Getting Lucky (Jail Bait #4)

by Mia Storm

  I sign the napkin and slide it back to him without a word.

  “There’s no girlfriend,” Kate says, scowling after him. “That’s going to show up on eBay tomorrow along with the shot he just took from his phone of you signing it.”

  Nothing gets by Kate, which is part of the reason I trust her. She reads people, including me, better than anyone I’ve ever met.

  She props her elbows on the bar and rests her chin in her hand. “So tell me the whole, sad story.”

  “I can’t stop making an ass out of myself. You got a cure for that, doc?”

  She smiles. “You’ve made millions making an ass out of yourself.”

  I shake my head and swirl the beer in my mug. “This is different.”

  “Who is she?”

  I look up at her and find that knowing expression on her face that always precedes her sorting out all my shit. “She’s just this kid I’m touring with.”

  “Shiloh Luck.”

  I feel my eyes widen. “Yeah.”

  Her smile turns cynical. “Don’t look at me like I’m clairvoyant. I saw some stuff on Twitter a few weeks ago.”

  I take a long swallow off my mug. “So you know some of the shit I’ve pulled.”

  She nods. “Why don’t you fill me in on the rest.”

  “I just…” I shake my head. “I can’t even explain why, but I feel responsible for her.”

  “Because this is her first time on the road?”

  I lift my eyes out of my beer and look directly into hers so she hears everything I’m saying. “Because I’ve wanted to fuck her since the second I met her.”

  “You fuck everyone the second you meet them and never think twice. Why is she different?”

  I rub at the sweat on the back of my neck. “She just is. She’s got so much fucking talent, but she’s young and…I get that she’s tough, but I don’t think she’s as confident as she lets on. She’s just sort of feeling her way through this whole thing and people in this business are fucking sharks, able to sniff out even one drop of blood in the water. They’ll eat her fucking alive and spit out her bones.”

  “Why don’t you think she’s as confident as she seems?” she asks, but I get the sense she already knows.

  I fist a hand in my hair and lean on my elbow. “I saw something that first day—something I’ve never seen her show anyone else. Hell…if she knew I was there, she wouldn’t have shown me. But I saw it. I know it’s there—this vulnerability. I just want to protect her.”

  “Have you talked to her about how you feel?”

  “I’ve told her all the guys in this business, including me, are whores. I’ve told her to watch her back with her manager and producers. But everything I do only makes things worse. Mostly because I’m a fucking moron.”

  She shakes her head and all that Kate wisdom shines out of her eyes. “I didn’t ask if you talked to her about what you think, Tro. I asked if you talked to her about how you feel.”

  I rest back in my seat and cross my arms. “And how is that?”

  She presses back in her seat, a smug smile on her face, as if she’s just won fucking Trivial Pursuit or something. “You’re falling for her.”

  I blow out a laugh. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  But that’s a lie, because Kate always knows what she’s talking about. And now I know it too by the way my gut knots at the thought.

  She runs her finger along the rim of her glass. “I knew there was someone the second I saw you on the stairs.”

  I knock back the last of my beer, then slam the glass on the bar. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “It’s in your eyes, Tro. There’s not much you can keep secret when your eyes tell the world everything.”

  “That’s bullshit. I’ve got plenty of secrets.” A chill runs up my spine as I say it, because Kate’s the only one who’s caught a glimpse of my biggest one.

  I see in her eyes we’re thinking the same thing when they darken. “Okay,” she says, but I know she’s not giving in. “Fine.”

  “And besides, even if you were right, there’s the age thing.”

  One blonde eyebrow goes up. “Does that really matter? The heart can’t count. There’s no math in love. No equation. You love who you love.”

  “I don’t deserve to love anyone,” I say with a shake of my head.

  She gets all cynical again. “That’s really what you’re going with?”

  “It’s all I’ve got. And it’s the truth.”

