Single, Cool, and Fine: How to Get Laid as an Ex-Teen Idol

by Lux Zakari

  E.Y.: Aw! You saying that warmed the cockles of my heart.

  CLAUDIA: And I’ll deny I ever said it should you bring it up again.

  E.Y.: And let’s not forget the music. I don’t care what people say about it. I don’t even care what I’ve said about it! Nothing gets to me like a sunny, infectious James Venora pop song. When I went to my first Venora concert in 1998 and they played “Give It Time” live, it was basically the most awesome thing that ever happened to me. It was like I orgasmed and died and lost my virginity to a ray of sunshine all at once. And when James went off on his own, he wrote a few lame songs, true, but for the most part, he’s always gotten consistently better.

  CLAUDIA: Yeah. It pains me to admit, but I think I listened to The Way Down for a month straight when it came out. There’s another tidbit I plan on denying.

  E.Y.: Let’s face it—this blog is all about raggin’ on the dumb stuff James does, but really, it’s him being so uncool that makes him so endearing and fascinating. James, we’ve lied to you. Forget single, cool, and fine. Don’t ever change; you’re perfect. Wade could learn a few lessons.

  CLAUDIA: I thought we’d already established Wade was the perfect one.

  E.Y.: Don’t you know anything? We change our minds on this blog to keep up with current trends. Pay attention and get Wade on the horn. Tell him his transformation is coming overdue.

  Chapter Ten

  “James, good to see you.” Wade held the door open for his brother to pass into E.Y.’s apartment. “You’re just in time. We were just about to debate the concept of dark black. Can it exist?”

  “Wow, I would’ve been sorry to miss that.” James passed Wade and headed for the office, where E.Y. sat before her computer, rearranging her Desktop icons into an E shape.

  She stood when he came in and threw her arms open wide. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where’ve you been?”

  “Writing, mostly.” He gave her a hug and took a seat on the futon as Wade slipped in and stole her chair, opening a browser window on the computer.

  “Writing, you say?” E.Y. sat beside James and lit a clove. “Does this mean a new album? Please say yes.”

  “At some point, maybe.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shy. “I’ve actually been kicking around the idea of writing for other people.”

  “A new life path? This is terribly fascinating.”

  A new life, period, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to lapse into it. He was tired of complaining and being the victim. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to taking a break from touring and trying something new.”

  “Hmm.” E.Y. nodded with an approving smile. “So who are you going to write for? Kesha? Rihanna? Who, who? I want all the details.”

  He smiled. “I’ll tell you all the details once I’ve worked them out.”

  Wade broke the conversation with his hysterical hyena cackles. “Oh God, oh God.” He leaned forward in the computer chair, choking on sobs of laughter and wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Oh God. They posted my secret on Venora Underground.”

  “You sent a secret to Venora Underground and never told me?” E.Y. shot him a wounded glare as she stomped toward the computer and hovered over his shoulder. “Show me the lie you sent them.”

  “That’s the most awesome part. It’s actually the truth.” He pointed to an image depicting a screenshot of the Blame James blog, the Comic Sans font atop it reading One of the admins is Wade Venora. “And no one believes me.” He scrolled through the comments, still guffawing. “They’re calling bullshit on my secret. This is the most fantastic thing that’s ever happened to me. Look at me right now. I am out and out giggling.”

  E.Y. huffed—a discontent, left-out noise—and turned back to James. “So when do we get to hear these secret songs of yours that you’re cooking up?”

  “When they’re done cooking.”

  “When’s that?” she pressed. “I’m dying for new Venora. Please. Hurry.”

  “All right, E.Y. For you, I’ll rush.”

  “Well, now, don’t rush too much. I don’t want to hear anything crappy and hastily thrown together, like your last album obviously was. Make something on par with The Way Down. That was your best.” She leaned forward and pointed at him. “Do you know that every now and then, Wade and I like to get really baked and listen to that? Although ‘listen’ isn’t really accurate, since most the time we’re talking over the songs about how good they all are.”

  James’ surprised gaze flicked to his brother, whose cheeks were bright red.

  “Don’t go giving away all my secrets,” Wade muttered.

  “I thought you were all about sharing secrets.” E.Y. arched a brow. “Methinks I just stumbled across one that’s one ripe for Venora Underground.”

  James stayed for another hour, telling them how he’d finally heard from Oz Lavann about the collaboration he’d broached during Bijou Light’s record release party. They’d arranged to meet as soon as The Verdict returned from their European tour in mid-November. E.Y. nearly shrieked cracks in the drinking glasses at the prospect of James appearing on The Verdict’s next album. Even Wade looked a little envious.

  When conversation dwindled and Wade drifted off into the living room in the direction of the TV, James decided to return home, heading out the back door. The sound of E.Y. calling his name, however, halted him just before he began his descent on the second flight of stairs. He looked up to see her leaning over the side of the railing.

  “I just wanted to tell you real quick that after all this, I finally found a fan fiction premise I want to write.”

  “Should I be afraid to ask?”

  “You can be whatever you want. I’m going to run it by you, anyway.” She grinned. “Tell me what you think of this. After suffering a major upset in his love life, an ex-teen idol has to read fan fiction about himself in order to learn how to date.”

