Rocking Between The Sheets ((a Razor's Edge Prequel))

by K. L. Myers

  I can hear the crowd chanting my name as usual. This is the part that gets me totally psyched up for the night. I close my eyes and let the sound of my name take over. When I finally hear the drums leading into our song, I run onto the stage. Just like every other night before, I’m ready to give the crowd their money's worth. I’m lost in the lyrics as I run from end to end on the stage, giving the crowd exactly what they want. When the song comes to a close, I take a moment to catch my breath before I address the crowd.

  “How are you doing, San Francisco? You ready to rock?”

  The crowd goes wild, and someone shouts out, “Rocking Between The Sheets!” It’s our latest single, and it hit number one on the charts the first day it was released and has been there for the last sixteen weeks. Normally this is our first song in our set but tonight we decided to switch it up some and rather than waiting to the end I decide to give them what they want. Making sure the guys are all on board with Rocking being our next song, I give Rocky the go ahead to count it off.

  I scan over the crowd just like last night, and there she is, in the front row. It’s déjà vu all over again, only this time, every song I sing I’m singing for her.

  Tonight’s meet and greet lasts longer than normal, and Rocky’s been knocking back the drinks, more so than usual. I can’t help but think he’s falling back off the wagon, since that’s his MO when he’s hooked on smack, and that is not good for the band. This is his last chance. If he blows it, the record label will make us replace him. None of us want that to happen, but our hands are tied this time. Pulling Rocky aside, I question him.

  “What’s with the drinks tonight, man? Think you might wanna slow down some?”

  Rocky snarls back at me and pushes his finger into my chest. “What are you, my mom tonight? I got it under control, so back the fuck off, will ya.”

  I slap his hand away before I reply, “No, dude, but this is your last shot. This tour means too much to all of us for you to go and fuck it up. Get your shit together.”

  I see him flip me the bird when I turn to leave. I’m only three steps away when Kayla shows up at my side wanting to know if everything is okay. She doesn’t deserve the response I’m going to give her, but I just can’t help myself. “It’s fine. Why don’t you go sit back in your corner and take notes. This is the real world, Kayla. Not everything is as happy as you write about in your romance novels.” When she turns to walk away, I can see the anger in her eyes, so I wait for her to give me the finger as well, but she doesn’t. Instead of going back from where she came from, she opens the door and leaves the room. I don’t know why I do it to her, but I can’t seem to help myself from pissing her off. I don’t know why I say I don’t know why, because I do. I’m attracted to her on so many levels, and I don’t want to be, so I figure the more I piss her off, the more she’ll stay away, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it through this month with my heart intact.

  Chapter 8

  Kayla

  I don’t know why I’m surprised by Cayson’s response. I should be used to it by now. When his mouth is shut, I can almost believe that there is a decent human being in there, one who really could be deserving of the attraction I have for him.

  I need fresh air and to get as far away from Cayson as possible. If tonight is anything like last night, I know what's coming, and I don’t want to be subjected to the skanks looking for a quick ride on the rock god’s cock. Exiting the arena, I go in search of one of the Escalades to see if they will give me a ride back to the hotel. After walking around for twenty minutes, I can’t find a single vehicle belonging to the band, and that’s when I see Rocky round the corner flipping a set of car keys in his hand.

  “Hey, Rocky,” I call out, halting him in his tracks. “Can you give me a ride back to the hotel, please?” I am so hell bent on getting away from Cayson that I don’t head warning to the fact that I have watched Rocky toss back beers all night long. I mean, he isn’t stumbling around, and don’t these guys have a really high tolerance for alcohol?

  “Sure, doll face, I’ll give you a ride.” He snickers, but when he sees my facial expression, he immediately apologizes. “I’m sorry, Kayla. I was just kidding. Come on, I’ll take you back.”

  The hotel isn’t too far from the venue. When we pull up to the front entrance, the doorman reaches over and opens my door. Before getting out of the car, I look over to Rocky. “You getting out?”

  “You asking me up to your room, doll face?”

