Whisky Moments

by Bowie, Emily

  “Will you leave me alone if I do?”

  “You got it, roomie.” I wink at her and start to clean up the dishes. Each time I steal a glance, she’s captivated with her book and doesn’t even try to watch me doing dishes in the buff, like she gets this anytime.

  And maybe she does.

  CHAPTER 18

  I dare say I think Camilla and I are bonding. After finishing my perfect French toast, she actually thanked me. It was mumbled, but it was there. She seems preoccupied, and her work schedule is everywhere. I’m shocked she was able to make my concert work in such a short notice.

  Pulling my old Guitar Hero out of a box, I set it up in her living room, hoping to spend time with Camilla. The girl is addictive. I have it all set up and am trying to casually sit on her couch as I wait for her to get home.

  Every ten minutes, I stand, going to her door to look outside and hoping the sound I hear is her. Finally, at ten o’clock, I hear her walking through the door as it thuds closed. Jumping onto the couch, I pick up the magazine that was closest to me and pretend I’m looking over it.

  “Even in your spare time, you like looking at yourself?” My eyes fly to the magazine as casually as possible while I toss it onto her coffee table. When it lands, I realize it’s the copy I sent her signed of my naked photos.

  Looking back at her, I’m shocked she kept that. “Looks like we both have the same pastimes,” I tease, causing her to laugh. “Sit down, how about I get you a drink?”

  Standing, I go to get myself a beer that I bought. “I bought some wine, beer, and girl cooler stuff if you want one,” I say, hoping she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

  “No beer for me, but feel free to drink one of your girly drinks. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I see her smiling as she lies down where I just left. “Tough day?”

  She’s quiet, and I’m not sure if she plans to answer me. As I walk back with my beer in hand, she finally responds, “Not tough, just busy, and I’ve been feeling tired and off lately. I feel like I need two days of sleep to finally feel like myself.”

  “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” I quote one of my favorite movies, The Shining.

  “I’m more of a ‘Show me the money’ type of girl,” she responds with her own movie quote from Jerry Maguire.

  “I think you need a little fun, mixed with some R and R.” I bring out my two guitars for the game.

  “Guitar Hero?”

  “Don’t mock it. If this came out when I was younger, I may have never learned how to play the real thing.”

  “Just don’t cry when you lose. I hate when grown men pout.” I watch her strut up to me, slinging the guitar controller around her shoulder as she stands looking prepared for a showdown.

  As fast as I can, I match her pose, before clicking on the battle. A Pearl Jam song comes on, and immediately we start playing our hearts out. We both start showing off when we get our streaks on the screen by exaggerating each of our moves.

  Hearing her laugh encourages me to drop down to my knees, causing the floor to vibrate as I try to keep with the colored music notes floating on the screen. They are almost moving too fast for me to see because I’m shaking and moving my guitar. It doesn’t take long before I begin to mess up with the notes, playing the wrong one or missing it entirely.

  “What’s the first song you learned?” she asks me.

  I don’t have to think to insert, “Jaws. ‘Hammerhead.’” I begin to mimic the two-note song with my voice. I loved scary movies from a young age.

  “That’s not a real song.”

  “What’s yours, ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”

  She rolls her eyes, but that grin on her face stays. “No, but I’m sure it was something a little more in-depth than ‘Hammerhead.’ I honestly don’t remember.”

  She takes a seat on the couch, and I lean my back against it. I hadn’t expected her to give me a detailed answer. I’m more used to one-word grunts for her. I want to learn more, so I push it a little further, hoping she’ll continue to open up to me.

  “Why a skunk?” She thinks about it, and I continue, “I have to be honest. If you weren’t in the room when I realized a skunk was cuddling with me, I would have lost my shit. Like jumping on the couch, screaming like a little girl.”

