by J. A. Huss
“Ten.” Missy laughs. “It’s not Hicksville, RK. And they’re only here to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. Jayce is paranoid.”
“Well, I think it’s a good idea. We’re isolated out here. People could come right up the road and knock on the damn door. So if Deputy Angelo Marzetti and friends want to stand guard, I’m not gonna complain. I even took them sodas and cookies the other day.”
I grin at that, because that isn’t something I could ever picture Melanie doing. Missy might be a terrible cook, but she tries hard. And baking the cops cookies is sweet. I slow down as a truck comes at us when I approach the twisty part of the drive down.
“You don’t have to go so slow, RK. He’s not gonna pull you over for speeding.”
“I’m trying to be careful, Miss. I don’t need another car going off the side of the mountain.”
“What?” she asks. I look over at her puzzled face. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“My track record is pretty bad, right?” I sigh. “I’m just saying. I’m trying to drive safely.”
“Hmm,” she says, turning her body a little to look out the window.
“What’s your band’s name?” I ask, just to change the subject.
“House band,” she says, turning back to me with a smile. Not a big one, but it’s a smile. “I’m a solo act, RK.”
“Melissa Vetti, rock star? Or Missy Vetti, singer-songwriter?”
“Either or, I guess.” Her smile grows and I make a mental note not to bring up driving off a mountain again. “Or maybe both. I don’t have any deep messages in my songs like you do.”
“What are they about?” I’m dying to hear her.
“Love.”
I laugh. “Aren’t they all?”
“It’s funny, you know? When I was a teen I’d try to write songs about the world. How I felt about it. What people were doing. Trends and stuff. But the harder I tried to get a message across, the dumber the song ended up being. So I gave up and just wrote things from my heart. How I felt about life instead of how I felt about what was happening in life. Most of that feeling comes from love for me. I write about you a lot. Growing up with you, loving you, losing you. Some are hard, some are soft. But they all come back to you, RK.”
I’m silent for a few seconds. “I think if you look carefully you’ll find that all my songs are about you as well.”
“And you write them because you care about me. And your fans care about you, so that’s why they like the songs?”
“That’s the secret sauce,” I say. “I can write a pop hit. I’m sure I could pull out any old notebook and make a pop hit out of something. But I don’t want to. I think my fans would know my heart wasn’t in it. So I don’t do it. I only release songs that speak to me. Falling in love, being in love, losing love, and everything before, after, and in between. Kenner writes some fun shit, but we don’t do too many of those or people stop taking you seriously.”
“You don’t do it for the money,” she says. And it’s not a question.
“I don’t.” I look over at her for a moment as we get to the outskirts of town. “I don’t need a lot of it. Just enough. And I was raised up with just enough. It’s not like I ever lacked anything. I don’t need a bigger house, a better view, or a faster car. I don’t mind where I came from. I had more than most. I like where I’m at. It’s more than enough.”
“You’re not really gonna quit, are you?”
“Afraid you’ll miss out on my rock-star lifestyle?” I wink at her, so she knows I’m joking.
“Nah, I’m just afraid you’ll never hit your stride, RK. You’ve done a lot with the past five years but you’ve got so much more to do with that talent. I don’t want you to quit because you’re not done yet.”
I nod. “Well, thanks. I appreciate that, Miss. And I’m sorry shit’s fucked up at the moment. I’ll figure it out eventually.”
“I know you will,” Missy says, sending me a smile that says she’s at peace with what I’m going through. With my weird behavior. My struggles. The sheriff following me everywhere. “I have complete faith in you. And I’m not in a rush.”
I park the truck on the street, since the dirt parking lot is full at this time of night, and take Missy’s hand as we walk over to the bar. The sheriff’s car that was behind us just pulls in front of Float’s and parks right in the no-parking zone. A boisterous crowd of people have to move aside to accommodate him and they go eerily silent when they recognize me approaching.
“Hey, Rock,” one guy says.
