by M. E. Gordon
CHAPTER 3
Caroline
My first thought was, this place looked awesome. It was not at all what I had expected from the outside. My dad took my bags from me and placed them near one of the many tables.
“Pretty nice huh?” he asked.
There was a bar that traveled along the side and, where it ended, was an arched doorway that looked like it led to pool tables. In the very back was a decent sized stage, littered with drums, guitars, basses, and a key board.
It was your typical bar, but decorated really nicely. My father must have hired someone. There was no way he did this all on his own.
I nodded. “Wow, Dad, I’m impressed.”
Smiling in triumph, he took another appreciative look around. “It’s not too bad. I got it for practically nothing. Luckily, it came fully staffed. Kara, who you’ll meet later, is a godsend. This was all her idea. I just gave her the money to get it done.”
Kara? My father had never mentioned her before. Then again, our conversations usually didn’t go into too much detail. Is he dating her? Are they in love? I’m not sure I can handle that. It had been close to five years since--had he moved on? He’s a good man. He should be happy, and if this Kara makes him happy, then I’m going to have to like her, no questions.
Just then, the back door, which led to a hallway, opened. It slammed loudly against the wall. The bang of the door hitting, made me jump. “B, can you come give me a hand?” a squeaky female voice called from behind two large boxes.
My father smiled down at me. “I guess you can meet her now.”
The female voice dropped the boxes on the ground and brushed her hair out of her face. Okay, I’m going to have to have a talk with my father.
Kara was young, or she had an amazing plastic surgeon. She was a petite blonde, who didn’t look a day over eighteen. Great, no wonder my father is happy. He turned into a sugar daddy.
She had on a cropped top that barely covered her boobs, and her jean shorts looked like she had swiped them from a cheese country music video. Flipping her head down, she grabbed all her hair and tied it up in a big floppy bun on the top of her head. A few loose, blonde strands fell around her face perfectly. Yup, I’m going to have a talk with my father.
“Kara, this is Caroline, my daughter.”
I tried to smile politely, but I had the most disturbing image in my head.
Kara smiled. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you. B won’t stop talking about you, like ever,” she said, reaching over the boxes to shake my hand.
“So, are you guys...” Great, I’m too embarrassed to even say it.
She ripped her hand from mine, shook them both at her sides, and ran in place while shaking her head back and forth. “Ew, you think? That I’m? With?”
I had clearly made a huge mistake.
Kara looked over at my father, clearly confused. “B, what the hell? Why does your daughter think I’m dating you?”
My father turned all sorts of red. “Caroline Ann! I am not involved with her.”
Yeah, big mistake. “I’m sorry, I just thought that--”
“Well, you thought wrong, honey. I like him, but not like that,” Kara said, laughing.
My father grimaced. “Well, now that we have that all taken care of, I’ll give a proper introduction. This is Kara, the manager. She started as soon as I bought the place and had some great ideas, because I was too stuck in the eighties, like this place used to be. Kara sold me on remodeling and things have been non-stop-busy since the day we re-opened.”
Clearly, this girl had some real talent with decorating. Why she was working at a bar was beyond me.
She seemed to squirm a little at his praise. “Well, it wasn’t all me--ah, who are we trying to kid? It was all me. This place was a pig pen before I came along,” she said, admiring her handy work.
“I’m so sorry. I kind of jumped to conclusions,” I said apologetically.
“Its fine. You weren’t the first person to think that. Your dad and I have been hot gossip since I started working here.”
There was another reason to make sure summer ended with me leaving--small town gossip.
Kara grinned at me. “It was great to finally meet you, but I have to get back to it. It’s going to get crazy in here tonight.”
Thinking back to the barren streets and closed shops, I frowned. Right then, I doubted anyone but my father and Kara even lived in this town. “Oh, okay,” I said, not believing her at all.
“Tomorrow won’t be as bad, so I’ll start training you then. Enjoy tonight and welcome.” Grabbing the top box, she walked off into the back of the bar.
“Hold on one sec, I’ll help you with these,” my dad called to Kara. He turned back to me. “I’ll show you the rest of the place and your room in a minute. I’ve got to help Kara with this stuff,” he said, taking the other box to follow Kara.
I stood there awkwardly by myself in the unfamiliar room. Light bounced off one of the symbols on the drum kit and caught my eye. I made my way to the stage and stepped up to get a better look. There was a name on the front of the biggest drum, ONS, all done in a cool calligraphy. Under that was the proper name One Night Stand. I guessed it was fitting, since they were playing at a bar called BJs and, apparently, you never left unsatisfied.
I took my time walking around all the instruments. The drums were nice. Tapping a holder for extra sticks, I was so tempted to grab one and go to town, but I held back. The keyboard looked extremely used, but it had more buttons on it than keys. The black, slick, base was propped up on one side of the stage. A guitar was a few steps away from that, and it was a beautiful electric blue color. I walked over to the guitar on the other side of the stage. I seemed drawn to it. The glossy red paint was beckoning me toward it.
