Nick laughed and Brad shook his head. “She’s a competent bassist. That’s all I give a shit about. I want my wife to be happy, and she wanted a solid metal female bassist. I think we found her.”
Yeah, well, Val and Brad might have valued her for her musical abilities…and so did Nick, but he was able to appreciate her other assets as well. And, from his position at the back sitting at his drums, he would always be able to appreciate every single damn asset she had to offer.
* * *
“Another one?”
“Just one more. If I have any more than that, I’ll be hung over tomorrow and then Val will want to kill me.”
“Aw, Gracie, Val wouldn’t kill you. You take good care of her precious angels.”
“Yeah, but I won’t be very effective if I’m messed up.”
Nick laughed. “You’re such a goody two shoes, little Miss Gracie.”
“Goody two shoes? What do you know about that?” She slammed her shot, giggling in that loud way she did when she was getting a little tipsy.
“What do I know about that? Well, to begin with, you should have said if you were fucked up. Only a goody two shoes says messed up.”
“Oh, come on, Nick. That’s a crappy evaluation.”
“See? Crappy, not shitty.”
Gracie started laughing raucously. “I am a nanny, Nick. I watch little impressionable children for a living. I can’t go around cursing like a sailor.”
“Maybe I can coerce you into doing it. One more drink…for uncle Nick. Let’s see if we can loosen those fuckin’ lips.”
Gracie laughed again. God, Nick had so much fun with her. Aside from his Fully Automatic buddies, Gracie had to be his best friend. He could be his real self with her and not worry what she thought, and he knew she felt the same way. He could get too drunk, too high, or even be too goddamned sober, and this woman would be there to tuck him in and rub his forehead. Yeah, nurturing was in her soul, and if she thought he was just an overgrown version of the little people she cared for, so be it. Tonight, after dinner at Val and Brad’s, Gracie was off for the night. She had a bedroom there at their house, so she didn’t have her own place anymore, and she’d said more than once that she was okay with it. Once in a while, though, Nick would invite her over so she could have time away from the job site. Tonight was one of those times. Nick had asked her to come over to have a couple of drinks and watch a movie, but they had yet to put the movie in the DVD player. “I swear to God, Nick, you are gonna be the death of me.”
“Aw, c’mon. Just one more.”
Famous last words.
Chapter Three
NICK STIRRED, TRYING to shake off the skeletons of sleep. Goddamn, he’d had some nasty dreams all night long, no doubt fueled by all the liquor he’d consumed the night before. He’d dreamed of having some hot sex with a cute blonde who had the perfect titties—they fit his hands like they were made for them. C cup, he figured. What he wouldn’t give for a steady lay like that.
As he continued to stir, though, he started to suspect that it wasn’t a dream. He was pretty sure it had happened…and it wasn’t just any blonde he’d been fucking last night.
Holy shit.
He rolled over to look on the other side of his bed, the side facing the window, and he confirmed his worst fear.
It was Gracie.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
If they hadn’t been at his place, he maybe could have snuck out and then pretended he didn’t remember anything (which was almost true), but this was his house, his bedroom, his bed. There was no denying, no pretending. The only chance of that was if Gracie woke up and didn’t remember. If that happened, he could maybe play along and just bury that memory in hopes of helping her save face.
He just lay there, wondering what to do. Should he just forge ahead, gently wake her up, and apologize? Should he instead feign sleep so, when she woke up, she could sneak out if she wanted?
He felt her stirring on the bed. Was she waking up or just shifting position so she could drift back to sleep? Nick bit his bottom lip hard, resting his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes before she opened hers. He needed the extra time to think. His head was fuzzy and achy and he could barely think straight. The ideas in his head felt thick like molasses—sludgy and slow moving.
As he tried to process his emotions—which were strange and weird and unexplainable—he felt the weight on the bed shift again. He knew Gracie was sitting up. Her gasp was loud enough to rival his alarm clock.
