“We have a mutual understanding,” I said.
“And you think this will last?” Nash asked.
“At least I’m not afraid of marriage,” I said. “How long are you and Liv going to dance around it?”
“Oh, fuck you,” Nash said with a smile.
I walked by him.
I rubbed my jaw.
I guess it was my turn to throw Mitchy out on his ass.
I opened the beach house door and the guys followed me inside.
Sab and I were the only ones with sympathetic eyes.
Nash, Dex, and Reed had fire in their eyes. They were looking for a fight.
Not that I could blame them.
Mitchy’s bullshit legal stuff cost us so much money and time. For nothing.
I walked through the house to the spare bedroom and opened the door.
It was empty.
“Mitchy!” Reed yelled.
“Mitchy!” Dex called out. “You’re back in the band!”
“Hey,” Sab said. “Don’t be a fucking dick.”
“Who cares?” Dex asked.
“Dex, calm down,” Nash said.
“He’s probably passed out in my bed,” I said.
I went to the master bedroom and opened the door.
The same old smell of sex, whiskey, pussy, and body odor hit my nose.
I turned on the light and clapped my hands together.
“Mitchy, let’s go,” I said.
I grabbed the covers and ripped them off the bed.
There was a woman, face down, butt naked.
“Nice ass on that one,” Sab said.
I walked around the bed and there was a woman on the floor.
She was on her side and when I saw the small pile of yellowish vomit leaking from her mouth, I feared the worst.
“Oh, fuck,” I said.
I dropped my knees and shook the woman.
There was no response.
I rolled the woman forward and jammed my fingers into her neck.
I shut my eyes and waited…
Pulse.
There was a pulse.
She was alive.
I shook her again.
She let out a groan and then coughed.
She got up to her hands and threw up on the floor again as I stood up.
“Wake her up,” I said, pointing to the woman on the bed.
“Hey, babe, time’s up,” Sab said. He leaned forward and gently patted her ass. “Come on. Wake up for me. “
She popped right up.
She turned in the bed and sat up.
The woman on the floor slowly climbed to her feet.
“Oh, this is my dream,” Sab said. “Why don’t you guys leave and let me give these women a private questioning session…”
“Go jerk off if you need to,” Nash said.
“Where’s Mitchy?” I asked the girl sitting on the bed.
She ran her hand through her long, black hair.
Just sitting there completely naked.
Nash snapped his fingers. “Hey. Answer the question.”
“He left,” she said. “Christ, man. He left.”
“Left?” Sab asked. “To go where?”
“He was flying out or something,” the other woman said. She wiped her bottom lip. “He said we could sleep it off and then we had to go.”
Sab darted out of the bedroom.
“Go with him,” I said to Reed.
Reed chased after Sab.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” the first woman said. “We were just partying. He was playing some music. And then we kind of passed out. He woke us up and he was fully dressed and had his bag and his guitar case and he said he had to go.”
“Fuck,” Nash said.
“Vegas,” the other woman said. “I think he said something about Vegas?”
“You’re not sure?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Sorry.”
“You two get the fuck out of my house,” I said. “Find your clothes and leave. I’ll get you a ride out of here.”
“We still have two hours to kill,” the woman on the bed said with a grin.
I ignored her and left the bedroom.
Nash and Dex followed. “At least he’s gone.”
Sab came out of the bathroom. “He’s really gone. He fucking left.”
“That’s what he always does,” Dex said. “He shows up and fucks with us. Then he gets the lawyers involved. Then he leaves.”
“He wants us to let him back in,” Reed said. “And when we don’t do it, he attacks.”
“That’s it,” Nash said. “Never again. Never again.”
“Nash…,” Sab said.
“I’m tired of it!” Nash yelled. “Anyone here who has feelings for Mitchy, go figure them out. This is never happening again. Ever. I want Toby to call the lawyers and get a restraining order against him. Or whatever it would be to keep him away. Meaning if he shows up again, all of his dumb fucking lawsuits are over.”
“Why don’t we just pay him?” I asked. “Just cut him a check for five million. Ten million.”
“He’ll want more,” Sab said in a monotone voice. “It will never be enough. He’s an addict. He’s addicted to drugs. Booze. He’s addicted to the band. He’s addicted to hurting us. He’s addicted to women. He’s addicted to the lawsuits…”
Sab walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet.
I was shocked there was some left.
The master bedroom door opened and the two women came out, fully dressed.
“Did you clean up your puke?” I asked.
“No,” the one who puked said. “Your buddy stiffed us on our tip. So that’s your problem to clean up.”
“Here, I’ll settle the tab,” Nash said.
He took out a small wad of cash and gave it to the woman.
“Are you going to clean up your puke now?” Dex asked.
“Ew, no,” she said. “Puke is gross.”
