by Kacey Shea
Iz is stuck in a 70’s time warp. Boy loves his recreational drugs and does them like they aren’t illegal. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna end up dead or in jail one of these days, but as long as he can play drums, it isn’t our place to interfere.
Me? My stimulus of choice will always be pussy. Sure, I get that it’s not technically a drug, but it should be. Bottle that shit and sell it, and I guarantee the world will be a much happier place. Can you imagine? Everyone walking around fully satisfied like they just got some. Well, I guess not everyone. You’d still have straight women because most of them don’t want pussy, but to be honest, they’re unpredictable as fuck anyway. Take the fact I could screw a woman senseless and she’d still bitch and whine at my ass later, easily forgetting the orgasmic bliss I delivered only moments prior. Tally it up to one of the many reasons I don’t do relationships. Way too much work, and the return on investment is not worth the short-term dividends.
We’re staying over in Charlotte and I should be ecstatic knowing I’ll be getting a hit of my drug of choice by night’s end. But ever since I snuck a peek at Lexi’s warm up today, I’ve been wrestling with an unusual and alarming predicament. Mr. Trent. My dick. I can’t get him up.
Actually, I can, but only when I imagine Lexi’s red painted lips wrapped around the fucker . . . the way she had them against the mic. And that’s a problem. Big problem.
First of all, we made a pact at the beginning of this tour. No one fucks Lexi. I gave my word, and I never go back on a promise. I sure as hell don’t go back on my word for pussy. Lexi’s great and I’m sure she’s phenomenal in bed, but there’s a line of women waiting to fuck me after every show. Black, white, short, tall, skinny, curvy, and everything in between. I’m an equal opportunity employer. But tonight I don’t even have to make the choice. Not with Cora here, expecting what I should be. Only I’d rather trade the supermodel for a certain blonde with a smart mouth. My dick has never been so particular.
Damn it, Trent. Get your head in the game.
Cora grins, a seductive smile just for me, leaning across the table as we finish up dinner in the hotel restaurant they opened up exclusively for our group. She’s beautiful. Sweet. Flexible. There’s no doubt what she wants for dessert. She’s offering up her luscious body on a platter, a rare repeat hookup whom I never turn down. With her there are no expectations, only fantastic sex. She’s single. I’m single. We hook up. It’s an unspoken rule. Why would I want to fuck that up? I haven’t been this confused since high school calculus.
The entire meal I’ve been glancing over my shoulder, expecting that maybe Lexi would join us, but I guess it’s probably better she didn’t. Then I’d be in even more of a conundrum. At least now I’m only resisting the image of her. If the real life version had joined us, I’m not sure I’d be able. Not that she’d want me. Fuck, how messed up is that.
“Trent?” Cora’s sweet voice breaks my thoughts and her captive eyes hold my stare.
“What’s up?”
Her lips lift, and she tilts her head toward the bank of elevators. This is it. This is my moment. I don’t turn down nights with Cora Bentley. Not because I’m weak, but because she’s a fucking goddess and good in the sack. If I start now . . .
I don’t want to change. I like my life. My lifestyle. I love women. That doesn’t change because some sexy little singer joins the tour.
“Let’s go,” I say, standing from the table. “Later, guys. It’s been real.”
They offer their good-byes and Cora wraps her arm around my waist, a perfect fit against my side and good for balance, too. We’ve been drinking whiskey since the show ended and that shit sneaks up, stealing my ability to walk a straight line before I even feel drunk.
We make it inside the elevator, and I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. Everything is fine. I can do this. I want to do this. I want to do her.
She giggles. “Everything all right?”
No, you want Lexi Marx.
My eyes snap open and I meet Cora’s flirty smile in the mirror’s reflection. I open my mouth, not quite sure what I want to say. We reach my floor and the door slides open with a ding. “I’m pretty fucked up right now.”
Cora laughs, her shoulders shaking with the sound, and we walk down the corridor until I find my door. “Let’s get you undressed and in bed, big boy.” She pats my stomach, skirting her fingertips down the material until they rest over the front of my jeans. My dick kicks with appreciation. Maybe this can work. I pull my keycard from my back pocket and wave it in front of the sensor above the handle. The light blinks from red to green just as there’s a click from behind.
