by T L Dasha
“What’s going on? Where’s my dad?” My voice shook. Please tell me all of that was just a dream. It had to be. If it wasn’t…
The detective’s frown scared me even more. “Your dad he… He’s gone. He died protecting you.”
“He…” My lips were trembling, as the dam holding back my tears threatened to break. The heart monitor started beeping a little faster. “Th-then, where’s my mom?”
His expression grew darker still. He shook his head. “Do you remember the accident?”
“We were driving up Mulholland. One of dad’s coworkers… he showed up at the door and… What happened to my mom?!” I wasn’t in the mood for show and tell. I needed answers.
“We couldn’t protect her.” Detective Franz spoke softly. “But we can still protect you.”
###
Roland Finley
~Watch me Carve my way out of this Heeeellll~
Dread Theory won this one. The elimination round confirmed it, but I already knew it the moment I saw Lance tearing up as he screamed that final line. It was a song about renouncing his upbringing in favor of carving a new future, independent of his father. Or something like that. That’s what he told Drake while they were in the spotlight.
But we took second this time, so I couldn’t really complain. This was an endurance race, not a sprint. We didn’t have to win them all. We just needed to keep the leader in sight until the end.
Jay picked me up at the studio again, and this time we finally did get to go to dinner. We were downtown, not far from the ALIVE office, where all of the buildings towered into the skyline. Jay handed off his car to the valet, and offered me his arm with a smile as we went inside Skye Bar.
“Reservations for McClintock.” Jay addressed a formally dressed host, standing with a leather bound waiting list on his podium. The host looked me over, lifting an eyebrow at my torn jeans and my leather jacket, leaving me feeling even more self-conscious than I usually did being out with Jay in public.
“Right this way.” The host led us through the dining floor, an expansive room of red carpets and slick black tables encased in walls of glass windows. Empty tables had cloth napkins folded into origami-esque art pieces. I’m glad I didn’t have to wash and fold cloth napkins at Meli’s. Seemed like a pain in the ass.
We followed the host up a spiral staircase, leading to a circular private lounge, with red velvet couches, smooth black tables, and gentle track lighting that set the mood. It was bright enough to see your date, but dark enough so the sliding glass door, leading to a balcony that overlooked the city, would offer views instead of a reflection.
“Your wine will be up shortly.” Our host turned on his heel and headed back down stairs, leaving us alone. Jay took a seat on the couch and motioned for me to sit next to him. I sank into a plushness that could only be described as the cushion of the gods.
“I guess when you have a lot of money, even going to dinner becomes an ordeal.” I said, examining one of the three forks on the table. Why would anyone need three forks?
“You get used to it.” He placed his arm around my shoulder. The soft expression on his face eased my tension. “It becomes a requirement for networking. It’s easy to butter someone up when they know you’re spending a couple grand just for the table.”
I choked on my own saliva just hearing that. “A couple grand?”
Jay just smiled and patted me on the head.
“So does this mean you’re trying to butter me up?” I nestled into his arm, and he pulled me in a little tighter.
“I have to keep you well lubricated somehow.” Jay leaned over and tapped a peck on my forehead. “It’s a touch pretentious, but I figured you deserved something nice. To ease the pain of being first loser again and all.”
I snorted. “You take entirely too much pleasure in watching me lose.”
He looked me firmly in the eye. “Or maybe I just take entirely too much pleasure in watching you get back up.” The lack of mockery in his voice was almost confusing. But I kind of liked it.
A waiter came up with a bottle of wine and spent a solid fifteen minutes explaining how some grape travelled half way across the world to merge with some other grape to create the unique taste of something or other. I had never had wine before, so none of it meant much to me.
He poured us each a glass, then to his apparent horror, I took a sip. Jay spun the wine around the glass then sniffed it first, to demonstrate the secret handshake of fancy wine drinking. Embarrassment painted my cheeks as the waiter walked away.
