I send a quick message to Dylan, and then rummage through my clothes, looking for something more presentable than black leggings and a ratty t-shirt.
We’ll be there by midnight at the latest. I read Brooke’s last text and slide my phone in my back pocket. I hop on stage, slinging the guitar strap over my shoulder. Jesse is already behind the drums.
It’s a Thursday night at Au Fait, which means it’s not busy. We like to take advantage of this by having impromptu practice sessions. It starts with good intentions, but usually ends with one of us shitfaced, and letting randoms from the crowd try their shot at karaoke.
Who wouldn’t want to sing karaoke with a live band backing them?
Needless to say, it’s a bloody good time.
I want to get Brooke up on stage again. I’ve never seen a woman look more beautiful than she did, sitting beside me, her slender hands playing the guitar, and her voice filling my ears.
She has become my constant distraction. Quite the mystery, that one. Her words say platonic, yet her body is saying something else entirely. Either she’s not calling me and telling me she wants to be friendly or she’s grinding herself against my cock, begging for more.
“Please Dylan,” she’d said. Her voice breathy, her eyes glazed over, and her hips restless against mine. Fuck, I would have given her anything.
If it wasn’t for Pierre and his horrible timing, I think I might have shagged her on his desk. Christ, who am I kidding? I would have shagged her. I was far too wild with need. All she had to do was say the words.
“She coming?” Jesse asks.
“Yeah, and Lindsay is with her.”
“Fantastic.”
“Is who coming?” Alex questions as he hops on stage, his brows rising in curiosity.
“This model you’ll probably recognize and a hot, little bird Dylan is smitten over. I think he’s in love, mate. Didn’t even take the bait when Lucie practically shoved her tits in his face last night,” Jesse adds.
Lucie, Christ, she practically ruined it for me.
She’s a sweet girl, really, but a little on the free side if you know what I mean. Pretty face, nice body, but she’s not the kind of girl I’d take home to my mum. We’ve shagged countless times, but it was purely physical with her.
Lucie was a means to an end—a way to blow off steam. I’m like any single, red-blooded male, but I’m not a complete sod. I’ve never been anything but straight with the women I’ve fucked in the past. That’s exactly how it was with Lucie. I never led her on. Never let her think we were anything but occasional sex. I ended the shag fests once I began to get an idea of just how free she was.
Before you take that the wrong way, let me add, I never call women sluts or whores or any other degrading name choice regarding their sexual promiscuity. I don’t think badly of a woman who happens to like sex and happens to be good at getting it. But one thing I’m not keen on is being with a woman who’s stupid and irresponsible when it comes to safe sex.
Over a year ago, I found out Lucie had crossed that boundary, diving right into “you’re being a complete idiot” territory. An old mate from uni came to visit Jesse and me, and to cut a long story short, she ended up fucking him in the bathroom at some dive bar in Montmartre, sans condom. After he told me about it the next morning, I made a point to get tested—don’t worry, mum, I’m clean!—and never touched her again.
“It’s been forever since I’ve shagged Lucie. And even if Brooke hadn’t been with me last night, there’s no way I would have taken her bait. No. Fucking. Way.” I shudder from the mere idea of it.
Jesse laughs and looks at Alex. “Anyway, I can’t blame him for being so infatuated with this girl. Bloody gorgeous. Fantastic body—all legs with an ass that would make a bloke weep.”
Alex chuckles.
“Piss off, Jessica,” I toss at my brother. He’s such a bastard, but everything Jesse said is true. I’m just not a fan of hearing him talk about Brooke’s ass. I have a feeling my inner caveman would see red hearing anyone comment on her gorgeous body.
Jesse smirks, nonplussed. “And she’s tiny, like a little fairy. I bet she’s got my big bro fantasizing about shagging Tinkerbell.”
Now, that has me laughing. Little Wing definitely has pixie-like qualities. She’s tiny enough to put in my pocket, yet has the most mouth-watering curves. The girl could bring me to my knees with one seductive glance. Hell, just picturing her biting her lip has my dick responding.