  She drains her glass and holds it up to the bartender as she sends me a huge, fake pout. “Poor me, the oversexed international rock star. I’m rolling in cash, but I don’t deserve to be happy, so everybody feel sorry for me. Boo fucking hoo.”

  My jaw tightens. “You know it’s more than that.”

  She flops wearily into the back of her seat. “Shit happened to you a long time ago. Shit happens to everyone. Get over it.”

  “It was a little bit more than shit, Kate. You should know. You got to pick up all the fucking wreckage.”

  She leans toward me on her elbows. “And I’ll do it again if I have to. But you can’t hide behind stupid excuses like you don’t deserve shit.” She shoves my shoulder hard, nearly knocking me off the stool. “Man up.”

  The bartender brings our refills.

  “So what’s going on here?” I ask once he’s gone. “How’s your grandma?”

  A sad smile quirks her mouth. “She died two months ago.”

  “Fuck!” I say, my mug stopping halfway to my mouth. I lower it to the bar. “Christ, are you okay?”

  She shrugs. “Getting there.”

  We spend the rest of the night talking about Emmy and the rest of her family and she doesn’t ask me about Lucky again. She’s said her piece and there’s no point beating that horse.

  When we get back to the building I walk her to her apartment. She lifts up onto her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my mouth. I’ve been tempted in the past, but tonight, despite that the threat of getting my ass shot is no longer looming large, I’m a little surprised to find there’s no temptation.

  “’Night, Kate.”

  She smiles. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  I blow out a humorless laugh. “They don’t come any stranger.”

  She lets herself in and when I hear her deadbolt click into place, I head up one flight to my place. And sleep like a rock for the first time since I met Lucky.

  #

  It hasn’t stopped pouring since we got to Minneapolis, and it’s cold in the middle of fucking July. This is why I hate the Midwest. It can do this for days. But, finally, when we come out of the arena a little before midnight, the rain’s stopped.

  The guys load in the car back to the hotel, but I decide to walk. It’s less than a mile and I’m feeling antsy. Too much time in planes and hotel rooms, I guess.

  I wave at the guard as I pass through the security gate onto the street, then pull up my hood and shove my hands in my pockets.

  I woke up in Austin yesterday with the beginnings of a song in my head. I’m not quite sure what it is yet, but the electricity in my veins tells me it’s something. I stop in the middle of the bridge I’m crossing and brace my hands against the rail, staring down at the churning river below.

  Because I’ve had something else on my mind since Austin too.

  I think Kate’s right. Maybe I really am falling for Lucky. For the first time I can remember, I’m thinking past the first fuck. I care whether she gets hurt, especially by me. I’ve never been so unclear in my own mind as far as what my motivations are, but what I’ve unraveled from the chaos in my head is that what I want most is for Lucky to be happy and safe. Which means I need to stick to my word and back off.

  I shove off the rail as a mist begins to fall. By the time I get to the hotel, despite the fact I’m soaked, I feel about a thousand pounds lighter. Now that I know what I need to do, my gut is untwisting and I feel like I can breathe for the first time s
ince I met Lucky three weeks ago.

  I walk into the suite and the party’s already well underway. The crew has managed to round up a couple dozen girls and it looks like no one’s feeling any pain.

  “Gunner!” Grim shouts when he looks up from the lines he’s doing off the glass coffee table and sees me. “Got a big fucking fat one with your name on it over here!”

  I start that direction, but I’m only halfway there when a girl wraps herself around me from behind. “I’ve got your name on me too,” she says low in my ear.

  I glance over my shoulder and find a reasonable hot blonde I’ve never seen before. I grab her by the ass and plant one on her, grinding all up the front of her.

  But my heart’s not in really it.

  I let her go and back away toward my bedroom door. “I think I’m gonna lay low tonight—crash early and get some sleep for a change.”

  Grim looks up at me with raised eyebrows. “You all right, man?”

  I give a one shouldered shrug. “Just not feeling it.”