He kept his eyes closed…
“Oh, my God. Nick!”
…until he had no choice. He opened them, ready to face the music, as it were. Words, though? They were gone, his tongue wrapped in a blanket of silence. He could see by the look in her eyes that she knew, though, so there would be no playing like it never happened. He was finally able to force out one small meaningless syllable. “Yeah?”
“You…me…we!”
Nick pulled himself up into a sitting position. He would have nodded his head except it was throbbing. “Yeah, I think we did.”
“You think?” Gracie looked down and pulled the sheet over her breasts, causing Nick’s eyes to look at them right before she covered them. Yeah, they really were perfect.
But they didn’t belong to him.
“Uh…yeah, so I know. I’m…sorry.” He gulped. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. I, uh…hope this doesn’t fuck up our friendship.”
She took a deep breath and looked around the room. He saw her swallow as her face crumpled into a frown. “Um…it doesn’t have to.” She slowly brought her eyes to meet Nick’s. Yeah, his head was heavy and felt lethargic, but he examined her eyes, trying to figure out her mental state.
It just wasn’t registering, so he had to hope—pray—that their friendship was as strong as he thought it was. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” He nodded and let out a long breath of air through his lips. “So we just go on as usual, act like nothing happened. That sound okay to you?”
She blinked twice, her eyes examining his, and then she swallowed again. “Uh, yeah, okay. Sure.” He saw a small smile creep on her face, and that was when he felt relief spread through his muscles. He’d been holding them tight for what felt like minutes now. He smiled back and inhaled. She began looking around his room again. “Do you know where my bra ended up?”
If it had been any other woman in his bed, he would have had at least three smart ass, lascivious retorts for that query, but this was his sweet friend Gracie he was talking to, and he wasn’t about to take this awkward, strange situation and make it a thousand times worse. No way. So he said, “No clue. Where’d we start this party anyhow?”
He didn’t mean the drinking. He remembered that had taken place at the couch and the coffee table in the living room last night. No, he meant the sexual activity. But Gracie answered, “God, I have no idea.” She straightened up. Could it be that she didn’t have a hangover or was she putting on a brave strong face in an effort to clean up fast and get out of there? “Just close your eyes for a sec.” Nick shut them even though the vilest part of himself wanted to sneak one last peek at Gracie’s perfect curvaceous breasts. He wasn’t about to do it, though. That would have felt like a breach of their friendship.
Besides, he’d remember them no matter what. They were filed away in his brain for posterity.
He felt her get out of bed, and even though she was a tiny thing to begin with, the bed felt lighter without her. Lonelier somehow. Nick thought that was stupid and just listened as he heard her shuffling around. “Aha!” she exclaimed.
“Find it?”
“No, but I found my panties. That’s a start.”
Oh, fuck. Just the mention brought another memory rushing to his head. Those panties…they were a baby pink—thin and lacy and they’d left little to the imagination—which was probably why Nick had ripped them off her the night before like his life had depended on it before consuming her in another
kiss. He resisted the urge to ask her if they were still in one piece after he’d torn them off her body.
“Jeans!” she yelled, her voice as enthusiastic as an auctioneer closing out an item. He leaned his head forward to rest it in his hand that he had propped up, his elbow resting on his thigh. Fuck. He couldn’t wait to down a couple Tylenol tablets—or twenty. But he’d be patient. After crossing that line last night, it was the least he could do for his friend.
He heard her rummaging around in the living room, and after another minute, he heard her moving around in his bedroom again. “You can open your eyes.” He obeyed.
She was wearing the cute scalloped floral blouse she’d been wearing the night before when she and Nick had started drinking, but she said, “I still couldn’t find my bra. It’s…uh, pink, so if you find it, please return it to me. It’s a Victoria’s Secret, so I can’t afford to lose it.”
