The Rockstar's Virgin

by M. S. Parker

  I hadn't seen the man himself since I first arrived, when he started grumbling at me about my meddling in matters I knew nothing about. I'd promptly headed over to where I was now, knowing that Brad hated the smell of cigarette smoke and would hopefully steer clear.

  Sure enough, the second I stubbed out my smoke, he appeared at my side. “If you could control your dick for just one second...” He lifted an eyebrow and waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Pardon me?” I asked, smiling prettily.

  “We're leaving for tour soon, and we don't have a goddamn tour photographer!” he raged. “Firing Kent was a mistake. A huge mistake.”

  “I disagree.” I pulled out my pack of smokes and stuffed another between my lips. “Kent wasn't that great a photographer in the first place.”

  “Better than your new squeeze?”

  I huffed a laugh, cupping the end of the cigarette and flicking my Zippo. “She's not my new squeeze,” I replied. I snapped the lighter closed and inhaled deep.

  Not yet.

  “And anyway, she's good.”

  “By that you mean she's hot,” Brad said sourly.

  I exhaled a puff of smoke. Brad's nostrils twitched, but he wasn't giving up that easy. It looked like I was in for a good haranguing.

  “She's hot, yeah,” I conceded. “But she's talented. And she'll show, so you can stop shitting your pants.”

  My manager remained unconvinced. “One of these days your reckless behavior is going to catch up with you. And when it does, even I won't be able to clean up your mess for you.”

  I took another drag and was about to blow out an even bigger cloud of smoke when my eye got caught on an approaching figure.

  I almost didn't recognize Hazel at first. Her long corn silk hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with a few strands left down to frame her face. She wasn't wearing any makeup, which gave her a pretty, fresh-faced look. She was lugging a big duffel bag on her back and a camera bag over her shoulder, which matched the khaki vest she wore over a plain black t-shirt. The whole look was topped off by a pair of jeans that looked about two sizes too big.

  It was like she was deliberately trying not to look sexy. I smirked at her approach, finding myself thinking quite the opposite. The jeans hung off her hips, leaving a small band of skin low on her waist bare. The vest was dorky but kind of cute. Anyway, she could have worn a paper sack and made it look sexy.

  It was only then that I realized she wasn't alone. Her friend Cora was strolling along beside her, taking casual inventory of the scene like she was a backstage regular.

  “Well, well, well...” I grinned mischievously. “Looks like you decided to show up after all.”

  Hazel redirected her gaze to Brad, who had stepped forward appraisingly.

  “Which one of you is Hazel?”

  Hazel put her hand up shyly. “That's me.”

  “Come with me. You can leave your stuff here, but I've got some contracts I need you to sign before we do anything else.”

  He whisked her away without another word, leaving me alone with the prickly Cora once again. She let the duffel bag fall from her shoulder with a huff, then skewered me with her gaze.

  “You better watch yourself, mister.”

  I took another drag on my cigarette with a thoughtful expression. “Had I?”

  She nodded sharply. “Hazel needs this job. If she didn't, she wouldn't be here. But don't think for one second that her being here means her lady parts are open for business, got it?”

  I chuckled. “You're a bit of a hardass. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Oh, you best believe I'm a hard ass.” She waved a finger accusingly and took another step toward me. “And this hard ass won't let any slight against that beautiful, wonderful girl go unpunished. If you screw Hazel – whether personally or professionally – you'll be answering to me. I don't want you even thinking about fucking her over just because you couldn't get your dick wet. If you pull anything funny, your next gig will be playing a bucket in a subway tunnel for spare change. Understand?”

  I wasn't used to being threatened. I thought it was more amusing than anything else, but I was touched by the level of concern she had for her friend – even if she was a little intense about it.

  I would've been a little turned on by the whole exchange if I didn't think Cora might actually cut me.

  I deliberated what she'd told me, then smiled. “Hazel's a big girl, darling. I intend to treat her like one.”

  I could already see red rising on her cheeks, so I was sure to follow up my statement.

  “We need her, okay? But yes, I've heard you loud and clear.”

  Cora blew out a breath and smiled. “I'm glad.”

  The little redhead's demeanor changed drastically when Hazel and Brad returned. She giggled and hugged her friend with excitement, then they said their goodbyes and Cora left.

  Hazel hefted the bag her friend had been helping her with onto her shoulder atop her other two bags. “Where do I go now?”

  “The band's RV is just over there.” I pointed to the sleek black vehicle, which was decked out to the nines inside. “It's pretty comfortable.”

  Hazel snorted. “Really? You expect me to stay in your RV with you? Not bloody likely.”

  “No.” I smirked. “You've got your own trailer to sleep in, but you were late arriving and pictures start now.” I stepped toward her, trailing a finger along the strap of her bag. “Then again, if you're worried about being lonely...”

  Hazel gracefully slipped out of my reach and marched off toward the RV. She could play it cool all she wanted, but I wasn't blind. I'd seen the color in her cheeks, the subtle widening of her pupils.

  This was going to be a fun six months.

