Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Jade C. Jamison

  “Yeah, sure, I’m game. Casey?”

  How could I say no, especially if Scott wanted to? Well, one game wouldn’t hurt, I supposed, and he had been spending all kinds of money on me. The least I could do was be gracious. “Can I go have a quick smoke outside first?”

  “Want some company?”

  “No. That’s okay.” I needed a little time by myself, but I wasn’t going to say so. Scott gave me his keys so I could fetch my purse out of his truck. Being alone was a mistake, though, because as I took a drag off my cigarette, Wendy’s words a few weeks ago wafted through my mind: If you get involved with Scott, you get involved with Jim.

  Had this been what she’d meant—or was this the mere tip of the iceberg?

  I looked back inside from my spot on the sidewalk to see Scott and Jim through the lit-up windows, laughing together like they always did.

  Dammit.

  Then Julie walked back to the pool table with two mugs of draft beer. She had her short blonde hair pulled back with a headband and she looked kind of cute in a jean jacket and cut-off shorts—but as skinny as people accused me of being, I couldn’t touch Julie. She looked scrawny, like she’d been starving in a third-world country. Or maybe like she had a drug problem.

  When she handed Jim his beer, he slapped her on the butt.

  Harder than he should have. Hard enough to hurl her forward.

  It looked like she might have spilled some beer on the floor, based on everyone’s reaction. I let out a long, slow puff of air and crushed my cigarette out on the sidewalk before tossing it in the trashcan. I really didn’t want to go back in there now, even if my inner saint wanted to offer Julie a hand. Even though she’d done it to herself. I’d been there myself, so something deep inside wanted to help her.

  But not at my own expense.

  When I got back to the table, Scott asked, “Are you okay if they go first?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  Was it just my imagination or was Scott acting differently now?

  Julie went first—and I thought immediately that Scott and I were going to lose. Julie seemed like a great player, and I assumed Jim was, too. That meant I would be completely humiliated.

  After Julie sank three balls, she missed a shot, and Scott told me to go next. I nearly jumped up and down after getting a ball in. When I got ready to shoot again, Scott said, “Hold up, Casey.” Setting his beer down, he asked me to line up my shot again, so I leaned over the table, pointing my stick at the ball. Then he got right behind me, his chest pressing into my back, and he repositioned my arms while whispering in my ear to tell me how hard to shoot it. I could feel his body heat through our clothes, and then I doubted I’d be able to make the shot at all.

  But I did exactly as instructed and it worked like a charm. Another ball down for our team.

  Jim sounded like he was most of the way to drunk already. “Hey, that’s cheating.” Scott rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

  “Fine…I’ll do it myself.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t any good at it—or maybe I just needed practice. Either way, this second half of our date wasn’t turning out to be as much fun as the beginning. I hoped Scott felt the same way, and I planned to give him a hint after this game. Placing my hand on his chest, I told him, “I’m going to the ladies’ room, but I have no doubt you’ll have the game in the bag by the time I get back.”

  “Nah. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Unless it was my imagination, he acted like he wanted to give me a quick kiss but he wasn’t comfortable doing it in front of Jim and Julie. Damn those guys ruining our date.

  I paused for a moment as Jim prepared to shoot. I already knew how good a player Julie was, but I wanted to assess all the competition. Maybe Jim would be less formidable with all the alcohol running through his veins. But that had been wishful thinking. Jim made his first shot, and even three sheets to the wind, he seemed almost as good as Scott. I was certainly the weak link here. So I turned and headed to the ladies’ room, hoping they’d put me out of my misery during my absence.

  After using the facilities, I washed my hands and then checked myself in the mirror, making sure I still looked okay for my guy. Satisfied that my hair and makeup appeared fresh, I stepped out of the bathroom. But before I got out of the hallway, Jim turned the corner, heading my way. “Hey.”

  Maybe he wasn’t as good a player as he’d seemed with that first shot. I considered teasing him about it and decided not to, mostly because Jim crossed the line plenty without any encouragement. With encouragement? I didn’t even want to try.

