17: Ramblin’ Man
I had tried to get ahold of Lacy all that next day but she was running late since Cody had gotten a cold. I was worried he might have passed it on to her because her voice wasn’t up to par. Her vocals kept cracking and she was missing lyrics during our rehearsal, which had never happened before. Finally I called for a break and fetched a cup of herbal tea for her.
“You okay, baby?” I said as I stood close to her. I resisted the urge to smooth her hair, but barely.
She nodded. “The show must go on, right?”
I mirrored the nod.
By seven o’clock it was clear she was going to have to amend some of her song choices. We decided to stay on our stools and perform a more acoustic arrangement, repeating our duet from the night before so that it didn’t put as much strain on her voice.
Sunday night calmed down a tad, but we still filled the room. Again, the crowd was predominantly female. Whether that pleased her or upset her was a mystery. She wasn’t talking. I knew most of that was to save her voice, but I suspected there was something else that was bothering her.
Unfortunately it looked like we’d have to wait until Tuesday to talk about it.
I followed her to the dressing room when we were done. She changed without speaking and I sat in the makeup chair, just watching her. When she walked by I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into my lap. “I missed you last night,” I murmured as I stared into her bloodshot eyes.
“Did you?” she asked, her voice cracking.
I cupped her face with my hand. “How can you still ask me that?”
She shrugged as she tried to get up, but I held her fast. I pulled her close for a kiss but she turned her head away. “I don’t want to get you sick. You still have another show to do.”
I searched her face. Was that it? I curled my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close, resting my lips on her forehead.
She was burning up.
“You’re running a fever,” I told her. “You should go home and rest.”
She nodded. I released her without further delay.
I still hadn’t moved from my chair when she left the dressing room, to be escorted to her car by one of the security guards.
I sighed as I spun around to the mirror. I barely recognized the guy staring back at me. My short hair was spiked. I wore a full, neatly trimmed beard now around my jaw. And I sat there in the tightest pair of jeans I had ever worn. Why should she trust that guy? I wouldn’t trust that guy.
He was another bad boy rocker who sang to all the pretty ladies in the front row, giving them the illusion that they had shared something real.
I hopped into the shower. That tiny stall reminded me of the night I had made love to Lacy there, pressing her against the wall as I slid inside of her. My body sprang to life under the hot misty spray of the water. I stroked myself as I remembered how she felt all around me.
God, I couldn’t wait until Tuesday.
My eyes were closed when I heard the curtain move to the side. Tiny hands slipped along my wet body and I assumed that Lacy had come back. Nothing would have pleased me more than knowing she was as hot for me as I was for her, so I readily pulled her under the spray.
But when I opened my eyes, it was a strange girl I didn’t know, someone from the audience, someone I sang to just a half-hour before.
“What the fuck?” I exclaimed as I grabbed the curtain to wrap around my body. “How did you get in here?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter?” she asked as she tried to step closer, her athletic body completely naked.
I practically tore the curtain from the rod as I jumped out.
“Come on, Jonah,” she pleaded in a drunken slur as she reached for me. “We shared something out there. I know you felt it too.”
“You need to go,” I told her before I stalked through the dressing room to call one of the crew. Two burly bouncers rushed inside, along with Jacinda, who was tasked with going into the shower and making sure she was dressed.
I jumped into my jeans in the melee. Both Ty and Gay came down to handle the trespasser, who turned out to be an eighteen-year-old college student who had paid her way into the twenty-one and over club. She puked her ill-gotten booze in a neon pink spray all over the bathroom before they could escort her out.
It was a madhouse I was glad that Lacy missed. Not to mention if Lacy had stayed, she’d have been in that shower with me. That would have opened up yet another can of worms.
Gay called me up to her office before I left for the night.
I was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry about all that, Gay. I know your club doesn’t need this kind of trouble,” I said, thinking about the young drunk girl they had to evict from the bar and the legal mess that could lead to.
She waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time. Rich college girls out to break some rules pay the bouncer extra dough to get into the club. Guess it’s time to hire some new security. And fire some old ones,” she added with a wry grin. “All this proves is that our marketing plan is working. You’re an idol. Congratulations.”
I didn’t know what to say so I sat and said nothing.
“Tomorrow night you’re going to be part of my new Ladies Night lineup. Judging by the phone calls we’ve had all week, I predict record numbers. You’re going to be really happy with your check next week,” she said, before offering my current check.
I still couldn’t believe I was getting paid so much for only four days of work, especially work that put me so close to the woman I was crazy about, which was bonus enough. “Thanks, Gay,” I said because I could think of nothing else.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’ve booked a photographer. It’s one of Jasper’s people, flying into town just to do the shoot. Clear your schedule for Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” I echoed and she nodded. “I have plans.”
“You had plans,” she corrected. “Tyler Tisdale is only the most prominent photographer of the 21st century. Name a magazine, any magazine, right off the top of your head.” She didn’t even give me a chance to answer. “Whatever it is, he’s done a cover. He’s even covered the royal family, the president… you simply don’t put off an appointment with someone that important. It could shade your whole career. You don’t want to turn into one of those entitled little brats, do you?”
