Shane Faris #2
“It’s two in the afternoon. I hadn’t heard from you.
Answer your phone every once in a damn while, and I wouldn’t have to show up here unannounced.
” His tone doesn’t give anything away, so I have to determine whether he’s joking or mad by if the raging vein in his neck comes out to play.
It’s nowhere to be seen, so I lie back down again.
Naturally, I can’t sleep. Especially knowing Tommy’s sitting out there twiddling his thumbs while waiting for me.
Staring up at the ceiling, I debate if I want to kick his ass for breaking in or get dressed to hear what he has to say.
Fuck me. I push off the bed and land on my feet, aiming for the bathroom.
I had plans of doing nothing but catching up on sleep today, but here I am, getting up to entertain him.
I’m going to need two things to function, though: coffee and a shower.
A morning fuck wouldn’t be bad either, but since I decided not to bring a woman to LA with me—not my wisest decision—I’ll settle for the shower. Even with the water pouring down on me, easing the tension in my shoulders, I can’t remember the last time I hooked up with a groupie.
When was the last time I booked a hotel room? Because I know I wasn’t bringing women back to my sanctuary to fuck. When I need to sleep or shut out the ringing of the crowds in my ears, I do it here. It’s not where I entertain one-night stands.
Coffee wafts into the bedroom, seducing me to the kitchen to find Tommy’s brewed a pot.
He looks up from his phone before tucking it away. He says, “You guys are killing it on the charts.”
I scrub a hand over my face, determined to get caffeine in me before I have any deep conversations. He’s already made himself at home, taking up space on my couch like he intends to stay. I pour a cup and then ask, “What’s so important that you had to break into my house to wake me?”
“You’re killing it on stage. You’re playing the hell out of those drums, and the fans are loving it.”
Holding up my battered hands, I say, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You were sent the new contracts. Take a look at them, and if you have any questions, Rochelle and legal can meet with you to explain the details.”
“But?” Leaning against the counter, I drink while he tries to get out whatever it is he’s not saying.
“No but. But—”
“I knew it.” I laugh, moving into the living room to sit in a chair by the coffee table. He’s still chuckling, but I’m not. He’s not one to beat around the bush. Tommy tells it like it is, so I start to wonder if something’s wrong. “Everything okay?”
He grins like a motherfucker. I should have known he was fucking around. He says, “The band hit the bonuses for the gold records, and we want to lock down the next album with a bigger cut to Faris Wheel. How do you like those apples?”
“I like dollar bills better.”
Chuckling, he stands, leaving his mug on the coffee table. “Yeah, I wanted to stop by to let you know personally. Keep kicking ass.”
“I intend to.” Our hands come together, but he pulls me in for a pat on the back. “It comes natural.”
“Musicians are such a humble bunch.” Pushing me away, he moves toward the door, his laughter trailing him. “Give ’em a stage, and they’ll—”
“Take advantage of it every time.”
“We’ll go with that version. Hey, I’m heading to Laird’s place next to tell him the good news.
We included the band’s requests, but still take a look at the paperwork.
As soon as it’s signed, we need to sit down as a band to discuss the next album, schedule studio time, and plan the next tour.
” Before grabbing the doorknob, he pulls his phone from his pocket.
Texting, he says, “Someone left a handful of messages for you at the offices over the past few days. Serie flagged it because there was mention of a carriage, but she was reading a book at the time, so I’m thinking it was lost in translation. ”
My phone vibrates on the counter. I assume with the messages he just sent. “Will do.” Glancing down, I only get a sneak peek, but his explanation makes more sense. “What’s this part about Savage?”
“That’s the name of the book.”
Didn’t know I was going to be riddling through this puzzle today, or I would have saved it until after the second cup of coffee. Reading the last exposed line, I look up at him totally confused. “Carriage?”
“That’s the part that none of us could figure out. Not even Serie. HR is working with her on being more present at work.”
“Someone looks desperate to get ahold of you.” He opens the door and walks out the front. “Let us know if we need to intervene to file a restraining order. Figured we’d check with you first to see if you recognize the caller.”
“I’m not worried. The house has plenty of security.”
Turning around, he walks backward. “We weren’t worried about the house. We need to protect our people.”
“And here I thought you’d say investment, ya big softie.” I close the door and grab my phone to read the full text messages over coffee.
Scanning the first few lines, the name pops out first.
Cate Farin?
Cate . . . huh . . . Oh wow. No way! Cat?
Damnnn, Catalina Farin. That blast from the past doesn’t disappoint. I scroll through the other messages, but Tommy’s right. I can’t make sense of how a carriage plays into the rest of the messages. I got her name but what the fuck with this number. It’s a few digits short.
Running my fingers through my hair, I track back to that brown-eyed beauty in high school. I came back from our first tour to track her down, but she was gone.
Tommy’s mention of intervening comes to mind when I count how many messages Cat left. Five does seem excessive . . .
Should I give her the benefit of the doubt that she is anxious to reconnect?
I’m a fucking superstar, so it’s plausible.
Or maybe she’s turned into a groupie looking for one night with a rock star?
We had a connection, though too brief, and she was hot back then.
Can’t say I’m not intrigued to see what she looks like now.
I could pop by and check her out from a distance since I have nothing on my schedule.
Chuckling, I’m starting to think maybe someone needs to intervene on her behalf with me sounding like a fucking stalker. I do what anyone would do in this situation. I get Rochelle at Outlaw Records to track down an address for me.
I’ll see if I can catch a glimpse of Cat. If not, I’ll find other entertainment in the form of a blond who likes fast cars and partying in the Hills, or maybe I’m more in the mood for a sexy fucking redhead and heading to Sunset. Live music, drinks, and then fun back at her place.
The choices are endless.
The opportunities in LA, or any other city, for that matter, are plenty.
My not-so-little black book of contacts has all kinds of women I can call on a moment’s notice when I’m in town. A quick scroll and text, and the lucky lady will drop everything to spend time with me.
My stomach rumbles, distracting me from later to the here and now. I need food before any good time. I place an order to be delivered ASAP.
I barely have time to order food to the house before I have Cat Farin’s address sitting on my phone.
She was gorgeous in high school and hands down the best-looking girl in our class. But I also remember how she used to make everyone feel like they mattered. I always felt like a rock star around her. And now I am one. Wonder how she’ll react to me if I show up?
I eat with speed, not sure why I’m suddenly on a mission like it’s my life’s work, but I slip on my shoes and grab my wallet and keys to my Ferrari to see what Cat Farin’s been up to all these years.
I’ll check her out, then decide what to do after that.
With nothing to do and less to lose, I drive to the Valley.