No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1)

by Layne Harper

  I toss and turn for a while. The sheets are too hot, so I kick off the comforter. Then, I’m too cold. There’s too much light spilling in my window. Then, it’s too dark. Finally, I grab my phone, planning to text Aaron when I see that I have numerous missed calls.

  I don’t recognize the number. My heart falls to my stomach as I call it back.

  The person answers on the first ring. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for forty-five minutes,” the female voice says. “This is Grace. We can’t find Johnny.”

  I exhale. “He’s not with me. Have you checked his studio?”

  “Of course we have. We’re not idiots,” she says so harshly that I picture her rolling her eyes and mouthing to the others in the room what a moron I am. “Wherever he is, he walked.”

  I’m quiet for a moment while I think about where Aaron would have gone. Then, it becomes clear. “I might know where he is.”

  “Tell me,” she demands.

  “No.” I reply, sitting up straighter on my bed. “If Aaron left without letting you know, it’s because he doesn’t want you to find him. I’ll go to him.”

  “Who do you think you are, Miss Landry? I want you to know that all his money’s in a trust, and his daughter’s entitled to every penny of it. Just know you’re nothing but—”

  “Let me stop you right there,” I interrupt as I climb out of bed and my hand goes to my hip as if she can see me. “I’m going to remind you of a good southern saying—you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. You’re worried about your brother. You want him found. Do you really think now is a great time to accuse me of being a gold digger?” I hate confrontation, but I will not be treated like I’m trash.

  In a politer tone, she replies, “I’m sorry. I’m just so worried about him. Please text me when you find him and let me know he’s okay.”

  “I’ll do that.” I disconnect the call and throw my phone on the bed while I replace my cotton pajamas with a pair of worn jeans, a thick sweater, and my favorite pair of fur-lined boots. I grab my Saints baseball cap for my hair.

  Before I leave, I pick up my phone and take a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet along with my credit card, and driver’s license.

  The walk to Eddy’s is a familiar one. I’ve probably made it about thousand times. This time, it’s different. I’m jittery and scared that Aaron will not be there. Then, I have no idea where he could be.

  A drunk couple stumbles past me, singing the LSU fight song. I laugh. That could have been Bella, Tripp, and I eight years ago. There’s a house decorated in Mardi Gras colors having a party. Some of my neighbors keep their decorations up all year. No one really cares. Christmas lights are offensive in November. Mardi Gras masks, beads and feathers . . . hmm . . . just part of the charm.

  Usually, I walk slowly so I can peer in the windows of the homes which line the streets and watch the festivities but tonight, I’m a girl on a mission.

  The air is crisp and cool. When Michael and I were dating, he called this football weather. The name has stuck. I’m sure in Baton Rouge there’s a game being played tomorrow. I wouldn’t have missed it last year or even last month. Now, football is the furthest thing from my mind. I need to make sure Aaron is okay.

  A lost college kid passes me. He’s looking for the party. I point him in the right direction. Yup. That definitely could’ve been Tripp or me.

  As I come up to the cross street where Eddy’s Bar is located, I know I’ve found Aaron. There’s a commotion outside of Eddy’s. Even late on weekend nights, Eddy’s doesn’t draw a crowd. Girls dressed in tiny skirts and even smaller tops have never been peering through the glass window before.

  Stopping across the street, I pause, wondering just what Aaron has gotten himself into. He must be standing on the small stage by the door because I can see his back and the neck of the guitar over the girls’ heads. Gold painted letters spelling Eddy’s are on the door next to the window. It catches me as odd. It’s like Eddy’s owns Aaron.

  The crowd gathered outside dances and sways to his music. The sound is muffled but even from outside and across the street, I recognize his voice.

  Resigned that it’s not going to be pretty getting inside, I start pushing my way through the crowd of girls, trying to get to the door handle. Someone grabs the back of my sweater and yanks. “Get in line like the rest of us, honey.”