  She chuckles. “I can envision you doing that, but I’m pretty sure you were more concerned with breathing than a little old cat. Remember, I was there.” Her laugh comes out harder, and I’m pretty sure it’s at my expense, but I don’t mind. “Back to your question, I found her. Her mom was run over and there was a small litter of them by the side of the road. I tried to nurse them all, but Mrs. Skunk was the only one to survive. After getting up every few hours in the night to make sure she was fed, I loved her too much to give away. And I couldn’t handle the idea of letting her go back into the wild to never know if she made it out there.”

  Her answer catches me off guard. I guess I wasn’t expecting such an honest answer from her.

  She clicks onto another song, an easier one, and we begin playing mindlessly.

  “Why don’t you have your own house?” she questions in the middle of the song.

  “I haven’t felt the need to put down roots anywhere. I’m on tour a ton and never felt like I needed a home. I like to play it day-by-day.” It’s a partial truth, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever voiced the real reason why I’ve never bought a house. I’ve always been scared that if I make Nashville my home, it will be ripped away from me, and everyone will know.

  “What’s with you not drinking?” My question makes her miss a few notes in a row.

  “I drink. You saw the mimosa the day you made me hit you with my car.”

  I glance over at her, missing the next notes. The way her eyes dance and twinkle show me she wanted to catch me off guard.

  “You didn’t end up drinking it though,” I continue to push.

  “And how would you know that if you weren’t spying on me?”

  “Call it intuition. Like I can tell you want popcorn right now.”

  The song ends, and I’m up and heading into her kitchen, ready to prepare some popcorn. I doubt she’s eaten much today, and at least this will give us both a little bit of a snack.

  When I come back, she’s fallen asleep on the couch. Without even thinking, I pick her up, and she instantly cuddles her body into me as I walk her to her bedroom. Gently, I place her down on her bed, closing the door behind me. I hope tomorrow she and I won’t go back to our normal routine with each other. I enjoyed us tonight, being friends and not looking over our shoulders at what the other one may do next.

  CHAPTER 19

  Camilla is determined to be a pain in my ass. She has me waiting for her outside in our limo as she gets ready. I know she’s fully dressed, her hair and makeup perfect. She had a million people in her house to help her with this event. I swear I must smell like hairspray from just being in the house.

  I can picture her sitting in the chair in her room, staring into space and trying to irritate me because I’m making her come with me. The joke’s on her. I don’t mind waiting. I am doing this concert, because Dick told me too. I don’t care if I’m late.

  My phone rings, and I have to find where I placed it in the limo. Seeing my brother’s name flash on the screen, I don’t hesitate to pick up.

  “Brax!” I greet him. “What’s up?”

  “First, you go. I like hearing everything I’m missing out on.” We both know he doesn’t mean that. He wouldn’t survive one day in my life. The constant need for other people to be in your space would drive him crazy. It’s hard enough to get him to come to a concert. “Too many people,” he always tells me.

  “Oh, you know… waiting for the Black Widow to swallow me whole,” I joke, but for some reason, it doesn’t seem right to be saying that behind her back. I like to tease her about it, but I don’t believe in the shit the media spews. Brushing off my previous comment, I co
ntinue, “You know me, just about to head in for a charity concert I’m involved in.”

  “I saw something about the two of you the other day. Someone was showing your mug on the front page of some magazine at Nelly’s,” he replies, referring to the popular restaurant/pub/coffee shop in our small hometown.

  “Yeah, she’s something else.” I can’t help but chuckle. Thinking about her makes me smile. “Enough about me. I know you hate talking on the phone, so what’s up?” I question, looking back out the window and wondering how long she’s going to take a stand before we can get going. Does she want me to come in after her? I have no clue. The more I think about it, the better I like the idea of me going in after her. I like the way she would sass me at my attempt.

  “A body was found on our property line, so you might get a phone call about an interview.” My head falls back till it reaches my headrest. I had to pay a lot of money to keep me out of the headlines in the past about my family back home. I can hear Dick’s voice in my head about needing to keep my clean image.

  I’m a country singer, not a rock star. Country fans don’t forgive bad images. I should have been a rock singer. It would have been easier to keep up the image they showcase.

