Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Jade C. Jamison

  Okay, I could be cool about it. “How old is she?”

  “Five.”

  I had to be cool with it. If I wasn’t, well, then, we’d never work. So I asked, “What’s her name?”

  “Jasmine.”

  “Oh. That’s pretty.”

  “She’s a pretty little girl.” Okay. I could do this. I was doing this. We could survive this. “But there’s something else you need to know.”

  It couldn’t be worse, could it? I nodded. But I knew it would be. Why else would he save it for last? “Okay.”

  I saw him clench his jaw. “I’m married.”

  I blinked again. Surely, I hadn’t heard him right. But I searched his eyes. He was serious. I looked down at his left hand. No ring. What the hell? I felt confused. Shit. That was why he’d been avoiding me since we’d gotten back. He was hiding me from his wife. Oh, fucking hell. I could feel the blood begin to boil, and I was ready to go apeshit all over his ass.

  But he saw that in me and he said, almost in a panic, “It’s not what you think, Val.” He started talking rapidly. “We’ve been separated for three and a half years. We just never paid for the divorce. It costs a lot of money, and it’s a pain in the ass. But I’m on the up-and-up. I swear. I pay child support for Jas. We’ve worked out visitation. And my ex has had the same boyfriend for two years. It’s a marriage in name only now. I swear.” I nodded slowly, taking in the info. I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? It was just weird. And it wasn’t like I wanted to marry him. It was just a lot to take in. He kissed me on first one cheek and then the other. “Don’t cry, baby. I swear I’m telling you the truth. I can take you to meet Abby anytime you want, and she’ll verify everything I’m telling you.”

  “The wife?”

  “The ex…yes.”

  “No, I believe you. It’s just…a shock.”

  He kissed me and then pulled me close to his chest. “It’s not a secret. Most people who know me know about it, and I didn’t think to tell you. And then we got back and real life hit and…I just realized I needed to tell you now. When I heard you on the phone…” He still held me up against his chest and he was stroking my damp hair. Finally he said, “Jesus…I want to make love to you right now. This is killing me. But I gotta go pick up Jas, or Abby’ll be ragging my ass again about how irresponsible I am.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, go. You gotta go. It’s okay.”

  “You sure?”

  I nodded again, a deliberate move. I had to be cool about this, even if I decided after he left that I really wasn’t. For now, though, he needed to be a good dad for his daughter, and he couldn’t be if I was falling apart, bawling all over him.

  “Yeah, of course.” I didn’t realize how tightly I was clamping my jaw until he placed his fingers under my chin so he could coax my lips to his.

  I did my best to relax, but it was hard. “You’re not okay with this, are you?”

  “I am, Clay. I just…need some time.”

  He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “I can do that.” And his next kiss…whew. I think we both felt the passion simmering underneath, but he had to go and I needed some time. So after, I just placed my head back on his chest and held him for a little bit.

  “You need to go.”

  “Yeah.”

  I asked him to wait a second, that I wanted to walk him out. I wasn’t sure who was still home and who wasn’t, but I didn’t want Clay having to deal with Ethan. I threw on a pair of sweatpants and then grabbed his hand, walking him out.

  Zane and Ethan were in the living room watching a movie on the television we got a couple of months earlier. There was a girl next to Zane. That was interesting…and cool. But I focused on my guy, and we walked into the hallway. I didn’t want my potentially emotional goodbye broadcast to my roommates. But it was fine. He kissed me one more time and then said, “You’re okay, right?” I nodded. “Still on for Sunday?”

  “Yeah.” I made myself smile. He walked away, but I could tell it was hard for him. I didn’t know how I felt. Should he feel guilty for not telling me before? Maybe. But I couldn’t hold that against him. Our time on the road really did feel like another world, and we’d never talked too much before we’d hooked up—teasing innuendos, flirtatious back-and-forths, but never any serious talk. There was so much we didn’t know about each other. We’d just spent time letting our passions consume ourselves and now, back in the real world, I wondered how much I didn’t know…and if I could learn to live with it. Only time would tell.

  I turned around and placed my hand on the doorknob. I had a lot of thinking to do, but tonight I just wanted to sleep. So when Ethan was right there when I came through the door, I was not in the mood. He was just staring at me and standing in my way. I could go around him, but it would have made our interaction that much more overly dramatic. “What, Ethan?”

  “Seriously, Val? You’re still seeing him?”

  I let out a breath. “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone knows there are people you fuck on tour, whether it’s groupies or some shit like you’re doing. But then you go back home and things go back to normal.”

  I stared at him. “If you think you and I are resuming our relationship, you’re seriously mistaken.”

  “But you’re gonna see that asshole?”

  “He’s not an asshole, Ethan.” I hadn’t planned to say more than that, but the look on Ethan’s face—the one that made me want to punch the shit out of him—spurred me on. “He’s a sweet, considerate guy, and he actually gives a shit about my feelings.”

  I saw something in Ethan’s eyes shift, as though they could grow colder while I watched. His voice was low when he said, “That why he made you cry?”