  Thirteen

  Hazel

  I couldn't believe I was actually on tour with Flagship Inferno. The reality of it didn't settle in right away, but instead came in chunks and bits. Taking photos of the guys before we set off. Getting shots of the RV as it lumbered off toward the first stop of the tour.

  And then, the final piece in the reality puzzle – the first party.

  We were staying overnight at a nice hotel, which I assumed was a necessity to keep the band from killing each other from being in such close quarters.

  I was just stepping down from my trailer when Brad pulled me aside. “Keep your camera ready,” he said.

  “For what?” We hadn't even had our first show yet. I thought it was weird that we were stopping at a hotel in the first place.

  He offered a condescending smile. “For anything.”

  I'd been keeping my camera on me since the moment I stepped onto the lot we disembarked from, so I didn't need telling. But it was concerning.

  I learned why it was so important a couple hours later.

  I couldn't even pinpoint how the party had started. The band had rented a big suite for the night, and little by little people just trickled in. First, some savvy fans began crowding around the hotel. I took a couple shots of them, thinking that maybe this was what Brad had warned me about.

  Then the local celebrities started arriving, and the fans were no longer relegated to the exterior of the hotel. The band invited them inside. Before I knew it, the couch I'd been sitting on, waiting for something to happen, was overcrowded. I was forced to get up and move back to the wall, where the crushing crowd continued to expand. Music was playing, drinks were pouring, and what had once been a quiet hotel suite was soon a rollicking party.

  I'd known that Flagship Inferno were heavy partiers, but I didn't realize it would happen so organically. Or so soon. I was overwhelmed and spent my time getting shots of the revelers from various spots along the wall.

  Sean spotted me from across the room and sauntered up to me. We'd chatted a little bit before the party started, but mostly, I'd been hanging back and getting shots of him and the band. That was what I was here for, wasn't it?

  “What's happening, Wallflower?” he asked.

  I raise
d the camera in answer. “Just getting some shots of the party.”

  Sean's imposing figure practically blocked out the rest of the scene. I couldn't look past him, nor did I want to. He was wearing a black button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos snaking out toward his wrists. That, in combination with his tight black pants, made him look more put together than normal, yet he still had that undeniable edge to his look that defied definition.

  “And how's that going for you?” Sean asked.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Not great, admittedly.”

  I'd been trying to get photos of the VIPs, thinking they were the kind of shots Brad would want me to take. But it was hard to pick out faces from the crowd at a distance.

  “The trick is to join the party,” he replied. “If you hang out on the fringes, you'll miss the pulsing heart of it.”

  “So, you're saying I have to...” I pointed behind him. “Get in there.”

  His smile wasn't cocky or lewd for once. It was genuine, and I'd even go so far as to say charming. “It's not enough just to step into the fray. That's like standing in the middle of a river but trying to be a part of it.” He spread his arms dramatically, his smile acknowledging the cheesiness of the gesture. “You have to dive in, swim with the current.”

  I laughed at how ridiculous and goofy he was being. It was refreshing, actually. This was the charisma that had garnered him so much adulation from the masses. It was the reason people came to these parties in the first place. Well, besides the whole “getting to party with a rock band” reason.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “Fine. I'll swim with the current.”

  “Yeah?” He extended a hand to me. “Let me be your guide.”

  I took his hand tentatively, unsure of just what I'd signed myself up for. He tugged me through the crowd, weaving left and right until we reached the breakfast bar, which was covered in all kinds of bottles of booze.

  “Tequila?” Sean asked, dropping my hand to pick up the bottle.

  “Sure.”

  If I was going to be amongst the partiers, I wished I’d dressed a little differently. I couldn't have looked like more of an outsider if I'd stapled a sign to my chest that said, “Does not belong.”

  Sean poured out our shots but didn’t hand one to me straight away. Instead, he turned to me without a word, yanked on the bottom of my shirt, and then tied it up to expose some of my midriff. I tried not to think about the way those callous fingers felt scraping lightly along my skin as he tied the shirt in place. I was trying so hard, in fact, that I forgot to reproach him for being so presumptuous.

  “That's better.” He handed me a shot. “To swimming with the current.”

  I clinked glasses with him. “To swimming with the current.”

  I knocked back the shot and grimaced. It was top quality tequila, yet still burned just like the cheap stuff. What was the point of spending more if it still tasted like hot garbage?

  Sean grabbed my hand again and dragged me back into the crowd. Before I even knew what was happening, I was snapping pictures in every direction. There were so many interesting things to shoot. People dancing, people laughing, people making out like their lives depended on it.

  But my prime shot of the evening was one of Sean standing on the bar, holding a bottle of champagne in each hand. I didn't know how he'd managed to open both at the same time, but they were spurting creamy foam up into the air on either side of him. Below him, throngs of adoring women were staring up at him like he was their entire world.

  And, despite myself, I kind of got it.

  Sean Morris – the rock god. The enigma. The dream.

  Oh, Lord help me.

  Fourteen

  Sean

  I leaped down from the bar with a victorious hoot, pouring champagne into the waiting mouths of the women who immediately crowded around me. They were beautiful, but then again, they were always beautiful. The real beauty in the room was the one standing with her face hidden by a big, black camera. I smiled at the lens, but really, I was smiling at her. I wondered if she could tell.