“No problem.” He considered offering to buy her another one, but that might sound douchey. Where the hell had she lost the bra? She walked out of the room again and Nick swung his legs off the side of the bed. He considering waiting until she was gone to dress, but he felt uncomfortable naked. If Gracie hadn’t been there, being nude wouldn’t have bothered him. Jeans…his jeans were right there on the floor, so he leaned over—ugh, big mistake—and pulled them up his legs quickly.
Just in the nick of time as she came back in his room. “I forgot. You drove me here last night. Can you take me back to Brad and Val’s?”
Oh, God, no. With his throbbing head, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but that would make him a bigger asshole if he didn’t. He swallowed around his heavy tongue and said, “Yeah, sure. Just let me make some coffee and take a couple—”
“I’m already late, Nick. I texted Val and told her I was on my way. She was cool about it, but if it takes me a few hours, I’ll lose my damn job. I can’t afford that.”
“Yeah, all right. Just give me a minute.” Shirt and shoes and Tylenol. He could swing by Starbucks and grab a coffee on the way back home.
Except when he got to Val’s house and let Gracie hop out of his car, Brad waved him inside…and he couldn’t pretend like he didn’t see it. Nope, he’d been a big enough dick today.
Gracie was already inside and playing with the kids on the living room floor while Val rushed out the door. Nick followed Brad into the kitchen. “What’s she in such a hurry for?”
“Hair appointment. She’s got this new stylist that books weeks in advance and she really likes him, so she doesn’t want to miss the appointment.” Nick nodded, leaning against the counter. Brad frowned. “Like I couldn’t watch the kids without a woman around.” He shook his head. “Coffee?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Brad laughed and grabbed a mug out of the white cabinet. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”
“You got that right.”
“Gracie must have really fucked you up.” Got that right, too. “Drink you under the table again?”
Brad handed Nick a mug of hot black coffee while he picked his own up off the counter. Nick laughed and immediately regretted it when his forehead protested in anger. “Hey. I’ll have you know I drink twice as much as she does so she can save face.” It was meant to be a joke—that was what he was known for—but he realized it was half true. He always drank more than Gracie when they partied together. “We were gonna drink tequila till the sunrise, but my liver couldn’t take it anymore.” He took a sip of the coffee—ah—and, as realization hit him, he hoped he didn’t have that just laid look, the one he often got that his bandmates loved calling him on.
Nah…how could he? He could barely even remember getting laid, so how could he have that look?
Well, his body—and his face and mind—had let him down many times before. It could happen again.
“So,” Brad said, walking around the island to sit at the kitchen table, and Nick followed suit. “Val really likes Brina. If she’s happy, I’m happy, but that’s not really true. I dunno. Yeah, she seems competent—good, even…but…” His voice trailed off and he took another gulp of his coffee. “What do you think?”
Nick was afraid of saying what he thought, because he knew his dick was going to do the talking. Really, though, aside from the lust burning in his loins, she seemed like she’d be a good fit. “I think she’s exactly what Val’s looking for.”
Brad gave him a look—the look—that told Nick he was skeptical about his friend’s judgment, but he said, “Eh. Maybe I’m just so used to Zane that no one else can fill his shoes.”
Nick nodded. “That must be it.”
Brad set his cup down. “Maybe. Zane seems to blend into the music like he belongs. It’s smooth and integrated. This chick, though—her stuff somehow seems to clash. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You think you can work with her anyway?”
“I don’t have a choice, man. You know Val already gave her the job.”
“Yeah, but you know as well as I do that it doesn’t mean shit. If we play together for a while and it doesn’t work, she doesn’t stay. I’m asking if you think you can make it work.”
“I will. I’ll do anything for Val. You know that. There’s just something…”
Nick raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his coffee. He trusted Brad’s judgment, because—as far as their band—Brad had never, not once, steered them wrong. They were a bestselling band today because of his friend’s instincts and drive. To not listen to him now could be disaster. Unless there was something Brad wasn’t saying. “Have you talked to Val about this?”