“Ugh, this is so weird.” I finally let loose after finishing a plate of hors d’oeuvres. The food was incredible, but I couldn’t get comfortable. “I thought having a lot of money was supposed to mean loud night clubs and cocaine. Not holding your breath while the servers judge you.”
Jay chuckled. “I’m sure you judged your customers just as much working at the diner. The only difference was there, no one cared. Here, the judgement is part of the experience.” He polished off his glass of wine. “Though if you’d like cocaine, I’m sure that’s around.”
“No, I think I’m all good on that.” I shook my head to emphasize the point.
With one more ruffling of my hair, Jay stood up and walked over to the balcony door, nodding for me to follow. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
I followed him outside, and immediately felt better. The cool air of a seventy degree summer night brushed my face, and the twinkling lights of the city took the place of stars in the night sky.
“Much better!” I leaned over the metal railing. “I thought I was going to suffocate in all that smug.” Jay stood behind me, pressing his chest to my back, and placing a hand on the rail on both sides of me. He placed a kiss in my hair.
“I should have figured this wouldn’t be your scene.”
“Not. At. All.”
“I thought I’d make up for last week and take you on a proper date, but I may have been better off bringing you home and making you dinner myself.” I could feel his lips pull into a smile behind me.
A proper date? I never got tired of hearing him use those words. A proper date. Even though we had slept together, and even though this was becoming a regular thing, somehow in the back of my mind, I still worried we might be ‘just hanging out.’ I had no idea when I might cross the fine line from being a booty call to a relationship.
“You’ve got nothing to make up for.” I turned to face him, the small of my back against the rail, still encased in his arms. I reached up and kissed him, then frowned as I pulled away. “Wait, so if we’re going on ‘proper dates,’ does that mean… you’re my… uh…” Why did the word ‘boyfriend’ sound so weird in my mind? Jay doesn’t seem like the type to be anyone’s boyfriend. I felt like a teenage girl just thinking it.
“Your partner?” Jay half smiled but broke eye contact.
“Yeah.”
He pulled back and put his hands in the pockets of his pinstriped slacks. Did I say something wrong?
“I-I mean, I guess it would be weird to think we’re exclusive this soon. Since we haven’t even officially talked about it or anything. I’m sure you’ve got lots of-”
“No. There’s only you.” Jay interrupted, his eyes back on my face. He raised an eyebrow. “My attention span isn’t that fickle.”
“Oh.” There were so many ways to interpret that statement that excited me, even more that made my heart race, and even more that left me confused. Was he still just messing with me? Could his feelings really be that straightforward and simple? Was I really that special?
Jay cocked his head back, looking down on me. “Are you still seeing other people?”
“To ‘still’ see other people, I think I had to be seeing other people in the first place.” I laughed, trying to ease my own tension. He nodded, agreeing so matter-of-factly that it was almost a little offensive.
“That might change as you gain more fans.” Jay’s expression was unreadable. “Fame can change a person.”
I shook my head. “I’m pretty stubborn. Plus, I don’t know that any amount of fame could make me want to get roofied again. I’d be a lot more worried that you…” I stopped myself to take a deep breath. Just say it, or it’s going to eat at you forever. “…Worried that you’d get bored of me. I don’t really fit in. I’m nowhere near your level.” My lips curled upwards. “Well, not yet.”
Jay reached out a hand to ruffle my hair. The gesture felt affectionate, but his eyes were somber and serious. “There aren’t a lot of people who interest me.” His voice was low, but cool. “You’re blissfully unaware. Naively positive. An idiot, probably… But in a good way. It’s because you don’t fit in at all that I find you refreshing.”
“And?” I gave him a cheesy grin. These backhanded compliments were the closest I’ve ever been to Jay McClintock saying nice things about me, and I wasn’t ready to wake up from that dream yet.
He moved his body back against mine, and ran his hand through my hair until he was cradling the back of my neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on my lips, teasing me with the taste of his desire for me. He trailed his other hand down my back, sliding down to my waist, then moving around to the front of my pants. I let out a yelp as he gripped me firmly.