I shook my head. And I could hardly blame Gay for intruding on my personal days when she had no idea what I had planned for them. “Fine,” I acquiesced with a sigh. “I’ll move some things around.”
“Good boy,” she said.
A thought occurred to me. “Maybe he can photograph all of the members in Blaze,” I offered.
She sent me that look over her half-moon glasses. “Jonah.”
“Why not?” I asked. “In case you didn’t know it, the entire band kicks ass. It’s not just a one-man show.”
She sighed as she turned to face me. “I tell you what. You get her to agree with it and we’ll talk.”
“Why wouldn’t she agree? You’re telling me that this guy makes careers, why wouldn’t she want to take advantage of that?”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Fine,” I said, accepting the challenge.
Lacy didn’t feel up to talking that night, so I let her rest. Instead I focused on the set for my solo show the following night. I sat up till dawn rehearsing. The weight of getting the show absolutely right was heavy on my shoulders.
My mom woke me up before she left for work. I dragged myself out of my bed and lumbered to the sofa, where I napped until Leah woke up. I fixed her breakfast and then she became my test audience while I ran through the set again.
Lacy finally answered my text by two o’clock. Her voice was even raspier than usual. “God, babe. You sound horrible.”
“Thanks,” she retorted, before coughing.
“Get it all out of your system now,” I said as I cradled the phone to my ear. “We’ve got big plans tomorrow.”
> “We do?” she echoed.
“How would you feel about a photo shoot?”
She fell silent for a moment. I suspected that wasn’t a good thing. “What are you talking about?”
“Gay set up a photo shoot for the band tomorrow.” I fudged the truth, but she saw through it anyway.
“For the band? Or for you?”
“Aren’t they one in the same?” I asked. “Then, after you dazzle this hot shot New York photographer, I’ll take you to a nice, four-star hotel. We’ll order room service and make love all night long. At least until midnight, when the coach turns back into a pumpkin.”
She chuckled. “There’s no way I could take photos looking like this, Jonah. My hair is ratty. My eyes are bloodshot. My nose is swollen and red. They’d have to change the name of the band from Blaze to Rudolph.”
I laughed. “I bet you look adorable,” I said softly. “God, I wish I could be with you right now.”
“Jonah,” she said and I shivered.
“Girl, what you do to me.”
“Do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Sing for me.”
I obliged her happily. I disconnected an hour later, when I sat staring at the photo of her on my phone.
“Someone’s in love,” Leah said over my shoulder.
I turned to her. “You think so?”
She nodded. “I like her,” she said as she sat at the table next to me. “She’s nice. And she’s pretty, if you don’t count all the tattoos,” she said as she made a face.
“You don’t like them?” I asked.
“I dunno. It’s like she is trying to be unpretty or something.”
Her comment struck me. “Unpretty?”
She nodded. “She’ll never be ugly, but she does just enough to put people off. Keep them at arm’s length.”
I considered that. “You could be right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she said with a big smile. I gave her a big hug.
“I’m going to get a shower,” I said, learning my lesson of taking a shower at the club the night before.
Gay decided to send a car for me. When I got to the club I could see why. There were girls camped out of an event that promised to be standing room only. They screamed when they saw me get out of the car. I gave them a smile and a wave before I headed indoors. Gay met me at the door. She showed me the newspaper, which detailed our little scuffle the night before, complete with a snippet from the celebrity blog of Miles O’ Rourke, who had already broadcast the news the night before.
“Jonah Riley, Ariel Acardi’s rumored arm candy, is fighting off a horde of new groupies down Texas way, even in his own dressing room. According to sources at the Southern Nights nightclub in Austin, a barely legal fan bribed one of the security guards to get in, and proceeded to jump in the shower with this hunka burning love. I hear Monday night is Ladies Night. Better luck next time, girls!”
“Lemme guess,” I said as I handed the paper back to her. “You’re the ‘source.’”
She shrugged. “People talk. What can I tell you?” She leaned closer. “You’re trending.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked and she just laughed and shook her head.
“So did you talk to Lacy? Shall I phone Tyler and tell him the shoot is for two and not one?”
I sighed. “She’s sick. She doesn’t feel up to coming.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, but somehow I doubt she meant it. “I can still count on you, though, can’t I, Jonah?”
I nodded.
“By the way, we’re going to be doing a Meet and Greet for the first twenty ladies in the door. Hence the line outside. So save a little charm for after the show.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really?”
“It’s all part of the game, sugar. Trust me.”
Apparently part of the “game” was a wardrobe change. She had laid out a pair of leather pants and a torn T-shirt that showed off the physique I had sculpted doing manual labor back on our ranch. She was pleased with the appearance when she slipped into my dressing room. “Almost perfect,” she said before she poured some hair product into her palm and ran her fingers through my hair.
“I look like I just got out of bed,” I complained.