  Tumbling backwards, I catch my footing. Ignoring her and not to be deterred, I see an opening between two girls who are dancing. I duck down, put my head forward, and muscle my way again. This time, Aaron begins playing a song that is apparently a fan favorite, which distracts the crowd enough that I’m able to turn the doorknob and get inside.

  Eddy sees me and motions to the large man who helped me earlier tonight. Someone grabs my hair and tries to yank me back outside while the crowd begins screaming things like “Bitch, get in line.” As I’m being tugged backwards, the man steps in and pries the girl’s fingers out of my locks. Fortunately, I’m hard-headed, but damn, that hurt.

  He shuts the door on the angry crowd. “You all right?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Thanks,” I reply, rubbing my scalp.

  He points to the back wall of the packed, tiny bar. “Go stand back there. You’ll be safer.”

  Nodding, I make way to where he indicated.

  Aaron stands on the tiny stage, which is just big enough for him, a stool, and his guitar case. His foot taps, keeping time with the music as his hand moves up and down the neck of the instrument. He looks like my fallen angel again, sitting on his couch writing music, but now he has a crowd to appreciate his talent, although I’m not sure he realizes they’re there. He seems lost in his own world.

  I text Grace.

  Me: I found him. He’s fine.

  Grace: Where is he?

  I don’t reply. The music has consumed him, and I know he’s happy. He’s in his element. Why not let him be?

  As he keeps playing, I realize I was wrong. He’s not my fallen angel. No. Johnny Knite is a rock god. His guitar is alive, as if it’s a second person on stage. He commands it to make sounds I’ve never heard before and his voice matches the pitch with perfection. The words he’s singing are lost to me as I focus on his fingers and how they’re able to move with such precision a surgeon would be jealous.

  “Wow. Who would’ve thought Johnny Knite would be playing in Eddy’s?”

  I look to my left and Doctor Jared is standing next to me. He looks sober and not suicidal. I hug his side. “You okay?”

  “Better.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders.

  Together, we join the crowd, swaying to the beat.

  I’m not sure how long he plays. Once again, time is something invented by man and doesn’t apply to rock gods, but when he takes his final bow, I’m drunk on him.

  He rests his guitar on the never-used stool, then he turns around and grabs a beat up old case. The crowd is mad for him. The man who helped me earlier works diligently to encourage Johnny’s fans to go home. Eddy turns on the rarely used overhead lights, making me squint.

  While the crowd is dissipating, I make my way to the stage, pushing screaming girls out of the way whom Aaron seems oblivious to.

  As I step up on the stage, I say, “You took my breath away.”

  His head whips around and for a moment, he looks startled. Then, he exhales and smiles the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. “That’s my goal.” He places his guitar in the case and slams it closed with two clicks. “How long have you been here?”

  “No idea. But I enjoyed every second.” I pause for a beat. “Is it safe for you to be playing in bars like this?”

  About five feet from me are girls crowding around the platform. Loudly, one of them yells, “How come she gets on-stage?”

  The very large man, whose skin is the same pigment as night, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and he looks like he might eat the groupie for breakfast. He ignores her and says, “Show’s over. You don’t have to go home, but
you can’t stay here.”

  Aaron shakes his head and smirks. “That’s Zed. He’s a huge fan of your blog.”

  “You sent it to him also?”

  Zed, who I had no idea was listening, replies, “I tried your crab cakes. They were tasty.”

  Aaron pulls me to his chest in such a tight squeeze I wonder how I can breathe.

  “You gave Grace quite a scare,” I say as I look into his haunting blue eyes, which are a gorgeous shade of navy tonight.

  He grabs his guitar case. “Fuck ’er. Let’s go home.”

  Aaron pulls out his phone and texts someone. I’m assuming it’s Seamus to pick us up.

  “I’m going to walk through the crowd. You stay here with Zed,” Aaron instructs. He gives Zed a pointed look, and Zed nods.

  Aaron jumps off the stage and into the crowd of about thirty people. He takes selfies and signs napkins or whatever the girls can find. There are even boys who try to get his attention. I watch, in awe of him. His smile is huge, and even though he’s being pulled in different directions, he doesn’t lose his cool.

