Daddy's RockStar Friends

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Daddy's RockStar Friends Page 7

by Amanda Horton


  Officers led Cole, Jersey, and Rory into the conference room. It wasn’t the usual room, but since Tobias wanted to speak to them at once, the officers put us in this larger room. The only proviso was that the officers had to handcuff the rockers to their chairs; which they did not enjoy. Too damn bad.

  The door shut us in, and two stalwarts of the police force stood guard outside.

  “When are we getting out of here?” said Jersey. He rattled his cuffs to drive home the point.

  “Yeah, what are we paying you for?” growled Cole.

  Rory’s lips upturned into a grimace.

  “The judge warned you—”started Tobias. I laid my hand on his arm to stop him. He was right. I had this, and staring at the scuffed-up reprobates stirred a fire in me that wasn’t sexual. Mostly.

  Is it wrong to get hot when the men you’ve been fooling around have cuts and bruises that announce they’ve been at battle? I found the dirt smudges on Jersey’s face entrancing. Cole’s bluish shiner made me wince, but it had a certain cachet that aroused my inner cavewoman. Rory’s road burn from contact with my driveway’s gravel made my stomach flutter.

  I must be sick.

  Or horny.

  Or both.

  God help me.

  “You are not paying us for rescuing you from jail, but to make your antics endearing to the public,” I said acidly.

  “Baby,” said Cole. “Don’t be mean.”

  “Baby? Get your head out of your pants, Cole Kane. You can’t expect me to salvage your reputation every single time you screw up. What were you guys thinking?”

  “Obviously, all we were thinking about is how fine you are,” said Jersey.

  Tobias cleared his throat in warning.

  “Focus,” Tobias growled. “We’ve got real problems to solve, and it’s not where you’ll get your dick wet next.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking like a lawyer or a man who saw these three as rivals for my affection. But it was my job to get this train to crazy town on track.

  “Seriously, Tobias and I discussed whether or not to leave you in jail. It might make good press. I can see it now.” I drew a huge arc in the air with my hand. “We’ll call the concert Work Release. The fans will eat it up.”

  “Work Release,” snorted Rory. “Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Actually, it was Attorney Marshall’s.”

  “Attorney Marshall,” Cole said as his eyes narrowed. “I thought he offered legal advice.”

  “Oh he does,” I said in a breezy voice. “And other things—too.”

  “Like what?” snarled Cole.

  “Like none of your business what,” said Tobias. The edge in his voice could cut glass.

  The two men stared each other down, and I swore under my breath. This was not the time for another blowout. Jersey seemed to sense that too and offered up a question.

  “And how do you propose we get ready for this concert?” said Jersey.

  “We’ll work with your individual bands while the three of you contemplate the seriousness of the shit you’ve generated.”

  “And then we’re supposed to get on stage and play like we are ready?” Jersey was incredulous.

  “You know your songs, don’t you?”

  “Screw that, Jacine,” said Jersey. “That’s dreck. I won’t know the marks on the stage and the sound check will suck. No.”

  “What can we do? It’s not like I’m your mother and can put you in your rooms. So maybe I’ll have to let the police do it.”

  “Screw it,” said Jersey. “Then I won’t go on stage.”

  “I kinda like the idea of you being mommy,” said Cole. “Can I be your dirty boy?”

  “Shut up!” said Jersey and Rory together.

  “You’re right, Attorney Marshall,” I said as I stood to leave. “They can’t behave themselves. We’ll leave them here.”

  “You can’t do that,” protested Jersey. “I’ll get another lawyer.”

  “You can do that,” said Marshall as he stood too. “But since I filed as attorney of record, not until we go to the arraignment and see the judge where you can fire me properly. And then you’ll have to get a new lawyer, and the trial will wait on that.”

  “Bastard,” muttered Rory.

  “He’s a lawyer,” I said easily. “That’s what we pay him for. Come along, Tobias. I’m starving. Perhaps you can take me to dinner.”

  Tobias’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion.

  “Wait!” said Jersey. “What do you want from us?”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “One. Stop hitting on each other.”

  “Fine,” said Cole.

  “Not a problem,” said Jersey.

  “Two. Stop hitting on me.” This last was Tobias’s suggestion as a way to reduce conflict between the three. Reluctantly, I agreed, because he was right. This was the smart course.

  “Wait, baby,” said Rory. “That’s a low blow.”

  “I’m not your baby, Rory. No more than anyone else in this room is.”

  “Now I can see you are peckish, darling,” said Cole. “Get me out of this wrist jewelry, and I’ll show you a good time.”

  I sighed. “Let’s go, Tobias.”

  “Stop,” said Cole. “I’ll agree. On one condition. That lawyer man keeps his mitts off you, too.”

  “Now wait a minute,” grumbled Tobias.

  “No. He’s right,” I said. “This is supposed to be a business relationship. And we should keep it that way.”

  Tobias looked distinctly unhappy, but I could see that if Tobias made a play for me, all our plans would disintegrate. I leveled my gaze at the reprobates. “If we have an agreement, Attorney Marshall has papers for you to sign.”