I glance over my shoulder and there she is.
Fucking Lexi.
Walking around in an oversized sweatshirt. She does it all the time on the bus. It’s not her fault she’s so petite, but she swims in those sweatshirts. My gaze is drawn to the strong, toned muscles of her legs. The thrill of thinking she’s naked is a rush, but then with a lift of her arms my dreams are crushed by the sight of her tight little shorts, only to be turned on again at the way they fit like a second skin.
“Sorry. Ice.” She flicks her lip ring and it’s then I realize I’ve been staring.
I clear my throat. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—” My chin turns to where Cora leans inside my open doorway.
“Yeah. I can see.” Lexi’s eyes dart down the hall. “Well, I better . . .”
“Yeah, I better . . .”
“Have a good night, Trent.” Her face shows no emotion at all. No joy. No anger. Nothing. Just that stupid hotel ice bucket clenched in her grip. What I wouldn’t give to know her thoughts. She lifts her chin. “Night, Cora.”
“Night, Lexi,” Cora sings, a smile in her voice, and before Lexi can walk away Cora’s hand dips inside the waistband of my jeans and she yanks me inside the room. “Come on, Trent. Bedtime.”
The door clicks shut with my decision and the sweet lips that press against mine confirm my choice. I only wish I didn’t feel such a fool.
I am a fool. An idiot. A selfish fucking prick. Never in my life have I felt like a bigger asshole. Actually, not true. I felt like a bigger ass when I fucked Andi Swanson in the back of her dad’s Camry one night, and pounded her twin sister doggy style under the bleachers the next day at school. But that was eleventh grade, and now I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man.
Still behaving no better than a teen.
Cora’s head rests against my naked chest, her own heartbeat still racing as does mine from our orgasm filled fuck fest. Only she’s clueless that while I closed my eyes repeatedly during sex, I was picturing the woman across the hall. Pretending it was her legs I licked between until she was a mess of cursing, quivering bliss. Imagining red lips were moving against my own. That they wrapped around my cock, bobbing up and down until I came.
Ass. I’m the biggest ass.
“Trent . . .” Cora’s fingertips play over the ink of my tatts.
“Yeah, babe?”
“You really like her, don’t you?” She lifts her head and rests her chin on my chest to meet my surprised stare. Her lips widen in a soft smile. Inviting. Warm. Like everything about her.
I’m certain with anyone else I’d lie, deny the accusation, but this is Cora, and she’s not so much accusing as amused.
“You mean Lexi?”
She laughs, hard this time, and buries her head under her long locks before flipping them over her shoulder. “Who the hell else would I mean?”
See. I’m an asshole.
“That obvious? God, I’m sorry Cora.” I groan and run my hand through my hair, tucking it back from where it always falls forward.
“Why are you sorry? It’s great. She’s perfect for you. I’m jealous you’ve found that.” She slaps my belly playfully and stands up, completely naked, and retrieves her clothes strewn about the room.
“It doesn’t make you upset. Since we just . . .”
She turns and tilts her head. “Fucked? No. W
hen we hook up, that’s all I expect from you.”
“Ouch, that kinda stings.” I sit up and lean against the headboard, rubbing at my chest with a smile.
She laughs again as she pulls on her clothes. “Now you know how half the female population feels.”
“You really think she’s good for me?”
“You don’t?”
I consider her question. It’s not that I don’t agree that Lexi’s good, I do. But she’d never waste her time with someone like me. “She’s too good. I don’t deserve that.”
“Don’t put yourself down like that. Insecurity is not an attractive quality on you.” Cora glances in the mirror, finger combing her hair so it’s presentable.
Our conversation is steering into deep, uncharted waters, so I make a joke. “You like it cocky? Don’t you, dirty girl?”
She glances back, grabs her clutch off the table, and her hands go to her hips as her lips pull into that award winning smile. “You know I do. But now that you mention it, maybe you should work on humility.”