“What’s up, man?” I say, pulling the door open for Missy.
“You playing tonight?” another guy asks.
“Nah,” I say, looking over my shoulder just as someone’s phone takes a flash picture. “Tonight belongs to singer-songwriter Missy Vetti, my future wife.”
Missy lets out a gasp and then punches me in the arm. “What was that for?”
I shrug as we enter into the fray of people and waitresses. “Just trying to start the rumor early, that’s all. Let everyone know I’m officially off the market. We’re gonna have to watch TV tomorrow to see who reports it first.”
“You’re crazy,” she says, but she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the lips, forgetting all about her lipstick. “I’ll see you after, OK?”
“I’ll be here.” I watch her ass as she walks off and shake my head with a sigh. Fucking girl is beautiful.
“Hey,” Teej says, grasping my shoulder and leaning into my ear. “I’m gonna take you to the back so people don’t bother you.”
“I don’t mind it,” I say. “It’s the hometown crowd.”
“No,” TJ says, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “The place is packed with townies tonight. I guess word got out you’ve been in here a few times. I called in security.” He points to the back where two more fucking sheriff’s deputies are standing at attention. Their eyes flick across the crowd.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” I ask.
He’s pulling me along with him now, so I have to go with. “Jayce called earlier today. Said we need to have armed security in here at all times and since there’s no private firms up here in the goddamned mountains, I asked the sheriff to help out this week. Just until I get our own guys.”
“Jesus Christ. Someone is going to rob the bank tonight and I’m going to get blamed because all the cops are either here at Float’s or at my house.”
“I got a call in to some former military guys out in Denver,” Teej says, clapping me on the back and pointing to his booth. “It’s just for a couple more days.” Gretchen and Sean are already there, talking, and smiling, and laughing.
“Hey,” they both say at the same time.
But I’m still thinking about the words former military guys, so I just shoot them a wave as I lean back into TJ’s ear. “Tell me again why we need former military guys for security?”
But TJ doesn’t hear my question, or maybe he’s just ignoring me, because he points to a guy a few tables away and walks over to do the clap-on-the-back greeting he just gave me.
“Take a shot, RK!” Sean pulls on my arm, scooting over into the interior of the half-moon-shaped booth to give me room. There are at least ten shot glasses on the table, but only four of them are full.
“Getting started early tonight, ladies?” I ask.
Gretchen shakes her head and then yells over the noise. “I’m driver. So drink all you want. I’ll take you home tonight.”
“Two for you!” Sean says. “And two for me!”
“Shit, I don’t—”
“Fuck you, pussy,” Sean says, cutting me off. “You’re doing these shots or Gretchen will hold you down and pour them in.”
Gretchen rolls her eyes at me. “Children, all of you.”
I shrug. I might be a drug addict but I’m not an alcoholic. I down one, then the other, slamming both on the table the same time as Sean. “Damn,” I say. “That was fucking smooth. What is that
?” I grab the bottle and turn it towards me.
“Auchentoshan,” Sean says. “Sixteen-year-old, limited-edition. You a Scotch man, Rock?”
I squint my eyes at him and say, “RK. And yeah, I’ve been known to buy a bottle or two. I have Auchentoshan 1957 at home in LA. Once this shit blows over, you need to come visit my theatre room bar.”
“Dude.” Sean’s eyes are wide. “I’m gonna take you up on that. But until then”—he pours four more shots—“bottoms the fuck up!”
I’m just about to do another shot when I hear the squeak of the amp and the shuffling of the mic.
“Yeah, baby!” someone yells. I look around for the owner of the voice. It sounded like a fanboy.
But then the guitar starts, then the beat. The bass joins in and the stage lights come on, highlighting my girl like a… like a fucking rock star.