I knelt down to get a closer look. Within the glossy red paint were very fine black words. They looked like song lyrics, but the closer I got, I realized that they were girls’ names. Appropriate, I thought, for a band named One Night Stand. The eight strings summoned me to run my fingers across them.
My index finger was mere centimeters from the tightly strung wires--
“You break it, you buy it.”
A male voice, warm and very close, made me lose my balance. In a rush, I tried to stand, but fell back and into the arms of the man behind me.
Hastily getting to my feet, I turned around to see the guy still flat on his ass. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them as he eyed me up and down
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch your guitar,” I said apologetically.
Of course, he had to be gorgeous. I wouldn’t knock over an average guy. “Well, it sure as hell looked like it,” he said, as his lips curled up in a smile.
“I said I was sorry. Won’t happen again--trust me.” I turned from him and prepared to jump off the stage. What a jerk!
“You’re not even going to help me up?” he asked.
Four other guys came into view from around the corner. Must be the rest of them, the One Night Stands.
Rotating back to him, I held out my hand.
“Such a lady,” he said as he took hold of it.
I wanted to let go so he would fall on his ass again, but his grip was too tight. If I tried, we were both going down.
“Anything else?” I asked smartly.
Still holding my hand, he pulled me closer. The sudden intimacy made my stomach do a nervous flip. He was almost a head taller than me, so my eyes were dead even with his lips--plump lips, that were curved up in a wicked smile. This ass knew exactly what he was doing.
Pushing against his chest, I successfully put some space between us. “What’s your problem?” I demanded.
“What’s your problem? You’re the first woman to ever jump off my lap that fast. You into chicks?”
I can’t believe the nerve of this guy. Rustling my hair in frustration, I couldn’t believe a human being who looked as good as he did could be so crude. His dark brown hair was wavy, unkempt,
and swept off his face, but damn if it didn’t beg to be played with. He was tan and lean. He clearly took pride in his body. The cutoff shirt he had on gave him away. I unexpectedly got an image of him playing that beautiful guitar, the muscles in his fore arms and biceps moving under that tan skin, his fingers working the strings rhythmically--
Holy shit! I need to snap out of it. I stared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not into ‘chicks.’”
His smile reached his blue eyes and I found myself trying to remember why I was mad.
“You know for a fan, you’re pretty early. The groupies usually don’t start showing up till three hours before B opens,” he said, cocking his head.
“Groupies? Do I look like a groupie?”
He took that as an invitation to give me a once over. Disgusting pig!
“Well, now that you mention it, you are a little over dressed.”
I glanced down at my skinny jeans and flip flops. The T-shirt I had on was thin but it was not see-through, thanks to its dark blue color. It was tight but not clingy, and the neckline was a simple U-shape.
Tucking my wild, curly, blonde hair behind my ears, I glanced over at my father, who was still helping carry large boxes in.
“Oh, I get it,” he said crossing his arms. “You like them older.”
“You are way off base, plus you’re a disgusting pig. Your ‘groupies’ must all be brain dead, if they follow you around.”
Yeah, that’s right, Mister Rock-n-Roll, let that sink in for a moment.
“You know what--”
“Kane! Hey, man, you guys are really early,” my father said, interrupting him as he made his way over to us. So the jackass had a name.
“B, you should really start locking the doors, some out-of-town trash rolled in.”
All I could do was smile. Catching my reaction, this so called “Kane” looked me up and down again before turning to my father, who looked ready to punch him in the face. Good to know my father still had that protective streak in him. “Kane, this is my daughter, Caroline.”
Kane’s perfect little sneer quickly turned to a stunned, open-mouthed gape.
“Is there a problem?” my father asked skeptically.
I should have totally ratted Kane out. Look at him trying to bat those baby blues at me. Not going to work. I got a pair of my own, and I know how to use them.
“Oh no, Daddy, Kane here was just telling me how much he appreciated you. He was even saying how he was going to stay late tonight to help you close up and that he really wants to clean the restrooms. He also offered to carry up all my bags for me. Isn’t that sweet of him?” I flashed the most charming smile I could his way and girlishly tossed my hair.
Shaking his head and grinning, Kane couldn’t say a word in his defense.
“You really going to do that tonight, man?” my father asked. “We could really use the help.”
Still acting coy, I made sure to wink at Kane before turning my attention back to my father.
“Yeah, I’ll stay to help you out tonight, so long as she helps,” he said, winking back.
That asshole!
CHAPTER 4
Kane
I knew B’s daughter was coming to stay for the summer, but I had no idea that the girl I had just tried to hit on was her. I had come around the corner to see some girl up on our stage, fingering all our instruments. When she turned to look at my guitar, my baby, I made my way to the stage to confront her. I was only able to take two steps, when I saw her face. She was every bit of a ten in my book. Average height, long legs, made even longer by the tight-ass jeans she was wearing. Her shirt hung low enough when she knelt down, I could see the swell of her delightfully large breasts. I suddenly got the image of my hands full with them, and my mischievous friend began to make an appearance in my jeans.
