by Lauren Rowe
Keane yawns. “Hate to tell ya, but it sounds like she already does, sugar nuts.”
It’s ten minutes before seven in the morning. A half hour before I’m supposed to head to Aloha’s room to escort her down to the bus for Seattle. I’m sitting in my hotel room, showered and dressed, my small rolling bag neatly packed. Keane is lying in his childhood bed in Seattle under a blue blanket that perfectly matches his eyes, his blonde hair rumpled and his face creased from sleep.
I rub my face and groan. “I’m exhausted, man. I couldn’t sleep after I left Aloha’s room last night. Finally, I just gave up trying and started my day at two a.m.”
“What’d you do?”
“I texted with Dax for a bit, since it was already late morning for him. And then I went to the hotel gym and worked out for a solid three hours. And then I showered, dressed, and hightailed it across the street to a drug store to run the most important errand of my life.”
“Buying a jumbo box of rubbers?”
“Bingo. I’ll never not have a condom in my wallet again.”
“Damn straight, you dumbshit. Ha! That should be our band name. Condom in My Wallet.”
“Amen.”
“So, how was Daxy when you texted with him?” Keane asks. “He’s in Amsterdam now, right?”
“No, Berlin. He’s doing great. He can’t believe how ‘People Like Us’ is blowing up. Did you see it just cracked Top 20?”
“Yeah. And the music video is going viral, too. Our boys are legit rock stars, son. It’s insanity.”
“I know. Dax said people are starting to recognize him on the street.”
“Not a shocker. Dax is kind of unmissable on his worst day and he looks like a rock god in that video.” Keane laughs. “Did you see the YouTube comments? People are, like, ‘I want to lick him from head to toe!’ ‘I want to have his baby!’”
“I know. Dax was laughing about some of the more aggressive comments—but mostly cringing. You know how he hates people focusing on his looks instead of his ‘art.’”
“Yeah, well, if he didn’t wanna trade on his looks to sell records, maybe he shouldn’t have starred in a music video that’s basically soft core porn.”
“Right?”
We both laugh.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Dax said,” I say. “He was like, ‘Um, I think maybe the music video was a little too sexy...? My bad.’”
We laugh again.
“Aw, he secretly loves the attention.” Keane says. He yawns. “So, back to you and your insomnia, love muffin. Typically, when you can’t sleep and decide to work out in the middle of the night, I know it’s ’cause you’re grappling with some serious pent-up sexual frustration. But since it sounds like the pop star sucked every drop of pent-up sexual frustration out of your body last night, I gotta think you’re simply suffering from an acute case of ‘over-thinking.’”
“Oh, God, Peenie, that’s an understatement. If there was one night in my life when I coulda used a big fat blunt to dull my over-thinkin’ brain, it was last night.”
“You know what your problem is, baby doll? You’re just too smart. If you were stupid as a box of rocks like me, not over-thinking things would be your natural state of being. Shit, I can’t even remember the last time I came within a hair’s breath of under-thinking things.”
“You know what, Peenie? You gotta stop doing that. I know you’re kidding when you call yourself dumb, but if you do it enough, your subconscious is gonna start actually believing it.”
“That’s exactly what Maddy always says. She told me to quit it, too.”
“Well, listen to her, you dumbshit. She’s smart. Not dumb as a box of rocks, like you. Where is she, by the way?”
“She slept in Colby’s old room last night.” He rolls his eyes. “Mad Dog didn’t feel ‘comfortable’ sleeping in the same bed with me under my parents’ roof. Because, you know, my parents don’t already know we’re living in sin together in LA and bonin’ the fuck outta each other every night, Lionel Richie Style.”
I laugh. “Cut her some slack. She just wants to make a good impression with the people who might become her in-laws one day.”
“Well, mission accomplished there. You should have seen Maddy with my mom last night when we were playing Hearts. It took us forever to get through a single round because my mom and Maddy were laughing so much together. If I didn’t already know Maddy’s The One before last night, I would have figured it out right then. There’s nothing like seeing your dream girl being brought into the family fold before your eyes.”
“Aw, that’s so awesome, Peenie.”
