by Amity Cross
I sighed and fell into bed, makeup and all. You didn’t have to be a genius to see it, but Dee came alive on that stage. They all did, but the things he’d said to me at the club suddenly made a lot more sense. Music was his life. Without it, he floundered.
While lying in bed, my mind couldn’t focus on anything else but the gig. The way his fingers traveled up and down the neck of his guitar, the way he moved around the stage… Dee Cosgrove was a beast. I mean, no wonder every woman in the place had their eye on him.
I suddenly felt disappointed that I missed the photo shoot. I knew exactly why Georgie had sent me out to do her dirty work. Meaning her laundry—gag. She wanted me out of the picture so she could try it on with Dee, and obviously, she’d failed. Hard.
A smug smile crept onto my face at the thought of Georgie being taken down a few pegs. She’d bitched about it on the way to the Troubadour, and I was oddly satisfied and hella impressed with Dee’s own sense of professionalism. We had something in common that wasn’t music, and the thought warmed my insides.
Closing my eyes, my mind drifted straight back to a dirty place, and my hands began to wander over my stomach. Just the thought of him made that spot between my legs ache. In the privacy of my hotel room, I could indulge. It didn’t hurt, right?
Staring up at the ceiling, I knew his room was two floors above mine. It was my job to know these things. That wasn’t stalkerish at all. I wondered what he was doing right then.
My fingers pressed into my clit, and I let out a moan, wishing they were Dee’s, and I pulled away with a hiss. He was with the band. I was with the label. I didn’t mix with the band on a personal level. Ever. I couldn’t think these things.
Honestly? I wanted to know what made Dee tick. He wasn’t like other guys, and he’d made that glaringly obvious. Sure, he had that dirty sex thing going on big time, but that wasn’t why I was drawn to him. Was it? After my last attempt at a relationship, I wasn’t really that well adjusted. It had taken me a hell of a lot to get back to the point where I was even able to accept a date…and to do it with a guy in a band I was meant to be working with? Damn, I was so confused.
But it was just a date, right? That didn’t mean there had to be all that other stuff, did it? We were just gonna get something to eat, right?
Famous last words.
Chapter 7
Dee
Yet again, I stood in a busy, full-throttle LAX.
This time, instead of waiting for an arrival, we were watching half our family leave for home.
Zoe, Will, and I lingered out the front of Passport Control with Chris, Simone, and Frank, who all held their boarding passes in their hands. It was hard to see them go after so long together. I knew I would see them when I got back—whenever that was—but I already missed them.
While Zoe was talking to the others, Simone sidled up next to me and asked, “How’d it go? I saw you talking with Jessie last night.”
I grinned and elbowed her gently.
Her eyes widened. “Yeah?”
“I’m taking her out tonight.” I couldn’t help grinning.
“Way to go.” She raised her fist, and I bumped mine against hers. “I told you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Did so. At the club.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” she said, giving me a hug, her head resting against my chest.
“Do you think she kisses on the first date?” I asked, and she pulled back, laughing.
“I’m gonna miss you, Cosgrove.”
“I’m sure I’ll have some outrageous demand I’ll need fulfilling soon enough.” I leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Keep it real, S.”
“Hey, we better get going,” Chris said, tugging on Simone’s arm.
After hugging goodbye, they offered one last wave before wandering off to that weird place between countries. Which was just one big waiting room but still weird.
As they disappeared out of sight, my shoulders sagged. I still had Zoe and Will next to me, but I suddenly began to feel alone. That was bad news. All caps. Zoe threaded one arm through Will’s and the other through mine.
“Two hot guys on my arm,” she declared, pulling us away. “We’ll see them again, Dee Dee. It’s not the season premiere of Lost. They won’t crash on a mysterious island with a smoke monster.”
“I know.”
“I know what it’s like,” Will said. “You get used to having the guys around, and when they’re gone, it’s bloody quiet.”
“It’ll be good to have a little break. You can do whatever you want,” Zoe continued. “What are you going to do?”
As we walked through the crowd of travelers back out to the taxi rank to find a ride back into the city, I wondered the same thing. That would depend on how things went with Jessie. I wanted to see New York, but I didn’t want to follow her or anything. Not if she didn’t want me to.
“I dunno,” I replied truthfully. “I’m gonna stay here a few days and then decide. Maybe San Francisco. New York. Las Vegas.”
“Hey, maybe we could meet up somewhere along the way.”
“Maybe.”
As we stood in line, it didn’t escape my notice that Zoe was watching me with that look on her face. You know, that look women get when they know you’re trying to say shit to please them? That one.
“What was Simone talking to you about before? She seemed rather excited about something.”
Will glanced up like he was interested, but he offered a small grimace as if he knew. Brothers in arms and all. “Nothing.”
