Head-Tripped: A Sexy Rock Star Romance (Ad Agency Series Book 2)

by Nicole Archer

  “I’m crazy about you, F-bomb!” he shouted.

  “I’m crazy about you, Elvis!” she shouted back.

  After a while, they pulled over and parked. “I’m starving,” she said. “Let’s grab a bite at that place.” She pointed to a coffeehouse.

  “Unless you plan on being stoned for a week, I don’t think you want to eat there.”

  “Oh? Ohhhh! Yeah, no.”

  “We can check it out if you want.”

  “No, no. I know how you feel about drugs.”

  “I don’t care if other people smoke. I just don’t want my band doing it. Drugs ruin too many careers.” Including his mother’s.

  After he’d watched her waste away on heroin and parade her Johns around him night after night, he had no desire to use drugs, even recreationally. With a genetic predisposition for substance abuse, his stage fright, and an industry filled with “substances,” he was bound to end up another statistic.

  She stared off into the distance and pinched her neck.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I’m fine. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  They bought cheese and bread off a street vendor and picnicked with their feet hanging over a bridge. Later, they rode to the Red Light District.

  “Let’s go there.” She honked and pointed to a neon flashing sign. “Sex-O-Rama. Yes!”

  “I’m a hundred percent down with this idea,” he said.

  She ooed and ahed over the massive dildo collection. “I’ve never seen so many sex toys.” She grabbed a basket and shoved a giant black dildo into it.

  He pulled it out and examined it. “The Pounder? I may not be this big, but I’m pretty sure I can satisfy you.”

  “It’s for Cato.”

  Thank God, because he didn’t want that thing anywhere near her or him. He stuck a yellow butt plug in the basket.

  “Who’s that for?” she asked.

  “Griffin. Maybe it’ll help him get the stick out of his ass.”

  She tossed in a pair of Hello Kitty nipple clamps.

  He raised a brow.

  “For Annie.”

  “Ah.”

  They chose pink butt beads for Missy, a leopard-print cock ring for LeStrange, and a ball gag for Hal.

  “What about us?” she said.

  “I’ve got all the sex toys you need.” He waved a hand over his hardening crotch.

  A shy smile pushed up one blushing cheek. “Then we better get condoms.”

  “How soon do you want to try them out?” He clasped his hands in prayer. “Please say tonight.”

  “Soon.” She spent a surprisingly long time selecting the perfect rubber for whenever “soon” was.

  “Those are interesting,” he lied.

  “Well, I can’t lose my good-sex virginity with ordinary condoms.” She held up a package of French ticklers and glow-in-the-dark edible rubbers.

  “Are you gonna eat those off me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Great.” He motioned over his member again. “I’m not going to be able to ride that bike until this goes down.”

  “Maybe we should take a break up there.” She pointed to a pink door up a flight of stairs that said Live Sex Show. Her brows wiggled. “Wanna?”

  Watching her get all hot and bothered while strangers fucked on stage? “Yes, please. Two tickets,” he told the clerk.

  They sat in back of the theater, behind a lone Indian man and a bunch of frat boys.

  “I smell popcorn.” She sniffed the air. “Oh look, they have a popcorn machine. I’ll be right back.” She returned holding two bags of popcorn, which they ate whilst watching couples fuck onstage.

  “This is kind of boring.” She tossed a kernel in her mouth.

  “It’s just about over. He just came on her tits.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  The couple pranced off the stage, and a naked woman came out and spread-eagled on a revolving platform. She lit a cigarette, blew out the smoke, and then put the filter between her legs.

  Effie sat up and choked. “She’s gonna burn her—oh my God, is she smoking a cigarette out of her vagina?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Eyes wide, mouth open, and popcorn stuck to her face, she stared at the scene. “Does this turn you on?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Wanna go?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Outside, he wheeled the bike off the sidewalk and she dumped the sex toys in the basket.

  “Think that woman woke up one day and decided to do that for a living?” she asked.

  “Maybe she was discovered.”

  “By like a sex-show talent scout?”

  “It could happen.” He sat on the bike and held it steady for her.

  “Maybe if this rock star thing doesn’t work out,” she said. “I’ll become a sex-show talent scout.”

  “Been there, done that.”

  She giggled, kissed his cheek, and hopped on.

  They took the long way back to the shipwreck, laughing like kids, with the big black dildo flopping out of the basket like a toddler’s arm.

  34

  Deceptive Cadence

  “‘I know what YOU’D like!’ the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a little box out of her pocket. ‘Have a biscuit?’”

  Soundtrack “When I’m Small,” Phantogram

  Backstage at the concert that night, Gail cornered Effie in the dressing room. “Why aren’t you wearing the outfit?”

  “Because I’m wearing this.” She twirled in her white sundress.

  Gail looked as if she’d just inhaled raw sewage. “This isn’t a Phish show. You can’t wear that.”

  “I don’t know who that is, but I’ll tell you what I’m not wearing”—she pointed to the atrocity on the hanger—“that gold onesie.”

  Kyle stepped a foot inside the room, saw Gail, then turned tail and left.

  Coward.