  Oh, God. He could tell I’d been crying? Well, of course, he could. I knew my face would get blotchy and red, and my eyes were probably lined in red too. Had I been crying that much? I just said, “That’s none of your business,” and pressed my hands to his chest as though to push him away. And that’s when I realized I still loved Ethan too, no matter what a shit he had been. But I made myself go to my bedroom where alone I could deal with the mess that was my life.

  * * *

  Clay and I actually survived his revelation, and he even pitched in to help us move when the time came. Our relationship cooled a little, mostly because of real life obligations. Not only was he not close by like he’d been on tour, but we both had other things going on. I didn’t know, for instance, that Clay worked in a music store three days a week. A very cool job but one that made him less available…not that I would have ever felt like he should be at my beck and call.

  But if it had been just real life pressures, our relationship would probably have weathered them. Instead, it turned out that he and I were quite different. It’s not that we didn’t try. God knows it’s not because we didn’t try, because what I appreciated most about Clay was the woman inside me he’d invited out to play. When I’d been with Ethan, much as I’d enjoyed the sex, I’d felt like it was all for him. Yes, he made sure I climaxed most of the time, but the act wasn’t focused on me (not that it always had to be). In fact, I felt like sometimes I was lucky to be in the same room. With Clay, though, he was all about me…or us, really. And he liked to play. He was fun. And it was about both of us. I even started experiencing some deeper, crazier emotions for the man, and I didn’t know how to stop feeling that way, didn’t want to…but I did eventually. The more time we spent apart combined with getting to know each other better did that. I started to feel like our passion had been like a star burning bright—hot and white—but we were now cooling, slowing down, adjusting…and on tour we’d been perfect for each other. Away…not so much.

  It started the first time I went to his apartment. Now, I know guys are into porn, but Clay took it to a new level. He seriously had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in his room filled mostly with porn. We’re not talking just a DVD here or there. I mean he had hundreds of videos. He could have opened a rental business for his collection and
survived just fine. And he couldn’t even blame part of the movies on his roommate because they were in his room. I even watched a few of them, but I soon discovered that once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen most of them.

  I learned to ignore the wall of shame.

  Our relationship continued strong through the summer. The sex was less frequent, but it was still intense. We tried to see each other twice a week when we could, but it didn’t always work.

  We started seeing each other less, and I don’t know that I could put the blame on either of us. But Clay did have more distractions than I did. Clay had been watching a lot of football, which was not my cup of tea but fine, but then he’d forget we were going to be spending time together when he’d get distracted because he was hanging at a strip club.

  Okay…so he was really into naked women. I didn’t let it bother me, because I was the woman he was with…even when I wondered if he was thinking about someone else when he was making love to me.

  One day, we were at the mall. He liked going to different music stores—not just to get ideas to help out the store where he worked, but I think he secretly liked the thrill of being recognized once in a while. He downplayed it, but I could see the twinkle in his eyes when a girl would squeal and say, “Oh, it’s Jet! Omigod, I looooove you! Would you sign this?” This was usually a piece of paper or a t-shirt…but once in a while it was a pair of panties or even a breast. What the hell would it be like when he became famous nationwide? And I knew he would. I was surprised he was pushing thirty and hadn’t made it big yet.

  On this particular day, we were getting ready to leave the music store and somehow he had gotten away with signing a girl’s butt cheek in broad daylight. She said she was going to have it tattooed along with the words Property of. I forced a smile and knew Jet was loving it. I couldn’t blame him really, and I wasn’t going to hold it against him.

  Once the thrill had worn off and we were done browsing, we started walking out of the music store. While we were still at the mall, I told him I wanted to peek in the bookstore. “What for?”

  I grinned at him. “Oh, I dunno. To look at books maybe?”

  I thought he was joking at first. “Books? What would you wanna look at books for?”

  I giggled. “Oh…maybe to read?”

  I grabbed his hand, and we kept walking toward the bookstore. He was quiet and said, “I don’t read much. Really never saw a reason for it.”

  “Never been lost in a book?”

  “Nope. Real life’s too fascinating.”

  Real life talk from the guy with a thousand pornos. “Well, that may be so, but what about nonfiction? You can learn a lot by reading.”

  He smirked. “That’s what they said in school too.”

  Oh…so we had completely opposite views when it came to school and education. I started feeling uncomfortable. When we got to the front of the bookstore, I said, “You don’t have to come in with me if you don’t want to.”

  He looked grateful and walked across the way to go into a shoe store. I’d stood by and watched him sign a girl’s ass, but he couldn’t follow me to look at a book or two? I wasn’t sure why it pissed me off, but it did.

  Still…it wasn’t worth a fight. Clay was a sweet, gentle soul, even when he played Jet. It wasn’t worth arguing over.

  That’s what I told myself anyway, but looking back now, I think I knew I didn’t love him…or didn’t love him enough to fight. So when we found the food court and sat down to eat, I tried to find something to talk about…and came up short. And that’s when I knew our relationship was doomed.

  I still wasn’t ready to give up, though. I think he knew it too but felt the same way. I think we were both trying to recapture what we’d experienced on tour.

