Bad Boy Rock Star

by Starr, Candy J.

  "I don't think we'll be cooking much, not unless you know something about historical stoves."

  I pulled a bag of corn chips out of the bag of groceries and opened them.

  "It looks like a wood oven. Is there any wood stacked anywhere?"

  I found some in a basket near the stove. Jack mucked around and got a fire going, we just had to wait for it to heat up. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Arranging the wood in a pile over some newspaper. I'd have not even known where the fire should go.

  I looked around some more.

  "There is only one bed! What the hell?"

  "That's okay," said Jack. "I'll take the sofa."

  "The sofa is the bed." It didn't even look that comfortable, to be honest. It was about 60 years old and a couple of the springs looked as if they were busting through the worn fabric.

  He didn't say anything, just wriggled his eyebrows.

  "We can't share the sofa bed. We just can't." I'd rather sleep in the car.

  "Why not? Do you think you can't control yourself around me?" He grinned. A wicked grin that signalled he had something in mind. His eyes locked into mine and did that thing that made me have no control over myself.

  "Yeah, I can control myself. I can totally control myself." But my voice sounded strangled and unconvincing even to me.

  With that, he walked over and stood within centimetres of me. Heat emulated from his body. He reached down and grabbed my wrists, the calloused skin of his fingers barely touching me. Chills ran from my wrists, through my body. I couldn't look at him. I didn’t want him to be able to see how much I wanted him, but he put his hand under my chin and raised my head. My heart raced so wildly, he must be able to sense it. He stroked my cheek with a touch so light I could barely stand it. I didn't want to submit to him. I remembered how he'd been with that skanky chick. He did this all the time. It was just a game to him. But, at that moment, I just wanted him to kiss me.

  I gathered every bit of strength I had and tried to move away. I picked up my bag.

  "I have to call Ang, let her know where I am."

  That would give me some space. But he took my bag out of my hands.

  "You can call her later."

  And again, he moved toward me. His face so close to mine, it felt like the promise of a kiss. My hands trembled. I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. I couldn't even breathe. His hands moved down to circle my waist and he pressed his mouth to my neck. Suddenly, he nipped the skin. A soft nip that sent delicious shivers throughout my whole body.

  I moved in closer to him, pressing myself against him. His hands ran down, tickling over my hips and then cupping my butt. His lips ran lines down my neck. I shivered all over.

  He bit harder making me moan. I gave a throaty laugh that didn’t sound like my voice at all. This was what he did to me. He made me become someone else and what I needed to decide was: did I like this Hannah? Did I want to be her?

  I ran my hands along his chest, tracing his rock hard muscles, moving down to feel every bump of every rock hard ab. I wanted to count each ridge along his stomach as though I were exploring the topography of an unknown land. I want to explore it with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. I wanted to know the taste of him.

  "Have you ever had a man make love to you, Hannah?" He ran his finger along my lips. "Make love to you so that you explode into a million little pieces and aren’t quite sure how to put yourself back together again?"

  I almost giggled but the smouldering in his eyes stopped me. That look, it would burn a girl.

  When his lips met mine, I turned to liquid. I melted into a mess of desire. My hands clutching for him, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer to me. No matter how hard he kissed me, it wasn’t enough. The stubble of his chin scratched my face but I didn’t care.

  His hands inched up my thighs, under my dress. His fingers moved against my hot flesh and I had no desire to push them away. Even standing there in that horrible kitchen with its smell of rancid fat and fish guts, I'd let him touch me however he wanted.

  "What's going on here?" A voice boomed from the doorway.

  We both jumped apart like a couple of schoolkids being caught out.

  "Marge, call the cops. There are a couple of randy kids broken in here."

  I straightened my dress and turned to face him. An old guy glared at us. If he had a shotgun to hand, I reckon he would've shot us then and there. I could hear someone else, Marge, I guess, rustling around outside. The old guy had wild, white hair sticking out of his beanie and a weathered face. He stared at us as if we were criminals.

  "We didn't break in." Technically I guess we did. "Frank said we could use this place. He gave me the key."

  "Frank? Frank Bolderwood?"

  I nodded. This old man was starting to see some sense.

  He snorted.

  "Frank's place is down the next road. The third turn off after the town. You kids don't have a lick of sense, do ya? As if Frank Bolderwood would have a dump like this. Couldn't ya tell by looking?"

  "Well, I did think it was rather strange. We'll just get going then…" I didn't want to look at Jack. He'd never let me hear the end of this. But I was sure we’d taken the third road after the town.

  "Marge, no need for the cops. These kids are just fools. Leastways, they got the stove heated up for us." He turned to us. "Wanna stick around for dinner. Marge'll rustle you something up, quick smart."

  I gulped. I didn't want to stick around with these people. I had a throbbing deep inside me and I needed to get away. I wanted Jack. I really wanted him. I needed to have him, right then and there. If we got to the real beach house, we could continue on from where we’d left off. Jack could ease the ache inside of me.

  When we got in the car though, I wished I'd taken them up on that invitation for dinner, since it'd have delayed the moment when we'd be alone together. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to know what would've happened if we hadn't been interrupted. Even though I knew it was wrong. But Jack kept quiet, and the silence worried me.