  “Do you live in New Orleans?” I ask Zed, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of Aaron.

  “I go wherever he goes,” he replies, gesturing towards Aaron who is taking a selfie with a girl who’s showing her tits to the camera. She has nice breasts. Bethany would be jealous.

  “How come I haven’t seen you before tonight?” I ask.

  He cuts his eyes away from Aaron just for a second before he responds, “Lurking in the shadows. He didn’t want you frightened off.”

  “Hmmm . . .”

  Zed checks his phone. “Time to go. Wait in the SUV.” I do what he says, but as I reach the front door to Eddy’s Bar I hear a roar of protest from the crowd. I smile. He’s coming home with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Suzanne Long @JohnnyKniteIsMine

  OMG! RealJohnnyKnite is singing live RIGHT NOW in a club, but I can’t find out where. Message me!

  Suzanne Long @JohnnyKniteIsMine

  RealJohnnyKnite is singing for free. Someone has to know where the club is. I’ve checked all the major places.

  “Stop it, Aaron,” I scold as his hands make their way up my sweater. We’re in the back seat of a black SUV. I glance nervously toward the windshield. “I don’t want Seamus or Zed to see.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” he whispers in my hair as he begins kissing my neck. “I love the way you smell.” His lips move toward my shoulder, and his hand grabs my breast through my bra. “And I love the way you feel.”

  I make one more plea. “We’ll be home soon. You can have all of this awesomeness there.”

  “Think of this as foreplay.” He tweaks my nipple, and I gasp.

  The car stops, and the lights inside come on as Zed opens Aaron’s door. Desperately, I try to smooth my clothes just in case someone or someones are up and waiting for us. Fortunately, the house is quiet.

  Zed and Aaron are having a conversation, so I quickly make my way to Aaron’s bedroom before he gets any ideas about us having sex in the living room for his sister and whomever else is here to witness.

  Stepping inside his bedroom, I shut the door behind me and immediately strip off my clothes, leaving nothing on. Then, I go to the bathroom and use his toothbrush to make sure my breath is fresh. As I’m rinsing my mouth, his bedroom door shuts.

  After one last appearance check, I open the door and do my best catwalk-stroll towards the bed. He’s also completely naked and lying in a very suggestive pose on top of his white comforter. One hand is behind his head, and the other holds his large, hard cock at the base.

  “Happy to see me?” I quip.

  “Playing music makes me want to fuck your brains out. Come take care of this.” He strokes his dick up and down, and my eyelids flutter.

  “I can probably help you out.”

  Crawling on the bed, I straddle his waist. He reaches up and takes a handful of both of my breasts. “These are fucking gorgeous. Your tits were made for my hands.”

  I tip my chin. “I try.”

  He gives my butt a slap. “Sassy.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Reaching behind me, I grasp his cock and he lets out a moan. “I’ve also been told I have amazing hands.”

  Arching backwards, I pump his dick with both hands. My head drops back, and my long hair brushes along my behind.

  “Fuck, sweetheart. Hop on.” He tries to pick my hips up, but I shift my weight forward. “I’m so fucking horny, I can’t think. While I was playing, I kept imagining you on your knees sucking my dick as I strummed my guitar. Perma-boner.”

  “Not ready to fuck you yet. I want to tease you.” I scoot onto the mattress and kneel next to his muscular thighs. As my mouth draws closer to lick him, my eyes drift to his nightstand.

  And I see it . . .

  Sitting back on my heels, I ask, “What is that?” as I point.

  “Nothing,” he replies, leaning up on his elbows and glancing over his shoulder. “I just haven’t thrown it away yet.” He grabs for me, but I slap his hands away.

  “Nothing.” My voice rises. I look at Aaron with large, round eyes. “That’s not nothing. It may have been nothing at one point in your life, but now, it’s something.”

  I lunge for the bedside table, but he grabs my arm. “Stop it, MK,” he growls. “It’s none of your business.”

