She nods. “You’re right. But can you try to focus on Chatter for the next few hours, at least until I go through your training.”
“Sure,” I tell her. “No problem.
She narrows her gaze at me. Neither one of us actually believes the crap I’m spewing, but we’ll both pretend that I’m going to at least try to be a halfway decent employee.
When we take her computer out of hibernation the first thing that pops up is a website of wedding dresses.
“Research for Chatter?” I ask even though we both know she’s been looking at dresses for herself.
“Don’t say anything to Nic,” she warns. “I don’t want him to get his hopes up.”
“My lips are sealed.” I pantomime zipping my lips.
She slams on a few buttons on her keyboard until the wedding dress website is replaced with the website for her online entertainment magazine.
“One of your major responsibilities will be to monitor all of the comments we get on the Chatter website and our Facebook page, and keep up with our Twitter and Instagram accounts. You’ll be the face of Chatter across social media platforms. Do you think you can handle that?”
I nod, but my attention is already wandering to thoughts about Leo and being in his bed again. Do I have no self-control?
Apparently not when it comes to Leo.
On the plus side my booze cravings seem to be less intense. Between a sex addiction and a booze addiction I think a sex addiction is less dangerous. Before rehab booze and sex always seemed to be linked.
“Brooke!” When Harper raises her voice I realize I completely spaced out on her training session.
“Yes, of course,” I reply, even though I have no idea what the question was.
When her eyes narrow and her lips become an angry slit I know I’ve already fucked up. “You’re not paying attention, are you?”
“Why would you say that?” I fake indignity.
“Because I just asked you if you’d like to learn Chinese in your free time and you said, ‘Yes, of course.’”
“That does sound like a complete lie, doesn’t it?” I admit.
“It was a test to see if you were zoning out.”
“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll pay attention. Although it might be easier if you just give me stuff to do and I learn as I go. I’ve always been more of a hands-on kind of girl.”
And that makes me think of having my hands all over Leo and him having his hands all over me…
When Harper slams a large pile of receipts in front of me the fantasies of Leo quickly fade again.
“You asked for it. You got it. All of these receipts need to be reconciled. She turns on another computer that’s sitting in front of me. “I’ll pull up the accounting program and you can get started. And please, no more daydreaming, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” I assure her, but I can already feel myself fading back into a wonderful fantasy about Leo in the hot tub.
***
I’ve changed my outfit five times and I’m still not thrilled with what I’m wearing for my date with Leo. My heart hasn’t stopped thumping and I’m afraid it might beat right out of my chest.
As I stand in front of the mirror every one of my flaws seems to become crystal clear. And of course I pick apart every one of them. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. Maybe it’s because it’s all I heard from my parents. They never told me they loved me, but they were very candid about everything that was wrong with me.
Especially my dad.
Just a few sharp and well-timed putdowns from my dad could completely run me into the ground. Over the years I’ve gotten very good at doing the same thing to myself.
I smooth out the wrinkles on my dress. Any shorter and it would actually be just a shirt. And I don’t think it’s possible for the dress to be any tighter. It’s already like a second skin. I’m also wearing fuck-me pumps which give my legs the appearance of being a lot longer and shapelier than they actually are.
I generally don’t wear a lot of makeup, but I’ve put on some bright red lipstick that just begs to be kissed off.
I run my fingers through my long, brown hair one last time to give it a little bit of a tousled effect.
Slut.
That’s the only word I can think of as I stare at my reflection.
I’ve been a slut since the seventh grade. I’ve never really given the term or its implications much thought until I was in rehab. I just considered myself a girl who loves cock. I could never get enough of it. Who, when, where or why didn’t matter as long as I had a dick inside of me.
In rehab they made us examine every aspect of our lives under a microscope. We talked a lot about my addiction to dick. Apparently I use sex to feel wanted and needed and loved.
The idea that maybe I just liked sex without it being some cry for help was completely dismissed by every one of my counselors.
It’s just as date, I remind myself for the millionth time as I take one last look in the mirror. You don’t have to fuck him.
But all I can see is a slut staring back at me from the mirror.
***
Leo’s eyes grow wide as he watches me emerge from my suite.
“Wild Child.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can take you out dressed like that.”
I visibly deflate and wonder if I still have time to change.
“You’ll cause riots in the streets. Guys will be fighting over you and I’ll have to beat the shit out of every one of them.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Where are you taking me for dinner?”
“Someplace nice. At least that’s what Rayne told me.” He shrugs. “I don’t get out to restaurants much.”
“You look great,” I tell him. It’s no lie. Leo cleans up nicely. His standard attire is battered jeans and a concert t-shirt, but today he’s wearing black slacks and a black button-down shirt. I also notice he’s got on black loafers rather than the old black boots he normally wears.
He’s also wearing his signature scent, sandalwood and citrus. As I breathe him in I’m tempted to say, “Screw the date,” and pull him into my bedroom. I have a feeling fucking Leo might be a little more fun than spending the evening in a snooty restaurant downtown.
