by Nina Crespo
“Yeah, this does bring back memories.” He returned to bed and pulled her close. “At least his bedroom isn’t next to mine now. Remember the girl who used to howl while they were having sex?”
Cori laughed. “She did not.”
“The hell she didn’t. She was so damn loud, the dogs in the neighborhood used to howl back.”
“Grey, stop.” She whacked his chest.
“Or what about that time you walked in on him humping flexible yoga girl in the kitchen?”
“Why did you have to bring that up?” She groaned and covered her eyes. “Now, the visual of that is stuck in my head. I still can’t figure out how she got that far into the refrigerator or what they were doing with all those eggrolls.”
He hadn’t witnessed the infamous midnight snack incident, but whatever had occurred, the next morning, Damien and Cori could barely look at each other. A delayed chuckle shot out of him.
Cori buried her face into his shoulder and snickered.
He’d missed laughing with her, too, when he’d moved to Texas.
Grey tipped up her chin. He wanted to mention that, but if he did, it might make the moment awkward. He’d already told her that he’d missed her. She might think he was dwelling on the past if he kept saying things like that. They were just spending one night together.
Cori smiled up at him. “What are you remembering now?”
“I’m not remembering. I’m fantasizing.”
“About?”
“This.” He captured her smile in a kiss. “And this.” Grey sat up and sucked her nipple. As he rolled it over the roof of his mouth, Cori drew in a breath and laid her hand on the back of his head. “And this.” He sucked the peak of her other breast and stroked her sex. She lifted her hips, and he glided his finger inside of her silky heat.
“Oh…” Her moan was carried on a sigh. “I like your fantasy…”
Soon he was inside of her again, mesmerized by her pleas, her sighs, the way pleasure washed over her face with her orgasm. He’d remember all of it when he left in three weeks to meet his parents in New York.
A long time later, she was spooned back against him.
“Grey?” She yawned.
“Hmm?” He kissed one of his favorite spots on her—low on her neck near her shoulder.
“You…all the exciting things that happened when you moved to Austin.” Her sleepy voice grew softer. “I want the whole story, from then to now.”
Exciting was the last word he’d use to describe what had happened when he’d first arrived in Austin…or his circumstances there now.
He pressed his lips to Cori’s neck and breathed her in. “Get some sleep. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
From the answering silence, and Cori’s steady breathing, she’d already beat him to the suggestion. Unable to sleep, he stared into the darkness, the past running through his mind.
When he’d first moved to Austin, nothing had worked out as planned. There was a job and an apartment waiting for him, only the acquaintance that had promised both had left town. Without a local resume as a DJ, he’d had to start from scratch posting flyers where he could and handing out business cards. A couple of months after he’d arrived, his audio tech skills had landed him a job at a large hotel, one his family’s company, Latham Reeves Enterprises, didn’t own. A few months later, a DJ failing to show up for a wedding reception had opened the door to him deejaying parties at the hotel.
Pure hustle and the original mixes he’d posted on SoundCloud and YouTube had gained him enough of a following to land gigs playing at clubs in the popular 6th Street district. A few years ago, he became a resident DJ at a club called Breakers located in the district.
Since then, making connections, building his skills, as well as ending up in the right places at the right time had opened doors for him. He’d gained two more residencies in clubs in Dallas and Atlanta, and traveled to play at other clubs in Los Angeles, Miami, New York, Vegas, Montreal, and other places. When he wasn’t playing at a club, he performed at festivals and concerts. He wasn’t a household name, but according to some stats online, he was in the top one hundred of rising DJs and producers to pay attention to in the U.S. He was gaining street cred in the DJ and music entertainment industries to get himself to the top. Or at least, he had been until five months ago.
He’d been in Atlantic City playing at the Haven nightclub when he’d gotten the news his friend and protégé, Liam Matthews, was dead at the age of twenty-four. Since then, he hadn’t stepped back behind the DJ deck. He just couldn’t.
Helplessness and sadness started to rise inside of him. He shoved it back down along with the memories that came with them. How good it felt to be with Cori again. That’s all he wanted to think about. But in the morning, what would he tell her about his career and what he’d decided to do now?
Grey closed his eyes, trying to narrow his thoughts to holding Cori. But the question spiraled in his mind, waking up a dream he couldn’t stop. Liam stood in front of him in a gray space of nothingness, his steady gaze boring into him.
Heart skyrocketing in his chest, Grey woke up. Seconds passed before he realized where he was and that Cori lay asleep, snuggled against his side with her head on his shoulder.
Careful not to wake her, he slid Cori away from him and got up. Spotting his jeans near the foot of the bed, he picked them up and put them on. In the bathroom, he scooped cool water from the faucet and drank, loosening the tightness in his throat.
He walked out the room and closed the door behind him. In the dark, he found his way by memory down the hall to the living room.
In the large window overlooking a wide balcony, stars dotted the sky above the Washington Monument in the distance.
But memories from five months ago, of another window overlooking the city of Austin in the high-rise apartment belonging to Liam, filled his mind, along with their last conversation.