“And you’re an excellent lay.” Jay smirked down at me with devilish flair. I felt an overwhelming need to kiss that smile right off his face.
He was way ahead of me, as he tangled his tongue with mine again. He started undoing my belt buckle, while he distracted my mouth. I gripped his shoulders, trying to slow him down.
“There’s no tinted glass up here. We’re completely exposed.” My cheeks flushed as I looked up into his eyes.
“Let them watch.” He finished undoing my belt, and slid down my zipper. I was already firmly at attention. My arousal twitched as he brushed his fingers along it, freeing it into the open air. I braced myself against the railing with my hands, my heart beating harder than ever. My mind was hyperaware of every honking car and hollering passerby below. Our waiter would return with dinner at any moment. Shivers ran down my body as Jay took hold of me with a warm palm.
“Does the thought of having an audience turn you on this much?” He whispered in my ear while his thumb circled the head of my cock. “Do a good job, and maybe you’ll get my vote.” His lips found my neck, while his hand teased its way up and down my shaft. I covered my mouth to stifle my moans, trying not to draw additional attention.
Jay pulled away and grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand from my mouth and placing it back on the rail. He shook his head.
“You have a beautiful voice. They should get to hear it.”
“O-of course.” I was too nervous to look him in the eye. He smiled down at me as he undid his belt and slid the leather from its loops.
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was unexpectedly gentle. I watched as he slowly slid his thumb along the entire length of the belt, stretching it out before me.
I swallowed, my imagination only making me harder.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Jay turned me around, and pulled his belt tightly around my wrists. He bent me over the railing, giving me a clear view of the streets below, as crowded and lively as they always were in Los Angeles. I heard Jay rustling for something in his coat behind me. “Not a bad view.”
“Y-yeah-” I barely managed a word before I felt the cold sensation of Jay’s finger working its way inside of me, wet and slick with lube. He slowly moved along my cavity, then pushed a second finger in. I tried to distract myself by keeping my gaze fixated on the sidewalk some twenty floors below. Jay didn’t like sharing my attention.
I could hear the sound of him squirting more lube into his hand. I could hear him sliding it over his skin.
He gripped my manhood again and forcefully pushed into me. “Shit- Jay!” I instinctively tried to cover my mouth again, but the leather belt that bound my wrists didn’t give in the slightest. Every movement forced whimpers and moans through my vocal chords. I bit down on my lip, trying to stifle my voice. But I couldn’t keep it all in. Someone was definitely going to hear me.
Fuck it. I can play this game, too.
“You feel so fucking good!” I called back he drove his entire length into me. A woman walking by glanced up those twenty floors. I didn’t care. There was no way she could have recognized me from that distance, but her knowing eyes gave me even more of a rush. She started walking a little more quickly. I cocked a smile. “Harder.”
“Ask and you shall receive.” His voice hovered over me as he pounded in, faster and more forcefully now. I fidgeted in my restraints, no way to grab hold of anything to distract my senses. Every reach of my mind and my nerves were filled with the sensation of Jay’s hard cock.
His hand continued to work me to the cusp of orgasm, while my ass worked him to his. The moment I was about to give in, Jay jerked me upright, pulling my back against his chest, and turning my head to take my mouth. He pushed his tongue between my lips as he came inside of me. I moaned into his mouth as I came on the railing.
He stayed inside me for a few extra breaths as we both collected ourselves. His hands moved limply down my body, as he pulled out.
He untied my hands, then hugged me from behind.
“You’re the only one I want, Roland.” Jay spoke quietly into my ear. “Now get dressed. Dinner’s here.”
My face hit a new shade of fire as I watched the waiter scuttling off to the stairs. I fumbled for my pants, trying to get myself in order, but the damage had already been done. Jay laughed as he turned to the glass doorway to go back inside.
… Worth it.