She leans into the guitar, her fingers dancing along the neck and even though I’ve seen her bite her goddamned lip many times in the past couple weeks, this is why I love it so much. That little tongue that darts out when she hits the high notes. The way she sucks that lip in and grimaces when her fingers have to do something tricky. She has always played this way. Her posture hasn’t changed, the bend of her legs, the crook of her arm, the length of the strap, the way she never looks at the crowd unless she’s singing. Like all the music is in her head and the audience is an accident.
She takes a deep breath as the music softens and then leans into the mic.
I stand up.
That fucking voice, man.
I push past some people in the aisle, making my way forward.
Can’t get enough of it.
The deputies stop me, one guy leaning into my face, barking orders for me to go sit back down.
I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. Except Melissa fucking Vetti up there on stage.
I realize I recognize the melody. One she wrote a long, long time ago back when we were kids. But the words are different. Back then they were about war, and politics, and shit everyone wanted to forget.
But tonight they are about yearning, and craving, and fucking.
Just like she said on the drive down.
And when the song ends, in that fraction of a moment of silence before the crowd rewards her with noise, she looks me straight in the eyes and whispers into the mic, “Fuck the past, this is the future.”
She doesn’t wait for the crowd, just dives right into another song, this one harder, angrier, and sexy as fuck. Her long hair sticks to her face, no free hands to brush it aside. Her back arches and my eyes are trained on her breasts. Her mouth twists as she eases back and lets the bass and drums take over.
I’m mesmerized.
The deputies still block my way but they stop demanding that I go sit down. Eventually TJ appears, probably knowing that her set is just about done, and urges me back to the table. I get there just as she finishes.
“Um,” Sean says as the music dies off. “You want me to introduce you, RK? I’ve got an in with the band.”
I flip him the finger. “Fuck off. I can’t help it. I haven’t seen her play in years. She’s so goddamned good, right?”
My eyes go back to Missy, taking her bow on stage as the people cheer. Not nearly enough cheers for my Missy. Not nearly enough cheers for what she just gave them.
Sean shoves a shot glass over towards me, his already in hand. “To being too goddamned good to play Float’s in Grand Lake.”
I drink to that.
Chapter Twenty-One
Missy shows up at the table just as Sean is pouring more shots of Auchentoshan, still doubling us all up. She downs them like a pro, and I watch, laughing, before downing mine. “Fucking good,” I say again.
“Yeah, RK likes the expensive shit,” Sean says. “I was hoping this might make you happy.” He pours two more for both Missy and I, and then takes his attention to Gretchen, taunting her about being DD tonight.
I look up at Miss and take her hand, pulling her into my lap, since the booth is packed now that Teej is sitting across from me. She sinks down and I slip my hand up her shirt, enjoying the way her back feels. All sweaty and slick from her stage time. I fucking love it. She smells good too.
“So,” she says, leaning into my ear so I can hear her over the music. “What’d you think?”
“Hmmm.” I lean into her neck. “I think… I think it’s a good thing those cops were here, because I was about to drag you offstage and make you fuck me like a rock star in the men’s bathroom.”
Her eyebrows go up and her eyes go wide. But she laughs. “Do you make a habit of that, Mr. Rock Star?”
“Nah,” I say, gently grabbing her lip with my teeth. “Never. You’re my first rock star, Melissa Vetti.”
“You’re my first too.” And then she twists a little, making my dick get hard, and kisses my mouth. Her tongue tastes sweet, but the salt on her lips from her exertion on stage is tangy.
“I want to taste you,” I whisper as we kiss.
“You are,” she says back, our lips still touching.
“Not these lips,” I say. “I want to eat your pussy until you scream.”
She takes a deep breath, then stands, grabs my hand, and drags me to the back of the bar. She stops at a door marked employees only, looking over her shoulder with a smile.
I cock my head at her, but she just smiles bigger, pushes the door open, and pulls me inside. She doesn’t stop and we pass the private restrooms and go all the way back to the employee break room. This time I push it open and whirl her inside, pushing her back against the door. “Is there a lock?”
“What fun is a lock?” she quips.