“You need to pull your shit together.”
That’s what he’d said to Liam, who stared back at him, bleary-eyed, face pale and blotchy, and his dark hair plastered and spiked from sleep. He’d been shirtless in a pair of jeans as he sat on the white couch in his living room, still reeking of booze from a party he’d attended the night before until earlier that morning.
He’d raked back his hair with a confused expression. “What do you mean? Why are you so pissed?”
“You missed the conference call we had scheduled with the Vegas promoter this morning.”
He and Liam were playing at a festival in Vegas. It was a collaborative appearance.
“That was this morning? Shit. I’m sorry.” Always needing something to do with his hands, Liam had reached over to the steel coffee table in front of the couch and unearthed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the stacks of mail near a food container and a couple empty cups. He’d lit one up. “I honestly thought the meeting was next week. Were you able to cover for me?”
“Cover for you? How could I? You were posting pictures and videos on Instagram and Twitter until four this morning.”
Confusion had once again filled Liam’s face, as if he didn’t remember doing anything. “Are you sure it was me? I was with a lot of people. Someone could have used my phone. Maybe they were screwing around with my accounts.”
“No. It was you making an ass of yourself. And me. The festival is two weeks out. No one has time for this. They mentioned possibly dropping you from the event.”
Six months ago, when a business acquaintance had reached out to Grey about performing at the event and had mentioned wanting to showcase some fresh talent, Grey had said yes to the offer and had recommended Liam as well.
Three years ago, Liam had started working at Breakers as a barback. Whenever Grey was at the club, he’d followed him around, asking tons of questions about equipment, music, and how he could build on the little he
already knew about deejaying. Not wanting to see Liam end up making dumb, rookie mistakes, Grey had taken him under his wing. A couple of years later, the kid had been playing sets as a DJ at Breakers during less busy time slots during the week and had started booking small gigs outside of the club. Missing meetings wasn’t like him.
“I can’t believe I messed up this bad. It’s just…” Liam had hung his head. “My life has gone sideways since Sofia moved out. I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t sleep. I’ve been trying to find a way to get her out of my system.”
Grey had almost called bullshit on the excuse. Sofia had been a waitress at the club up until a few weeks ago. According to the grapevine, one of the main reasons she walked out on Liam was because she’d gotten tired of him staying out all of the time, partying with his so-called friends.
But then he’d thought about how he’d indulged in his early years as a club DJ. Like Liam, he’d done his share of partying until he’d screwed up and almost lost an important gig. He’d believed that now that Liam was facing the same, it would be a wakeup call for him. “I convinced the promoter not to drop you, but if you fuck up again, you’re out. And if that happens, it’s on you.”
“It won’t. Thanks.” Liam had looked him in the eye. “It’s all under control, starting now.” Cigarette smoke had hovered over Liam like a halo as he’d leaned back on the couch. But demons had chased Liam for most of his life. He’d grown up in an abusive home, but he’d managed to finish high school, and his older sister Fallon had been helping pay his college tuition. He also had raw talent as a DJ and a promising future.
Grey’s thoughts drifted back to the present, but that final image of Liam remained. All under control… He’d wondered what Liam had meant by “all,” but then he’d told himself it was the same as saying, “I’m on it” or, “I’ll get the job done.” Two days later, Liam was gone. He’d overdosed, accidentally mixing Oxycodone prescribed for an old injury with alcohol.
If only he’d kept a better eye on him. What if Grey hadn’t been in Atlantic City? Could he have prevented it from happening?
The weight of the loss settled on Grey. Since that moment, nothing had been the same for him, including playing music. The energy, that thing that allowed him to entertain and connect with the crowd, was gone. He’d even started freezing up on stage. Hell, he barely wanted to produce music anymore. And wouldn’t have again, if Damien hadn’t asked for an assist with putting together an upcoming set. But once he helped Damien, he was done. He was walking away from music and being a DJ for good.
Chapter Six
Cori, still half asleep, reached out to the other side of the mattress. Grey. She was with him. A smile took over her face. It faded as she encountered a cold, empty space.
Where was he? How long had he been up? Was he in the kitchen making coffee? When they were together, he used to bring her a cup when she first woke up.
She sniffed the air and listened for sounds from the kitchen. Disappointment settled in as she realized the scent of Colombian roast didn’t fill the air. Of course, he wasn’t making her coffee. Him not being in bed with her now was a simple to understand, non-verbal message. Their night together was over.
Cori slipped out of bed. If she hurried in the bathroom, maybe she could avoid the awkward walk of shame out of the apartment in front of Damien, Zara, and Tammy, whoever she was.
She went into the bone-tiled bathroom.
Aside from a sky-blue towel on the wall rack and Grey’s black sonic toothbrush charging on the counter, the space was bare.
After finding and using the mouthwash under the sink, she went to the corner glass-enclosed shower. Seconds later, steam filled the space as she soaped up with Grey’s sandalwood-scented body wash. The knowledge that she would smell like him all day pulled her in opposite directions.