When he says, “Let’s go,” I’m jolted back to reality. The one in which I’m remaining celibate and on the clean and sober path.
For a brief moment I wonder if he’ll take my hand, but he slips his hands in the pockets of his pants instead. “I had to borrow one of Rayne’s cars,” he announces as we head outside. There’s a beautiful sapphire blue BMW convertible waiting for us as we step out the front door.
“You don’t have a car of your own?” I’m pretty sure he could afford one. Not that I’m one to judge. Right now I can’t even afford the gas for a car let alone the insurance and monthly loan payments.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got an old bike. I’ve had it for years. Still runs though so what the hell.”
“And by bike I assume you mean motorcycle?” Somehow I can’t imagine Leo Donovan ever riding a bicycle.
He laughs. “Yea, I’ve got a motorcycle. I didn’t think you’d want to hop on the back of my bike.” He looks me up and down. “Definitely not dressed like that.”
“Do you like my outfit?” I ask. I used to be overconfident, sometimes even arrogant, but being in rehab knocked me down to nothing. I feel like I’m just starting to rebuild my self-confidence again.
“Are you kidding me? You’re smoking hot. I’d say screw the dinner and just take you to a hotel and fuck you all night, but I’m supposed to be acting like a gentleman.”
Leo’s candor never fails to make me smile. He’s like a five-year-old, who says exactly what’s on his mind without any inhibitions.
“Since you’re supposed to be acting like a gentleman, you’d better open the car door for me.”
“I was just about to do that,” he says as he opens the passenger side door.
I do my best to ease into the fr
ont seat, but the car is extremely low to the ground and I don’t want to split a seam or anything.
Once we’re both seat-belted Leo turns to face me. “Thanks for going out with me.”
I smile. “We haven’t actually gone out yet.”
“You know what I mean. I’m glad you said yes when I asked you on a date.”
“Well I’m glad you asked.”
The ride to the restaurant is quiet. We both seem to be lost in our own thoughts. Mine consist of Leo sweaty and naked. “What are you thinking about?” I’m curious to know what’s going on in his head.
He laughs. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do actually. That’s why I asked.”
“All I can think about is getting you out of that tight little dress you’re wearing. My dick is so hard right now I think I could cut glass with it. Aren’t you glad you asked?”
“Honestly I’ve been thinking the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing. I don’t have a dick, obviously. But I’ve been thinking about yours and having it inside of me.”
“Okay, now I really want to say fuck the dinner so I can fuck you instead.”
“But you’re trying to be a good boy, remember? And I’m trying not to be such a slut.”
I feel a twinge of disappointment when he doesn’t try to argue with my assertion that I’m a slut. I know it’s ridiculous because that’s precisely what I am and we both know it.
It’s quiet again the rest of the way to the restaurant. When we finally arrive I’m glad to get out of the car and get some fresh air.
The parking lot is filled with the most expensive luxury vehicles and they all look brand new. At least Nic’s BMW fits right in. I’m not sure we will however. You know the old saying: You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. Leo and I are both dressed up, but neither of us are exactly high society.
The restaurant’s décor is minimal, but extremely chic. Everything is black and white with splashes of chrome. I’m glad we both decided to wear black, because everyone else in the place looks like they dressed specifically to match the monochromatic color scheme.
A slender young woman who looks more like a model than a hostess shows us to a table in the far back corner.
After we take our seats we both bury our noses in our menus. I nearly choke when I see the prices. The entrees start at fifty dollars. Some of the dishes are seventy dollars. And that doesn’t include soup or salad, which are fifteen to twenty dollars each. My meal will easily be a hundred dollars.
“The wine list, Sir.” An older man tries to hand Leo the largest wine list I’ve ever seen. It looks more like a phonebook.
When Leo waves him away the man actually looks insulted. “No wine?”
“No wine,” Leo reaffirms.
Once the man is out of earshot Leo says, “Sorry about that. Maybe I should have said something when I made the reservation.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.” But I’m really glad he isn’t going to drink. I’m not craving right now, but I also don’t want to be tempted with booze on the table.
After I close my menu I glance over at Leo. His menu is already shut. “So what does a girl have to do to get a ride on the back of your bike?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is a blowjob out of the question?”
I can’t help but smile at his sheer audacity. “How about something that doesn’t involve your dick?”
He laughs. “Everything involves my dick. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
We’re interrupted by a pretty girl who doesn’t look much older than a high school student. She’s wringing her hands nervously and even though she clears her throat when she speaks her words still seem to get caught. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but umm…do you remember me?”
Her words hang in the air for a moment before Leo turns to her and says, “Ever been to an Always Rayne concert?”
The girl’s face reddens. “Yes.”
Leo looks her up and down then says, “I meet a lot of girls.”
Her big blue eyes dampen and she starts to blink back tears. “I know. I just thought...”
“Thought what?” Leo stares at her.
