Cruz leaned close to my ear and said, “I thought you might need these, more Jade.”
I shoved the panties in the back pocket of my jeans and glared at him before turning to help Dad find a place for the TV.
We thanked the moving crew and Dad handed them a couple bucks before noticing the other three guys and Meagan who were standing around talking like they belonged there. They introduced themselves before heading for the door.
“You should come to the welcome thing tonight. I hear they’ve got a killer band playing,” Lennon said, and they all laughed. Not sure what that meant, but I had no intention of going to anything tonight. I wanted to unpack and get organized.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Meagan said. “Hey, can you guys show me where the mailroom is on your way out?”
The girl had no shame. You’d think she’d be horrified by what I walked in on, but she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
“Sure. See ya, Jade,” Adam and Lennon said on their way out, with Meagan in tow.
Dad was under my desk trying to attach one of those multi-plug thingies and Cruz took his sweet time getting to the door.
“See you, more Jade.” He winked.
“I doubt it,” I said with a forced smile as he turned to leave.
Finally, a moment of peace.
“They seem nice,” Dad said.
“Sure.”
If he only knew.
Chapter Two
Cruz
We belted out our last song, and I walked backstage and slammed a beer. The crowd was going wild for more, and Dex yelled for me to get ready to go back out there. Our band, Exiled, was growing in popularity. I could feel it in the air. The way you knew a storm was coming. The sky turned gray, the air cooled, and there was a shift in the universe—that’s what was happening here. Whether the storm was going to be a good or bad thing, I didn’t care. I’d been waiting for so long, it was inevitable. Almost like something greater than myself.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I snubbed out my smoke and strode back on stage.
Bright lights blinded my vision, but I knew what was there, nonetheless. Screaming college kids, mainly chicks. Their boyfriends were bellied up to the bar getting toasted while their girls threw their bras on stage and danced all sexy and dirty below us. It was hot as hell until it got sloppy. Which it always did. There were always a few middle-aged women who dragged their friends here for a girls’-night-out to ogle young dudes who resembled their rebellious days. Exiled was an edgy alternative rock band comprised of me, my brother, Lennon, my best friend, Adam, and my sometimes friend, Dex. Dex was cool when he wasn’t on my fucking nerves, which wasn’t often.
We performed for another twenty minutes until my voice was raw and gravelly. I knew I’d have to kick smoking soon, because we were performing more often, and my vocals couldn’t take the abuse. But damn if nothing beat a good drag after a set. I’d cross that bridge when I had to. The energy grew with each show. Security hustled us off stage to the back room. We had performed at this venue, The Dive, every week over the last two years, but the crowd was changing. Our following was growing at a rapid rate, and our manager, Luke, thought we’d outgrown The Dive. We liked it here and the owner gave us our first break, so we kept coming back. It was sort of where we got our start.
Lennon and I had known Adam since we were kids. My brother was a kickass guitarist. He was seriously skilled and passionate about music. Adam had been playing the drums since we were kids, so they started a band and made me the lead singer, mostly because no one else could sing. We met Dex in high school, and Lennon found out he played the electric keyboard, and history was made. Exiled was formed. We started out playing for fun, at least I did, but things had really taken off this past year.
Adam and I both attended Northwestern University, Lennon went to community college in the city, and no one knew what the fuck Dex did. He was a trust fund kid, and he lived for music. The dude jammed on the electric keyboard. He didn’t see the point of any of us going to school, because he had no doubt that Exiled would make it big. He and my father were in the same camp. They couldn’t fathom any other kind of life. Me? I wasn’t sure what the fuck I wanted to be when I grew up. But I was interested in more than just music. I’d majored in Art history because I liked studying the architecture of different cultures and time periods. The guys made fun of me for it. Maybe it was all the traveling I’d done with my mom over the years, but I was drawn to the visual and physical characteristics of architecture as well as the range of different cultural practices. I was the opposite of Superman—I was a lead singer of a rock band on the outside and an art nerd beneath. I kept my inner Clark Kent hidden away whenever possible.
We finished the show and walked backstage.
“Cruz, my man, that was something tonight. You sounded good, brother.” Luke pulled me in for one of those half dude hugs and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, everyone was on tonight,” I said as Adam tossed me a beer.
We did our traditional cheers before we tipped our heads back and chugged.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I need to get laid tonight,” Dex said when he reached for another beer. The dude did everything large. He partied big. And he lived big. He went through chicks faster than most people could down a cup of coffee.
I sat back, lit a cigarette, and took a long, slow drag. Luke opened the door and in trickled a group of seven or eight girls. They were cute.
And drunk.
And loud.
And I wasn’t in the mood.
I was by far the moodiest fucker in our band. Don’t get me wrong, I liked to have a good time. I could drink whiskey with the best of them. And I enjoyed getting sucked off by a hot chick as much as the next guy. But not at the rate Dex did. And sometimes after a set, I just wanted to chill and take it in. Not numb myself through the whole process. I’d read enough articles about bands that ran themselves into the ground with the lifestyle that comes with it. We’d had a very small taste of it on a miniscule scale, and Dex had already shown signs of being a disaster of epic proportions. And my brother had the tendency to go off the rails as well, which was half the reason I was even here in the first place.