“Dee, you made me talk about shit all the time when Will”—she smiled up at him— “gave me the runaround. You can tell me if something’s messing with you.”
“Nothing’s messing with me,” I blatantly lied. I didn’t know why I wanted to keep things from Zoe. Maybe it was a strength thing. I’d never really had any massive problems before. None that needed a deep and meaningful conversation and especially about crap that didn’t need to be said in front of Will.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll talk later.”
“I’m busy later.”
She turned to face me, a knowing look on her face. “Really? Doing what?”
“I’m going out.”
“With Jessie?”
“What are you now, my mom?”
“Nice work.” Will fist bumped me, earning him an elbow in the gut from Zoe.
“Where are you going?”
I shrugged.
“You haven’t thought about where you’re taking her?”
I shrugged again. I was too busy compiling a list of conversation topics because if I winged that part of the date, I’d be a blubbering idiot.
“Dee.”
“I’ll work it out. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m not out to be something I’m not, and something I’m not is a planner.”
For the second time in as many days, we sat in the back of a taxi all the way back into central LA, my mind all over the place.
“Just be yourself,” Zoe said. “That’s why we love you. It’s why I love you.”
“Be myself, huh?”
“You’re a good guy,” Will put in. “If she can’t see it, then meh. Depends on how much you want her.”
Well, I’d soon find out. By the time we got back to the hotel, I wouldn’t have much time to contemplate it, let alone have a shower.
“Advice is taken into consideration,” I said. If there was one thing I was good at, it was being myself.
Room 307.
I stared at the gold numbers on the door and took a deep breath. Checking my phone again, it told me it was six fifty-nine. I knocked before I could back out, then rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans.
The door opened a moment later, and I almost swallowed my tongue. Jessie stood there smiling up at me, and I was gobsmacked. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but my mind was erased.
She was wearing tight black pants and a dark gray shi
rt with studs around the collar, sleeveless so her tattoo was on full show. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. Her hair was all done up with little pieces trailing around her face and neck, the kind that begged to be tucked behind her ear as an excuse to run my hand across her cheek. She looked stunning, and I suddenly felt way underdressed in my black jeans, slouchy white T-shirt, and denim jacket.
“Hey,” she said, her perfume wafting out into the hall and smacking me around the face. All vanilla and spice.
“Hey.” For added awkward points, I added, “You look nice.” Out of all the words in the fucking dictionary, I chose nice?
She stifled a laugh, her eyes narrowing. “Thanks.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yep. Have you decided on a place?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
“No,” I admitted. “I was just gonna wing it. I don’t know that much about LA.”
As we walked down the hall, she began chatting like we were old friends, and my chest swelled.
“Well, I was looking online, and I found this traditional American diner that is meant to be amazing,” she said. “So as you’re a guest in this country, it’s my duty to give you the full treatment.”
I hoped the full treatment included a kiss at the end of the night.
“Greasy, sugar, fat-loaded carbs,” she declared.
I raised an eyebrow.
“What? Can’t a girl eat a greasy hamburger once in a while?”
“Sounds good.” I pressed the button to the elevator about a million times.
“Don’t do that. It doesn’t come any faster if you keep pushing it.” She grabbed my hand, pulling it away from the button.
Instantly, I felt sparks run up my skin. You know, up until that point I thought that was crap made up for girls to read about in romance novels, but her skin against mine was… Well, I imagine that was what it would feel like to stick a knife in a toaster and fry yourself. Then as we stood in the elevator car on the way down to the foyer, the air felt like it was crackling. How could I not feel that?
The door opened with a ding, and fresh air hit my flushed face. As Jessie walked out in front of me, I let my gaze travel down her back, across her ass, and down to her shoes, which were those slouchy biker boots women liked to wear. Nice.
“The diner’s just down the street, actually,” she said, almost catching me staring at her backside. “We can walk it if you want.”
“Sure.” She could have said anything right then, and my answer would’ve still been the same.
The place she took me to was actually pretty nice. It was exactly like the diners in TV shows and movies. A nineteen sixties time warp, complete with jukebox and red and white checkered tablecloths. The waitress put us in a booth by the window, and I slid into the seat across from Jessie, fidgeting with the menu that was shoved under my nose.
“Get whatever you want,” I said. “My treat.”
“Oh, so he’s old-fashioned,” Jessie joked.
“Unfortunately.”
“Why is it unfortunate? Girls like guys who buy them dinner.” She winked, and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks like I was a sixteen-year-old boy.
“Girls like the bad guys. There’s not much call for putting jackets over puddles these days.”
“Well, you’ve obviously been hanging around the wrong women then,” she said, flipping open her menu. “Now for the full American experience, you need cheesy fries. It’s compulsory.”