  I already dread the phone call I’m going to have to make to my manager to tell him about this.

  “Go on,” I say, thankful that Camilla is taking her sweet-ass time now.

  “They’re saying it’s a serial killer.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, relieved the blame isn’t being put on anyone in my family. We’ve all had our fair share of shit happen to us in the last decade.

  “Apparently, this isn’t the first body dumped in the area over the last few years. But we all had to sign stuff saying we won’t tell anyone, because it could ruin their investigation. It’s another reason you will be getting a phone call.”

  “How is this affecting the rebuild?” I ask. Both my parents’ and my brothers’ homes were burned down, causing the family to rebuild.

  “Delaying everything. Contractors aren’t allowed on the property until they’ve done whatever they needed to do. We’re hoping the delay won’t last more than a day. It’s like déjà vu here all over again with the cops taking over, swarming our land like bees.”

  “Sorry, man.” This is not the first time since I’ve been back home that I feel too far away from everyone. I’m helpless over here, unable to do a damn thing.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s the way our lives have been going, it seems.” My brother sounds defeated. I know he has guilt over the homes being set on fire and hating that I was blamed for the act in initial newspapers who would rather print gossip than real news. No matter how many times I tell him it doesn’t bother me, I still get the feeling he doesn’t believe me.

  “Thanks for keeping me in the loop,” I respond, starting to feel agitated. I can’t help but think bodies don’t just appear on properties like ours. They’re found in remote fields, in places no one would find them for a long time. Not in an area that will be discovered.

  “Sorry about any trouble this might cause you.” His voice trails off, and I tell him what I’ve been saying all along.

  “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  Hanging up, I push everything my brother told me away, focusing on the girl who purposely tries to defy me in every way. I can’t think about home before I perform; it’s too much. Locking it away till I have time to deal with it, I step out in my good old country boy outfit—jeans, dress shirt, and cowboy hat.

  I walk into the house with purpose, half expecting the door to be locked when I turn the handle. My steps are heavy, giving her fair warning of my arrival. I don’t knock on her door; I kick it open with my foot for effect. My lips smirk, hearing her audible gasp, liking that I’ve shocked her.

  She stands up like a rocket, her whisky eyes glaring me down. She looks stunning all dressed up and glitter-like. She’s wearing a short, sparkling blue dress with matching heels. Her legs are tanned and look sexy as hell. Her hair is down in soft curls that go to the middle of her back. I’m literally stunned for a second, taking her in.

  I could start a fight, but I have this urge that I need to feel her. In two quick strides, I’m picking her up by the waist and tossing her over my shoulder. My hands hold her at the top of her thighs, trying to keep her in place, so her ass is not on show for anyone but me.

  Her small fists hit my back, trying to hurt me, making me pat her ass that’s right in my face. “If you didn’t like this, you would have been on time,” I scold her, and she stops wiggling in my hold, taking my words in before starting to yell for help.

  “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll make you,” I warn her, intending to do it.

  “Do you get off on assaulting women? You’re a sick pervert, aren’t you?” There is not a trace of heat coming from her words. If I thought she was serious, I’d drop her instantly.

  “All you had to do was ask, Camilla,” I confide, knowing if I slipped my hand under her dress, skimming her thighs, I’d find her wet… for me.

  Dropping her with her back to the limo, I cage her face with my hands before I take her lips. Her hands fight me with no vengeance before she knocks my hat off and softens her fingers by curing them into the back of my hair. She gives it to me hard, nibbling on my bottom lip before twirling her soft tongue against mine. Over and over again, we kiss each other. I’m losing myself in this kiss. Slowly, I pull away just enough to kiss down her neck, peppering a trail to her collarbone. Just as I hear that soft whimper of hers, her body jerks away from me, but not before she cans me in the junk. I bend over, seeing stars.

  “Keep your hands to yourself,” she calls to me, hopping into our limo.