  “Geeze, what is it with you musicians? Is sex all you think about?”

  Laughing, Rocky replies, “That along with alcohol and drugs. Living the good life, doll face. Living the life.”

  Stepping out, I close the door behind me. Before I even make it to the front door, I turn to see Rocky roasting the tires of the sports car he is driving as he pulls out onto the street. Shaking my head, I decide to stop in the lobby bar for a glass of wine. Halfway through my third glass, my phone buzzes on the bar with the sound of an incoming text.

  Unknown: Where the hell did you go?

  I frown and pick up my phone to answer.

  Me: Who is this?

  Unknown: It’s Cayson. Now answer my question.

  I roll my eyes and save his number into my contacts before I answer.

  Me: I’m at the hotel.

  Cayson: How the fuck did you get there? I’ve been looking for you for half an hour.

  Me: Rocky gave me a ride.

  Cayson: What? How did Rocky give you a ride?

  Me: He had a car, why?

  Cayson: He doesn’t own a car. Where is he now?

  Me: I don’t know. He dropped me off and left.

  Cayson: Fuck.

  I wait for the dancing dots to appear on my phone, but even after I wait a few minutes, they never do. Once I finish the last of my wine, it’s time to shower and put some of my thoughts down on paper. Some authors can sit at their computer and put words to paper and produce an amazing storyline. I wish I were one of those authors, but I’m not. I find that jotting my thoughts down on paper and then formatting them into my story works best for me.

  It is around midnight by the time my creative juices have given way to a complete block. Unable to concentrate any further, I close my notebook and tuck it away for the night. I am just about ready to climb into bed when someone begins pounding on my door. I know exactly who it is, but I have no idea what Cayson wants.

  Chapter 9

  Cayson

  I pound on Kayla’s hotel room door. I don’t know why my first instinct was to come to her when Sean gave the guys and me the news about Rocky. I knew I just needed to talk to someone, and she was the first person who popped into my mind. When the door opens, I almost forget why I am standing here in the first place. Kayla stands there in nothing but a tiny T-shirt and the shortest pair of night shorts I’ve ever seen. With one hand on the door and the other on her hip, her tone is curt when she speaks.

  “Do you know what time it is? What do you want, Cayson?”

  My eyes look everywhere but her face when I answer. “I need to talk to someone. Can I please come in?”

  “It's midnight, Cayson. Can’t this wait till morning?”

  “No, it can’t wait till morning. Rocky was in a car accident tonight. He was drunk and high and wrapped the car he was driving around a telephone pole.” Kayla opens her mouth to speak. Holding up my hand, indicating for her to hold her thoughts, I finish. “He’s not hurt, thank God, but we need to get him into rehab quickly. Luckily, there were no other cars involved, but if the label finds out, we’re through. There is no way the guys and I will keep the band together without him. Replacing him isn’t an option for us.”

  Kayla steps back away from the door, allowing me to enter. I beeline it straight to her bed and sit on the edge. “You know, the five of us were in high school when we started this ten years ago. It’s always been just us and the music. We never expected to make it big; we just wanted to play for the crowds.”

 
I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. “When we finally got our record deal, we made a pact. So many bands make it big and then replace members of the group when shit goes bad. We didn’t want to be like that, so we all agreed that if anything happened to one of us, we’d end it. No replacements. We had one shot at this, and we were doing it as a team, or we weren’t doing it at all.” I don’t feel the bed move until Kayla is lying beside me.

  “I’m sorry about Rocky, Cayson. What are you going to do now?”

  “Since no one was hurt, Sean will handle everything with the owner of the car. I don’t know, make it look like the car was stolen by some joy-riding teens or something. He’ll come up with some story about Rocky needing to leave the tour for a bit, so the suits don’t know that we put him in rehab. The guys and I don’t like it, but what choice do we have?”

  “Will you cancel the rest of your shows?”

  I roll onto my side and face Kayla. The concern on her face is apparent, causing something in me to reach out and stroke her hair. “Hell, no, we can’t cancel. That would be career suicide.”