First, she really needed to make sure that she didn’t let her one night with Grey disillusion her. He’d given her an escape from her troubles, and she’d enjoyed it. But now, it was time to get back to her real life…like helping Alexa pack for her move to Seattle that afternoon.
Glumness settled over her. If only Alexa would change her mind… But her reasoning made sense. Alexa and her ex-fiancé worked for their fathers’ transportation company. Running into him on an almost daily basis and putting up with office speculation was too stressful. And Alexa needed and deserved a fresh start.
A knock on the bathroom door pulled Cori from her thoughts. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Grey said through the door. “Mind if I come in?”
“No. But I’m almost done. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
The door opened, and steam rolled out as Grey walked in. He opened the glass door to the shower partway.
Damn, he wore just-woke-up-sexy well. A shadow of dark hair on his jawline drew attention to his kissable mouth. His torso and feet were bare, and his slow-slung jeans emphasized the V cutting down his hips and framing his abs. It would have been nice to wake up to all of that but also way too tempting. She’d never leave.
She glanced at his face. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept. “How long have you been up?”
“A couple of hours.”
He’d been up since five? Why?
She was about to ask him that question, but his gaze, slowly taking her in from head to toe, added a layer of heat to the warm water cascading down on her.
He opened the shower door a bit wider. “Are you sure you’re almost ready to get out? I could join you.”
Maybe he wasn’t anxious for her to leave like she’d thought, but why ruin the good time they’d shared by drawing out the moment?
She turned off the water. “I have to get home. I’m helping a friend move today.” When she got out of the shower, Cori accepted the towel he handed her, wrapped it around her, and secured it over her breasts. “As much as I love the dress I wore last night, I’d like to change and get comfortable before I meet her.”
Grey took her by the hips and brought her closer. “Naked is comfortable.”
As she lay her hands on his chest, she resisted the urge to slide them up around his neck. One-night stands had an expiration date, and they’d reached theirs. “I really have to go.” She pressed her lips to his then slipped from his grasp.
Before she got to the door, he caught her hand. “Let me take a quick shower, then I’ll drive you home.”
“You really don’t have to. I’m a big girl. I can get there on my own.”
“I know you can.” He grinned. “But when you walk out of here, I want everyone to know I put that smile on your face.”
“Oh?” She couldn’t help but laugh at his cocky, playful expression. “Ego much?”
“Damn right.” His thumb stroking over the back of her hand wreaked havoc on her willpower. “There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some. I just made it. Oh, and when I turned off your phone alarm, a call came in. The caller ID said it was your mom.”
“Okay, thanks.” A conversation with her mom would have to wait until later when she’d thought of a good excuse for not calling her back last night.
As promised, Grey didn’t take long.
They slipped out unnoticed by Damien, Zara, and the mysterious Tammy. The door to Damien’s bedroom, next to his practice studio, in the opposite hall across from where Grey was staying, remained shut.
A short time later, they drove from the condo’s parking garage in his blue four-door Jeep rental.
She programmed her address into the car’s GPS system as they merged into Sunday morning DC city traffic.
The automated woman’s voice announced they were twenty-five minutes from her place.
As he held the steering wheel, he tapped his thumb against it. “Bethesda. So, did you move there after you graduated college?”
“A few months after. That’s when I started working for the fun
d full-time. One of the angel investors owned several houses in the subdivision. She was looking to sell, and the price was right.”
Grey veered left into a lane headed for the interstate. “So what’s this fund about and what exactly do you do?”
“The Carver Fund is an investment vehicle for a group of successful people who prefer to remain anonymous to the public. They provide capital for small business startups and projects. I’m in charge of managing the application process with a small team and making final recommendations to the investors. Once they choose the startups or projects they want to invest in, my team and I take care of setting up the terms and distributing the money. We also monitor the entrepreneurs’ progress and advise them to ensure the businesses continue to be a good investment.”
On the interstate, he changed from a slow-moving lane and sped up. “It sounds like something you were made to be a part of. I remember how you said those women in Costa Rica inspired you.”
“You mean the collective? You actually remember that?”
The summer before her freshman year of college, she’d participated in a cultural exchange program in Costa Rica. She and a few other college-bound business students had been assigned to help a group of women combine their talents and contract selling their artwork and handcrafted items. Before she’d left, they’d successfully developed relationships with upscale hotels and a museum gift shop in the capital of San José.
“Of course, I remember.” He briefly met her gaze. “You bought those two paintings at that music and arts festival we went to in Alexandria because you said they reminded you of them and Costa Rica. Do you still have them?”
“Yes.” Kind of.
They were actually stored in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. After she broke up with Grey, they no longer just reminded her of Costa Rica. She kept remembering that perfect sunny day with him, strolling through artist’s row admiring the handmade works, eating local food truck cuisine, and listening to live music. And talking about the plans they’d had for their future move to Austin. An unease she couldn’t get past had kept her from telling her parents or anyone else about the decision she’d recently made to move with him, but that hadn’t stopped her from envisioning the small paintings hanging on the wall of the apartment she and Grey would share, adding color and newness to the second-hand furniture décor.