  “Come closer,” I called, beckoning Hazel.

  She stepped closer, continuing to take photo after photo of me mingling with my adoring fans. In one of them, a girl was feeling me up, had her hand practically on my dick. That was the usual for me. I wondered if it made Hazel jealous.

  Hazel turned, apparently ready to disappear back into the crowd. I reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. “Hey, where are you going?”

  She smiled sardonically. “There are other people in the band, you know. I need to get some shots of the rest of the group.”

  “Fuck the rest of the group.” I let go of her hand to slip my arm around her waist. She leaned back, trying to get as much distance from me as possible. “Give your camera to one of the groupies,” I said, close to her ear so only she could hear.

  “It'll come back full of selfies,” she argued, but she didn't pull away.

  I chuckled. “So what? You've already gotten a ton of great photos I'm sure. We can just laugh at them tomorrow.”

  Hazel hesitated, shooting a glance at the girls by the bar, who were all still dripping with champagne. One of them had already suggested I lick it off her.

  But, just as I thought Hazel was going to give in, she shook her head. “I can't. I'm not really at the party.”

  I leaned in a little closer. She was already leaning as far back as she could go, which I'm sure would have looked comical to an outside observer. But I didn't care.

  “You could be,” I whispered, lips just at the shell of her ear. “If you'd just relax a little.”

  I felt her quiver, and a victorious smile grew on my lips. Being this close to her was setting me seriously on the edge of my self-control, but it looked like I was getting closer to getting what I wanted. She even seemed to be considering it. She straightened slowly, and I backed away just enough so that we wouldn't bump into each other. Fuck, she smelled good. Something fruity with hints of coconut. I took the opportunity to sniff along her neck as I retracted from her ear and stood to my full height.

  I thought for sure she was going to give in. She looked like she'd never wanted something more in her life.

  But then Hazel shook her head and backed out of my grip. “I can't.”

  I was disappointed. More disappointed than I cared to admit. But I slapped on a grin and winked at her. “You'll party eventually, baby. Everyone does.”

  She pursed her lips but didn't reprimand me for calling her baby. Big mistake on her part. She was stuck with it now.

  She started slinking back into the crowd, so I turned my attention to the girl who'd been grabbing my ass since the moment Hazel backed away from me. I turned, grabbed her with both hands, and laid a rough, hard kiss on her soft lips.

  The crowd cheered. This was what they came for, after all – Flagship Inferno's notorious party antics.

  I didn't even know when it started. First, it was just my brother and friends partying with the groupies and fans. Back in those days, we were such a small group that people often joined the party without even realizing who we were.

  Then, as our fame grew, the parties started becoming an institution to our brand. Wherever Flagship Inferno went, the glitter and shine of our debauchery followed. And I was the king of this party and all parties. An uncontested ruler. I drank, I fucked, and I had a damn good time.

  Even when the taste of the beer was growing stale, and the sugar of the girls’ lips no longer satisfied.

  As my mouth moved mechanically against the little brunette curled up against me, my eyes tracked Hazel through the crowd. She was retreating from the scene, flashing her camera periodically as she went. Then she disappeared entirely, swallowed by the throbbing crowd.

  If only she was the one in my arms right now. She was a subject in my kingdom, but an unruly one. All the others would fall to their knees in an instant for me, but not Hazel.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Fifte
en

  Hazel

  I felt like I'd been whipped around the cyclone of a tornado for the past few hours. Just as I thought my feet were on solid ground, the wind would toss me back into the maelstrom.

  The expansive room was cramped with people for most of the night, swaying and moving together as one. It reminded me of how sea sponges aren't actually one creature, but thousands upon thousands of single-celled organisms that work together to fulfill their needs. If you put a sponge through a sieve, my biology teacher had assured me, it would simply reform.

  That was what these partiers reminded me of. All seeking something, all working together to reach whatever it was they desired. It helped that their desires weren't terribly diverse.

  Sex.

  Whatever drugs or booze it took them to escape this dimensional plane.

  And, of course, the attention of their doting god.

  Just as my feet were getting sore and my body ached with fatigue, clumps of the party sponge disengaged. Little by little, the suite quieted and cleared as people drifted off toward their bed or the bed of another.

  I took the opportunity this unwinding provided to go check in with Flagship Inferno's other members. Sean was still holding court to a few stragglers at the far end of the kitchen, but his colleagues were spread out over a couple couches in the living room.

  There was Justin Booker, the eldest member of the group at thirty years old. He played bass and had the super long, ridiculously curly blond hair of a 1970s skater. His tall build and deep brown eyes made him a favorite with the ladies. After Sean, anyway.

  Sitting next to Justin was Vince Gallagher, the drummer. I didn't know much about him except that he was on the shorter side, had a shaved head, and seemed to have a piercing in every available spot. Ears, nose, lip, eyebrow...and god knows where else. He was ripped, as most drummers seemed to be. Right now, he was reclining shirtless, his feet up on the coffee table. From the overturned cups and ashtrays, I presumed he'd cleared the spot for himself.