“I thought that…” When her voice cracks I actually feel sorry for her for a brief moment. Fucking Leo obviously meant something to her, but it clearly meant nothing to him. She swallows hard and then continues, “I thought that maybe we could get together again sometime.”
“Do you remember talking to Raven, the girl with the long dark hair who approved you? Did she explain the rules to you before we hooked up?”
The girl nods.
“Do you remember what she told you?”
Her brows narrow as if she’s struggling to remember what Raven said to her. “No encores. No repeat performances. It’s a one-time thing.”
When Leo turns away from her the conversation is clearly over. At least from Leo’s perspective. I don’t think the girl is quite done though because she says, “I thought maybe you’d make an exception.”
“I don’t make exceptions.” Leo doesn’t even look at her. She’s been dismissed.
When the girl looks over at me I just shrug. I’m usually the one in Leo’s position when a guy wants more after a one-night stand and I have to remind him of our one-and-done agreement.
It takes a moment for the girl to realize that Leo’s really finished with her. She takes one last glance between the two of us then sulks away.
“How come you made an exception for me?” I ask when the girl is out of earshot.
He laughs. “I didn’t make an exception for you. You are the exception. There’s a big difference.”
“How so?”
“Did you take a good look at that girl?”
“The one who looked like she was still in high school?” I tease.
“Raven checks everyone’s ID. Girls have to be at least nineteen to get in our room.”
“Okay, what about her?”
“She’s a hard twelve.”
“Okay…what’s the scale? Most guys rate girls from one to ten.”
“Xander and I rate girls in three categories: face, tits and ass. Each area gets a rating from one to five. That girl’s tits are a little too small, so she gets a four there. She’s got a nice ass, but it’s just a little flat. Another four. She’s cute, but she kind of reminds me of a cheerleader, so she’s got a four there too. She’s a hard twelve.”
“Wow, you’re more of a dog than I’ve given you credit for.”
“Arf, arf,” he teases. Then he narrows his gaze at me. “Tell me you don’t rate guys in some way. How hot they are? How muscular? How big of a package they’ve got?”
“You forgot about how nice of an ass they have. Girls like sexy butts too.”
“My point exactly.”
“So how did you rate me?” I throw the question out there, even though I’m kind of afraid to hear my score. If the cheerleader only scored a twelve I could be in trouble.
He bites back a grin. “You’re an eleven.”
I take a piece of bread from the wicker basket sitting on our table, rip off a small chunk and throw it right at Leo’s nose. His reflexes are quicker than I thought and he catches the hunk of bread in his mouth.
“You shouldn’t be throwing food in an expensive place like this,” he chides.
I furrow my brow. “You shouldn’t tell me I’m only an eleven.”
When his eyes turn serious he knocks the wind of out of me a bit by saying, “You know you’re a fifteen.”
That surprises me even more than him calling me an eleven. There is absolutely no way in which I am perfect. Especially not in the looks department.
“So it’s my perfect tits and ass that have you all hot and bothered.”
“Among other things.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. One that makes me incredibly nervous. It’s a twinkle that says he wants more than just my body.
When a serious-looking waiter stops at o
ur table to take our orders Leo asks for prime rib rare. I opt for lobster and Leo immediately asks if I’ll give him a bite.
“I guess. Why didn’t you order it? You can get surf and turf.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never had it before.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“I grew up in the desert. In the barrio. Not a place you find much lobster.”
“You definitely need to try it,” I tell him. “Do you still live in Arizona?”
He laughs. “Technically I don’t live anywhere.”
“What does that mean?”
“Xander and I used to have an apartment in Mesa, not that far from where we grew up. We let the lease go after we were on the road a while. It was a waste of money because we were never there. Now when we’re not on the road, we usually crash at Rayne’s place because we’re working on new material.”
“Where do you keep all of your stuff?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have any stuff. Just some clothes and my bike. That’s it.”
“Seriously? No old high school yearbooks or family photos?”
Laughing he says, “I barely made it out of high school. And I skipped school the day they took the photos so I wasn’t even in the yearbook. Not that anyone would miss me. I spent most of my time playing guitar and drinking instead of going to class. And if you grew up in a family like mine you wouldn’t want any family photos.”
Leo’s confession makes me a little sad. As hard as things have been with my parents recently I still like looking at my family photo albums every once in a while.
“So you don’t have anything but the clothes on your back?” I’m still having a hard time fathoming someone not owning anything.
“I do have a deformed orange that this superhot chick gave me. I keep it on my dresser.”
“You do not…”
“I really do.”
“When I got kicked out of my apartment I had to scrape together the last of my savings to rent a small storage unit for all of my shit. I’ve got three months paid for and hopefully it’s enough time to make enough money to get my own place again.”
“Or you could just stay with me.”
I laugh. “You just admitted you don’t even have your own place. You’re inviting me to stay with you at Nic’s place?”
Sometimes Brooke (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series Book 2) Page 4