I moved quickly, but silently up on the stage behind her. The smell of her, tickled my senses. I wanted to run my hands through the mane of wild blonde curls on her head as she screamed my name in ecstasy. I wanted to taste her, feel her--I don’t think I’ve wanted to touch a girl as much. I wanted to experience every inch of her.
Unfortunately, all those scrumptious ideas quickly left my mind when I found out she was B’s daughter. I expected his daughter to be short, frumpy, and average. What was currently standing in front of me was anything but. He had shown us all a picture of her five years ago when we started playing regularly here. It was a girl with a flat chest and plump body. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid and she had glasses on. So of course, I didn’t expect this girl to be her.
B slapped me on the back. “Okay, I’ll be right back. The delivery truck just pulled up. Let me help Kara, and I’ll be right back to show you upstairs, honey. Kane, I can’t thank you enough for helping tonight. Caroline has the night off, though, so she won’t be helping tonight. Kara’s going to train her tomorrow, so having you here will be such a help, and thanks for helping my little girl carry these bags up.” Smiling, he slapped my back again and then walked to the back door to find the delivery truck. I didn’t know if I should be pissed that I had to stay or delighted that I got to see where this beauty was going to be sleeping, even though I had already seen it.
“You can wipe that stupid grin off your face,” she said, tossing that mane of hair again.
“What are you talking about? It’s not a grin. You think I want to stay sober tonight to help B clean up after our show. I’m usually knee deep in between some brunette or blonde’s legs, so it’s not a grin. It’s me trying to figure out how I’m going to make you pay for getting me stuck here tonight.”
If I knew one thing about women, it’s that they couldn’t resist me. This girl was a challenge that I was determined to make putty in my hands. I’d come across them once or twice--the girl who played hard to get. They always had a hidden agenda, which usually involved them wanting to date me, but I never let it come to that. They’d say that they wouldn’t give it up until I promised to date them exclusively, but ten minutes alone with me in a dark room, and they were usually screaming a different tune.
“You’re the one who practically invited me up to your room.”
Damn, she looks cute with that scrunched up confusion on her face.
“I did not!” she snapped back.
“‘Oh, Daddy, he even said he’d carry my very heavy bags up,’” I teased in a girly voice while I waved my hands dramatically. Shit! She socked me. Rubbing my suddenly sore arm, I glared across at her. This girl had a mean punch. I had to remember to keep my face away from her fists.
“Jesus, you don’t have to beat me into submission. I’ll carry your bags up,” I said, reaching down to pick them up.
“Kane, what are you doing? We have to practice. We don’t have time for you to fuck the help.” Reece’s red Mohawk was combed back and not in its usually upright position.
The girl fumed. Placing the bags down, I sat back and enjoyed the show.
“There is no way in hell that I would ever have sex with him,” she snapped. “And tonight, I’m not the help, you wanna-be-clown.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him a moment. “Bozo wants his hair back by the way.”
I think I’m in love. I had never heard anyone talk to Reece like that before. He looked like he was going to cry. Why not put the nail in the coffin?
“Reece, this is Caroline, B’s daughter,” I said. His mouth hung open. I slapped his back. “Yeah, let that sink in a moment.”
“That’s not funny, Kane,” he said nervously.
“It’s fucking hysterical. Caroline, this is Reece.”
Stepping up to Reece, she got in his face. I was suddenly aware of their closeness to one another. Weird.
She poked a finger in his chest. “Don’t ever assume I’m fucking him. You got it?”
Nodding in agreement, Reece was clearly rendered speechless. Just like me, my fellow band mates weren’t use to women putting us in our places.
The rest of the guys w
alked over and, before I knew it, they were all clamoring around her. I wanted to push them out of the way, hold them off, but I wasn’t going to show my cards.
I began to introduce them all, I pointed to Reece, “Reece plays the drums,” He was in his usual tight-ass pants--that I’d have sworn he bought from the kids department--and a black T-shirt. I turned to my left. “Aiden is a genius on the piano and does all our lighting and boring stuff.”
“Dude, without me no one would be able to hear you. I’m basically the tech guy. These assholes would still be in their mommies’ basements if it weren’t for me,” he said irately. Okay, I’d give him that one. We did need him. Aiden had shoulder-length, jet-black hair, which he kept pulled back. Girls went fucking nuts for that guy’s hair.
“Trent here is our bassist,” I continued while he held out his hand, clearly the only gentleman of the group, even though he looked like a badass biker on steroids. “And this is--”
“JJ?” she asked, taking the words from my mouth.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he answered hesitantly.
“Do you remember me?” she asked, hopeful.
Great. Competition with JJ was never good. It usually ended up with both of us having a black eye and busted lip. Have they hooked up before?
She smiled at him. “I think we’re second, maybe third cousins? I used to visit your family when I was younger.”
Taking a moment, he examined her some more. “I think I’d remember if I had a fucking-hot-ass cousin,” he said, shaking his head.
I was pretty sure I would have remembered too. After all, I’d been friends with the guy since grade school, and I would have remembered running into her.
“JJ here is lead guitar,” I said, draping my arm around him “Dude, why the hell haven’t we met your hot-ass cousin before today?” I asked through gritted teeth.