  I didn’t realize until that moment that her hand is on my hip. “What will you do, then, if canceling isn’t an option?”

  “We’ll find a stand-in; it’s the only option we have. Sean knows of a local drummer, and he’s already placed the call.”

  “Wow, Sean has done all that already? How does he do that when it’s so late at night?”

  Kayla’s innocence never ceases to amaze me. “This is the music business, Kayla. Rockers don’t sleep, and everyone is always looking to make a quick buck, so money talks.”

  “And bullshit walks?” Kayla finishes my sentence

  “Yeah, something like that.” My hand glides down her arm, and I feel her shiver from my touch. Without hesitation, I pull her into my chest and hold her tight. “Can we do this, hold each other? I just need to feel some good in all this shit right now, please.”

  Kayla’s arms wrap around me, and I close my eyes reveling in how good it feels having her in them. It isn’t long before I feel myself drifting off to sleep.

  The sound of my phone ringing wakes me. Kayla and I have fallen asleep in each other's arms, half on the bed and half off. Grabbing the phone from my pocket, I silence the ringer so as not to wake her and then slide the button to the right as I disentangle myself from her.

  “This better be important,” I say when I hear Sean’s voice speak my name. I’’m barely listening to him speak. Instead, I’m standing there looking at Kayla sleep. She’s beautiful without even trying to be. Words start to form in my head for a song.

  “CJ, are you there? Are you listening to me?”

  I almost forgot I am on the phone. “Yeah, Sean, I'm here.”

  “Did you hear a word I said?”

  “Truthfully, no. I just woke the fuck up. Lay it on me again.”

  Making my way back to my room, I listen to every word Sean has to say. I’ve got an hour to shower and be ready. The band is meeting with the new drummer, and we’re going to do a run-through of tonight's set list. When Sean tells me it's Fallon Moody filling in for Rocky, I’m slightly relieved, since I’ve heard his name tossed around in conversations before, and all of those conversations were positive. I quickly shoot off a text to Kayla letting her know where we’ll be today and that when she is ready, to let Sean know, and he’ll send a car to pick her up.

  Four hours later, I feel like we’ve finally found a balance between everyone. The five of us have been playing together for so long that it’s become second nature, and now having new blood in the mix, the music wasn’t flowing the way I wanted initially.

  Fallon and I are going over the travel plans with Sean when Kayla arrives. A piercing scream comes from the end of the stage, followed by several squeals of, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Fallon’s wife Jenna runs across the stage and stops in front of Kayla.

  “You’re Kayla Marshall. I can’t believe it! I love your books.” Jenna looks like a kid on Christmas morning who just received the ultimate toy. Unfortunately, Kayla isn’t as equally enamored. Caught a little off guard by the amount of enthusiasm Jenna is showing, Kayla holds out her hand and introduces herself.

  Jenna takes Kayla’s hand, shaking it rapidly. “I’m Jenna Moody, Fallon’s wife. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”

  Jenna rambles on and on about Kayla’s work, and I’m about to tune them out when I hear Jenna tell Kayla how exciting it’s going to be with all of us together on the bus. Oh hell, no, this is not happening, I need to find Sean, and he needs to clear this shit up quickly.

  “It’s not happening,” I tell Sean. “There is no way I am spending the next three weeks, let alone three months, with Jenna on my bus. It was one thing to bring Kayla onboard and disrupt the flow, but now to have two of them?”

  “Look, CJ, Fallon’s the only one I could get on short notice who is worth a shit. He just found out he’s going to be a father, and he’s not going to leave Jenna behind. That was the agreement; he would fill in temporarily as long as she came with him. So either she comes, or we have to cancel all shows and advise the label.”

  “This is bullshit, Sean, and you know it.”

  “It’s temporary, CJ, so just get used to it. There are no other options. Now, go relax for a few hours and come back ready to perform.”

  Chapter 10

  Kayla

  Cayson looks anything but pleased when he strides off the stage. I have just taken a seat and am starting to write some notes when I hear him tell me to pack it up.