  So, a few days later, we had some hot and dirty sex, Jet style, followed an hour later with some sweet Clay-style sex, and he held me close in his arms. I had wanted to talk to him since the mall. If he was feeling like I was—that the sex was incredible, but there was no future for us—then I wanted to talk about it. But I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

  I rolled over. He wasn’t asleep. I knew because he was humming ever so lightly, something I knew he did when he was working out a new guitar riff in his head. That was one of the things I really liked about Clay. He was music—he breathed it, lived it, felt it. I loved music and it was an inextricable part of my life, but it couldn’t compare to the relationship a guy like Clay had with music. Brad and Ethan were the same way. I often felt as though the rest of us were hacks compared to the likes of them. Clay/ Jet…a one-of-a-kind guy, and I was angry with myself for not finding a way to make it work. But, even though I couldn’t identify it then—wouldn’t recognize what was in my mind—I knew he didn’t fully possess my heart, no matter how much I cared for him. And make no mistake—I cared for him deeply.

  I stroked his cheek and he opened his eyes. Oh, God, those beautiful eyes of his—dark, honest, but mysterious. Could I say this? The words wouldn’t come. They got stuck in my throat, and I felt like I was choking. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard a mournful song, played in minor keys, one I couldn’t place, but it made me want to cry. I just had to make myself start talking. My voice was a whisper. “Where do you see yourself in the next year or two?”

  He was sleepy. I could see that. “Goddamn. I better be recording the next biggest album the world’s ever heard by then.”

  I smiled. I hoped he would be. I took a deep breath. “Where do you see us in the next couple of years?”

  He looked quizzical but not upset. That was all the confirmation I needed. He looked a little wistful like I felt, but I could tell he thought the end was inevitable too. Still, he said, “What do you mean?”

  God…if all we ever did was make love…we would have been the most compatible couple in the world. But I was feeling like I needed more, so much more. In the hustle and bustle and lack of freedom we’d had on tour, I hadn’t noticed all of those other things I’d needed. Now, though…I felt like I was missing something. I looked at those cute little snake bites on his lower lip. “Do you ever feel like…maybe we, uh, weren’t meant for each other?”

  I forced myself to look back in his eyes, and there I saw clarity. He was sleepy, but it was there. “I care about you, Val.”

  I nodded, the side of my head rubbing against the pillow. “I care about you too, Clay. So much. But…you know what I mean, don’t you?”

  I could see that split second where he considered protesting, as though he was fighting with himself. He didn’t want to admit it any more than I did. But—and I think this is because we respected the hell out of each other—it was inevitable. The fact that we cared but didn’t love each other was undeniable. Could I grow to love him? I probably could have, but if I had forced myself to stay, I would have always wondered what it was I’d given up. Because I knew, just knew, there was something missing. He was chewing on his cheek, but he nodded, just a little. His voice was hoarse. “Yeah, I do. But why?”

  I kept my voice low and soft. His walls were thin and his roommate was home and quiet for a change. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. And I don’t exactly know why. It makes me sad.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me, a slow, sweet kiss, one that was trying to reignite whatever the hell magic we’d once shared. And it was a great kiss…but it wasn’t enough.

  “We’ll always be friends, right?”

  His voice was soft again, and I could barely hear him. “Fuck, yeah. This time with you…the last few months…Jesus. Some of the best times of my life. I don’t ever want to forget you. I want you to be in my life forever.”

  I smiled. “You too.” I felt that grin finally move to my eyes and I said, “Just don’t pretend you don’t know me when you finally make it big.”

  He kissed me again and said, “Spend the night? One last time?”

  I nodded and felt my body respond to him. My body would always want to be
with him, and I savored the feel of his lips on my collarbone, the way his shoulder tasted, the feel of his cock inside me one last time. And even though we’d been civil—friendly and compassionate, even—I still felt tears sliding down my cheeks as I drifted off to sleep, his arms holding me close.

  * * *

  The next morning felt so much better. I left feeling a weight off my shoulders. Clay had insisted upon making breakfast—pancakes, sausage, and eggs—and we laughed and joked. It was like a huge weight was off our shoulders. He even kidded—well, maybe not so much—that we could hook up now and again whenever we needed a friend with benefits.

  I laughed. “You know, Clay, you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a slut.”

  He grinned, sliding two pancakes off the griddle onto my plate. “It’s not being a slut if they’re your friend, right?”

  But as we cleaned up the dishes before I left, he said, “Anytime you need me, call.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look in his eyes. “That prick Ethan…if he ever does shit to you, you come to me.” I nodded, but I don’t think he believed he had my attention. “Jet’s a bad boy in more ways than you know. He’d like to knock Ethan’s teeth out, and the only reason he never did was because of you.”

  If he hadn’t been so serious, I would have started laughing at how he was talking about himself in the third person, as though the Jet part of himself were another personality entirely. I realized then that Clay felt safer being Clay, but Jet really was the part of himself that he needed to be sometimes…when he needed to blow off steam or wanted to do something the rest of society didn’t approve of. “Thanks, Clay.” I hugged him. “And Jet.” And then I hurried up and got dressed and got out of there before both of us changed our minds.