Jesse tells Alex about Lindsay—in great detail—and both are gabbing like hens. The conversation revolves around risqué photos she did for a popular clothing line. I haven’t seen them, but apparently, I’m in the minority. My brother says the entire world has seen them.
There’s no denying Lindsay is beautiful, but I have zero interest in searching for those pictures. Even when Jesse tells me I need to see them, I brush it off, bored with the entire conversation.
But if those photos had Brooke in them, I’d be pulling out my phone and utilizing Google’s search skills. Thank Christ that’s not the case. I’m insanely jealous at the thought of an entire world full of randy men seeing her in such an intimate state.
What can I say? Little Wing brings out the possessive side in me.
Knowing their conversation could go on for hours, I interrupt them when they start talking about Lindsay’s tits. “Are we going to play? Or should I head back to the bar while you two prattle on?”
“Christ, let’s play before Dy-lana’s pussy starts to hurt.”
I ignore him, focused on getting down to business. “Let’s start with Moan, and see if we can work out the riffs around the chorus. Every time we play it, I feel like something is off.”
Brooke and Lindsay walk in the door while we’re finishing up. Even though Zach isn’t here to give his input, I’m positive he’ll be thrilled with the changes we’ve made.
The girls find a seat and Bruno waits on them from behind the bar, a little too excitedly in my opinion.
“One more time? Then we get pissed?” Alex asks.
“All right,” Jesse agrees, setting his sticks on his lap to finish off his Guinness.
We roll through Moan one more time. I manage to stay focused, but don’t miss that Brooke’s eyes are on me the entire time. And like a magnet, once we’re done, all of my attention moves to her.
“Little Wing,” I say into the mic.
Her eyes go wide for a beat, but then her lips morph into a shy smile. Brooke has about a thousand smiles. Shy, carefree, curious, unsure—it’s an endless list, and I dig every single one of them.
“We’ve just finished up, and plan on drinking. Unless, you want to get up here and grace us with that voice of yours?” I raise an eyebrow, curious to see her response. Most of the time, she’s reserved, but occasionally, this sassiness comes out. I’m a fan of both, but praying for the sassy—hand on her hip, brow arched, and cherry lips ready to put me in my place.
A Thursday night at Au Fait is by no means hopping. The crowd is scarce. Mostly middle-aged regulars fill the tables, and everyone is well on their way to glazed eyes and hangovers. As I glance around the room, I note the blatant stares Brooke and Lindsay receive. The wankers couldn’t be more obvious if they took their peckers out and started jerking. Can’t say I blame them, Brooke and Lindsay are quite the pair. They’d stand out anywhere, but in this mostly, beer-guts and balding crowd, they might as well be sitting on their bar stools naked.
Brooke stands up, giving me her full attention. “I wouldn’t want to steal the show,” she says, a brow arched in my direction.
I chuckle. “I highly doubt doing Mariah covers could steal the show, love. Besides, seems you’ve already stolen it by walking through the door.” I nod towards one of my father’s favorite regulars. “You’ve got Jimmy drooling over his pint. That’s a bloody accomplishment considering he’s usually one blink away from passing the fuck out.”
Jimmy mumbles a piss off, but his eyes never leave the girls. The r
est of the bar bursts into laughter and drunken hollers—most of them encouraging Brooke to get her cute ass on stage.
Damn, she’s gorgeous—long legs on display in cut-off jean shorts, old Chucks covering her tiny feet, and a sliver of her navel peeking out from underneath a shirt that reads, “Beam me up, Scotty, there’s no intelligent life down here.”
And don’t even get me started on the mess of blonde curls hanging past her shoulders. If they did a remake of the film Almost Famous, she could be a dead ringer for that American actress who played Penny Lane—minus the promiscuity and whole Band-Aid scenario.
Unless, she wants to be my Band-Aid, and then game on.
She’s still standing, and now a sassy hand rests on her hip. I’m taking this as a good sign.
