Ice Steam (Loving All Wrong #3)

by S. Ann Cole

  Her eyes avoided the rear-view mirror, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. “I’m not exactly acquainted with Hamilton, Miss O’Hara. We just happen to have a slight agreement with a mutual acquaintance.”

  “Is this mutual acquaintance my cousin?”

  “Definitely not.” Her answer came back so fast I couldn’t decide whether it was from nervous lying or the truth.

  I got out of the car. Upsetting about cousin Chad would get me nowhere. He would do whatever he wanted no matter what. He acted like he was king, his words were gospel, and his actions, no matter how intrusive, were justified. A thermonuclear confrontation from me would only end with one irritatingly calm, unperturbed line from him: “Everything I do is in your best interest, Alina.”

  Why bother?

  To get onto the patio of Eye Spy, I had to walk across a guitar-shaped glass pool. Kind of awesome, but undoubtedly insane.

  With the all-glass design of the house, I could see most of inside from the patio—more sumptuous decor and extravagance—but I didn’t see an actual person.

  I stood awkwardly at the open sliding glass doors, wondering if I should wait for someone to come invite me in, or call Jake.

  Upon entering the villa, I’d sent him a notification text, fully expecting him to be waiting outside for me. With Jake, I should have known better.

  I fired off another text to him, then did some more awkward dawdling, straightening my dress and patting my hair. I was wearing a cowl-neck, cream sweater-dress and flat, brown thigh-high boots, my hair loosely held up with a leopard-print claw clip, tendrils escaping and dancing around my neck.

  Suffice it to say I expended no kind of effort into looking “gorgeous” for the dinner. I was wearing Versace last night when Davian told me he was in love with another woman, so I highly doubted a Dior dress would change his mind. I was wearing diamonds last night when Xavier stuck his tongue in some other chick’s mouth, so I highly doubted Jimmy Choos would change his mind.

  Tired of waiting, I entered the house, called for Jake and heard nothing. After wandering farther in, I stopped and listened. Distant laughter traveled from somewhere. Following the direction of the voices, I ambled through a commodious entertainment room, which led into another airy room—well, not a room, but an unbelievable walk-through pantry. This led to a set of double doors, spread wide open like a whore’s legs.

  I shadowed the doorway. An impressive dining room rolled out before me, with a table around twenty-feet long laden with a variety of food, from juicy fried drumsticks to lamb-chops, pot-roast, macaroni pie, grilled corn, apple pie, steamed vegetables, ribs, corn bread, brownies, home-made pizza, baked biscuits, fresh bread, cheese cake…there was so much food, it felt like I walked right into a scene from Soul Food.

  “Ally my Ally!”

  Jake was sitting around the table with Styro, the bassist, and Zach, the drummer, who was eying the food with obvious impatience, as though he couldn’t wait another minute to sink his teeth into a chicken leg.

  “You’re a lousy scum, Jake,” I cursed at him. “You could’ve at least met me ou—” My words died when Davian entered through a door on the left, transporting a porcelain gravy boat.

  Clad in a red thermal and distressed jeans, he stopped short upon seeing me, the crockery rattling on its saucer from the abrupt halt. Seemingly perplexed, his head whipped around to the direction from which he came, then to the guys at the table, then back to me.

  “W-what’re you doing here?”

  Lancing Jake a glare, I gritted out, “You said you’d bring him up to speed.”

  Without even an ounce of apology, Jake shrugged. “I’ve been on the bowl with beer shit all day. It slipped my mind! My asshole is sore. Wanna see?”

  Zach made a disgusted face. “And there goes my appetite. What do chicks see in you?”

  “It’s not what they see,” Jake retorted with a wink, his right hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his crotch, “it’s what they feel.”

  Enough of this bullshit. Marching to Davian, I curled my fingers into his bicep and tugged him to where the rest of the band sat, the gravy almost spilling from my aggression.

  “Does your fiancée know about me?” I asked in a hushed voice, almost choking on the word ‘fiancée’.