  Wrenching my arm out of his grasp, I scoot off the bed. “It is too my business. Let’s be clear, Aaron. I’m not stupid. I know exactly what that is, and I know you just got out of rehab and that shit shouldn’t be chopped up into fine lines on your bedside table.”

  “It’s just coke. It’s not a big deal.” He stands up also as his now flaccid dick falls against his leg. “You’re acting like my mother or Grace.”

  “Fuck you,” I reply as I walk over to the powder. I don’t know what to do with it.

  I tried coke a couple of times in college. Experimental stuff. I didn’t like it and I didn’t use it enough to know how to pick it up except through a rolled up dollar bill and into my nose. I’m sure I look like an idiot staring at it. Then, I get an idea. Walking over to my pile of clothes, I grab a furry boot.

  “What’re you doing?” he asks as I carry the lone shoe past him.

  “I’m flushing your shit.” I push the fine white substance into the leg of my boot.

  Once I’m sure I have it all, I turn around and stand before him. “Did you use any of this?” I hold the evidence in my smelly boot under his nose.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, cutting his eyes as he drops to the bed.

  “Fucking liar,” I yell as I march into the bathroom, open the toilet lid, and turn my shoe over, hitting the sole for good measure. It looks like snow drifting from an odd-shaped cloud as it dusts the top of the water. Once I’m pretty sure the boot is as empty as it’s getting, I flush the toilet.

  Aaron doesn’t stop me or protest. My blood is boiling.

  I march back into the bedroom and over to my pile of clothes. As I pick up my jeans, he asks is a defeated voice. “Where are you going?”

  I spin around. My bangs fall in my eyes, and I seriously would cut them to my scalp right now if I had a pair of scissors. “I’m going home. I’m furious, and I need to get away from you.”

  “Don’t you understand that’s why I bought it?” he pleads.

  “I don’t care why you bought it. There’s no excuse.”

  “I bought it because I was angry at you.” In this moment, he reminds me of my oldest niece. She breaks a toy and then says she did it because Bethany won’t let her watch TV. It drives me crazy, but she’s four. He’s thirty-fucking-eight.

  “What?” I ask, throwing my jeans to the ground. “You’re seriously not telling me that because I didn’t follow you out of the restaurant when you threw your temper tantrum, you went out and scored coke?”

  He rises and walks to where I’m standing. Both hands grasp my shoulders. His hair dusts his chin as he s
tares down at me. With a controlled, tight voice, he says, “Don’t you fucking understand you’re the one who keeps me sober?”

  My forehead crinkles.

  “I fucking told you,” he yells. “You make the music stop.”

  My head turns to the side as thoughts race through my brain like Are you crazy? and I can’t even take care of myself—how in the hell do I make the music stop? Instead of giving voice to those, I reply, “Aaron, are you saying if I don’t give you constant attention you’re going to use drugs?”

  He smirks. “When you put it that way it sounds ridiculous.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not kidding. This isn’t a joke. I can’t be your seven-day-a-week sober companion.”

  “But you are,” he says, pulling my stiff body against him. “You don’t mean to be, but when I’m with you, I can think. I can write music, and my head isn’t filled with noise. You make it okay to be sober.”

  I look up into his glassy eyes. “Aaron, that’s a huge responsibility to place on my shoulders. I’m just me. I don’t know what it means to be with someone who’s an addict.” My heart bleeds. I wish I had the power to fix him, but I don’t. What my psychology classes taught me is that he’s got to want to be sober on his own.

  His smile is so sweet I’m sure girls’ hearts shatter around the world. “All I need is for you to just be you.”

  Stepping out of his embrace, I cross the room, throwing up my hands in frustration. “But look what happened. Your sister questioned you, I didn’t follow you, and coke winds up on your bedside table. Do you understand that it’s called life? Sisters piss off brothers. You and I will have fights. You have to want to stay sober on your own. I can’t do it for you or use my magic pussy to cast some sort of spell which makes you not want to use.”

  He smirks. “Love it when you talk dirty.”

  Grabbing a pillow from the bed, I hurl it at him. He catches it and looks at me with confusion wrinkling the corners of his eyes.