“What do you say, Little Wing? This crowd is dying to hear you sing. Give the people what they want.”
Lindsay nudges her. “Get up there, hooker. Put the British bastard in his place.” She winks in my direction.
Brooke shakes her head with a laugh. She’s walking toward me, her gaze shooting daggers into my chest. She mouths, “Paybacks. Are. A. Bitch.”
I grin—wide and completely amused—more than willing to see her kind of payback.
Once she’s on stage, I introduce her to Alex.
“Dylan has told me wonderful things about you,” he tells her engagingly.
She beams. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
Brooke holds her hand out. Alex shakes his head, and without even asking, pulls her in for a big, tight hug, saying, “Handshakes are for business meetings and suits. Hugs are far more appropriate for this meet-and-greet, sweetheart.”
Perverted bastard.
Brooke giggles, taking it all in stride.
“And please, don’t hesitate to put this sod in his place.” He smirks at me over her shoulder, flashing an appreciative look, and mouths, “Bloody hell.”
He can shove his appreciation up his arse.
The hug lingers a few more beats than I like. Brooke steps away, laughing.
Jesse is beside her. “Good to see you, Tinkerbell.”
“Oh, hey there, arsehole, I didn’t see you back there. I guess you were the blur behind the drums.”
“You fucking know it!” he exclaims, pulling her in for a tight embrace. Jesse swings her around in a circle. Her long legs nearly kick me in the face.
I think I need new friends. And a new brother. I toss them both a less than friendly look and make a mental note to fuck with them later.
Once they’re done pawing at Brooke, they hop off stage and head for the bar.
She sits beside me. Her hand moves to my rib cage, and she pinches the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. “Christ, woman,” I mutter, holding my side.
“There’s more where that came from.” She points a finger in my direction. “And you’ve got some nerve getting me up here again. Good thing, Lindsay and I stopped at the bar across the street because of a sign she thought read half-priced shots. It wasn’t, but we drank anyway . . .” she pauses her rambling for a moment. A self-deprecating smile crosses her lips. “Liquid courage seems to be the only thing to get me on stage, especially in front of a crowd.”
I make a show of glancing around the room. Crowd is a generous word.
She waves a hand at me. “Oh, don’t be a dick. You know what I’m tryin’ to say.”
The word tryin’ tips me off. Brooke is tipsy. “Are you snookered, Little Wing?”
She nods in two slow movements. A lazy grin covers her mouth.
“Well, I have no desire to ruin your fun. Let’s use this liquid courage to our advantage. What are we playing?”
She snags her bottom lip with her teeth, mulling it over for a bit before her eyes light up. “I got it,” she says, hopping to her feet. “You mind if I use this?” she calls towards Alex, reaching for his guitar.
“Be my guest,” he encourages from the bar, holding his beer in the air.
Instead of sitting down, she moves her vacated bar stool out of the way and adjusts a mic to her height. Her confident movements—maybe just a tad on the drunk side—are so different from the anxious woman I saw the last time we were on stage together.
“Stand up,” she demands.
I do, grinning at her, completely entertained, and if I’m being honest, quite turned on by her self-assurance. Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can wear.
She moves my bar stool out of the way and scoots another mic in front of me, adjusting it to my height. I want to laugh at the fact that she’s playing the part of stagehand right now.
“Get your ass up here, Jesse!” she yells towards him.
His brow rises in surprise. He’s standing beside a seated Lindsay, who’s also watching Brooke with intrigue.
She motions towards him with impatient hands. “Seriously,” she voices, more like yells, into the mic. It screeches in response. A few patrons put their hands over their ears. She’s oblivious to it, too busy insisting Jesse returns to the stage. “Get your ass up here. We need your drums.”
He grins, sets his pint down, and strides towards us.
“Lindsay, you can come too. Oh, and bring your green hat!” She giggles at herself.
A few people in the bar stare at her, confused.
“It’s from Old School,” she explains into the mic.
No response.
“Will Ferrell?” she asks the crowd.