  So I said hey back and started to walk around him.

  But he grabbed my arm, preventing me from going any farther. He got close, way too close. “So, Casey, you’re giving it to Scott, huh?” I couldn’t figure out why he looked so angry and I definitely didn’t get what he was trying to do. He was so close, I could smell hard liquor on his breath, which told me he’d been drinking long before he got here—and he was most certainly drunk. And as I examined his red-tinged eyes, I could hear Wendy’s nauseating words echoing in my head yet again. Jim is a sick motherfucker…and he seems to think what belongs to Scott belongs to him.

  Suddenly, I felt frightened, and I wasn’t the type to scare easily.

  Rather than show fear, I tensed up as if getting ready to fight and painted a snarl on my face, hoping to scare him off, but when I tried pulling my arm away, I found his grip was too strong. “That’s none of your business.” I yanked my arm back again to no avail.

  He pushed me against the wall between the two restroom doors. “Oh, but it is. You see,” he said, allowing me another smell of the liquor on his breath, “Scott and I are best friends, and best friends share everything.”

  A sense of horror coursed through my veins. Jesus…was everything Wendy said true? And, if so, why hadn’t Scott even indicated anything? Was that what he’d meant when he said he wasn’t cheap? I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention and tried to jerk my arm away once more, but it was useless. Then he grabbed my other arm, getting closer and pinning me to the wall. “Let go of me.” I considered screaming, but I doubted it would do any good over the loud refrains of Avenged Sevenfold on the jukebox.

  “You think we haven’t shared before?” Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Ask Wendy. She’ll tell you.”

  Yeah, Wendy…already had. Even though I felt like I was in a nightmare, I tried not to panic. After all, Jim could have forced me into a bathroom and hadn’t. And, somehow, I’d managed to verbally stand my ground without freaking out. “I said, let go of me.”

  When a big guy wearing overalls turned the corner and started walking down the hall, Jim let go of my arms. My instinct was to run like hell, but I knew that would reflect the palpitating heart in my chest. Show no fear. I instead took a deep breath, smoothing the hem of my shirt. Jim stumbled toward the men’s room before the man got closer to us, but he turned around at the door and, before walking in, said, “Think about it.”

  “Go to hell,” I muttered under my breath. I ran my hands over my hair, taking another deep breath, trying to ignore the raw sensation of Jim’s bruising fingers on my upper arms before exiting the hallway. I wasn’t ready to make a big deal of what had just happened, mainly because I had to process it. Mainly, I had to decide if what Jim had said had any truth to it, and the only way I could do that would be not talking about it…yet. I needed a calm, rational mind to do that, but now wasn’t the time. So I tried to act as if nothing had happened when I walked back to the pool table.

  I probably should have run right out of the bar—but my purse was locked in Scott’s truck. More than that, though, I still trusted him.

  Mostly.

  Walking up to the pool table, half dazed, I found Scott and Julie standing diagonally across from each other talking. When Scott saw me, he said, “It’s your turn.” He told me how to set up my next shot without showing me. I still didn’t make the shot, but that wasn’t surprising.

  Then Scott han
ded me my beer. I didn’t tell him I had no intention to drink any more of it.

  Julie stood over the table, seeming to count the balls that were left. When I noticed my hands shaking, I set the bottle down on a table nearby. While finishing the drink might have calmed my nerves, I knew it would be a bad idea at this point.

  Scott leaned over, his voice so quiet that Julie wouldn’t be able to overhear. “What’s going on?”

  With a deep breath and a quick glance before returning my eyes to the table, as if the unmoving balls were a source of unending fascination, I said with my most casual voice, “Oh, nothing.”

  Jim came back then and, by pretending like nothing had happened back in the hallway with me a few minutes earlier, helped my lie pass muster. But Scott was no idiot. He touched my chin so that I had to look up in his eyes. He had questions and I could see the doubt on his face, but he kept further questions to himself.