Chapter 12
Roland Finley
The next few rounds went by in a flash. We won one. Dread Theory won most. We ended up in the “safe” mid-pack one week, when the theme asked for a song about our ‘Craziest Spring Break.’ Somehow, a song about being too broke to do anything didn’t vibe with the judges quite like songs full of island vibes or ending up in a jail in Tijuana.
But whether I was first place or sixth, as long as I was still in the running, I was confident I’d make it to the end. From the way the audience smiled along with my lyrics, and the way their feet danced along with Logan’s guitar solos, even when we made mistakes, I felt like America was on my side.
And Jay… well, he never missed a chance to bend me over his desk, his bed, the kitchen table. Whether we were on his couch or in a public restroom (bathroom sex IS every bit as hot as it is in the movies, for the record. Sorry, Logan)... well, to say I totally understood everything about our relationship would be disingenuous. But when someone makes you feel that good and that wanted, having clear definition start to seem unimportant.
We kept our relationship quiet, but we were together every chance we got.
It wasn’t until we were down to the last four bands, when everything started to change.
Filming started with Drake Morgan standing on the stage.
“It only gets harder as we near the end of our time here with each of our competitors, but only one band can take the crown in the fifth annual Battle of the Bands. Not only is safety from elimination off the table for our winners, but this week will be a double elimination! Only two bands can make it into the final round, and it’s up to you, the voters, to decide who those finalists will be.”
“Now, in honor of this exciting final chapter, our next challenge will be introduced by a special guest. Tonight, I’d like to welcome to the stage the one and only Brad Garza!”
Holy shit.
The Brad Garza walked onto the stage under a dazzling light show, dressed in stylishly torn jeans and a thin T-shirt that didn’t even pretend to hide a single muscle. An elaborate sleeve of tattoos ran down to the black beads around his wrist, projecting a slight edge in all of his easy-going confidence and charisma. He waved to the crowd as he approached Drake, then the camera zoomed in on his face, close enough to see the reflection of purple lights glistening in his pitch b
lack eyes.
“It’s been too long, Los Angeles!”
My mouth fell open. The audience lost their minds.
“It’s really him.” Logan sat next to me in the backstage waiting room as we watched the feed. “I’ve never seen anything better than a B-lister on the last few seasons of this show. How the hell did they get Brad Fucking Garza?”
I don’t know if I was more speechless because I’d idolized the man for years, because I knew Jay was one of his long time writers, or if it was because my overactive imagination could practically feel Jay pushing into me as I recalled Brad’s seductive voice harmonizing with my moans. I fought back a blush.
Brad flashed a multi-billion dollar smile that contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. “It feels great to be here, Drake. I remember what it was like when I was in this position, desperately hoping someone would take a chance on me, and I’m honored to get to usher in a star for the next generation.”
“We certainly have quite a lot of talent this year.” Drake nodded in approval.
“Absolutely. But if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that talent alone will only get you so far. An artist needs to have the tenacity to fall a thousand times and get up a-thousand-and-one. And I’ve come to understand that not even I can do it all on my own. I’ve worked with friends, enemies, and everything in between, and sometimes the only person who can pick you up that thousand and first time will be someone you don’t even like.” Brad gave a cheeky wink to the camera, though I’m not sure who it was intended for. “It’s because of this that the final challenge is going to be about overcoming tragedy, whatever that means to our bands. And they’re going to do it together. The last song will be a collaboration!”
“Oh fuck no…” I heard Lance grumble from the corner of the room. The studio audience cheered with much more vigor than any of us did backstage. The dread was palpable. We all glanced around at each other, sizing up who we did or didn’t want to be paired up. Would we get to choose? I could handle pairing up with Scattered High, a ska/punk trio who occasionally stood in the spotlight with us. I don’t know if I’d mesh well with Bleeding Hate, the metal band who made it into the top four. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad thing to actually spend some time with some of the other competitors though. I’d been spending so much time with Jay, I’d barely gotten to know the rest of the cast. Just so long as I don’t get stuck with Dread Theory…