“My mom pulled me aside after the card game and was like, ‘Don’t live up to your penile nickname and mess this up for me, Keane Elijah!’ And I was like, ‘Mess it up for you?’ And she goes, ‘Yes. You can’t do better than this one, Keaney. I want her!’” He belly laughs. “Gotta love the Momatron, especially when she’s had a few glasses of merlot. But, come on. You didn’t wake me up at chicken-thirty because you wanna hear about my mother. You called because you’re a tortured man. Tell me what’s got your over-thinkin’ brain going into overdrive. I’ll fix you.”
I sigh. “To summarize, I’m terrified I’m hurtling at the speed of light toward another Daphne situation—only this time, much worse.”
“So it’s a done deal, then? You’re in lurve with the pop star?”
“Gone, baby, gone. And you wanna know the craziest part? It wasn’t finally getting to taste her that pushed me over the line. It wasn’t even getting the best BJ of my life. It was the conversation I had with Aloha right before I got her clothes off that did me in.”
“A conversation about what?”
“Sorry, love muffin. This is one of the rare times in our marriage I gotta keep the vault locked. She told me some really personal stuff.”
“Aw, come on. NDAs don’t apply between wives.”
“It’s not the NDA. It’s that I can’t betray her trust, not even for you.”
Keane grins. “That was the right answer, son.” He winks. “So did you tell Aloha she’s your primordial destiny yet or what?”
“Of course not. I’m not an idiot. Why do you think I beelined outta there right after she and I finished messing around? I knew if I didn’t get out of there on a rocket, I’d start babbling shit I couldn’t stuff back in. And thank God I did that, too, because, just as I was leaving, Aloha goes, ‘I had fun, Zander!’”
“Ooph.”
“Right? If that’s not code for ‘This was nothing but a fling!’ then I don’t know what is.”
“Meh. So what if she thinks you two are flinging from the rafters. All that means is you gotta keep flinging with her like it ain’t no thang until you win her over. Keep your big mouth shut and your big cock hard and two months from now, her heart will be yours. I guarantee it.”
“Mmm hmm. There’s just one little problem with that genius wear-her-down-slowly-without-her-realizing-it strategy, son.”
“Naw, it’s foolproof. Trust me.”
“The bet, motherfucker!” I bellow, much louder than I should. “That’s what kept me awake last night. The stupid bet! Realizing that, if you call the bet in favor of the one-monthers, my entire strategy of laying low so as not to scare her off will fly right out the window.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. I don’t even wanna think about how badly it’s gonna mess things up for me if you officially declare me ‘in love with Aloha’ before I’m ready to tell her myself—a full two months before I should even think about telling her!”
“Okay, you gotta calm down, sweet meat. I see your predicament, but—”
“‘My predicament’? Fuck you, Peenie. It’s a predicament you Morgan motherfuckers created! And now I’m screwed!”
Keane grimaces.
I exhale. “Peenie, listen to me. The last guy Aloha had a fling with on tour wound up falling for her, just like I have, and the nano-second he was stupid enough to tell her about his feelin
gs, she ditched his ass like yesterday’s fish special. And let’s not forget Aloha read everyone’s stupid texts after the ‘boy toy’ video and therefore knows there’s an express elevator from my dick to my heart. Now that she and I finally got down to business last night, I’m sure she’s gonna be watching me like a hawk for any sign I’m turning into a stage five clinger on her. Which I am! Which means that, no matter what, you absolutely cannot call the bet or you’re gonna ruin my life.”
“Okay, okay. Calm the fuck down. Jazeebabeebus. I won’t call the bet.”
I stop freaking out on a dime, my jaw slack. “You won’t?”
“Of course not. Gimme some credit. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dude, do you really think I care more about my oath of judicial integrity than my wife’s lifelong happiness?” He snorts. “I choose you, boo. Every time.”
I let out the biggest sigh of my life. “Oh, thank God.”
“No, thank me. God has nothing to do with it. Unless I’m God, which is entirely possible.”
“Thank you, Peenie. That right there is why I love you the most.”