Thankful that she’d changed the subject, we put together the fattest, greasiest meal we could manage—which wasn’t hard—and the waitress took our order with a raised eyebrow. A few minutes later, we had two strawberry milkshakes in front of us, complete with whipped cream and cherries on top. Jessie’s eyes were bright like she was having the time of her life. It was so low key I instantly relaxed.
“So have you been here before?” she asked, getting the conversation going.
“America?” I replied. “No, it’s my first time.”
“How do you like it?” She dipped her finger into the cream, slid it into her mouth, and sucked. Damn.
“It’s okay. It’s good to be someplace different.”
“Have you been anywhere else?” Her finger slid over her lips and back to the cream.
“I’ve never really traveled,” I said, trying to keep focus. “I mean, I wanted to, but I had to sacrifice a lot of things to get to where I am now with the band and everything.”
“I know what you mean.” She sighed and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and affording me a bird’s-eye view right down her top.
“You mean interning?” I asked, glancing away before she noticed me staring at her breasts.
“Yeah. It’s unpaid, so I have to work elsewhere to pay the bills.”
“What kind of work?”
“Waitressing. I’m pretty lucky my boss understands. He’s met Georgie, so he cuts me some slack,” she said with a laugh, shaking her head.
“How do you do it?” She looked at me confused, so I added, “Put up with her?”
“Georgie might be…you know, but she’s good at her job. I can learn a lot from her, and I have.”
“By doing her washing?”
“There are worse things than washing Georgie’s dirty panties,” she said, making a face.
That’s when the waitress decided to come back and place our order in front of us, her expression reading ‘what the fuck?’ I stifled a laugh and thanked her.
“What’s Australia like?” Jessie asked, grabbing one of the cheesy fries.
“Compared to here? Well, it’s not as fast. Everyone says hello when you walk into a shop. People ask how you are even if they don’t care. We drive on the opposite side of the road…”
“So it’s like living in a mirror.”
I got her meaning and smiled.
“Where do you want to travel to?”
“Everywhere,” I replied, not put off by her constant questions. “I guess I’m lucky to come here on Galaxy’s tab, and hopefully, I’ll get to do a lot more touring with the band…”
She sighed dreamily. “That would be amazing. Touring Europe in summer.”
“Have you been? Do you want to go?”
“I’ve never been, but I’d love to go. Paris in summer. Berlin… Oh, imagine the music scene in London. They have amazing festivals over there.”
“So you’d go for the music?”
“I like to visit museums and stuff, but the music scene is where you really get to know a place, you know? Like it’s different in LA to Seattle to New York. They all have their different genres and fashion and people. It’s amazing.”
“That’s true,” I said, thinking about Australia vs. the US.
“Did you like playing here? The gig last night was brilliant.”
“Thanks.” I shrugged.
She gave me a look and narrowed her eyes. “What? Didn’t live up to your expectations?”
“I dunno, I guess I feel more separated here.”
“Why’s that?”
“Back home, you can go out into the crowd and meet people. They don’t want to mooch off of you for drugs and alcohol. People want to talk to you, not the thing you’re meant to be.” I glanced up from my burger and right into her confused face. Her beautiful, confused face. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve got two heads?”
“Everyone who comes to make it big in LA, or anywhere here, wants those things.”
“Well, I dunno what mailing list you’re subscribed to, but it ain’t mine.”
“You’re straight edge?” She cocked her head to the side, a hot chip in her fingers dripping melted cheese into the bowl.
“Alcohol I do,” I said. “But I’ve never done a drug in my life.”
“Really? Smoked?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because a sick, sad part of me doesn’t want cancer?” Her questioning my life choices like that ki
nda annoyed the hell out of me. Like I couldn’t live unless I’d been off my face on E that’d been cut with laundry powder? Fucking hell.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quietly. “It’s just you don’t meet many people who haven’t at least tried something once or twice.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m old-fashioned, I guess.”
“You take care of yourself,” she declared. “I like it.”
We ate in silence for a while, neither of us seeming to know how to continue. All the things I’d thought about asking her just pissed off somewhere else, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. Her gaze was on her plate, so I stared at her, willing something to come to mind.
I ended up coming out with, “Why’d you move to New York?”
She glanced up, her eyes widening for a moment, and I wondered if I’d asked the wrong question.
“The same reason everyone moves there,” she replied. “To chase a dream.”
“What’s your dream?”
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, and she let out a long sigh. “I’m not a musician like you. I wanted to have that kind of life, though. I think about music much the same as you do. I can’t live without it. The only other thing I could’ve done was be a music journalist or work for a label. So I managed to get an internship at Galaxy, and here we are.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, that was the condensed version, but yeah.”
“Do you want to be a marketing manager?”
She laughed wryly at my question. “Sounds boring when you say it like that, but it’s not really a nine-to-five job.”
“Not really.” I grinned, thinking of the stuff we got up to while touring and recording.
“What about you? Was the band always your dream?”