“That’s the idea,” she grinned. “Now, listen, hot stuff. I want you to remember all the moves you used on all the pretty ladies when you were on the prowl. Employ that onstage. Make them fall in love with you. Make them want to sleep with you. The hotter they are, the more records you sell. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You want me to lie.”
She leaned in close, grabbing my face in her hands. “I want you to create an illusion. That’s your real job up on that stage.” She stood up. “Is it a lie when a magician pulls a rabbit out of an empty hat? Of course it is. The trick is to do it with such finesse they’ll love you for it and pay you loads and loads of cash for the privilege of being lied to.”
“Just do me a favor,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Buy a new lock for the dressing room door.”
She laughed. “You got it, sugar. Come on. Let’s go break some hearts.”
My set included some Seger, some Allman Brothers and a little Bad Company, an anthem about lovemaking that had all the girls swooning near my feet. It was just like picking girls up at the bar. I gave them a look or a smirk and they were putty in my hands. I pushed the envelope even further, with erotic thrusts while I played the guitar. The women, who had been plied with half-priced drinks, ate it up. They screamed for me until I came out for an encore. I ended the set with Foghat’s “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” which seemed like overkill to me but Gay insisted it would seal the deal, making me the newest dirty rocker boy all the girls wanted to bang.
When I got back to my dressing room, it was filled with the ten ladies who had secured their place in the limited M&G by standing in line all day. Several were girls who were up front while I sang, so they had no problem leaning into me to take selfies as they reached for kisses on my cheek while they ran their hands over my torso.
More than one I had to l block from their hands drifting any lower to the prominent bulge I was still embarrassed to display.
Champagne flowed, which kept me mellow. I was able to cuddle close, secured by the notion that there were four burly bouncers ready to intervene if things got too out of hand. “It’s all part of the game,” Gay’s voice kept ringing in my ear.
So I played it. I called them ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darlin’,’ as I hugged them tight, thanking them for coming out to see little ol’ me. It was the safest flirting I’d ever done. Once I realized that, I can admit that I threw myself into it.
All it really did was amp me up for when I could get Lacy alone. These girls were pretty, in all shapes and sizes, ages and personalities. Some were forward, some were shy. But none of them were her, and because of that, I had no interest in taking any of the flirty interaction to the next step.
I didn’t know when or how it happened, but I had become a one-woman man.
I was able to laugh off the innuendo and shrug off the lingering hugs, or shy away from the wandering hands. I had no interest in keeping anyone backstage for one-on-one fun.
If they were disappointed, they didn’t show it. They seemed thrilled with the attention they got.
It took about an hour to finish the M&G, which was more than enough time for each girl to get a photo or a signed flier from the club. After the photo shoot, I’d have stills to sign and give away (or sell, depending on Gay’s angle,) but until then I signed whatever was available.
For a couple of gals, this included the brand new Southern Nights T-shirts they bought.
By midnight, I collapsed in the hired car. I was asleep before we reached my apartment. I lumbered up the stairs, let myself into the darkened apartment and collapsed onto my bed fully clothed.
All I wanted was to get some sleep and get the photo shoot out of
the way so I could be with my baby.
18: I Just Want to Make Love to You
Tyler Tisdale was a proper British bloke who decided, promptly, that I needed to be photographed in natural surroundings. Gay tagged along as we headed to Lake Travis, where she and Ty just happened to have a boat we could use.
Leah came with us because she threatened to throw a Texas-sized hissy fit if I left her alone with some home health care aid while I lived the life of a “rock star.” She wanted to be a part of it and I didn’t have the heart to refuse her.
Fortunately Gay and Tyler welcomed her, adopting her as our photo shoot’s mascot for the day. Ever the charmer, Tyler asked Leah what kind of photos she thought he should take. She felt very important as she listed her preferences.
From the moment we arrived at the location, however, Tyler’s vision was clear. It was all about the body. Whether I was standing on a sloping green next to river rock or a trickling stream, he wanted me in bare feet, with the tight jeans that had become my calling card, and a dark shirt opened to reveal my chest.
My skin had a bronze look from years of hard work in the sun, so they mussed my hair and sprayed my skin for a sheen and just left it at that.
By the time we got on the boat, I was instructed to ditch the shirt, unbutton the jeans and lay on the cushion like I was beckoning someone to join me with nothing but my eyes. “Make me believe you, mate,” he said until I gave him what he was looking for.
Finally I summoned Lacy in my mind’s eye, rather than the skinny guy in front of me. The shoot went much faster after that.
Finally they let me put my shirt and shoes back on. We headed into town so he could photograph me around different Austin landmarks. That was mostly Gay’s idea, who wanted to make sure I kept Texas as an integral part of my brand.
“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she added with a lascivious wink.
It was nearly six o’clock by the time we were done. Gaynell insisted that we join her for dinner. Leah was much too excited about it to refuse. Tyler was full of exciting tales of fabulous, larger than life people. It had only taken eight hours, but she had developed quite the crush on the tall, skinny Brit with a headful of unruly brown curls and wide blue eyes.
Southern Rocker Boy (Southern Rockers Book 1) Page 17