“There’s an after party tonight that we need to attend.”
Harrison and Way both roll their eyes. Way is likely not to attend, but Harrison and I will because we want to stay in the good graces of Blaze.
“I thought we could go to dinner first,” Sam says, as she hands us clean clothes. She starts to leave but turns back. “We’re almost done guys and let me just say, it’s been worth it. I think you’ll like the new contract that Moreno has drawn up and if you don’t, we can market elsewhere.” She shuts the door, leaving us to change.
“Did she say new contract?” Harrison asks, as he slips a new shirt on.
“Yeah, could it be we’re already done with our first one already?” I shrug because I can’t remember what we signed. I know Sam is our manager for at least three years. “I’ll ask her at dinner.”
Dinner is a quiet affair in a small Italian restaurant. Sam has made sure all our meals are balanced, no fast food and nothing that is going to weigh us down or make us sick. One stipulation that Harrison asked for is that he be able to run each day and she’s made that happen. She says it won’t always be easy so we should enjoy it while he can. She’s right about the easy part. About a week ago I ventured out with one of the guitarist from Blaze to the mall for clothes shopping. She was spotted immediately and all hell broke loose. Needless to say, our adventure was cut short.
“Sam, can I ask what you meant earlier about a new contract?”
She sets down her fork and raises her napkin to her mouth wiping away nothing. She’s the most impeccable eater I’ve ever seen, nothing like Harrison and I who shovel things in our mouths constantly.
“If you remember correctly, Moreno Entertainment agreed to cut one EP, which we’ve done. Now I’ve told you before, we can look for a record deal with another company or you can stay with ME. It’s your choice.”
I nod, remembering the conversation.
“We’ll want to look at the new contract before we make a decision,” Harrison adds.
“Of course, Harrison, I’m not saying you have to sign it and we can shop around and see what offers I can pull in. Either way, we’ll be cutting a new record when we get back to Los Angeles. Hopefully that has you excited.”
“I’m excited,” I tell her. My fear was that this tour wouldn’t go so well, but it’s exceeding my expectations. I think that’s easy when you don’t know what to expect, but every time I think something is going to fail or completely fall apart, it doesn’t. The road crew that is on the tour with us is fast and efficient. They take care of our equipment as if it’s their own. Each stop has been a thrill ride and Blaze and The Saplings (yes, they named themselves after baby trees) who come on after us, have been amazing to work with. On our nights off we get together and jam in the parking lots where we stay.
The tour bus isn’t that bad either. At first I hated it, but we have our own space, a kitchen to cook in, a table to sit at and a television to watch. There’s a small seating area that we can gather in for a pre-show game plan, but Sam usually holds those meetings in our dressing room. She likes to walk around and wave her hands wildly when she speaks.
We finish dinner and Sam pays our bill. We’re not naive in thinking she’s covering the tab; we know we are footing the bill for everything she does. Way says we’ll be lucky to break even. I’m not in this to make money, just music and right now she’s helping me do that.
Our walk to the nightclub where the party is being held takes us all of five minutes. Sam informs the bouncer who we are and we’re let in right away. This is something else to get used to, the VIP treatment. I’ve yet to be accosted by a fan and I won’t lie, I’m sort of waiting for that moment just so I can say it’s happened to me.
I’m eating the words as soon as I think them when I’m almost bowled over with arms and legs wrapped around me. The intense shrill of screaming in my ear immediately makes me go stiff. I gently put my hands on my assaulter’s hips and push her off of me. But one look at the red hair and I know.
“Layla!”
I pick her back up and twirl her around. When I set her back down her lips are on me in an instant and as much as I don’t want to, I give in. I admit it, I’m lonely. I never thought I’d feel it until now.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I run my hand through my hair and look for Harrison who is at the bar chatting up a blond. I look around for Way and Sam, but they’re nowhere to be found.
“Harrison and I are on tour with Blaze, we just performed. This is their after party.”
“Holy shit, Liam, I knew you’d make it.” She steps back and shakes her head. “Wow, look at you. Maybe I should be pissed that you dumped me. I should’ve tried harder.”
Her words make me blush, but I know deep in my heart things would’ve never worked for us.
“You’re looking good, Layla. Come on, let’s find a table.”
I take her hand in mine and lead her through the crowd until I find an empty table with the words Reserved and Sam’s name on it. I let her slide into the booth before me. I place my arm on the back of the pleather seat and lean in so I can hear her.
“So what’s new?”
“Not much,” she starts. “My manager is a douche and I need to hire a lawyer to get out of my contract. He’s a total creep and only wanted to get in my pants.”
I want to ask her if she let him, but that’s none of my business. Sam appears at the table with drinks in her hand.
“Is this your girlfriend? She’s beautiful, Liam.” I make eye contact with Sam when Layla asks me that and notice that Sam’s blushing. She looks down at the drinks and back at Layla, avoiding eye contact with me.
“This is Sam, my manager.” Not correcting Layla about Sam not being my girlfriend seems like the proper thing to do. There was something in the way Sam looked that told me I’d hurt her feelings if I explained any further.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Layla.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Layla. How do you know Liam?”