  “What papers,” said Rory narrowing his eyes.

  “Bail-bond papers.”

  “Wait?” said Jersey. “You got us bonded out before all this nonsense?”

  “It’s a misdemeanor, boys. Attorney Marshall worked his magic. But we won’t get you out until you sign the papers. And if you don’t co-operate, Tobias might lose them.”

  “Sneaky,” said Cole.

  “Manipulative,” said Jersey.

  “Fucking brilliant,” said Rory.

  “I like sneaky in a woman,” said Cole. “It keeps me on my toes.”

  “Enough,” I said with exasperation. “There are also contracts for the concert, with provisions that should any of you violate the terms of your release or the provisions in the contract, you’ll, a.) forfeit your share of the profits, and b.) hold Alexander and Wells harmless from any action arising from your behavior. Is that clear?”

  “Damn,” said Cole. “Do you have any whips, or do I need to buy some for you?”

  “Shut-up!” said Jersey and Rory in chorus.

  “Do I have your agreement, gentlemen? All of you?” I glanced pointedly at Tobias, whose jaw set but he nodded.

  “Yes,” said Jersey. “We agree.”

  “Good,” I said. “See you all later.”

  “Wait?” said Cole. “Where are you going?”

  “To visit my father in the hospital.” I waved my hand and in sheer meanness wiggled my ass. Every one of them deserved it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jersey

  A bottle of Jack Daniels is cold fucking comfort when the woman you want won’t heat your bed. I tipped my bottle to my guest’s glass to refill it and then to mine.

  “Why are we drinking this?” my guest said wincing as he took a sip of the whiskey. “It’s like fire.”

  I rechecked the bottle. I had grabbed the cinnamon version, the fire whiskey. It wasn’t exactly for sipping.

  “Sorry.” I pulled a can of coke from the cooler at my chair and chucked it at him. “Mix that in.”

  He caught the can with a smooth flick of his wrist but set it on the table next to him.

  “The depth of your sophistication astounds me.”

  I grunt. He’s as unhappy as I am, but it does no good to whine.

&
nbsp; It’s been two weeks since we got out of jail but we might as well have stayed behind bars because the paperwork Jacine had us sign was the better prison. What she didn’t tell us was that in those contracts we agreed to go nowhere but rehearsals, talk shows, and promo events until the actual concert. So if I wasn’t working, I was sitting here at the pool of my house, staring at the damned Hollywood Hills.

  My phone rang, and with surprise, I see it was Kane.

  “What the hell?”

  “I’m sick of this shit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We should have stayed in jail.”

  “What’s your real problem, Kane? It’s not your abiding love of incarceration.”

  “She won’t fucking see me.”

  “That was the deal.”

  “But I didn’t think she meant it.”

  “She meant it.”

  “I bet she’s seeing lawyer man.”

  “She’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s sitting right here drinking with me.”

  “Hello, Kane,” called out Marshall. He tipped his glass toward me as if Kane could see it.

  “How the hell? I thought that we were supposed to stay apart.”

  “You, me and Holmes aren’t to see each other. He doesn’t have that restriction.”

  “What the hell?”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I told you, drinking.”

  “That stupid cinnamon crap you like, no doubt.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I had some.”

  “Go bother someone else, Kane.”

  “Dude. I’ve been a royal ass.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “I sent her flowers. She sent them back.” His voice is bitterness and despair, an even worse combination than Fire Jack and coke. But what the hell can I do? I have the same problem.

  I raked the top of my head with my hands. I don’t need this. It’s hard enough for me sitting here, knowing she’s in the same city and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it. The day in the hospital on that conference room table uncorked the genie. I tasted her and couldn’t get that sweet taste out of my mouth.

  There wasn’t enough whiskey in the world to do that.

  “Jeezus, you must be desperate to use me as your priest.”

  “I am. I love her. I can’t think of anything but her.”

  I’d listen to enough of Kane’s on-the-road confessions of how he loved this one or that, but he’d never fixated on a single woman this long.

  This was serious shit.

  My phone rang again, and it was Holmes.

  “Hang on, its Holmes.”

  I put Kane on hold, and let him cool his jets while I talked to Rory. At least he wasn’t going to do the pining away nonsense.

  “My chi is in serious trouble.”

  I groaned.

  “Not you, too.”

  “What?”

  “I got Kane on hold whining about how he misses Jacine. Marshall is here drinking my whiskey singing the same song.”

  “Am not.”

  “Dude, I can hear your thoughts.”

  Marshall scoffed and tossed down the whiskey from his glass in one shot. He reached for the bottle of Jack, and I passed it to him.

  “Misery likes company,” said Rory.

  “That’s rather unoriginal for a man who writes lyrics that makes women’s panties melt.”

  “Merge the calls. I want to talk to all of you anyway.”

  I do and put the call on speaker. I set the phone in the fancy docking port that doubles as a speaker unit.

  “So talk,” I said.

  “Kane, you there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I’ve been thinking.”

  “That’s a danger sign,” quipped Kane. It was a good thing his house was a good three miles from mine because I could do something against the contract if I spied his wisecracking grin.