I gritted my teeth and watched them leave the beach house.
“See you later, my loves,” Sab called out.
I took out my phone to text to get the women a ride the fuck out of here.
And then I needed a cleaning company to come disinfect the entire beach house.
The band was on the plane.
I stood on the tarmac with Toby.
“Heard about Mitchy,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Nash is full on wanting to attack.”
“I know.”
“I’m in a tough spot,” Toby said.
“We all are,” I said. “Right now, I just want to see my wife and go play a fucking rock show.” I looked at Toby. “Mitchy is never going to change.”
“No shit,” Toby said. “I knew that from day one. He’s a genius though. Just a tragic one. Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“A while back I called him. Just me and him. I told him to go solo. He has the talent and material. I even offered him some contacts. I figured let him go solo. Put him in a studio. Write and record. Get a band together. Tour. Do his own thing. Forget about FILTHY LINE.”
I looked at Toby. “You realize if I said this to the guys, they’d throw you out of the plane.”
“Glad I’m still on the ground,” he said.
“For now,” I said.
“Jay. Come on.”
“Toby,” I said. “This is the band. That’s all Mitchy ever wanted. This band. Not any other band. He could never see life beyond that. That was his downfall.”
Toby nodded. “I see that now. So maybe Nash is right. Maybe it’s time we push back. Show him we’re not fucking around anymore.”
A black car pulled up.
I grabbed Toby’s shoulder. “Get on the jet. I’m distracted.”
Toby walked away.
Wren got out of the car.
She looked at me. Then at the private jet.
Then at m
e again.
I opened my arms.
“Not a bad ride, huh?” I called out.
Wren grabbed a bag out of the backseat of the car and walked toward me.
“I don’t know what to say right now, Jay.”
I met her halfway and hugged her.
Then I touched her face and slowly kissed her.
With her free hand she grabbed my shirt.
We started to kiss deeper, hotter…
Until I put my forehead to hers. “You like it, sweetheart. Don’t lie to me. All of this. You like it.”
“It has its moments,” she said. “From what I can see…”
“Being married to me isn’t so bad, right?”
“I’m not answering that. It’ll make your ego bigger.”
“No, Wren. The only thing that makes my ego bigger is when I collect your orgasms.”
Wren sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You’re not the first woman to say that to me,” I said.
I took her bag from her, so I could hold her hand.
Then I escorted her onto the private jet.
Wren stood on the side of the stage, smiling ear to ear.
I walked with my guitar around my neck and reached out for her hand.
She put her hand in mine and I pulled.
“Jay…”
“Come on,” I said. “Come see it.”
“No.”
“Too late,” I said.
I pulled her harder.
She stumbled and hurried to catch up.
I walked up a small set of metal steps and went onto the main stage.
The venue was empty.
The crew was still working on getting everything set up for the show tonight.
I walked to the middle of the stage with Wren by my side.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Makes me want to get sick,” she said.
“Why?”
“Nerves.”
“I’m never nervous. I know what I’m doing and know how to do it.”
I looked over to my guitar tech and waved.
A second later he gave me a thumbs up.
I turned up the volume on my guitar and hit an open chord.
The guitar sound rumbled through the speakers.
Wren cringed and covered her ears.
I laughed.
“Too loud?” I yelled.
“No!” she yelled back.
I slid my hand up the guitar and started to play a solo.
I ran through a few solos and riffs for the fuck of it.
Then I killed the guitar sound and waved to my guitar tech again.
“This is my office,” I said to her.
“Mine is nothing compared to yours,” she said. “Mine is just files and papers. It’s boring.”
“Contract law, huh?” I asked. “How does that work?”
“It’s all paperwork,” she said. “But it pays great. I get to argue here and there. I never have to worry about being on stage in front of thousands of people.”
I walked off the stage with Wren by my side.
“So we’re just complete opposites all the way around, huh?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I like music though.”
“That’s good,” I said. “It’s good to like music when you’re at a rock concert.”
“Shut up,” she said. “This is all crazy to me. You live like this. I mean, we flew on a private jet. Fans were waiting for you. You did two radio interviews. We took a limo here. Fans were waiting again. My head is spinning.”
“How about we get a drink and relax a little?” I offered.
“I could use a drink.”
I took my guitar off and handed it to my guitar tech.
“Hey,” I said. “Watch the buzz on the low E. And I need a little gain on the right side.”
“What did you just say?” Wren asked me.
“My version of legal jargon,” I said.
I took her by the hand and we walked to the backstage area.
There was a pyramid of whiskey bottles. All full. At least twenty or more.
I grabbed the bottle off the top and kept walking.
The backstage was bustling with people.
Everyone nodding, smiling, and waving.
I opened a door and waved Wren inside the room.
When I shut the door, I locked it.