“We met at Metro, hooked up and the next day he ditched me. You know classic groupie addiction.”
Sam looks at me suspiciously. I shake my head, telling her that it’s not true. She once asked me for skeletons in my closet and I told her no. I honestly thought I’d never see Layla again.
I glance back at Layla who is staring at Sam. For some reason there’s tension between them and I don’t understand why. I pick up my drink, a rum and coke courtesy of my manager, and chug it down. I think I’m going to need a lot of liquid courage to get through tonight. I have a feeling Layla wants to hook up and Sam isn’t going to leave my side.
The night moves on fluidly. I have blinders on I admit it. Each time my drink is empty, Sam refills it, but before long Layla pulls me out on to the dance floor for some tension release. This time when she shows me her little white pill I pull it out of her mouth and toss it on the ground. If I’m going to be with her and that’s a big if, I want to remember the whole night.
I let her kiss me because it feels good and my body craves the attention. The feeling of her pressed against me gives my body the attention it needs and I didn’t realize it was missing. She’s pointing out the obvious. I’m lonely. She feels amazing pressed against my body and it seems my body agrees. My senses are heightened with her in my arms and I love it and hate it all at once. I don’t want to feel this way with anyone else, but I can’t help it. I lead her back to the table where Sam is sitting. Harrison is long gone and Way retired hours earlier. Sitting there waiting for me is another rum and coke, which I knock back, not bothering to nurse it or even slow down. I’m sweating enough on the dance floor to keep my wits about me.
“Layla!” she turns and drops her hand from mine. “What the fuck?” the guy behind me roars.
I turn in time to have his fist connect with my lip. I stumble back into the table and hear Layla yelling beside. Sam is by my side immediately with a napkin wiping the blood that is gushing from my lip.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, taken off guard at the sudden contact. Sam’s eyes are wild and I feel sorry for whoever is on the receiving end of the verbal barrage she’s about to let loose.
“I can explain,” Layla says as she looks at me sheepishly. Her hand is pushing on the man’s chest, keeping him away from me.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Remember when I said earlier about my manager?”
I nod, not willing to add to the conversation.
“I married him.”
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you shitting me, Layla?”
She hangs her shaking head.
I pick up whatever Sam was drinking and down hers, along with Layla’s and walk away. I know Sam is hot on my tail, but I don’t care. I need to get away. I can’t believe I got into this mess with her. She was trouble the first time I was with her when she gave me her little magic drug, I should’ve known better. Harrison warned me that she was loco, but I had no idea until now just how crazy she really is.
“Fuck,” I yell when I’m outside the club. Just when I think I’m on the path to something good, it gets all fucked up. I lean against the brick wall and hold my head in my hands. Sam’s next to me, her hand rubbing my shoulder.
“You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I’m not about to mess up someone’s marriage whether they’re happy or not. I’m fucking nineteen for God’s sake, I don’t need the drama.”
“I know you don’t, come on. Let’s go back to the bus. Way and Harrison are both off with whoever they picked up you’ll have it to yourself tonight.”
As soon as the cold air seeps through my body, my drunken state rears its ugly head. The moment we step onto the bus, I realize just how alone I am. Everyone that I love is gone and it’s too late for me to go home and fix everything.
I walk straight to the kitchen and pull out the bottle of whiskey. I twist the cap and drink it neat.
“I don’t think you need that tonight,” Sam says, her hand calmly taking the bottle from me. I want to yell and scream at her, remind her that she’s my manager and nothing else, but I can’t. Her green eyes are boring into mine, they’re dangerous and heated. Her hand brushes against mine as she takes the bottle away from me.
“I’m lonely.” The words have more meaning than I’m willing to admit. She nods, understanding what I mean. She slides her jacket off, dropping it to the floor. Her fingers start at the top of her blouse as they nimbly work each button open. Her white lace bra is visible, exposing her voluptuous breast.
My hand shakily reaches out, my fingers touching her skin just above the lace. Her eyes close briefly before she looks at me again. I swallow hard, unsure if I’m supposed to be doing this or not.
Her hands go behind her back, the sound of her zipper the only thing competing with my labored breathing. I watch as her skirt pools at the bottom of her feet. I suck in a gulp of air at the sight of her black garter belt.
“Holy shit,” I breathe stupidly. She stands here in front of me, baring herself and that’s all I can say. “You’re fucking hot, Sam.”
She bites her lower lip, stepping out of her skirt. She walks toward my room as I watch her ass sashay in her thong. My erection is straining against my jeans, begging for attention. I bend down and pick up her clothes. The last thing I want is for the guys to come back and figure out what’s about to happen because for all I know this is against the contract and I’m probably getting us fired in the morning.
I shut my door behind me. There’s not a lot of room to maneuver. She stands before me, her bra straps sliding down her arms, leaving her breasts in full view.
“Holy, fuck me.”
“I plan on it, Liam.”
I fumble for the hem of my shirt, ripping it over my head. I move toward her quickly and capture my lips with hers not mindful of my busted lip. I hiss, but relish in the pain. I deserve it. She pulls at my belt and yanks the fly of my jeans open as my hands palm her ass. My fingers inch toward her pussy, feeling how wet she is. She wants me. She’s just not giving herself to me. Her hand rubs down my shaft giving me the friction that I need.