  When Jim started shooting, we turned our attention to the pool table—but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. Instead, my mind was going wild, trying to figure out if what both Wendy and Jim had said was true—and, because Scott’s mood seemed to change when Jim showed up, the idea wasn’t completely unbelievable. I debated again if I should just leave—but my purse, my phone, everything I’d brought with me were locked in Scott’s truck.

  Jim continued making one solid shot after another until he was down to one ball left. He missed that one, turning the game over to Scott. Jim might have been a good player, but Scott had sobriety on his side—and he hit one ball at a time in a steady stream into the pockets, finally sinking the eight ball last. “Beat ya, buddy.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jim said, acting cool. “Only ‘cause I’ve been drinkin’.”

  “Whatever. You’re always drinking.” He turned to me. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” More than ready. It was then that I knew for certain Scott sensed I was not okay like I’d tried to assure him earlier.

  Julie was giving me a weird look, even though she said goodbye sweetly and even pulled me into a hug. Jim said, “One more game. Double or nothing.”

  “Nope. We’re outta here.” Had Scott not said it, I would have insisted, feigning an upset stomach or something if I had to.

  But we wove our way back through the place, with Scott’s hand on my back as if to guide me through. When we got to the truck, Scott opened the passenger door. “Okay…what really happened back there?”

  I reached inside to grab the cigarettes out of my purse. Was I ready to actually verbalize how I felt and what had occurred? I bought some time, lighting a cigarette and tossing off a quick question back. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw your arm, Casey.” Scott’s eyes drilled into mine until I had to avert mine. A feeling of shame rose from my gut through my chest and up my cheeks, and I could feel a sob trapped deep inside trying to find its way out.

  I took a deep drag on my cigarette and let the smoke out, feeling its false calm wash over me. “Can we please just go?”

  He blinked, quiet for a moment as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. But then he said, “Yeah, okay.” I threw my cigarette on the ground and stomped on it as if Jim’s ugly face were under my shoe, and then Scott assisted me with getting into his truck.

  We were barely a block away when it just came flooding out. “Jim did it.”

  Scott turned his head slightly. “Did what? Hurt your arm?”

  “He stopped me in the hallway just outside the bathroom.” I struggled to find my voice. “He said you share women.”

  Scott was quiet as he drove down the next street. But then he shook his head. “That’s not true, Casey.”

  “Then why did both Jim and Wendy tell me that?”

  Even in the dark of his truck, I could see his jaw ripple. I moved my hand to my upper arm, rubbing the place Jim had hurt me as if to ease the pain away. “You want the truth, Casey?”

  Why the hell did he sound angry?

  And why couldn’t I help the shrillness of my voice? “Yes!”

  “There were two times—two times—that we had a three-way. If that means we share women, then I guess it’s true.”

  I let out a long sigh and looked out the side mirror. So what if they had a three-way, right? It was really none of my business.

  “I don’t care about that.” Scott continued driving down Main when the light turned green, and I found my voice once again. “What I do care about is that Jim seems to think he has some kind of claim to me because of that—like I’m your whore, and that means he can fuck me, too.” I looked back at Scott then.

  “Did he say that?”

  “Not in those words.”

  “But he made you feel that way.”

  “Yes. It was more than implied.”

  Frowning, Scott yanked the truck to the right suddenly before pulling a U at the intersection.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna take care of this right now.”

  “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Like hell I don’t, Casey. You just said—”

  “You asked what was wrong. I didn’t ask you to do anything, Scott. I didn’t ask you to defend my honor or any shit like that. You guys are friends and he’s stupid drunk.” Folding my arms over my chest, I said, “I took care of it.”

  His voice was quiet and strained. “I need to take care of this.”

  I remembered Scott’s story about defending David’s honor on the playground as kids. I didn’t want Jim’s blood on my hands, even if he did have it coming. “With Julie there? No. No way. Besides, you’d be arrested if you went in there starting a fight. Please—just don’t.” I sucked down a deep breath. “If you need to do anything, just talk to him when he’s sober. That’s all I ask.”