  James gave a breathless laugh in spite of himself. “Who would read a story like that when it has such a depressing ending?”

  “Who says it has a depressing ending? Stories can turn out thousands of ways, even after ‘The End.’” She wagged a finger at him. “Now go back home and finish that album, James. I’m waiting for it. We all are.”

  James returned to the silence of his house, grateful for the visit with E.Y. and his brother. No matter how much those two often aggravated him with their endless teasing, being with them broke up the monotony that had become his days: waking up, writing song after song, and going to bed. Still, he found solace in the routine; he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so creative. The days after his episode on the stairs with Greer saw him lying in bed, doing nothing but watching sports on TV. He didn’t even like sports, he didn’t understand them, but he found the straight-forwardness of them comforting. Then one morning, he woke up, craving his piano, and the lyrics and music just poured out of him, providing the perfect escape.

  Not only was he amazed by his own productivity, he was truly enjoying himself, even though most of his new songs were Greer-centric. It dawned on him that he’d always derived more satisfaction from songwriting than touring. Why had he ever wanted to be famous and on the road? The last few shows with Heartlines had cured him of that desire. Besides, there’d been many times in his life when he’d played so many consecutive nights in so many different towns that he’d wake up in a fright because he had no idea where he was. He was sick of that. He wanted to enjoy a sense of home for awhile.

  That being said, he thought it might be fun to be behind the scenes for awhile. With a surge of inspiration, he’d called his manager Steven Kelly and set up a meeting about taking both Venora Records and The Choice campaign in a new direction. If things went his way, his intern Zeke was going to be very unhappy with all the work his lazy ass would suddenly have to do.

  He smile faded as he entered his studio. Not everything was coming up roses and daisies though. True, the tweaks he was making to his career would allow him to be closer to his famil
y, but what good was that when they didn’t want to be near him? He hadn’t heard from Greer in the past month, since the last night he made love to her, and spoke to his children only on the phone when a grandparent would fulfill the duty to ensure Amie and Noah reached out to him. When he heard his kids’ voices, it hurt his heart every time he put the phone down and he felt a loneliness unlike any he’d never known.

  God, there was so much he missed. He missed hearing Noah slip out of bed in the middle of the night, run into the kitchen for what he knew were the fruit snacks then scurry back to bed. He missed Amie, balancing on Greer’s stability ball, wearing fairy wings while playing Kirby’s Epic Yarn on the Wii. James could never get the hang of the game, a fact that only served to aggravate his daughter when they attempted to play as a team.

  And of course he missed Greer. He missed everything about her, even her sarcastic looks and her pissed-off pacing. He missed all the opportunities with her he’d blown. God knew there were enough of them to keep him awake at night for a very long time.

  James picked up the packet of divorce papers awaiting him atop the piano and flipped through them with a knot in his throat. Just a few signatures, a few dates, and it’d be over, him and Greer. But it was what she wanted, and he knew if he loved her, he would adhere to the sage cliché that he should let her go.

  And even then, he tossed the papers back on top of the piano, sank down on the bench, and plunked out a mournful version of one of his new songs, currently untitled but about Greer all the same:

  Oh, this road is looking so hard

  I’m so many miles from your heart

  Just wanna find my way back to the start

  Velvet ropes and gold and guitars

  I’d trade it all just to be in your arms

  This rift is tearin’ me apart

  He paused, his voice trembling too much to continue and the keys blurring before his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and reached for the papers again, this time along with a pen. There was nothing else to do except hope his hand didn’t shake too bad and make his signature illegible.

  “James?”

  That sounded a lot like Greer. His forehead creased with confusion as he turned around and saw her in the doorway, a nervous smile on her face. Mystified, he stood and opened his arms and she dove into them, wrapping her legs around him like a spider and kissing him. He grasped for the side of the piano to steady himself but misjudged his reach, and he collapsed back on the piano bench.

  “What are you doing here?” James asked, breathless with relief between kisses.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she murmured against his lips. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and the one thing I keep coming back to is how much I want to be with you. Is that okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay.” His head was spinning with this startling new reveal. The situation had gone from one end of the spectrum to the other in a matter of seconds, but he didn’t care why it’d happened, only that it had. “What made you change your mind?”

  “Well, I was remembering our last night together and thinking about us going our separate ways.” She gave a shy smile. “And I realized that no fan fic of mine would ever end that way.”

  All the tension and anxiety that had set up home in James’ body melted away as he kissed her with all the love in his heart. He rose, backing Greer against the piano, which gave rise to a cacophony of lust beneath her. He sat her atop the keys and wedged his body between her open thighs, his hands traveling up the outside of her thighs beneath her skirt as his kisses traveled from her lips to her throat. Her breathing grew shallow as his fingers found the waistband of her panties, and he whispered, “Lift your hips.”

  Greer obeyed, granting him the opportunity to peel the flimsy fabric down and off her legs. She gave a needy whimper and opened her legs wider, but instead he turned his attention higher, tugging her shirt from her body and feeling for her bra clasp against her hot skin. James unhooked it with deft fingers and her bra joined her panties on the floor, leaving her bare from the waist upward.