I reached for the light switch and killed the main lights.
“So this is really backstage…,” she said.
There were two leather couches. A table in between. Four of my guitars and an amp. And a table built into the back wall with a mirror and lights.
“This is backstage,” I said.
I twisted the cap off the whiskey bottle and took a drink.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” I said. “Enjoy.”
“Right from the bottle, huh?” Wren asked.
“When on tour…”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “When on tour, shut up and drink.”
Wren laughed. “Okay then.”
She sipped from the whiskey bottle, which made me smile.
Her lips were perfect. Cute. They looked amazing wrapped around the whiskey bottle. She shut her eyes when the whiskey hit her mouth. When her eyes opened a second later, they were watery.
That was okay.
It was supposed to burn.
“So what do you do back here?” Wren asked.
I took the whiskey bottle from her for another drink.
I sat on the arm of the leather couch and put the whiskey bottle down on the table.
“Do you really want to know?” I asked.
“I kind of do,” she said. She swallowed hard. “I’m going to hate myself for it…”
I reached for her hands and slowly interlocked my fingers into hers.
“Before I tell you everything, I want to tell you something,” I said.
“Oh, that sounds like a song,” she said.
“Are you going to be the woman that breaks up the band?” I asked. “The one who suggests the lead guitarist should do a solo album?”
“Maybe,” Wren said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m the only wife around here.”
I nodded. “That’s damn true, sweetheart. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” she said as I pulled her a few inches closer to me.
“Everything about you and your life. I like it. Do I know your deepest and darkest secrets? No. Do I know all the inside jokes from your friends? No. But I know your friends are off living their lives. And you’re kind of living other people’s lives. While mixing in your own. You give so much and I hope you’re getting something back. I hope you know how to demand for more when it’s not enough. I’ll sign an autograph for your friends, their husbands, families, friends, whatever. Because I see you, Wren. I saw you that night in Vegas. The real you. Yeah, you were drunk, but that was the real you. And I don’t think you need to be drunk to show that side of yourself.”
Color filled her cheeks. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying… I don’t know, Wren. The marriage thing isn’t all that bad to me. You’re worried about your life. About what it is. I’m not. Your grandmother is a spitfire. She can handle her own. She’ll be around for another twenty years. Easily.”
“No, she won’t,” Wren whispered.
I broke my right hand from her left hand and reached up and touched her face. “I know. I’m just saying that. But you know what I mean. When you’re near me, don’t be afraid to be yourself. I like you as yourself. I like you as the tight ass worrier too. I like you every which way possible.”
I had more to say but…
“I can’t tell if that’s just backstage talk or what,” Wren said.
“Backstage? There’s no talking.” I slowly stood up. I looked down at Wren. “Backstage is for four things. Warming up on a guitar. Drinking as much whiskey as possible. Snorting li
nes of coke. And fucking Line Whores.”
“Wow,” Wren said.
“You wanted the truth.”
“I guess I did. I don’t like it.”
“In case you didn’t notice, there’s no lines of coke or Line Whores here. Just us.”
“And that’s supposed to comfort me?” Wren asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m looking at you to be my drug…” I lowered my lips to her ear. “And my whore…”
Wren ripped her hand from mine, which I expected.
She grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and took another drink.
I turned and watched her.
I inched closer to her and touched her sides from behind.
She stepped away from me again.
She put up her left hand, not wanting me to bother her.
In her right hand, she still had the whiskey bottle.
One more sip and she gently put the bottle down on the table.
She then walked around the table to face me.
She looked at the couch. Then to the door.
Then back to me.
“I’m your wife,” she said. “Not a whore.”
I smiled. “Of course… but either way, you’re mine.”
18
WREN
It didn’t matter what I was thinking or not thinking.
I knew what I wanted.
I was living in the moment. Just the way so many told me to do. Just the way I used to do. I didn’t need to be drunk. Even though I had sipped enough whiskey to challenge that thought.
My heart couldn’t decide if what Jay had said was true or just a weak attempt to get into my pants.
Aside from that… I took the scene in.
I was backstage at a FILTHY LINE concert.
I had just flown into Seattle on a private jet.
I watched the band play a few songs for their sound check.
I got to stand on that stage with Jay.
And now we were alone backstage.
And his hands slowly touched my sides…
Jay stepped forward and bumped into me.
He walked me backward across the backstage dressing room.
His lips touched mine.
I planted my feet and stopped walking.
Jay’s hands wrapped around my body and held me tight.
There was just something about it that felt right. Like I was supposed to be there. All the racing thoughts - the million thoughts - suddenly stopped. It felt okay to just be present. In Seattle. Backstage. At a rock concert. With the guitarist of the band. Who was also the man I married in Vegas…
A FILTHY Marriage (Filthy Line Book 4) Page 16