“As you should.” He smiles. “I’m a giver, sweet meat. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“Oh, God. I’m so relieved.” A reminder goes off on my phone and I look down at the time. “Shit, brother. I gotta get my ass to Aloha’s room to escort her to the bus.”
“Go be your badass bodyguard self, love muffin. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I can’t wait. I’m gonna get Brett to cover me for a bit during the show so I can come say hi to everyone in the skybox.”
“Kewl. Now don’t forget, baby doll: absolutely no blurting ‘I love you!’ or ‘You’re my primordial destiny!’ to Aloha at any time for the next two months. Unless, of course, she says the magic words to you first.”
I take a deep, steadying breath. “Roger.”
“Rabbit.”
“Oh, hey. I almost forgot. There’s a present I want to get Aloha, but I won’t have a chance to get it myself since I’m stuck to her like glue. Can you get it for me when you and Mad Dog are out and about today or tomorrow? I wanna give it to Aloha tomorrow night at dinner.”
“That’s your idea of playing it cool with Aloha—giving her a present?”
I roll my eyes. “Will you get me the thing or not?”
“Yeah, of course. Just text me the info, Mr. Cool.”
“Thanks. Bye, baby doll. I’ll see you—”
There’s a loud knock at my door—a loud knock followed by a deep, commanding voice barking my name.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper to Keane, my eyes wide. “Barry’s at my door.”
“Oh, shit!” Keane whispers. “News about forbidden-fruit pussy-eating travels fast, huh?”
My mind is instantly reeling. Did Aloha tell Barry about last night? Is there a nanny-cam hidden in Aloha’s room? Or, shit, did Aloha tell Crystal about last night... and then Crystal told Brett... who went straight to Barry...?
“Zander!” Barry shouts behind my door again.
“Coming!” Fuck. “Wish me luck, Peenie Baby. I’m pretty sure I’m about to get shitcanned. Or worse.”
Keane blesses me with the sign of the cross. “Godspeed, Sir Zancelot. I hope and pray the only thing Barry is planning to do to you is fire your ass. But if not, may your balls rest in peace.”
Chapter 31
Zander
That’s fucked up,” I mutter.
I’m standing in my hotel room with Barry and Brett. As it turns out, Barry didn’t fly to Portland first thing this morning to fire my ass for feasting on Aloha’s pussy last night. In fact, it’s now obvious Barry has no idea my tongue was firmly lodged inside his favorite hula girl mere hours ago. No, Barry hopped the first flight to Portland out of LAX this morning so he could personally tell Aloha—after first telling Brett and me—that during the wee hours this morning, some wack job broke into Aloha’s empty house in the Hollywood Hills. But not to rob her. To throw himself a perverted little masturbation party.
Based on what the guy confessed to the cops, not to mention the trail of jizz he left behind at the scene, the sick fuck jacked off to completion three separate times in Aloha’s house—in her bed, bathtub, and inside a pair of her thousand-dollar Christian Louboutin shoes. And in between jizzing, he also did God knows what with Aloha’s panties and makeup and the designer clothes in her walk-in closets. And for his grand finale, he apparently danced around the house buck naked—other than wearing headphones blaring Aloha’s music—pausing his dance routine only to rub himself against any surface he thought might, at some point, have been in contact with Aloha’s ass cheeks.
“The fucker is being held in a psych ward,” Barry says. “I’m told he won’t be getting out any time soon. But, of course, Aloha’s lawyers are already preparing paperwork for a restraining order, just in case.”
“How did he get into Aloha’s house?” I ask, my stomach churning. “Doesn’t she have a security system?”
“He scouted out the house with long-range binoculars and hit pay dirt when he saw a housekeeper punch in the security code.”
I rake a hand over my face and mutter, “Jesus Christ.”
“Thank God AC wasn’t home at the time,” Barry says. “I can’t even imagine what might have happened to her if...” He takes a deep breath, composing himself. Clears his throat. “The story hasn’t leaked yet, but it will. I’ve told Crystal to keep AC away from her phone this morning, through any means necessary.”
I pace the small room, too amped to stand still any longer. “Going forward, we can’t settle for merely reacting to shit as it comes up, guys. We need to be able to spot lunatics like this before they come out of the woodwork.”