  “Shut up, Kane,” said Holmes. “Look, the one thing we can all agree on is that we want the same woman.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sucks for us.”

  “I’ve been reading that in Tibet there is like this shortage of women—”

  “So, sucks for them.”

  “Shut up and listen, because I don’t like this any better than you do, but it might be the only solution to our problem.”

  “Okay, I'm listening. You listening Kane, Marshall?”

  Marshall's eyes glittered in the lights that lit my veranda. He nodded.

  “Yeah,” said Kane.

  “So what they do is that brothers share a wife.”

  “Share?”

  “Yeah, like polygamy.”

  “It’s called polyandry,” said Marshall, “when there are several men and one woman.”

  “Yeah,” said Holmes. “Polyandry.”

  “Wait,” said Kane. “You want to sister-wife this situation?” His voice was incredulous, and I didn’t blame him. For one thing, I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “Sister-wife?” I said.

  “It’s a reality show on television. There is one man who has four wives.”

  “They can’t all be his legal wives.”

  “No,” said Marshall. “Only one is. But they had wedding ceremonies and call the relationships spiritual unions.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this, Marshall.”

  “I’ve had some time on my hands.”

  That was the problem we all had, which led to Jack Daniels and impossible conversations.

  “And what?” I said. “He has sex with all of them?”

  “He must,” said Kane. “They have eighteen kids between all of them.”

  “He,” said Marshall. “Divides his time equally between them. They have four different houses on the same street, and he goes to a different house each night.”

  “That’s just fucking educational. But I don’t see how that helps us.”

  “Don’t you?” said Holmes. “Think about it. All of us are on the road half the year, and Mr. Attorney hasn’t poked his head out of his office in so long that he barely knows what a woman is.”

  “Hey,” protested Marshall.

  “You have to admit,” I said, “you’ve let things slide on that front. A rich, good-looking guy like you should have been married and divorced three different times by now.”

  “Granted.”

  “So back to the conversation," I said. "You think that we should take turns with Jacine?”

  “Yeah. It makes sense. We are all busy people, and none of us has had the time to commit to a single relationship. Maybe part-time would work? Think of it as serial monogamy but without messy divorces. We just set our schedules to rotate who is in town when.”

  “Except, I’m always in town,” said Marshall.

  “Not to be indelicate, old man,” said Kane. “But you do work like a demon. I’ve called you what—three times in the last week at eleven at night and you are in your office. What kind of life is that for Jacine?”

  “Maybe it’d change if I had someone to come home to.”

  “That sound like a river in Egypt to me,” said Holmes.

  “What?”

  “Denial,” I said. “Geezus, haven’t you ever been in rehab?”

  “No.” He stared at me with disapproval. Clearly, he thought that I, Kane and Holmes and our rock star ways weren’t good enough for Jacine.

  But Holmes pressed on. “We all get what we want, and Jacine isn’t left home alone prey for whoever else would make moves on her.”

  “I doubt,” said Marshall, “that Jacine thinks of herself as prey.”

  “You forget something,” I said. “There is a good reason that Jacine doesn’t allow us to see each other. We don’t get along well. How could we share a woman?”

  “Didn’t we work that out in the jail?”

  “Yeah, before I realized that Kane w
anted to make moves on my woman.”

  “Well, if you have that attitude," said Rory, "then we’ll never get anywhere, except the next jail when one of us takes a shot at the other.”

  “Holmes has a point,” said Marshall. “You’ll end up killing each other if you try to compete for her. And I tell you, she won’t like it one bit.”

  “What makes you the expert?” I said.

  “I’ve watched her grow up. She’s always been independent. No one is going to pin her down. Plus, she saw enough shit when her parents broke up it soured her ideas on marriage.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m talking out of school here. If she wants to share that with you, she will. All I’m saying is, she’ll shut us all out if we push her too hard.”

  “Like she did the past couple of weeks,” said Kane thoughtfully.

  “Yes, exactly,” said Marshall. He settled his glass down with a clink on the glass table by his chair and stood. “But really, Holmes. I don’t see how this idea of yours will work. I don’t intend to share Jacine with anyone. Like I said, I’m always in town.”

  With that, Tobias Marshall sauntered out toward the driveway as if he held all the cards.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jacine

  “Dad,” I said as I strolled out of my room. He sat on the sofa reading a book. His knee jiggled not from nervousness but inactivity. My father did not like his enforced recovery after surgery. The past couple weeks have been challenging for him and me because he tested his limits and my patience every day.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  He tossed the book aside and sighed, but then glanced at me and smiled.

  “Don’t you look beautiful.”

  Tonight, finally, my torture will be over because the big concert happens in just a few hours. And with the help of my stylist, I pulled off a look that was LA casual appropriate for a rock concert that I wouldn’t sweat to death in. She found these incredible black satin skinny jeans in a vintage shop and added ebony thigh-high, spike-heeled boots, and a black leather biker’s jacket. Under the leather, I sported a “Work Release” promo tee with which she took liberties. She ripped out the collar and cut a line straight down that resulted in the flaps forming a “v” that parted and strategically displayed the top of my black lace bra.

 

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