  “What can I do for you, Gail?” Effie asked.

  The manager sat on the dressing room table and folded her manicured hands in her lap. “Did you know my father owns Heart Records?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “My grandparents escaped the Holocaust and came to the US with nothing, couldn’t even afford to feed themselves. And now my father is one of the richest men in America.”

  “That’s amazing,” Effie said and meant it.

  “Know how he got to be so rich?” She tapped her temple. “Intuition. All of Heart’s bands make it to number one.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Urban was the first band I groomed for the stage when I started working for my father.” She picked non-existent lint off her red suede pants. “He didn’t think they’d amount to anything, but I had a gut feeling. ‘Go, play with your little band,’ he told me.”

  “Little band?”

  “That’s right. See, my father’s a sexist pig. He didn’t believe for one second I could turn a dive-bar band into the number one grossing band in history. In his eyes, women are useless.”

  This little therapy session couldn’t be the manager’s attempt to garner sympathy could it? If it was, she was doing a piss-poor job. “Guess you showed him.”

  “Elias would still be playing in bowling alleys if it weren’t for me. I built his brand from scratch and made him a household name.” Gail rose to her feet and wagged a finger. “And you, my little mystery, are off-brand.”

  Effie crossed her arms across her chest. “Maybe we should ask Elias how he feels.”

  “Don’t bother. I already know you hold the purse strings now. You’ve got everyone fooled.” She bent down and whispered, “Except me.”

  She nearly gagged on the scent of Gail’s perfume. How could someone who smelled so good reek so bad?

  Gail’s lips pulled back over her fangs. “But I’m not about to tell my father that I can’t control my”—she flashed finger quotes—“‘little band.’”

  “So that’s it?” E
ffie asked. “That’s why you’re so mean? Because your father’s a sexist pig?”

  “Mean?” Gail snapped out an arid laugh. “I’m not mean. In fact, I brought you a little peace offering.” She pulled out a gift-wrapped box from her bag and handed it to Effie. “Open it.”

  Effie shook the box. “What is it?” It was probably a bomb.

  “Dutch lollipops.” Gail gave her a cute wrinkly-nosed smile. “A little bird told me you’re fond of them.”

  The polite ‘thank you’ she should have uttered got stuck in her throat.

  The manager slung her designer bag around her shoulder and flitted toward the door in her spiky heels. “Wear whatever the fuck you want, Effie. If that is your real name.”

  Jesus, her real name? Did she honestly think Effie was some kind of criminal, traveling under an assumed identity? Money had made that woman insane.

  Once the manager left, Effie’s body ached as if Gail had somehow injected arthritis into her veins.

  What she wouldn’t give for a cigarette.

  She tore open the box and bit into a lollipop. Gah, it tasted like chemical dog doo. Of course Gail would buy her shitsicles. But since there was nothing else, she devoured three more and stuffed the rest in her backpack.

  Missy sidled up next to her. “You look pretty.”

  After having her ego shredded by Gail, the compliment sunk to the bottom of her gut like an anchor.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got attacked by your manager.”

  “God, I hate her,” Missy said.

  “Then why do you work with her?”

  “Because she’s a shark. No one messes with Gail.”

  The walls in the room throbbed with her head. Effie stood and stumbled.

  “You okay?” Missy took her elbow.

  “Think I need to eat something.” She staggered to the tent out back, feeling dizzier with every step.

  A caterer had set up a buffet for the band and crew. She caught a whiff of grilled meat and her stomach roiled. She wobbled over to a chair then everything turned fuzzy after that.

  “If you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; if you drink from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you.”

  Soundtrack “White Rabbit,” Jefferson Airplane

  “Miss Murphy?” the caterer said. “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’ve been standing in the same place for five minutes. You okay?”

  She tugged her collar and wiped her forehead. “It’s hot in here.”

  “It’s only sixty degrees.”

  “I’m roasting.”

  She wandered over to a table and sat down across from Griffin.

  He gripped his phone in one hand and buried his face in the other. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t fucking play the drums. Please, Melody, please call me back. Please.” He lowered his phone and stared down at it.

  “Is Melody your girlfriend?” she asked.

  He jerked his gaze up to hers. “What the fuck? Were you listening?”

  She tilted her head. “You look sad. Are you sad? No wait, you look mad now.” She fanned herself. “Geez. Who knew the Netherlands would be such an oven.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the end of the tablecloth.

  Griffin gawked at her for another second then stood and left the tent.

  Man, it was a kiln in there. She unbuttoned the top of her dress.

  Hal strutted in, looked down at her chest, then back up to her eyes. “Uh, your shirt’s, uh...” He flicked his fingers over his chest and made weird sounds.

  “Speak up, man,” she said. “I don’t have all day.”

  His mustache lowered an inch with his frown. “Actually, you have five minutes,” he said, turning back twice with a weird confused look on his face.

  “Five minutes until what?” she shouted.

  Griffin strode back into the tent. “What do you think, brainiac? Let’s go.”

  The dark gray night slid through the tent door. How long had she been eating? Did she eat? She stood and fell back in her seat. Something wasn’t right. Her head felt funny. And her limbs felt like jelly.

