to her neck, to the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, to the dip between her clavicles.

“Wanna get out of here?” she asked, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth.

Fletcher’s heart dropped. Maybe she was a groupie and he’d misjudged her because she wasn’t dressed like the others. Nodding slowly, he set his untouched shot on the table and asked Otis for a car. They were ushered through the back exit into a blacked out truck and he finally found his voice again.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She tilted her head at his question, all that dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Get food and hang out with my favorite drummer?”

“What?”

“Okay, yeah, fucking you is not off the list, but I thought we could hang out too.”

“So you’re not…” he fumbled, not sure if the term groupie was offensive, but the woman shook her head, the most incredible smile lighting up her face.

“I am a huge fan of The Rescuers, been to every tour since you guys started out. If that makes me a groupie, then so be it. But nope. I’m only a fan and honestly? Being noticed by you might be the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He blushed, looking away from her to instruct the driver to take them back to the hotel. “I saw you every night on this leg of the tour.”

“I know,” she said, grinning at his shocked expression. She scooted across the seat to sit closer to him. “I was looking at you every night too.”

“Is your list entirely music related?” he asked as they collapsed back into bed after inhaling every bit of food that was ordered. It was a miracle he was still able to breathe.

“Fuck no. There’s a lot of sex stuff on there.”

Lifting his head, he arched an eyebrow and Mick—“yeah, like Jagger”—grinned at him. “And did we do any of it?”

She nodded, wide grin still in place, as she swung one leg over his hips and pressed their bottom halves together. “That thing in the shower, your magical tongue, whatever you did with your fingers.” She rattled them off, making Fletcher laugh.

“All right, what else can we cross off tonight?”

“Let’s see…” He propped himself up on his elbows as she slid out of bed. His eyes followed her, watching the way the T-shirt slid up her ample bottom as she bent down to rummage in her bag. When she held up a rumpled piece of paper, he arched an eyebrow. “It’s my list.”

“You carry it around with you?”

“Never know when you’ll need to mark things off.” Pencil in hand, Mick returned to bed and resumed her position in his lap. “Okay. I’ve do—done, um…oh, we sh—should try something else.”

If he wasn’t watching her so intently, he would have missed the way her eyebrows dipped as she spoke. A soft hum-like sound accompanied the words. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away as she swallowed and mouthed words, the sounds coming out in soft whispers.

“Tell me what you’ve crossed off so far.”

Mick smiled and straightened her spine, like she was ready to give him a speech. “We already talked about me wanting to fuck a rockstar. Also shower sex, receive and give oral, uh…order room service and eat all of it. Then there’s stuff from before we met.”

“Tell me everything, Mick.”

“Go on tour with my favorite band,” she admitted, her eyes flicking to his briefly. “Get a tattoo, horseback riding, drive a truck, skinny dipping, keep a plant alive longer than a week.”

Fletcher brushed his thumb over the dandelion tattoo on the side of her hip that he’d kissed an hour or so ago. He felt her shiver slightly and looked up to find her watching him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“If you had a list, what would be on it?”

“You.”

Mick rolled her eyes. “Obviously. What else?”

“I can’t think of a single other thing off the top of my head.”

“Not even anything sexual?”

He laughed and pushed himself to sit up, one arm sliding around Mick’s waist. “I’m pretty sure I did more sexual things with you than I have in my thirty years of existence.”

“I fucking love that,” she whispered, brushing her nose slowly against his.

He hummed, cupping her jaw with his other hand and tilted her head slightly so he could press a kiss to her mouth. She giggled softly, kissing him back before pulling away to stare into his eyes.

“Will you think of me after tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

Mick shrugged, list forgotten as her fingers brushed through his freshly washed hair. “The tour is over, we’re both going back to regular life, so…will you think of me?”

“Regular life?”

“College, graduation, finding a job, making my parents proud.”

Nodding slowly, he let that realization settle into his bones. He’d never see her after this. All he would have with this incredible woman was this one night, one night that he hadn’t made the most of. Fletcher wondered if he would have done things differently if he’d known that this was the first and last night he’d get with her.

“What’s your regular life look like, Fletch?”

“Jamming with the guys, maybe even back into the studio.”

Mick’s eyes widened. “Another album?”

“If we’re lucky,” he said, chuckling as he leaned in to bury his face in her neck. “I’m gonna miss you, Mick.”

Her fingers moved through his hair slowly, the tips brushing against the back of his neck. “The night’s not over, Fletch. Don’t say goodbye yet.”

He slipped his hands under her T-shirt, mapping her body slowly. The dip above her perfect ass, the arch of her spine. Then around to her soft belly and down to her thighs that no longer had the indents from her fishnet stockings. He was going to miss her; miss the way she didn’t treat him like a famous musician, miss the way she called him Fletch and mostly miss how whole he felt when he was with her.

“Take it off,” she whispered, her lips finding his in a slow kiss.

He bunched the T-shirt in his hands and tugged it upwards, breaking contact long enough to tug it over her head. Their mouths were drawn back to each other, like magnets as hers arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was slow, a deep exploration of tongues and teeth, moans and groans echoing between them. He pressed his hands flat to Mick’s back and held her flush against him, her hard nipples rubbing against his bare chest.

As her hands slid down over his shoulders and chest, Fletcher deepened the kiss, needing to imprint himself on her soul forever. She was young and beautiful, so when she returned to her ‘regular life’, some lucky asshole would get to love her. While he pondered all the ways he could have made her stay.

“Underwear,” she said against his mouth and he grunted at the thought of being separated from her for even a few seconds. But Mick whipped off her blue underwear faster than he expected, a laugh bursting out of him at the way she tossed it aside. “Your turn.”

Not to be left behind, Fletcher followed suit and made a dramatic show of getting rid of his boxer-briefs. At least it made Mick giggle, her face lighting up with a big smile.

“Come here, beautiful,” he mumbled, tugging her back into his lap.

As his hands slid down to her ass, pulling her against him, her hand dipped between them to wrap around his dick. The contact made them both moan into the kiss. She nipped at his bottom lip as her body lifted off his briefly and then before he could catch his breath, she was sliding down on him. Their eyes met as he filled her to the hilt and Fletcher knew in that moment that nothing in the world would ever compare to this feeling—of being surrounded by a woman so beautiful, everything else lost its potency.