  Then I looked at him and saw the corners of his mouth twitch. He snorted out a laugh. I couldn't help myself either but started giggling too. Then, we both exploded with laughter.

  "You were navigating. You said it was the third road. I hold you totally responsible."

  "It was the third road. I counted. I can count to three, you know."

  He just laughed some more. I wasn't going to win that one.

  "Why do ridiculous things happen when you're around? You get me into a world of trouble. Every time I touch you, we get interrupted"

  "Well, you were the one that broke in through the window. Maybe we should've realised then."

  The key not fitting into the lock probably should've been a dead giveaway. If it didn't fit at the next place we found, I'd sleep in the car.

  I tried to concentrate on finding the turnoff and not Jack's hands. His long fingers curled around the steering wheel. I could still feel the impression on my skin where he’d touched me. I wanted to keep that mood but I couldn’t, not with him joking around like this.

  "And what was with the clown thing? Were you getting scared on your own?"

  "Shit, that's the road. Turn here."

  Jack slammed on the brakes and turned down the road.

  "Give me a bit more notice next time."

  We drove for about five minutes then saw a huge white house looming in front of us, perched up arrogantly, as if it had the right to command the entire seaside.

  "Is that it? That's not a beach house. That's a mansion."

  The place looked like something out of a design magazine, much more like I had expected. Definitely not a falling-down shack. We pulled up and parked the car in the garage under the house and took the stairs up to the front door. This time, the key fit in the lock. We walked inside and turned on the lights. This place was amazing, especially after my shitty flat. The whole interior was done out in red and white, with floor to ceiling windows looking ou
t over the ocean, and with a huge deck.

  I carried the groceries into the kitchen. It had everything. Everything I ever needed. Including an awesome coffee machine. I squealed.

  "What's up with you?"

  "Coffee machine. And look at this kitchen. This is divine."

  Jack stood by the kitchen table, laughing.

  I grabbed some food out the bags to start cooking dinner. The whole time, I watched Jack out of the corner of my eye, wondering if he intended to start back where he'd left off. Maybe he was glad that we'd been interrupted. I had no idea how he felt. One minute, he was all hot hands and kisses. The next minute, it was as if I didn't even exist. I couldn't read him. I couldn't tell if just wanted to fool around and I was the only one handy or if it was something more. I didn't even know if I wanted anything more, I just knew that it thrilled me to be around him.

  He didn't even look at me, just moved into the kitchen and started cooking up the steaks. He prepared some vegetables too. I hated to admit it but he was better at cooking than me. I'd taken classes in exotic foods that needed a stack of ingredients and a whole day to prepare. I could make finger foods for parties and exquisite cakes but I could not prepare a simple meal like that. I watched him chopping and stirring, adding things to the pan and tasting.

  After we ate dinner, things got a bit awkward. I looked over at Jack a few times to see if he was going to make a move but he seemed engrossed in a movie on TV. It was almost as if he was purposely blocking me out, not wanting to look at me or talk to me or have any contact. Because he was like that, the silence grew and stretched between us. I couldn't work out how to bridge that gap.

  I sat at one end of the couch and he sat at the other, a whole cushion between us. If I just moved over, got closer to him, maybe he’d react.

  But how? How would he react? Would he welcome my advances or push me aside? He’d never had any problem showing me he wanted me before. How do people deal with that? Regular people? I’d been so used to men throwing themselves at me, I’d never learnt to make the first move.

  Eventually, I said I was going to bed, trying to gauge how he'd respond.

  "Night," he said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

  I’d planned to give him a sultry look or even a toss of my head but he’d ruined even that.

  I climbed the stairs to the bedroom, hoping he'd come after me but it was as if our embrace had just been a dream.

  Waves crashing onto the beach outside and the low buzz of the television downstairs were the only noises. I sat on the edge of the bed, checking my phone but my ears strained for the sound of his footsteps.

  The record company hadn’t called. I sent a text to Angie then headed for my en suite bathroom and turned on the shower. I’d wash every thought of that guy away.

  When I got into bed though, I couldn't sleep. I had no idea what was going on in that man's stupid brain, how he could change from hot to cold so suddenly. I needed to figure him out.

  I tossed and turned, replaying the grope at the crummy shack. It'd come from nowhere. And that time when we'd run away from the thug pool players. Each time, he'd not even built up to anything, just grabbed me. And I'd let him each time, as well. I'd not even tried to fight against him but willingly let him fondle me. I guess that let him think he could do what he wanted and get away with it.

  How could he turn it on and off so easily?

  I jumped out of bed and went downstairs. The movie must've finished and he was strumming away on his guitar. He finally looked up at me.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  "Huh?"

  "What's going on with you?" My heart pounded, not sure if I should push this but I couldn't deal with the uncertainty. My voice came out thick and heavy, not light like I intended. "What's going on with us?"

  He looked down at his guitar, moving his fingers along the frets but not making any sound.

  "Do we have to talk about this now?"

  I sat down.

  "Yes. I need to know. Is this just a game to you? When you grab me and kiss me? Does it mean anything? I've got no idea what's going on."