  “You okay?” Griffin held out a hand.

  “I’m fine,” she lied. Because even though she could barely make out Griffin’s face, Gail’s speech rang clear in her head—if she failed, the band failed.

  A second later, she stood onstage, in front of a field full of people. How did she get up there? She examined the fine mist clinging to her skin.

  The crowd shouted.

  She cringed and covered her ears. What the hell was happening? Who were all those people? Their faces were so flat, like stretched-out Silly Putty.

  Someone touched her lower back and a voice boomed overhead. “You look amazing,” the voice said. Elias belonged to the voice.

  She touched his cheek to make sure he was real. “I miss you,” she said.

  “I just saw you in the caterer’s tent.”

  “You did?”

  He peeled her arms off him. “Showtime.”

  She swam under the laser beams, doing the backstroke to the beat. Music played in the distance. It sounded like violin. Her fingers glided down the frets. How did they move without her?

  The field turned into a writhing orgy of color. She spun in a circle until the world spun with her. Someone stopped her. A supernatural being. Elias. No human could sing like that and look that good.

  God, he was so perfect. Life was so perfect.

  Voices echoed over the canyon. She grabbed the microphone. “Hello, beautiful people!” she shouted.

  They responded with a roar.

  Arms poked up from the orgy, flashing blue screens.

  “For God’s sake!” she screamed. “Put down your phones!”

  A few screens went dark.

  “I’ll take off my clothes, if you do,” she said. “We’ll all take off our clothes and sing buck-naked. Right guys?”

  Cato’s mouth opened wide like the whale in Moby Dick.

  More phones rose over the crowd. “Guess a naked woman on stage is just another day in Amsterdam, huh?” She slapped her thigh and chuckled. “I saw a woman smoke out of her vagina. Remember that, El?”

  She shielded her eyes from the lights. Where was he? “Raise your hands if you know how to smoke out of your vagina.”

  Some guy screamed, “I do.”

  “You have a vagina, sir?”

  Laughter rang out. Beautiful, beautiful laughter. Swirls of fabulousness rushed over her. “If I play violin with my vagina, will you put down your phones?”

  “Yes!” screamed the crowd.

  “All right,” she said. “Put down your phones, then.”

  “What are you doing?” Elias said through a tight smile.

  “Isn’t this the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen? Aren’t they all beautiful? Such pretty men. And Missy? I bet all the boys want to hump her.” She put the microphone back on the stand and picked up her violin. “You guys ready?”

  The crowd cheered.

  “Okay, here it goes.” She slid the violin under her dress then pulled it out. “Nope, I still see phones. Sorry.”

  “Dude, shut up,” Cato stage-whispered.

  “Caaaaaaatooooh. I love you. Oh my gosh, I got you something today.” She ran offstage and came back with the huge black dildo. “Surprise.”

  Cato threw it over his shoulder, and Griffin picked it up and started drumming with it. Such a funny guy.

  A sea of hands waved. “Catch me!” She dove into the sea, and the beautiful, flat-faced people passed her around. “Let me down. I need to dance.”

  She wrung the sweat out of her hair and performed the ideal cheerleader routine. She even did the splits. “Ow,” she said to no one. “That hurt.” Even though, it felt like she’d torn her groin, she laughed and laughed and laughed.

  For three days, she danced. At least that’s what it felt like.

  A
nd then all the joy fled and chills and nausea swamped her.

  She weaved toward the stage. On the way, a flashlight blasted her vision.

  “What is she on?” someone asked.

  “I’m high on life,” she said then threw up on someone’s boots.

  35

  Pianissimo

  “‘I only hope the boat won’t tipple over!’ she said to herself.”

  Soundtrack “Deep Blue,” Arcade Fire

  Twenty-four hours after the concert, Effie came to.

  All night and into the next day, Elias practiced dumping her. She’d shredded his heart into tiny pieces and made a fool out of him. And she’d lied. And it was over.

  While she remained comatose for the last day, visions of his wasted mother played over and over again in his mind. The horror and hatred and humiliation from his childhood crawled up from the basement and haunted him—men barging into his room at night while he hid in the closet, his mother’s abuse when she hadn’t had her fix, begging for money to eat.

  Then one day it finally stopped. After school, he found his mother dead on his bed. He’d never forgotten the relief he felt at that moment. Nor the dread that set in afterward.

  If the authorities had found out he was an orphan, he’d have ended up in a worse situation, in an institution, or jail.

  So he stayed in his apartment for a month with her rotting corpse until the smell became unbearable.

  Then he packed up what little he had and went to school. He hid in the library supply closet until everyone had left for the day.

  For one year, he lived in the library, ate the food from the cafeteria, bathed in the locker room, washed his clothes in the mop sink, and didn’t tell a soul.

  And then Jun, a janitor at the school, discovered his hideout one night after a water main break.

  Jun couldn’t speak English, but his wife Annie could.

  Annie arrived that night at the school and convinced Elias to come to their house so Jun wouldn’t lose his job.

  After that, with what little money they had, Jun and Annie fed Elias and treated him like the child they weren’t allowed to have in China.