  He cupped her breasts, rolling the pads of his thumbs over her nipples, enjoying her moans. Then he bowed his head and gave her right nipple a soft kiss, thrilling at the sound of her gasp when his tongue darted out to flick the hardening bud. He traced his thumb over her left nipple, moving his other hand to the small of her back, forcing her to arch against him. She twined her fingers in his hair as his mouth moved to other breast, scraping the nipple with his teeth until she gasped.

  James lifted his head and leaned in closer to nuzzle the soft skin of her neck as he ran a hand up and down the outside of her thigh, slowly inching his way inward. Greer trembled in his arms, her breath coming in gasps as she clung to his shoulders and murmured his name in his ear, the sound threatening to dissolve the last of his composure. He brushed her clit with his fingertip and smiled as she jerked at his touch. She pushed her hips toward him, panting in a way that made his cock twitch.

  He slipped a finger inside her soaking wet pussy and continued to dip into her at a slow, torturous pace. Greer leaned backward, her hands crashing on the piano keys, creating a dissonant musical noise that was both the worst and the most exciting sound he had ever heard. Her eyes cloudy with desire, she looked from James to his hand, working its way in and out of her body. She looked so sexy it took everything in his power not to steer his cock into her right then and there.

  Instead, he removed his hand, his fingers glistening with her juices, sat on the piano bench in front of her, and buried his head between her legs, driving his tongue into the hot liquid seeping from her pussy. Her thighs pressed against his heated face, and he was surrounded by her musky scent, emptying his brain of any thought or desire aside from making her come. His tongue passed over her clit, and her hips bucked against his face as she let out a strangled sigh.

  She grabbed chunks of his hair, the sharp feeling in his scalp corresponding to his spikes of desire. He dipped his tongue in her moist core, and her soft whimpers turned into lilting cries as his mouth set a rhythm and he eased two fingers inside her. James sucked her clit, wanting only to hear her scream his name, to feel her body shudder with release.

  But he felt her hands on his shoulders, and she tugged him to his feet. She clamped a hand on the back of his neck and yanked him toward her, her tongue slipping between his lips as her free hand reached between them to grasp his cock. She groaned against his mouth as her fingers closed around hot, eager flesh, and he pushed himself into her hand.

  “I want you, James.” Her lips hovered over his, her breath coming in hot puffs of air. “Now. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

  The desperate urgency of her command tore through him and numbed him to everything outside of the moment. James swallowed a moan as she raised her hips toward him and directed his cock inside her, releasing a long, drawn-out moan when he filled her completely. He hooked his hands behind her knees, opening her wider to him as he withdrew then pushed inside her again, building momentum with every thrust.

  Greer watched him fuck her with a smoldering look in her eyes, a gasp escaping her mouth every time he slammed home. Then she bit her bottom lip and gripped his shoulders.

  “Oh, right there,” she whimpered. “Oh, God, right there, James, don’t stop. Please don’t stop…”

  He blew out a long stream of air that had been pent up in his lungs, her needy request rushing him toward orgasm before he was ready. He slowed his pace, fucking Greer as she requested, her moans gaining in desperation and volume to point where he thought he would go mad if one of them didn’t come soon.

  Finally, her body shook and her pussy clenched and unclenched him, wringing his orgasm from him at last. Greer slumped against him, and they both sank to the floor, James’ knees too weak to keep him standing.

  They lay there for a moment, releasing happy, heavy sighs toward the ceiling. Greer rested her head on his shoulder and he held her tight against him, a thousand thoughts swimming in his head, each
one more beautiful and complicated than the last.

  “We never did that in here before.” She lifted her head and gave him a Cheshire cat smile. “That was fun.”

  “I agree.” The hand he’d had around her arms drifted to her ass and squeezed. “It makes me want to find a new place to have fun with you.”

  Greer swung a leg over him and maneuvered herself on top of him. “How about the tree house?” she asked against his lips.

  He fought off a groan. “I would love to.”

  Her expression became serious. “James, are we crazy to think we have a future together?”

  James struggled to a sitting position and cupped her face. “I don’t know. That’s what I want though. I want to make it work with you. But Greer…” He hated his need to be honest. “I have to tell you… I made a lot of mistakes with, um, other people when we were apart, and did some stuff I’m not proud of.”

  Storm clouds filled her eyes, like she knew what he was getting at. “Me too,” she said softly.

  That wasn’t something he was excited to hear, but he’d figured; she’d been living with another man. But it didn’t matter anymore. She was here with him now.

  He traced a path up and down her arms and kissed her collarbone then her lips. “But I want you to know those mistakes just confirmed you’re the one for me.”

  “Me too,” she repeated, and this time she smiled. “I want a new life with you, James. I want to be real with you. I want you to know what I’m truly like, even all the dorky, embarrassing stuff.”

  “You have skeletons more dorky and embarrassing than writing fan fiction about me?”

  She laughed, a beautiful sound. “Well, you’ll see.”

  “Speaking of which, if Green Butterfly were to write our story, how would it end?”

  Greer grinned as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Happily, of course.”

  Blame James (blame_james) wrote,