  I chuckle to myself. She’s not fooling anyone. Her cheeks are flushed, and a smile is trying to tug at the side of her lips. She can play hard to get all she wants.

  CHAPTER 20

  I’m out of breath, and I can feel him at my core. I wanted that kiss. I wanted a lot more than just a kiss. Before I could lose myself in a man I don’t trust, I did the first thing I could think of. I kneed him in the balls, forcing him away from me.

  Stepping into the limo, I pull out my compact to look at myself in the small mirror. My lipstick is smudged and my lips look swollen. I bring my fingers to my glowing cheeks. I wish I could capture this color to brush on my skin whenever I need a pick-me-up.

  Rhett slides into the back with me, and I bring out my lipstick to reapply. I take my time, knowing he’s watching me out the corner of his eye. Putting my pointer finger into my mouth, I allow my lips to glide over it seductively before it pops out of my mouth, and a small line of lipstick is seen.

  “That lipstick ring would look better on my cock.”

  I can feel his undivided attention on me now. He must be switching tactics on me. The silent treatment is long gone—or was it never really there?

  Looking up, I see his stare is intense. He doesn’t move, his eyes never wavering from mine. His scent is taking over the back of the limo the longer we ride.

  “That line work on all your groupies?” I muster a smirk for him, but my eyes won’t leave his. I hold my own next to him.

  “Have you seen any groupies around me?”

  My stomach does a somersault I can’t explain. “I honestly don’t care what you do with that cock of yours. I wasn’t impressed the first time I saw it,” I lie.

  He chuckles. “You keep telling yourself that.” He winks, annoying the hell out of me. He turns back to the window, making me feel frustrated that he’s trying to dismiss me so easily.

  “You are the most conceited, annoying pretty boy I have ever met. No wonder you have to blackmail me to be your girlfriend. Everyone else would rather slit their wrists than be with you.” I want to scream at the top of my lungs at how angry this man makes me. He has no manners, he’s a slob, and that sexy smirk of his has me wanting to ride his face, making me even angrier.

  “Seems like you have a case of pe
nt-up sexual frustration. I could help you with that.” He grins at me, and I swear I see red. “All you have to do is crawl over here and take my cock out.”

  Taking a deep breath, I try to exhale my need to knee him in the balls again, wishing I savored the first time more.

  Our door opens, signaling it’s time to put on a happy face. He steps out, not looking back at me.

  Taking my time, I regroup as I exit. Rhett is surrounded by his people informing him how tonight’s going to go. It shocks me that he doesn’t have more staff. The only people here are his manager Dick, the organizer of the show, and someone else with a headset and clipboard. I travel with more people than he does. No groupies are waiting, as he implied on our way here.

  Making my way over, I stand near them, close enough I know Rhett is aware of my presence. I can see it in the way his lips twitch, that playful grin wanting to come out but him refusing to let it. His eyes stay extra trained on Dick as he speaks, all business-like. They have an interesting dynamic. Rhett seems to answer to no one but this guy.

  “What’s with this shit on your face?” Dick’s hand goes to hold Rhett’s chin, looking at the scruff he’s starting to grow before Rhett pushes his hand away.

  I want to laugh out loud, knowing he’s growing it only because I told him I’d rather him be cleanly shaven. I can hear the growl that comes from deep within his throat. That’s the Rhett I know.

  “I’m not in the mood, Dick. I’m dealing with some shit right now,” he confesses in a low whisper, like he doesn’t want me to hear.

  I wonder what he could be dealing with. I thought I was the only pain in his ass.

  His phone rings, and I see Dick open his mouth to say something, but Rhett levels him with a look before answering.

  “Hey, I’m about to go on—” Rhett closes his eyes as the person on the other end of the line cuts him off with whatever they are saying.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll send someone over immediately, but I gotta go.” He hangs up, making me believe he’s only charming to the people who don’t know the real him. Not that I do, but I know more than most. It’s like that charming man is his stage personality, while this rude one is the real him.