Fuck, if she’s not spot on. I’m nowhere near worthy of Lexi’s affection. I blow out a breath and rub my hands over my face. “I have a lot to work on for a chance with someone like her. For more than just a hookup.”
Cora lifts her eyebrows. “So, do the work. Unless she’s not worth it.”
“Damn it, Cora. You’re fucking perfect and smart as shit.”
“Yeah, I know.” She winks, sliding her feet into her shoes. “Alrighty, mister. I’m out. Catch you next time.” She blows me a kiss and leaves before I can get out of the bed. Maybe I will see her again. But part of me hopes I won’t be available the next time. Even a bastard like me can hope.
16
Lexi
Last night did not live up to my expectations. That perfectly air-conditioned room and clean and comfy bedding, it should have been enough to get a great night’s rest. Only it was after four in the morning before I finally found sleep.
A few factors contributed to my inability to fall asleep. The first being my delivery takeout that gave me horrible indigestion and gas. For that alone I was grateful to have my own room and not a semi-public cubicle on the bus. The guys would never let me live that down. But it wasn’t only the spicy Thai that kept me from finding rest. It was I couldn’t stop thinking about Trent and Cora across the hall.
Which is stupid.
Because he is a grown man with an unapologetic sex drive. Why should it bother me to know he was with a woman? A beautiful, perfect, tall woman. I hated the thought of them hooking up. God, was I feeling jealous? That just pissed me off more. And even though I didn’t want to think about Trent and Cora together, it was a valid concern that their sex sounds would reach me from across the hall. So I cranked up the volume on the remote. At least I had reruns. Friends, Seinfeld, even M*A*S*H. They all kept me entertained until I finally met the sandman.
Today I’m trying to move forward. To not think about it. But it’s proving more problematic than I anticipated. There’s a strangeness that settles in the bus, and it’s not only me. The entire band is acting weird as our driver travels the miles and miles of stretching pavement. Trent won’t meet my eyes from where he studies his phone at the table. Maybe he’s exhausted from being all up in Cora Bentley. Ugh. Let it go, Lexi. Even Iz is out of sorts, barking orders at the driver when he’s usually chill as a cucumber. Or rather, a man on a lifetime high of weed.
My phone rings from my bunk and I set my notebook down in my seat to go pick it up. When I see who’s calling I decide today can officially go to hell. I consider not picking up, but she’ll only redial until I concede. I answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, baby girl. How’s it going?”
“Good. I just saw you yesterday, remember.” I want to roll my eyes but it’s not worth the movement considering she can’t see them.
“Yes, I remember, but it’s been hours. A lot happens in a day.”
“Whatever, Mom.” I turn around and find all four guys watching me, as if my conversation is a form of entertainment. I flip them the bird and it makes me feel marginally better, even though they don’t stop observing me.
“So . . .” She pauses a moment before prying, “Any rock stars steal that precocious heart of yours yet?”
“God, no!” I glare at Trent and he averts his gaze to his phone again.
“It wouldn’t be so horrible . . .”
I stroll over to the table and sit down next to Sean. Since they’re already listening in, I might as well get comfortable. “Mom, let’s not do this. You know I don’t judge you, but all rock musicians are a bunch of egotistical, cheating, manwhores.” I punctuate the words.
Trent’s lips pull into a smirk, Austin winks and blows a kiss, and Sean flips me the bird while he takes a drink from his protein shake. Iz doesn’t even look up or acknowledge my comment from where he taps at his smartphone and sends a bird crashing into a pile of rocks.
“I just want you to be happy, Lexi. Are you happy?”
I stand up, her question sparking an uncomfortable depth she and I usually avoid. For someone who couldn’t be bothered with dinner, she sure wants to play catch-up now. Time to divert this conversation to something more trivial.
“How are things at home?” I wander down the hall to Trent’s door. I should probably ask first, but I don’t think the guys will care if I use the back room to talk with my mom. I step inside and consider sitting on the bed, but knowing how it’s used leaves me unable to relax on the unmade sheets. Who knows the last time they were washed? I shudder to contemplate how many different jizz stains are dried into the thread count.