“There was no way to predict this guy. He was a lurker. He never commented on anything online or otherwise brought attention to himself.”
“But surely there are sick fucks who bring attention to themselves—guys who are openly obsessed with her online. Whoever those guys are, let’s identify them and track their asses. At the very least, let’s get their photos so we can see ’em coming a mile away if they come out of the woodwork and come at our girl.”
“The PR team who handles AC’s social media already alerts us when someone is a bit too fixated, and we alert the authorities. And that’s really all we can do. Our job is to protect Aloha’s physical safety. We’ve got to let the online experts track down the online kooks.”
I scoff. “But the ‘online experts’ don’t love her like we do, Barry.”
Shit.
Did I just say that?
Brett is staring at me like I’ve just said something highly regrettable. Which means... yeah. I said it. I just admitted I love Aloha... out loud... to Barry. Fuck.
But Barry doesn’t seem fazed. He says, “That’s why I’m having Brett’s buddy at the FBI look at AC’s social media for us to see if anyone raises a red flag for him.”
“No, a ‘buddy’ doing a favor isn’t good enough. I want someone officially on this. Someone paid to make Aloha their top priority.” An idea pings my brain. “Do you know Reed’s hacker buddy from college, Henn?”
“Reed’s mentioned him, but I’ve never met him.”
My heart is lurching. “Henn tracked down someone for Keane’s big brother, Ryan, a while back, and Ryan said the guy is a stone-cold genius.”
“Reed always says the same. Coincidentally, I think Henn is coming to Aloha’s show tonight. Reed mentioned his two best friends are coming tonight with a big group. I’ve gotta think Henn would be included in that group. But if not, I’ll talk to Reed about flying Henn to Seattle tonight, so we can talk to him about the project in person.”
I exhale. “Perfect.”
Barry brings his massive hand to my shoulder. “Looks like the newbie’s come a long way since training a month ago, huh?” He smiles. “Brett’s been telling me you’ve been doing a great job—and now I can see for myself he’s absolutely
right.”
“Thanks,” I say, even though I know his praise is misguided. It’s not accurate to say I’ve been doing a great job, actually, because Aloha isn’t a job for me any longer. She’s exactly what Barry demanded she be from day one: my mission from God.
Barry scrutinizes my face for a long beat. “You love her?”
I press my lips together. Shit.
Barry sighs. “Listen to me, Z. Love is a great thing in general. But in this business, it can make a guy do reckless and stupid shit.”
“Or it can make a guy do his job even better,” I blurt, and instantly regret it. Why did I say that? It’s one thing to say some FBI agent isn’t gonna love Aloha the way “we” do, but why the hell am I taking it further and confirming my feelings for Aloha in no uncertain terms... and to my boss, no less? Aloha’s father figure? The man who said he’d rip off my balls if I touched her? I take a deep breath. Well, shit. No turning back now. I might as well double-down. “Loving Aloha has never made you do something ‘reckless or stupid,’ has it?”
Oh, fuck. That was clearly the wrong thing to say.
Barry leans forward, his dark eyes blazing. “No. But I’ve loved Aloha like a daughter for a decade. That’s a very different thing than her newbie bodyguard thinking he’s in love with her after a fucking month.” His neck vein pops out. “Believe me, I’ve seen it all in this business, Zander. I’ve seen guys ‘fall in love’ with the woman they’re supposed to be protecting and then proceed to fuck her all over kingdom come in unsecured, risky locations. Locations where paps could easily snap photos with long-range lenses or where strangers could easily catch them with their fucking iPhones and upload the clip to Instagram or even extort money. Because that’s what happens when a guy lets ‘love’—or what he later realizes was nothing but simple lust—cloud his good judgment on this job.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from telling Barry to go fuck himself. “Well, no worries there. I’m not in ‘lust’ with Aloha. And I haven’t, and wouldn’t, do anything stupid or reckless with her. Not that it’s any of your business, Barry, but I haven’t had sex with Aloha, if that’s what you’re indirectly asking me to confirm.”