A blonde chick walked over to me. I squinted through the puff of smoke I’d just released to make out her face. Shit. It was the girl who dropped to her knees a few days ago when I looked in her direction. I couldn’t remember her name, which was ironic because she never shut the fuck up during the few minutes I’d spent with her. I do, however, remember her roommate’s name. More Jade. Now that one, I could handle dropping to her knees as often as she liked. She was unamused by me. Wholesome and natural looking. Apparently, that’s my new thing, because I couldn’t stop staring at her. There was something about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. The girl was gorgeous sans makeup and all the extra shit most of these girls did. She didn’t have a clue how fucking hot she was. Maybe that was the draw. She also didn’t appear to give a shit what anyone thought of her. I wanted to run my fingers through her dark hair. Her eyes though — that’s what did me in. They were jade green. Hell, maybe that was why they’d named her Jade. Plump kissable lips, and a small, rockin’ body. She didn’t need to do much to be the hottest girl in the room. Not like these girls that just walked in, all fake baked with big hair and big tits. They didn’t hold a candle to her.
Mandy, or Candy, whatever her name was, dropped down on my lap. Fuck me. Not interested. I blew smoke in her direction and she tipped her head back and giggled. Why was that funny?
“Do you remember me, Cruz? I thought we could finish what we started the other day. You know, before my annoying roommate interrupted us.”
I pushed to my feet, forcing her to stumble to stand. “Not tonight. I’m out.”
Her lips turned down in a frown and she said, “Boo.”
Litera
lly, that’s what she said. Boo. How the hell did this chick attend Northwestern? I was embarrassed for her, but Dex had a big grin on his face and opened his arms wide, winking at me over her shoulder when she walked into his arms. No one was off limits with him.
I was halfway down the hallway when Luke caught up to me.
“Cruz, your dad thinks AF studios may be interested in you guys.”
I paused. “I talked to him this morning and he didn’t say a word.”
Luke laughed. “Yeah, he thinks your head isn’t in the game with classes starting.”
I had the only parent on the planet who discouraged their kid from getting an education. He did the same to Lennon, but my brother’s desire to please my father was greater than his desire to please himself. That’s where we differed. And it pissed me off. My dad, Steven Winslow, was a famous Hollywood producer. Lucky for me, he wasn’t around much during my formative years. He commuted from Chicago to Los Angeles because my mom insisted on raising us here. Not sure why it was so important to her, because she was rarely home either. Dad needed Mom by his side, which meant we spent most of our time with nannies growing up. Dad didn’t go to college. He was a self-made man. My father based success on two things. Fame and fortune.
He agreed to let me get an education as long as I continued to pursue music, which I agreed to do. It wasn’t like I didn’t love making music. I did. And I knew my brother would die without it, so quitting wasn’t an option. At least not now. Besides, it had grown on me and it gave me a creative outlet. But I’d also like to have a fallback plan, something with a future when music ran its course. Most bands didn’t make it in this business. But I had a powerful father with deep pockets, and he was determined for Exiled to be the next Rolling Stones. He paid for a manager for the band long before we earned money of our own. Dad wanted us to be famous a hell of a lot more than I did. I didn’t mind jamming in small bars or practicing in basements and making good music. Hell, I loved it. Dad wanted so much more. My goal? Get my degree before he found someone to sign us and I had to leave Chicago.
“He’s relentless. What parent gets upset that their kid is going to college?”
“Listen, you know I always have your back, and I’m proud of you for pursuing your education while we wait this out. But, having a dad in powerful places with unlimited funds is not the worst thing in the world. He just believes you’re destined to make it big, and I do too,” Luke said, dropping his smoke on the ground and stomping it out.
I rolled my eyes. How many other fuckers would be destined to make it big if their daddies had private jets and endless resources? All of them. I hated that my father’s success forced me to question my talent at every turn. Getting a degree would mean that I’d call the shots on my future. Being dependent on my dad allowed him far too much power, and he flaunted it like a badge.
“All right, man. We’ll be ready for next weekend. But I’ve got my first day of class tomorrow and I have fucking biology which I’ve put off for two years. Science is a bitch for me. But it’s a required course, so I’ve got to be on my game this semester.”
“You’re a good man, Cruz Winslow.”
He clapped me on the shoulder before I got in my car. I knew my dad paid him well to keep an eye on me. Not so much with Lennon, because my brother catered to our father. My dad preyed on Lennon’s guilt and insecurity about his addiction, and Lennon kissed his ass. I, on the other hand, never knew who to trust, because everyone was on the Winslow payroll. It was hard to know who had your best interest at heart and who was just trying to make their next buck.
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?
Not only did I hate biology, but I fucking hated eight A.M. biology class. I didn’t get home until two-thirty in the morning, and to say I was dragging was an understatement. I lit up a smoke as I trudged through campus toward Hampton Hall, already late to class. I was more than aware that smoking was no longer politically correct. But guess what? I didn’t give a shit. Vaping was for preppy, wanna-be motherfuckers, and I wasn’t one of them. The nicotine hit my system with a jolt.