  Scott let out a frustrated sigh, his hands gripping the wheel as if choking the shit out of his friend. I didn’t know until he turned off the road that he was respecting my wishes by not going back to the bar. “Okay, Casey, I’ll deal with this shit later, but only because you asked me not to do anything right now.”

  He drove in silence and I was alone with my thoughts, a dangerous thing. The more I pondered it, the more I was convinced that Jim did think I was up for grabs—and I didn’t want to depend on Scott to save me.

  More than that, though, there was that tiny niggling doubt—what if it was all true?

  The uncertainty led me to say stupid things. “Let me pay you for my share of tonight, okay?”

  Scott exploded. “What the fuck, Casey? You’re like a goddamn broken record. We already talked about this. I said I’ve got it.”

  Now, with everything else, he was scary, too. But like earlier with Jim, I refused to show fear. “Here’s the thing, Scott. I’m not your whore, and I don’t want you to think you can just buy me dinner for an easy lay, okay? I’d much rather we go as friends and let whatever happens happen.”

  “Jesus Christ. What have I done to make you feel like a whore?”

  “Nothing, but—”

  “Here’s how I see it, Casey. I can’t spend my life trying to convince you that something didn’t happen. That’s why the law works the way it does. The burden of proof is on the prosecution. In this case, it’s on my accuser—the burden of proof is on Jim. And Wendy. I have no possible way to prove to you that I didn’t do something. All I can do is tell you the truth. And if you can’t believe me, then I guess we have nothing else to talk about.”

  He drove another block. “Okay, Scott, that’s fine, and it’s easy to dismiss a rumor. That’s what I did with Wendy back when she said that. But then two people. And Jim’s your best friend. Jim—”

  “Jim? Are we really gonna do this, Casey?”

  This time, Scott didn’t raise his voice at all. In fact, he was way too fucking calm, just like Barry used to get.

  “Let me out.”

  “We’re just a couple blocks from my house.”

  “I said let me out!”

  He pulled the truc
k over to the side of the road as I pulled on the door handle. “I’m sorry if I got a little intense. Let me at least drive you to your car.”

  I looked at him, and even though I couldn’t see his entire face due to the darkness, I could see enough. His eyes and the unexpected gentleness of his voice told me more than he knew. I felt like, in spite of everything else, I could trust him now. “Okay.”

  It seemed like forever but he finally pulled in front of the house behind my car. My purse in hand, I opened the door.

  “Do you want me to help you out?”

  “Nope, I got it.”

  It was a pain in the ass, but I slid out all on my own and, once outside, I lit a cigarette before closing the door to his truck. After I shut the door, he rolled down the automatic window. “Are you okay to drive?”

  Did he mean because of my jittery state or the alcohol I’d had earlier?

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I hurried up and got in my car, sticking the key in the ignition. As I was buckling up, Scott drove away.

  I thought about following him. Was he going to go pummel Jim? Interrogate Wendy? Find some other woman to fuck?

  It didn’t matter, and I had to let it go, because I was safe—and I was going home. My body was relatively unscathed, no permanent damage done.

  But I couldn’t say the same about my heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sleep failed me. So many times in the past, if I went to bed on a bad note, I’d wake up the next day feeling like a reset button had been hit. I’d have a new perspective or a refreshed point of view that allowed me to tackle problems.

  Not this time, though.

  When I woke up late the next morning after a shitty night’s sleep, my brain still soured over the events from the evening before. What had started as an awesome first date ended in disaster—and a long night’s sleep didn’t help that at all.

  After smoking far too many cigarettes and drinking way too much coffee during the first part of my day off, moping around and feeling sorry for myself, I decided to tackle something completely different. So I packed several bottles of water along with my sketch pad, pencils, charcoals, and phone, and I decided to walk all around town for inspiration. I didn’t have to work that day, so I was going to indulge in some healthy self-care.