  I waited for him to reply but he just strummed the guitar and ignored me. If he thought I'd just give up, he could forget it. I knew he had a reputation for playing around but I deserved an answer and he could bloody well give it to me. Finally, he turned to face me.

  "Look, Hannah, I told you before. Don't get involved with me." He stared out the windows. I wanted to scream.

  Yes, he'd told me, and I'd been more than willing to keep my distance but it seemed like that distance just made him chase me more. Why did he touch me when he just ended up pulling away? Was he purposely trying to torture me? I wanted to end this thing, one way or the other. I couldn't stand this rollercoaster of emotions, not with everything else going on.

  "Well, if that's the case, keep your hands to yourself. Don't start something you can't finish."

  He turned to me. A slow grin spread across his face.

  "Is that a challenge?" And that look came back into his eyes. In a moment, his hands would be on my body and his lips would be pressing against mine. He'd take me into his arms in a way I couldn't resist and his scent would overwhelm me. He'd press against me and push me to respond. And I wanted that. I wanted that more than anything else in the world. Except I knew the price now and I couldn't do this when I knew any moment he'd pull away and shut me out.

  "It's not a challenge. It's a statement. Now I'm going back to bed."

  Chapter 25

  I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon sizzling. That made me really happy. For a few minutes. Then I realised. He was trying to win me over with bacon. No way would I fall for that scam. It'd been one thing to make a brave proclamation and storm out of the room, but a totally different thing to be in a cold bed all alone, knowing he was so close by. I had barely slept all night. And maybe, for a little while, I'd even let myself hope that he might knock on my door and talk to me and tell me that he was sorry and that he really did have feelings for me. I'd have forgiven him.

  Instead I just had bad dreams. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and rushed out of the house before he could talk to me. I headed for the beach. I couldn't cope with being alone in the house with him all day. We'd either end up in bed or killing each other. Maybe both.

  As I walked, a strong wind blew along the beach. It whipped my hair around my face. I didn't care. I just put my head down and kept walking. The pounding of the waves onto the beach made me feel a little bit better. They were angry just like me. I don't even know why I let him make me so mad. He was just a stupid guy who smelled good and played guitar good and looked good with his shirt off. That wasn't such a big thing.

  I didn't even want to think about him but I remembered how he'd saved me from those horrible reporters and how he'd looked after me when I was sick. Those things weren't things guys did if they just wanted to play around, surely. He had to care just a little bit.

  I picked up some pebbles from the beach and threw them into the sea. The spray from the ocean blew into my face, all salty and strong. I picked up more pebbles. Maybe if I threw every single pebble on this beach back into the sea, by then I wouldn't be angry anymore. I threw the next one with more force. Seagulls squawked around me as if they were my own personal cheer squad.

  I threw the next one even farther. I thought about hurling those rocks right at Jack Colt. That would feel good. I'd throw rocks at him and smash him up.

  I held the last rock in my hand. This didn't help. All this throwing of rocks just made me feel tired but the pain inside didn't get any smaller. I'd have to throw forever for that. I collapsed down into a squat and hugged my knees. Maybe I could stay there until I got blown away myself. I could float in the wind out over the sea and never come back or have to deal with any of this. I'd not have to be strong.

  What had I expected? He fooled around with me but that was it. It’s not as if it was ever going to be a happily ever after with him. Two w
eek limit, Angie had said. I didn’t want a cheap shag and to pretend nothing happened the next day. That’d be awful and uncomfortable. I had to work with these guys. But there was no picture I could imagine in which Jack Colt and I had anything together.

  We could be friends. That’s it. That would be safe and sure. If I wanted to keep being their manager, that’s what I needed to do. If I kept being their manager…

  That's what I needed to do but the ache in my heart said something else. Something I didn't want to listen to. A pathetically lame part of my heart wanted to make a picture that included Jack Colt and me with hearts and flowers and happily ever afters. I'd pushed down that part of my heart ever since I met him but it just wouldn't die. That part of my heart wanted him to take me in his arms and say "I love you" and that part of my heart wanted to say it back. But that would never happen.

  Eventually, I got up. My fingers felt so frozen, I thought they'd snap off if I bent them, and the wind had burnt my face. And I really needed to pee.

  I walked back to the house, not wanting to face Jack. Knowing at any minute, he'd turn on that chilling silence and make me feel as if I was nothing. I couldn't let him do that to me again. I had to stop this now, kill the last bit of hope and desire inside myself. While I still had that, he could break me at any time.

  As I walked, I filled myself with resolve. I'd be stronger and tougher. I'd keep my distance from him and never let him toy with me again. I'd call Eric to come and pick me up or walk out to the main road and hitch a ride back to the city. Anything to avoid Jack Colt. The pressing need of my bladder pushed me on, growing more urgent the closer I got to the house. I raced up the steps to the front door and paused only to take off my shoes and tap out the sand.

  "Hannah?" Jack called.

  "Not now," I yelled, rushing up the stairs to the bathroom. Nothing he had to say was more vital than that.

  And finally, relief.

  When I finished, I waited in the bathroom, not wanting to go out and confront him. I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to become numb and not have my stupid heart jumping all over the place with his moods.