My mom goes on about the latest news, who is seeing whom, who is getting divorced, what book she’s reading in her club this month. I try to pay attention but it’s distracting not knowing where to sit or what to do while she jabbers about people I hardly remember. I “yes” and “oh, yeah” at all the appropriate places, but my mind wanders to the men down the hall. I wonder what they’re saying, doing, and when I hear the clatter of dishes, the telltale sign of making dinner, I wonder if they’ll leave any food for me.
“Lexi, I need to tell you something.” Mom’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Her tone is pained. Uncomfortable. I go on alert and stop my pacing in front of the large built-in dresser that holds most of the band’s clothes.
“What is it, Mom?”
“It’s your dad.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Baby, don’t do this. He’s your father,” she pleads. I’ve heard it all before.
“Sperm donor. I don’t have a relationship with him, nor do I want one.”
“He’s really sick, Lex.”
“Okay.”
“It’s bad, Lexi. He only has a few weeks.” Her voice wavers and her sobs interrupt for a moment. “I don’t want you to live with regrets.”
“No. No.” I shake my head and kick the dresser. Fuck. That hurt. “I’m not doing this right now.” I tilt my head because the bottom drawer, the one I just stubbed my toes on, has this tiny bit of fabric sticking out of the corner. Normal. Sloppy. Sure—but for the fact it’s bright pink and almost looks like lace. Much like my . . . Fuckers! I drop to the ground and yank the drawer out to reveal an entire stash of my undies—all my missing panties—shoved into this drawer. Oh, hell no!
“Mom, I’ve got to go.” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“Look, I respect your decision. You know I will. I just . . . If you can find a way to speak to him, or to come out here, to forgive him—”
“Mom. I have to go. I’ll call you later,” I snap, my rage boiling inside.
“Don’t shut me out, baby girl,” she presses with a whine.
“I won’t. I really can’t talk now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I end the call before she hears the anger that seethes through my body. With one hand I shove my phone in my back pocket, and with the other I grab a handful of my pilfered underwear and stomp out of the room.
“You motherfuckers!” I scream. All eyes are on me when I hit the end of the hall. I hold my undies over my head and march to the table, throwing them down amongst the dirty plates.
“Shit,” Sean whispers as if I can’t hear the fuckhead.
“What. The. Fuck.” I meet each of their guilty stares, but my gaze lands back on Trent, along with with my fiercest scowl. “I said, what the fuck is this!” I scream like a lunatic but I don’t care.
“Your panties?” His stare falls to the table.
“Like you’re not sure? Hell yes, these are my goddamn panties!” I want to hit someone, kick something. I’m so pissed off I can’t see straight. “Why? Just tell me that!”
Their eyes dart to each other, and for a second I’m not sure anyone will answer.
“Because it was funny,” Austin confesses, fighting a smile when he stares at Trent.
“Funny?” I repeat, at a complete loss.
Sean stands from the table, his hands up in surrender and a sliver of fear etched in his eyes. “We’re sorry, Lex. We should’ve stopped.” He glances at Trent, so I settle my glare back on the lead man.
He meets my gaze, nonchalant, and shrugs. “You’re like one of the guys. We pull shit like this all the time. Keeps life interesting.”
“Interesting? This is entertaining for you? Were you all in on this?” My voice has never been this pitchy but I can’t seem to calm down.
“Come on, Lexi. You have to admit it’s pretty fucking funny.” Austin chuckles and leans back in his seat. Iz joins in on the laughter but it’s all I can do to not slap the merriment off their stupid faces.
“You all are assholes! I’ve been buying underwear at every fucking stop.”
“You can have them back now.” Trent’s lips pull in an apologetic frown.
I shake my head. “Throw them in the trash. I don’t want them. You sick bastards.” I stomp over to the kitchen and pull the lid off the pan at the stove. All that remains is maybe a spoonful of noodles. Idiots didn’t even save me dinner. I slam down the lid with a clang and take five full breaths before turning to face the table. My voice drops so low I almost frighten myself. “Never. Mess. With. Me. You all better sleep with one eye open.”