“You’re my boy blue!” Jimmy yells from his coveted table.
“My man!” She points towards him. “Your drinks are on me tonight, Jim-bo!”
Christ, she’s too much. If we didn’t have an audience, I’d pull her in my arms and kiss her breathless.
Lindsay joins us. “All right fuckers, what’s my part in this circus?”
“Your job is to sit on his lap.” Brooke points to my brother. “And help him with the drums.”
Jesse’s face lights up like Christmas “Bloody brilliant plan, Tinkerbell.” He pats his lap. “Come on, Linds. Our new manager is demanding you sit on my lap. She seems like a woman who won’t take no for an answer.”
She follows Brooke’s demands, glancing over at me with a grin on her face. Apparently, I’m not the only one amused by this.
“So, are we going to play or are you just going to invite more people up here?” I’m only half-joking. I think Brooke might invite the entire bar up on stage before we even start a song.
She flips me off.
I grin at her, chuckling.
Alex’s guitar is around her shoulders. Her fingers get adjusted to the chords. “All right, I’m going to start playing, and you guys join me.”
“Slow your roll, Tinkerbell. What song?” Jesse asks without lifting his eyes from Lindsay’s tits.
Brooke crinkles her nose. “You’ll find out once I start.”
I choke on a laugh. “We don’t even get a hint?”
“It’s an eighties song.”
“Really narrowing it down there.” Jesse chuckles behind me.
She sighs, annoyed. “It’s only the end song to one of the best eighties movies of all time. Does that answer your question?”
“Sincerely Yours, The Breakfast Club,” Lindsay chimes in, quoting the final line in the movie.
“Hell yes!” Brooke tosses her fist in the air, mimicking the legendary scene.
I think spontaneous, carefree Brooke might be my favorite human being ever. I’m half-tempted to throw her over my shoulder, sprint to my apartment, and have my wicked way with her.
“Drunk Brookie is the best!” Lindsay cackles.
Brooke grins. “Aw, I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only you, darling. Only you.”
She blows Lindsay a kiss, and then focuses her attention on Jesse and me. “Tell me you guys know the song?”
Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds?
Of course, I know that song. Everyone knows that song.
I give her an “Are you kidding m
e?” look and say, “All right, Little Wing, let’s do it. You lead us, and Jesse and I will fall in with you.”
With shoulders back and a confident glint in her eyes, her fingers strum the opening chords like a fucking pro. As she starts to sing, her angelic voice quiets everyone in the room.
Jesse and I follow her lead. I’ve only played with her twice, and both times, it just comes naturally. I wonder if she even realizes how talented she is.
I can vaguely hear Lindsay giggling behind me. My gaze stays on Brooke, refusing to see what’s happening by the drums. I’d guess Jesse is using her ass in his lap to his advantage.
But mostly, I’m too focused on the gorgeous woman singing beside me to notice anything else. Her eyes glance towards me. A playful smile crests her lips.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
I don’t join in, refusing to let my voice drown out the beauty of her sexy vocals. Her voice is grainy and soulful and smoky around the edges. It’s the kind of voice that shouldn’t be wasted. Her name should be in neon lights with thousands of fans screaming her name.
I’ve never paid attention to the lyrics of this song, but my ears hear every syllable passing her pretty lips. My mind dissects each word, and I can’t help but think, I’d let her tear me apart if it meant she’d put me back together in the end.
It’s well past two in the morning. Alex left around one with a red-head wrapped around his side. Not sure how he’s going to make his early flight to London in the morning, but that’s none of my business. He’ll be the one that has to deal with Zach if he misses it.
If it weren’t for Zach, our band wouldn’t have its shit together. He’s the sole force behind getting our name out there.
Au Fait usually closes its doors by half past one, but we decided to make an exception for Brooke and Lindsey. It also helps that they’ve drawn a crowd. Bruno propped the door open, letting the boisterous sounds from our bar filter out into the street. We might as well be the flame, pulling people leaving other bars in like moths.
Forget (Changing Colors Book 1) Page 12