He shrugged. “I did some. She thinks I have a problem with her because she’s a woman.” Nick laughed and immediately regretted it, because his temples started throbbing again. “Yeah, that was my response.” The pain reliever he’d taken before leaving his house wasn’t doing the trick.
Nick wasn’t even going to say it, and not just because he’d be in for a hell of a ribbing, something he was used to, but he wanted to keep Brina around. Yeah, he thought she was hot and he was beginning to ache for her, but he liked the way she played. He thought maybe Brad was right—maybe he was so used to Zane that no one else would ever do. Brad said he thought Brina’s playing clashed with the rest of them…but maybe Brad felt threatened. Brina came on strong. Val was a strong woman, but Brina was more than that. She was over the top, so much so that Nick wouldn’t ever want to get in a bar fight with the woman.
Then again, that might be kind of fun.
He refrained from smiling at the image and said, “Well, for now, she’s with us. Let’s see if we can make it work.”
“I’m already there. I was just wondering if you were getting the same vibes I was getting.”
“Vibes?”
Brad shook his head. “Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“No. What, man?”
Brad sighed, draining his coffee cup before speaking. “I get the feeling she doesn’t care about us.”
Nick thought about it for a few seconds and said, “Could be. And why should she? She doesn’t even know us yet.”
“Well, yeah, but wouldn’t you have been excited to play in a band with already famous members if you were a nobody?”
Truth was, Nick sensed an abundance of confidence in Sabrina. She was cocksure of herself, and she came across as cool, calm, and in control…and his cock almost grew stiff thinking about it. Maybe Brad thought the woman hadn’t been humble enough or grateful enough when they’d offered her the job. Brad had not once in all their years, in first their gradual and then explosive rise to fame ever acted arrogant or cocky. He had pride in his work, but he didn’t let it get to his head.
Nick had, and he knew it, but it was something he’d since let go of. Today, he was just happy to be laying down the beats for the music he loved. The fame? It was overrated. Once he’d finally felt grounded again, he realized that it made a lot of people treat him like an object. He was no longer a person,
a human being, in their eyes, but someone to be worshipped, adored, lusted over, or used for their own unknown purposes. The listeners, the fans—they were what made it all worthwhile. They were the ones they played for, and sometimes he had to remind himself of that.
No, today, Nick knew that the best part of fame was simple—he could often get a table at a restaurant when he wanted without waiting (as long as the people working there knew who Fully Automatic was—he usually had a sixty- to eighty-percent chance of that and, at least when he didn’t, he had a little privacy and anonymity). He almost always had nice accommodations whenever he traveled. When he was recognized, he could use it to his advantage. That was the positive side of being well-known.
And maybe Sabrina had had a tiny taste of fame from the indie band she was in. He wondered if she was going to quit that band and dedicate herself completely to Val Hella or if she planned to stay in her original one as well. It wasn’t unheard of. Corey Taylor had started out with Stone Sour and then left them for Slipknot, only to return to his original band and introduce them to the world as well. Brina could do that for Scar Tissue, too, if she wanted, because Nick knew Val Hella was going to be well-received. There weren’t many women in metal, but listeners—guys and chicks alike—loved female rockers, and Brina was not only a great bass player but she looked amazing. The audiences were gonna eat her up.
He was sure, just from what little he’d picked up from her, that fame wouldn’t mess her up one bit.
He only hoped that she’d settle in and become a perfect fit so Brad could see what he saw.
Chapter Four
WHEN NICK ARRIVED for the band’s first real practice the following week, he was delighted that Brina had arrived there before he had. Her promptness told him that she was serious about being a part of the band and maybe even eager, although her chronic coolness belied the possibility, and, Nick was certain, didn’t argue her case with Brad. Brad hadn’t said another word since he and Nick had chatted last week, but Nick knew his friend well enough to know that he was unsure, maybe even wary, and keeping his eye on her.
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