  Davian stared at me for several seconds through those twitter-blue eyes, as if trying to decipher whether that was a trick question. “No.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

  As pain and confusion started to spread across his face, I addressed the other three at the table, “As far as anyone is concerned, I was just a hi-bye neighbor of Davi, but Jake and I got along well. No mention to anyone about us once being a team, and no mention to anyone about my deal with Lion on your behalf. Got that?”

  Jake and Zach’s eyebrows shot up, while Styro eyed me up and down with resentment.

  Buzz-cut dark hair, silver eyes, and a silent, dark and ominous kind of beauty, Styro wasn’t much of a talker. It was all in his silver depths. He was kind of scary, to be honest.

  “I don’t get it,” said Zach.

  “No way I’m agreeing to that,” Jake rejected, wagging his head emphatically.

  Davian blinked down at his gravy. “Guys, I’m with her on this. Jess knows about her but she doesn’t know about her. And if it comes out now she’ll wanna know why I never told her. And…” His voice dropped to a low, hoarse whisper, as though meant for himself, “I don’t know why.”

  “Bullshit,” Styro muttered under his breath.

  Jake continued shaking his head, not game for this at all. “So, once again we’re supposed to pay for his shit?”

  Davian started to reply but I cut him off, deterring a bicker. “Listen, this is not a request. You, all of you, owe me. Shut it, or I’m done with Ice Steam for good this time.”

  “While Davi’s still alive?” Styro rallied, a smirk forming on his face.

  “Baby, what’s taking you so long?”

  Both Davian and I jerked around at the same time. And there she was, Jessica Stucco, the label’s daughter, L.A.’s sweetheart.

  Jessica was a Texan. Her father’s a Californian, but her mother was a classy southern belle who, through misguided judgment, ended up getting knocked-up by an avaricious, power-hungry man who wasn’t about the humble, quiet life that she was about. So, she’d peacefully left him and moved back to Texas where she gave birth to her daughter.

  When Jessica was eleven, her mother suffered an unfortunate death when held as hostage during a showdown with cops and bank robbers, a traumatic event that captured the headline for days.

  This forced Benny to take responsibility for his daughter, so Jessica moved to California, and at around seventeen began pursuing an acting career. Apparently, making it as an actress was proving to be too slow and arduous, as her father’s name wasn’t giving her the automatic favoritism and quick fame she expected, so she quit pursuing real acting and starred in a vapid, superficial reality show instead, which gave her the instant, undeserved fame she craved.

  However, she wasn’t the snobby, uppity kind of socialite we love to hate. She was dubbed the title “L.A.’s Sweetheart” because of her inherently sweet nature, bona fide benevolence, perpetual charity involvements, and, of course, her “adorable” accent.

  Jessica Stucco was loved in L.A.

  From beside me, Davian murmured “Sorry, babe,” then set the gravy boat down on the table.

  Aww, what a sweet little rock star, assisting his soon-to-be southern wife with gravy and shit.

  Jessica’s green gaze landed on me, assessing me in a subtle rove, and, maybe it was unconsciously done, but her neat eyebrows did that waggly thing most men’s did whenever a woman attracted them.

  As her gaze finally made it back to my face, she smiled. Non-plastic, authentic, if not a tad sensual. “You must be Jake’s plus-one.”

  Jessica Stucco had natural auburn hair that flowed d
own to her elbows, straight, always parted down the center. Her irises were the color of new sprouting leaves, pale in their greenness.

  In a flirty white dress which made her auburn hair pop, she was a couple inches shorter than me—even with her in heels and me in flat boots—had a tiny mouth and a nose that was the epitome of cute as a button, a dusting of freckles on the tip.

  She was dazzlingly beautiful, and I was jealous. I felt tall and awkward next to her cute, petite little frame.

  Hate to admit it, but she fit Davian better than I did. Davian and I were almost the same height, but Jessica was shorter, which meant she had to do that romantic tilt of her head backward to meet his eyes.

  Like I said, jealous.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Jake’s.”

  Shifting slightly, I cast a warning glare over my shoulder at Jake.

  “You two are dating?” she pried, her twang nice, but annoying.