I love this fucking girl. I slip my hands up her shirt, squeezing her tits through her bra. She rests her head back against the door and moans. I pull her bra down, making her tits pop up, and then whip the tank top over her head.
I look down at her nipples, all pink and peaked up. I can’t get my mouth on them fast enough. I bite, maybe a little too hard, and she gasps, arching her back and sliding her thigh between my legs. She rubs against my dick and I go for the button on her jeans. I rip it apart, drag her zipper down, and then grab the waist of her jeans and yank them down her legs as I go to my knees.
My tongue can’t lick her fast enough. I tickle her clit and she grabs my hair with both hands, thrusting her hips outward, trying to give me access in this impossible position, with her damn pants still on.
“RK,” she whispers. “God, please make tonight the night we do it right.”
I laugh, squeezing her legs.
“I’m not even kidding!”
I pull back and slip a finger between her folds, easing it back and forth, getting her so wet, I almost can’t handle it. I stand back up, keeping my hand in place, gently massaging her clit. I kiss her, then bring my wet fingers up and place them inside her mouth. She sucks on them, looking me in the eyes as she unbuttons my jeans and tugs the zipper down. Her hand is warm and soft as she reaches for my cock. Her fist is small, but her grip is tight as she pumps me, still staring into me, like she’s searching for my soul.
“Like a rock star,” I say, whispering as my eyes go half-mast. I take my finger from her mouth and ease it back between her legs, pushing up inside her. She squeals and I say, “I want to fuck you like a rock star.”
“Please,” she says, just as I grab her under her thighs, pushing her back against the door, and lift her legs up.
I have to look down between her legs. I can’t stop myself. Her pussy is slightly open, the wetness I created with my finger beckoning my cock as I ease forward and press the tip against her opening.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, keep going.”
I ease in, making her groan so loud, I consider cupping my hand over her mouth to shush her up. But the music is still loud enough. And even though I can hear people coming and going in the hallway outside, they are using the restrooms, not coming back here.
I pull away, looking at her face. I watch
as her mouth opens and she takes deep, gasping breaths. And then I thrust inside her. Hard. Back out, thrust again. Harder.
“RK,” she moans.
“Melissa,” I say back.
“Fuck me. Fuck me.”
I pound her, slamming her ass against the door, making it creak and rattle. But I don’t care. I pound her harder, holding her legs up, the underside of her knees perfectly nestled into the crook of my arms.
She wraps her hands around my neck, holding me close, her fast breath gasping into my ear. Her pulse is going so fast, I can feel her wildly beating heart in my palms as I grip the inside of her legs.
“Come,” I tell her. “Right fucking now.”
Her pussy squeezes my dick and then I explode. I have a split second of concern over not using protection, but the pleasure wipes my mind of everything but how good she feels.
“Hey!” a voice says, knocking hard on the door.
“Gretchen!” Missy says.
“Get a fucking room, you two!”
“Shit!” Missy laughs. I release her legs, letting her feet settle on the ground again, and hold onto her arm as she reaches over and grabs a paper towel above the employee sink. She cleans up real fast, and I drag her jeans up her legs and fasten the button.
She smiles, doing the same for me.
“We’re not done,” I growl, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her towards me for a kiss. It starts rough, but she melds her breasts into my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. This gentles me like nobody’s business. I kiss her a few times.
“You guys!” Gretchen says. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“Coming!” Missy says, giving me one more peck before opening up a locker and checking her hair and makeup in the little mirror inside the door.
“We’re not done, Melissa Vetti.”
“Not even close,” she says, winking at me as she pulls the door open to a waiting Gretchen.
“Oh, my God, you guys are disgusting. Who has sex in a break room?”
Missy giggles, then grabs my arm as if to cling to me. Her grin is wild and wide, her eyes are dancing as they look up at me, and when she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder for a brief moment, just as I open the back passenger door to Gretchen’s stupid hybrid car, I sigh.