  He smirks and springs off the couch, grabbing the girl I was just on. “More for us.”

  I turn for my room without looking back and close the door behind me, then flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes and listen as more notes begin threading through my brain. They form into a melody and I get up and mark it out on the pad of hotel paper next to the phone, then hum it out loud. I tweak it a little, then go to the corner and grab my guitar. I totally have that juiced feeling I get when I’m onto something real. My heart starts pounding with an electric current when I begin to get a feel for what this song’s gonna be.

  I pick and jot, tweak and hum, and with every new line I feel more amped. Before I know it, the sun’s coming up outside my window.

  #

  It takes me another week to finish it. I stick with my plan and steer clear of Lucky through our sweep of the Midwest, but she’s always on my mind. Because this song is hers. When I sit down with my guitar and play it, my blood is electric.

  It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever written.

  Chapter 10

  Shiloh

  It’s been over a week since Tro apologized to me, and since then, I’ve only seen him a few times in passing.

  But I’ve listened to his openings from backstage every night. He’s still wild, because I don’t think he knows how to be anything else, but he hasn’t said anything about me to the audience beyond telling Louisville last night that they’d already seen the real deal, and now they were stuck with the second string.

  And the whole time, all I could think about was what Tro said would happen when we got to Kentucky on The Tonight Show. I know he was a joking. The legal age of consent is sixteen in nearly every state we’ve been in so far. But still…I can’t deny that, totally against my will, thoughts of Tro doing to me what he does best have been filtering into my dreams at night. I wake panting and tangled in my sheets, my heart galloping so loud I can’t believe it hasn’t woken Billie.

  I’m behind the curtain tonight when Tro, Grim, and Jamie come out and start their pre-show pump up. It’s my birthday and I know Billie’s arranged a “surprise” party on the bus. Max and the band headed out without a word right after the show, and I’m sure they’re all waiting with a flaming cake or whatever.

  I watch as Tro, Grim, and Jamie get their headgear wired. As they storm the stage, Tro glances my way.

  I didn’t know he saw me here.

  He smiles and sends me a little salute, but then his smile fades and he just stares, as if trying to find something he lost in my face. Jamie hits the drums and the stage lights flash. Tro rubs the back of his neck then steps onto the stage to a roar.

  The floor shakes with percussion and bass as the guys gear up for their first song. I decide staying tonight was a bad idea and turn to exit backstage, but within the first few notes, the tune morphs into “Happy Birthday.”

  “St. Louis!” he yells and the crowd cheers. “Did Lucky just tear this place down?”

  Another roar goes up from the crowd.

  “If you fucking missed it, you fucking missed the show of the century! That girl’s got the stuff!”

  Jamie woots into his mic and ups the percussion as the crowd yells.

  “It’s Lucky’s birthday today, so let’s fucking blow the roof off this place!”

  They launch into “Happy Birthday” and the stage monitor engineer turns from his soundboard and grins at me. “Go!” he says with a nudge of his chin at the stage.

  I shake my head, but a second later, two of the backline guys who I recognize but don’t really know are pulling me toward stage left.

  When Tro sees me, he stops singing and smiles, letting the crowd take the vocals. He comes over and grasps my hand, towing me to center stage.

  They get to my name and the entire crowd sings out, “Happy Birthday, dear Lucky!”

  There’s a second I want to be pissed. But then I see Tro’s smile, feel his hand in mine, and I can’t be mad. There’s nothing malicious in the look he’s giving me. For the first time, I don’t feel like he’s undressing me with his eyes.

  But just as they’re finishing the song, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me so my feet are, like, three feet off the ground, and holds me up in front of the crowd like I’m some kind of doll.

  “Don’t forget this girl!” he shouts when the applause dies down. He sets me on my feet. “Next tour, we’re going to be fucking opening for her.”

  I remember Billie saying the same thing the day I met Tro…without the expletive, of course.