I hadn’t bought the book yet for bio, because well, I rarely bought the books for my classes. I’d never needed them. I’d always made As easily, with the exception of science. And, this class would probably fuck up my GPA, so I’d stop by the bookstore later and buy the damn book. I found a notebook and a pen in my car, so at least I looked the part. The lecture hall was packed.
Great.
Eager fucking freshman.
I searched the room for a seat, spotting one, up in the front row. Just my luck.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence. I already finished taking roll,” Professor Douche Canoe said. “Give me your name, and you can take the unoccupied seat up here.”
“Cruz Winslow.” I cleared my throat and made my way to the front row.
My gaze locked with mesmerizing green eyes. More Jade. Things were looking up. She quickly turned away and I dropped down in the chair beside her. Of course, she sat in the front row by choice. I glanced over at her spiral notebook, and she already had half a page of notes. Class started five minutes ago, and all he’d done is take attendance. She wrote with a pink pen, and there were three other pens lined up beside her notebook in green, purple, and blue. Are you fucking kidding me? The girl was Type A on steroids. The professor started speaking and my goddamn pen failed me.
Shit.
I leaned into Jade and whispered close to her ear. She smelled like peaches and coconut. A mix of sunshine and girl next door. “My pen doesn’t work. Can I borrow one of your rainbow colors?”
With lips pursed, she rolled her eyes and reached in her backpack. Apparently, I wasn’t getting a pretty color. She handed me a black pen before returning to write in her notebook with her pink pen. What the hell was she writing? He was literally still talking about what we were going to learn this semester. Nothing worthy of note taking.
I sat back in my seat and studied her movements. Her dark hair was pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. Her shoulders were stiff and rigid, and I kind of wanted to rip the elastic from her hair and give it a tug. You know, just for shits and giggles. She was very attractive, in the most understated way. She wasn’t flashy or showy. She had that wholesome natural beauty thing going, which I’d never been drawn to. At least not before now. She was wearing a white T-shirt, dark skinny jeans and peach-colored Chucks. This must be her ‘first day of school’ outfit.
Kind of fucking adorable.
She must have sensed me staring, because her head turned, and she shot daggers in my direction. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. Lucky for me, they couldn’t. Professor Lockhart might be the most boring instructor I’d ever encountered. I nearly dozed off the last few minutes of class, but Jade nudged me, and I straightened up. She flipped through her notebook and there were no less than eight pages of writing. With no spaces. I had exactly three lines of notes.
“Be sure to read the first two chapters by Wednesday, we’re going to have a quiz on the material,” he said in a monotone voice. Of course, she wrote this down in her notebook as if it would be difficult to remember that we had a quiz in two days. No other professor was asshole enough to assign a quiz the first week of school. She used her purple pen to jot down the date of the quiz. Obviously, there was a color code system that was way beyond my realm of knowledge.
I handed her the pen back, but she didn’t take it. “Keep it. You’ll probably need it for your next class. That is if you can stay awake.”
I followed her out of the classroom and tucked the pen behind my ear. “Thanks. That wasn’t judgment you were passing, was it?”
She stopped in the middle of the quad outside and looked at me. Damn, this girl was cute. “Maybe. I mean, you did come late, forgot a pen, and fell asleep in class. You make judging very easy.”
“I didn’t forget a pen. My
pen broke. Big difference.”
“Sure,” she said, studying her schedule as her gaze ping-ponged from building to building.
“You can’t judge me. You don’t even know me,” I said.
“Well, let’s see. I know that you aren’t my roommate’s boyfriend, yet she was on her knees doing God knows what, the first time I met you. And now, you come to class completely unprepared. I’d say I know enough.”
“You can’t say it, can you?” I smirked.
“Say what?” She held her chin up like it was a shield for whatever I was going to throw her way.
“Blow. Job. God knows what—it’s called a blow job. One I never got by the way because you burst in the room before she could get down to business.”
“You’re so crude.”
“Why? Because I like blow jobs?” I laughed. “Who doesn’t?”
A pink hue spread across her cheeks and she moved her hands to her hips. “She has a boyfriend, if you didn’t know.”
“No. I didn’t know. There wasn’t time for semantics. I welcomed her to school, and the girl yanked me in her room and dropped to her knees. I’m not the bad guy in this scenario.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, I suppose you’re not. You’re just the gross guy.”
“I can live with that,” I said as she fiddled with the stupid schedule in her hand.
“What’s your next class?” I snatched the paper from her, and our fingers brushed. And I got a goddamn boner. It wasn’t like I didn’t get them often, but from the brush of a hand—that was a first. Damn, this chick’s got some kind of girl-next-door superpowers.
“Give that back,” she said. She was even cuter when she was mad.
“Just relax. I’ll show you where you’re going. I have class one building over from yours.”
She took her schedule back. “Fine. Thank you.”
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