  “What? I just got here.”

  “And now you’re leaving. Come on, Kayla, I need to get out of here, and we need to talk. So come on.”

  His hand reaches out for mine. Normally, I would give him shit about ordering me around, but something tells me now is not the time to argue with him. Over a late lunch, Cayson fills me in on everything right up and to include the fact that I am now one half of the woman duo that would be sharing the confined quarters of the bus.

  Unlike Cayson, I am actually looking forward to having another woman onboard. Something tells me that I won’t have to be subjected to the many skanks that would normally find their way onto the bus with Jenna also being aboard. That in itself is worth the slight inconvenience of there now being eight of us living together.

  Two weeks later, I am quickly learning why eight of us on the same bus is not a good idea. There is never a minute of quiet, and Jenna has horrific morning sickness. She spends more time in the toilet than anywhere else, and when she isn’t busy being sick, she and Fallon are fucking like bunnies. To say that doesn’t make the sexual tension between Cayson and me worse would be a lie.

  It has become more apparent over the weeks that we both are attracted to each other. We flirt and toss innuendos back and forth, but that is the extent. Brenda was right; her son does have a good heart. I’m not sure I would have seen that side if it wasn’t for Rocky’s accident. That night left Cayson vulnerable and with the realization that everything could have been lost if the situation was worse. His words may have said that he would walk away before replacing Rocky, and I believe he would have, but his heart and soul would never be the same. He lives for the fans and the music, and every night I watch him perform, I feel my attraction for him grow deeper.

  Fourteen days, that’s how long I need to keep my head in the game and fight off the urge to surrender to Cayson. Just two weeks, and I can walk away with my heart intact, go home, write a bestseller—at least I hope it will be—and forget about Cayson Razor. Ah hell, who am I kidding? I’ll never be able to forget about Cayson Razor. The man I met weeks ago is not the man I see every day now. Groupies galore toss themselves at him, but he ignores them. That just leaves more for the other guys. Instead, after a show, Fallon, Jenna, Cayson and I usually unwind somewhere quiet and far way from the crowds. It almost feels like two married couples hanging out, and that is a feeling I can’t let myself get used to.

  Chapter 11


  Cayson

  The sad reality of Kayla’s leaving has weighed on me more and more the past few days. When we pull into New Orleans today, I know I need to tell her how I am feeling and see if there is any hope she may feel the same. We’ve played cat and mouse and avoided the subject at all cost. Aside from a few stolen kisses and the night she slept in my arms when Roger had his accident, we’ve never taken it any further. We’ve hinted that there may be more building between us, but we’ve left it at that. Plus, our living situation hasn’t been ideal.

  It’s crazy, but thirty days ago, my only focus was on forty-seven cities in sixty days. Now, halfway through this tour, all I’m focusing on is what I’ll be doing after our last show in New York City. After rehearsals today, everyone scatters, except for Kayla; she opts for a quiet day on the bus to write. Not wanting to spend a single minute away from her with the last few hours I have left, I hang back as well.

  “So, Kayla, tell me, what are you going to do with yourself when I’m not around anymore?”

  Closing her writing pad, she turns to face me. “Enjoying some peace and quiet, taking a hot bath and soaking for hours. You know, all the things you take for granted when you haven’t experienced what it’s like to have eight people in 900 square feet rolling down the highway at warp speed.”

  My hand instinctively rises to her face. “I’m going to miss having you around here.”

  “No, you won’t, Cayson. Just think. You’ll be able to have your pick of girls again and a private room to share with them.”

  The thought of picking up some groupie doesn’t have the appeal it once carried. Now, all I want is Kayla. Pulling her close to me, I seal my lips on hers, kissing her hard, my tongue begging for entrance into her mouth. When she finally opens to me, I plunge deep and let my tongue swirl with hers. When I pull back to look in her eyes, I see the same lust I’m sure is in mine. Her lips are red and puffy from the intensity of our kiss. Not wanting to let the moment pass, I sweep her into my arms and carry her back to the bedroom, kicking the door closed after we enter.