I spin her around and set us down on the bed. I sit up and shimmy out of my jeans, unlacing my boots as quickly as possible. Her legs are spread for me, inviting me.
“Are you sure?” I ask, as I reach for my wallet to pull out a condom.
“Yes,” she answers as she unhooks her garter belt and slides her thong down her legs. “I want this with you.” She kisses me hard, pulling me forward. I rest on top of her, letting her feel my weight before sitting back on my knees. I rip open the foil wrapper and sheath my erection.
“Who’s Jojo?” she asks, her fingers tracing the name inked on my skin.
“No one you’ll ever be,” I reply, capturing her lips. It’s only when she stiffens do I realize my mistake, but it’s too late. She’s already encased me and unless she tells me to stop, I’m not going to. I need this. I need this to feel whole again and not so broken.
Chapter 39
I pull at my bow-tie as the limousine drives at a snail’s pace down Hollywood Blvd. I’ve been nervous a lot in the past year, but this time my nerves are frayed. I down a shot of whiskey from the bar and settle in my seat. My date, Valerie Penn, sits beside me looking out the window at the fans waving.
Tonight is a new adventure for us. About six months ago, one of our songs was chosen to be on a movie soundtrack. We didn’t think anything of it, thought it was cool and we went on about our business until Sam told us we were invited to the red carpet event. I wanted to blow it off, but she said it was important for our image and that we should want to walk the red carpet and greet the reporters and fans. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past year or so, it’s to listen to what Sam says. Well mostly. I don’t listen to her when it comes to my love life because she’s not happy with my decisions, and that’s only because my decision doesn’t involve her. We slept together once, and it was a mistake. I was lonely and we were on the road. I just had my lip busted by an angry husband. Needless to say, it’s a night I planned to forget. Sam, sadly, had other ideas. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. She’d bring me breakfast in the morning and sit with me while I ate. She started taking me shopping and calling all the time to see how I was doing. She became more touchy-feely with her hand always on my arm or brushing my leg. I finally put a stop to it when she came over one night to drop off some paperwork and acted like she was too tired to go home. It hit me like a ton of bricks what she had been doing – trying to get back in my bed – and I wasn’t having any of it.
So I started casually dating. I’m not looking for anything too serious and it’s only with women who have some type of celebrity status so both of us can benefit. The women know this going in and more often than not, our publicists set us up. We both gain from our mutual interest in each other and there are no hard feelings when one of us wants to go in a separate direction. That’s usually me. I’m becoming bored very easily. A few have become clingers, but I’ve become too much of an ass to really care.
My car door opens and I reach for Valerie’s hand, pulling her behind me. We step out to massive screams. The sounds are deafening, but very welcomed. Sam assures me this will catapult us into super-stardom. She’s hoping that we’ll be headlining our own tour after tonight.
This is an A-list event and my relationship status will be confirmed in the press by this time tomorrow. Valerie has been my rumored girlfriend for a few weeks thanks to her publicist making sure we’re in the same place at the same time. Like I said, I don’t mind playing along. It’s fun for a while. Valerie’s beautiful and will make an amazing wife for someone, but not me. She agrees. We’re strictly friends when we’re off the camera. We have zero romantic chemistry at all.
I wave to the crowd and wait for Harrison to get out of his car so we can walk the red carpet together. His door opens and the decibel of the cheering moves up a notch to borderin
g at hysteria. Since we’ve done a few videos, Harrison has gained some fans. I think it’s great. It takes some of the spotlight off me.
He joins Valerie and me with his sister as his date. When Yvie reaches me, she goes up on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss on the cheek, much to the chagrin of the crowd. Yvie loves it. She’s had a crush on me since we met, according to Harrison, but I see her as a sister. It would probably make sense for us to date since we’re close in age, but the things I’ve seen and done in the past year ages me far beyond her reach. I may be only twenty, but I feel thirty.
Sam meets us and guides us to the crowd. Right now we’re only signing autographs. When we actually step onto the red carpet, the interviews and photos will start. Fans ask us for photos and Sam obliges, taking photo after photo until she tells us it’s time to hit the carpet.
Valerie and I step onto the carpet first, followed by Harrison and Yvie. Sam is in front of us with her clipboard out and an earpiece in. She’s talking to our publicist who is securing interviews along the carpet for us.
Photographers and journalists yell our names at the same time. I’m thankful for Sam and her list because without her, I wouldn’t know who to talk to. She knows where we’re supposed to go. She directs us to Entertainment Weekly. Harrison and I step up to the makeshift barricade, ready and willing to answer anything. Well almost anything. There are some questions that I refuse to answer and a simple shake of the head tells Sam that I’m ready to move on. Harrison does the same thing. We’re adamant that we won’t answer any questions about our family, especially my grandma.
“Well hello Liam Page and Harrison James,” the reporter coos our names as she bats her eyelashes, turning on the full charm. “Tell me boys, how are you enjoying your first premiere?”
Finding My Way Page 21