  Jake started to butt in, but I talked over him. “Uh, no. Actually, I know him through your fiancé. Davi and I were neighbors back in San Francisco. I used to be able to look out my bedroom window and watch them practicing in his garage.”

  Her mouth formed into a small O as she glanced over at Davian, who was gripping the back of a chair, and then at the others. “So, you all know her, know she’s in town, yet it was the most classless member of the band who invited her?”

  As series of grumbles came from the band, entangled with an indignant “Hey!” from Jake. “I gots class.”

  “Sure you do, honey,” Jessica patronized. To me, she said, “Well, anyone who’s a friend of Ice Steam is a friend of mine. You are more than welcome at this table.”

  I motioned at the twenty-foot long table of food. “You did all of this by yourself?”

  Her buxom bosom expanded with a contented sigh. “Yep. Every other Sunday. I usually start pre-cooking on Fridays, and sometimes my girlfriends come over to help.”

  “Well,” I had to admit, “this is impressive.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” she humbly replied, waving me off. “If I’m not cooking, I swear I itch like I have scabies.”

  Chatter and laughter drew our attention to the double doors. No one was there, but the noises drew closer and closer.

  Jessica sounded irked and accusatory as she addressed Davian, “The others are here. Care to help me with the wings like I asked?”

  As Davian dutifully followed his fiancée out of the kitchen, I claimed a seat next to Jake, across from Styro.

  Zach and Styro scowled at me, disapproval clear on their faces, but whatever. Get over it.

  Tossing an arm over the back of my chair, Jake rested his chin on my shoulder and smooth-talked, “It sounded nice when you said you’re ‘Jake’s’. How about we start doing that? You know, work on making you Jake’s.”

  “I don’t do anal, golden-showers, cum-swallowing, or fisting.”

  Jake thought about it for a second, shook his head, and straightened. “Yeah. It wouldn’t work.”

  Zach chuckled. “Dude, you need help.”

  “Plus you’d be blind not to see she and Davi aren’t done with each other,” Styro added.

  I jabbed a finger at Styro. “You know what, creep, I like you better when you’re all scary silent and don’t spe—”

  The chatting and jeering were now in the room, drowning out my words.

  Benny Stucco walked in first. Short and stocky with thinning brown hair combed back on his scalp, he had an anorexic-looking blonde, with botox lips and a prominent nose, on his arm.

  Behind him was Xena, glamorous as usual. And then the band.

  Xavier, tall and beautiful and magnificent, in a thin coral T-shirt, white cargo shorts and push-toe sandals, hair tied back and knotted in a big, curly mess at his nape.

  He looked delicious, eatable, and all I could think about at the sight of him was how badly I wanted to lick his face and suck on his bottom lip.

  No one, no one in the room held a candle to him. So big and gorgeous and goddamn glowing.

  Seemingly taken aback by my presence, he stopped short. With a contemplative chewing of his lip, he raised his hand as if to rake through his hair, only to find it tied back.

  That’s when I saw it. The bracelet. He was wearing it. He was wearing it. My heart did a back-flip and a fist pump. Booyah!

  We were far from over.

  He caught me staring at the expensive piece of jewelry on his wrist and quickly dropped his hand. As if settled on staying regardless of my unexpected presence, he shuffled to the table and screeched out a chair far, far away from me.

  Jessica and Davian returned with a tray of barbecued wings and leg quarters, a pile so huge they both had to balance it to the table.

  “Hellz yeah!” Mark, Ninety Miles’ drummer, shouted. “Been waitin’ for this all day.”

  “You’re just a natural glutton,” Zach said, rolling his eyes.

  As everyone pulled out chairs and settled in, two women I immediately recognized as Jessica’s ‘where thou goest I goest’ girlfriends, scurried into the room with muttered apologies for being tardy. One short and blonde, the other tall and brunette.

  Jessica claimed the chair right next me, while Davian sat across from her, beside Styro. Benny and his plastic date sat in between Davian and Leo, Ninety Miles’ bassist.

  Jessica’s brunette friend took the seat on the other side of her, but the blonde went out of her way to sit beside Xavier. Almost imperceptibly, he stiffened when she tossed her hair over her shoulders and gave him a coquettish, lip-biting smile, one hand not so subtly disappearing under the table. It was then I noticed the pink painted fingernails.