  I start off the stage, but Tro grabs my hand again. “Happy birthday.”

  My heart kicks at the sincerity in his gaze. Jamie holds up a fist for a knuckle bump, and I bump him on my way off stage, but then I catch Grim’s glare and realize he wasn’t totally down with this addition to their set list. I scramble off the stage, but instead of leaving right away, as I’d intended, I tuck into the corner near the door and listen to Roadkill’s first song.

  Maybe Tro’s more than what he seems, because there was a tenderness in his gaze I wouldn’t have thought he was capable of. I watch as they wrap their first song, then can’t make myself leave before the second. But, finally, halfway through the third, I turn and head to the parking lot, jogging to the bus.

  The door hisses open and I’m not even up the stairs before Billie starts singing “Happy Birthday.” When I round the corner into the front lounge, the guys line the couches and Billie’s in the kitchen holding a cake aglow with seventeen lit candles. Everyone joins in and Max takes my hand and leads me to the table, where Billie’s sets the cake.

  She scowls at our intertwined fingers, then gives me a warning gaze.

  I shrug and untangle my hand from Max’s, then blow out the candles.

  “Thanks, guys,” I say, swiping my finger through the frosting and pressing it into my mouth.

  I go to the fridge as Billie cuts the cake and find only soda. I glance around, at what everyone else is drinking, and when my eyes lift from the Coke in Max’s hand to his face, he gives me a shrug. I grab a Diet Coke and go sit between Max and Chipper.

  “Surprise,” he says as Billie hands paper plates of cake around.

  I roll my eyes.

  His arm slips over my shoulders. “We didn’t fake you out?”

  I take his hand and unwrap his arm, dropping it in his lap. “You might have slipped in a kiss when I wasn’t looking, but don’t think it means you’re getting any.”

  “See, right there,” he says, pointing at me. “You’re thinking about us going there. You can’t deny imagining it.” His smile grows impish. “Have you been fantasizing, Lucky?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snip, because he hit a little too close to home. I have been fantasizing, just not about him.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wow, okay. Sorry.”

  The guys eat cake, go back for seconds, then thirds, and when it’s gone, one by one they start tri
ckling out the door.

  “Where’s everyone going?” Billie says when she notices.

  “Somewhere there’s beer,” I say, holding up my Coke can.

  She splits a stern glance between me, Max, and Chipper, who are the only ones left. “You boys need to remember she’s only seventeen.”

  “Of course,” Max says, his face all sincere concern. “We’ll look out for her.”

  She looks at him a second longer, then flicks her wrist in a shooing motion at the door. “Go. Have fun.”

  Max pulls me up and the three of us skip down the stairs.

  When we get to the guys’ bus, everyone is huddled around the TV watching some baseball game with their drink of choice. Tonight, it’s just the band and some of the backline crew. No girls who don’t belong here.

  I drop into an empty spot on the couch and Chipper hands me a beer. “Hope Billie’s not too pissed.”

  I shake my head. “She’s thinking about applying for legal guardianship, so I think she’s decided she needs to start acting more parental.”

  “Wow,” he says. “That’s sort of a big deal, right?”

  I shrug. “It’s really only for a year, and I think she’s just doing it because it will make things easier for her if I’m in L.A.”

  When the game finishes, one of the guys puts in a DVD. I’m nursing my beer because I’m not going to let Max get the upper hand again tonight. Some of the crew starts to head out to their own buses when the movie ends, and when I look outside, I see people start to pour out of the venue onto the street. The clock on the microwave says it’s after eleven.

  “What do you say?” Max says, reaching into a cup on the counter and holding up a dice. The wicked gleam in his eyes tells me he’s hoping for a repeat of the other night.

  I scowl at him. “You told Billie you were going to look out for me.”

  He nods slowly as his eyes rake down my top. “And I take that responsibility very seriously. I plan to look out for every inch of you.”