  It was her. The girl he was in the hall with last night.

  Feeling like I was about to be sick, I averted my gaze and focused on the empty white dish in front of me, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly to calm my aching heart.

  Why did I come? Stupid. So damn stupid.

  I felt warm breath and lips on my ear, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  This wasn’t coming from Jake’s side, it was coming Jessica’s. Why were her lips touching my ear?

  I slightly moved my head and shifted my gaze to the side to look at her. She was so soft and fair and ethereal, like if I reached out a finger to touch her it would go right through her. “Ah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  And then her fingers were tucking a loose tendril behind my ear as she addressed her father across the table. “Daddy, we have a new face at the table this week. Alina. She’s a longtime acquaintance of the band.”

  When I slid my eyes across the table, they collided with Davian’s instead of Benny’s. He was shooting for neutral, barely achieving it. The look he was struggling to mask, I knew it and knew it well.

  He wanted me. In this minute. He wanted me naked and beneath him.

  My stomach tightened, a burning desire creating a riot within me. To avoid having our lies revealed, I broke his stare, only to smash right into Styro’s, who was wearing this deep smirk I wanted to punch clean off his face, because he knew. He knew what was going on here. He knew what the game was. His creepy, daunting ass always seemed to know everything.

  Benny, who’d been trying to sneak a barbecued wing onto his plate, raised his head, searching for the new face, then settled on me. Decorum lost on him, he licked barbecue sauce off his fingers as he asked, “Aren’t you T’mar’s?”

  Oh God, please don’t tell me he knew about the deal with Lion for Ice Steam.

  “I have a contract with him, yes.”

  Fortunately, Benny was more interested in getting the dinner started than small talk. “Hmm, stick with him. He’ll take you to higher heights. ” Then he waved an impatient hand. “Can I go ahead and take the first bite? I’m famished. All this food’s just sitting here getting cold.”

  Everyone at the table laughed with head shakes, and I assumed this was usual of Benny.

  “You know we h
ave to say grace first, Daddy,” Jessica chided.

  She held out one open palm to me and the other to the brunette beside her. The rest of the table followed suit, Jake taking my other hand in his.

  “Anyone other than Davi or Xavi would like to do the honors this week?” Jessica asked.

  I arched a brow at both names. Oh, the irony.

  When seconds ticked by and no one volunteered, Jake muttered, “What a bunch of pussies. I’ll go.” He cleared his throat. “Dear Father of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, You are total bad ass, and the devil is a punk. Uh-huh. Kick his fiery red ass for us, get him off our backs and keep our awesome lives awesome, because You are the Boss of total awesomesaucery awesomeness. Dear God, you reign. Dear God, you rule. Dear God, you rock!!! A-men.”

  All the men at the table shouted, “AMEN!” with a string of whistles and hoots.

  Goddamn Jake.

  Jessica didn’t seem pleased as she sighed and wearily mumbled, “You may dig in.”

  I could understand her frustration, but these were rock stars, not genteel boy scouts.

  I bumped her shoulder with mine. “Hey, they’re boys. Just because they don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate it.”

  There was something about the girl that I liked. I should be hating her for stealing my soul mate, but the warm air surrounding her didn’t allow it.

  I daresay, so far, aside from Danni, Jessica was the first person I took a liking to in L.A. And I shouldn’t, because I would ultimately be screwing her over.

  Peeking over at me, she gave a cute scoff. “They’re ungrateful dogs. If I wasn’t addicted to cooking large, I’d have quit this Sunday ritual a long time ago.”

  I said, “Okay, if you wanna see how much they look forward to this, quit. Just for one Sunday. Don’t say anything to anyone and let them show up to see an empty table, with a single mint on a tray.”

  A grin broke out on her face and she all but wiggled in her seat at the idea. “Oh, to see the look on their faces!”

  “What are you two whispering and giggling about?”

  This was from Xena. She was seated down the other end of the table between Tex and her brother. The bitchiness was gone, but I had no idea if she was secretly plotting my demise. Xena had many faces.