Scandalous Beat (The Tempest Rock Star series Book 6)

by Michelle Mankin

  What was the point of admitting my needs to them or anyone else for that matter?

  Fuck that.

  I put the joint to my lips, lit it, took a deep drag and let it fill my lungs for a long moment before exhaling. I knew Sager heard me do it. He knew if I was smoking it wasn’t something legal. I did it anyway because it pissed him off. If I pissed him off he couldn’t ignore me.

  That’s how things had gotten between us ever since Melinda had come along.

  “King, you’re on probation, man. Tell me you’re not lighting up.”

  “So what if I am?” I didn’t need anyone telling me what I could or could not do in the privacy of my hotel room. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

  He blew out an exasperated breath. He was probably searching for his sketch pad. We each had our therapy of choice. He drew what he felt. I wrote it.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” Translation. He was done chiding me.

  “Sí. Hasta mañana, hermano.”

  I clicked off my cell and dropped it on the bed. I decided I would finish my joint and toss back a couple of shots with Jorge before we left. The club could wait. They weren’t gonna start the show until the man who paid for everything showed up with his credit card.

  * * *

  Miriam

  “Hey, Ann.” I answered immediately when I saw who it was on the caller ID. “How’s it going?” I put her on speaker and propped my foot on a folding chair in the dressing room to slather more shimmery lotion on my leg.

  “All’s well. How’s Mike?

  “He’s alright. Keeping busy. He misses Alex. How’s school?”

  “Busy, but I got another scholarship offer in the mail today.”

  “Oh yeah? Mom must be ecstatic.” The daughter she approved of excelling again. “Which college this time?”

  “Vanderbilt.”

  “Holy shit! That’s awesome,” I said out loud, but inside I was thinking that Tennessee was a long way away from me. Nearly twice the distance between Vegas and Seattle. I was pulling for Washington State University, a doable and no doubt cheaper plane ride away. “You interested in that one?” I kept my voice neutral. I wanted what she wanted, regardless.

  “It has a great pre-vet program, but it’s a long, long way from you.”

  Emotion made my voice thick. I had tried to trim the emotional strings between us so she could fly unencumbered, but she kept retying them. “You take it if it’s the best thing for you.”

  “That’s exactly what I told you when you chose UCLA.”

  “It was good advice then, and it’s good advice now.”

  “I don’t know what to choose. I’m not sure. I’m kinda still hoping to hear from A&M in Texas.”

  “Texas is pretty redneck. Is it a better program?”

  “For me, yeah. They actually have a veterinary school, something Vanderbilt doesn’t.”

  “Then I hope you get it. Cowboys are cute. Do I need to call someone in admissions to put in a good word for you?”

  “No.” She laughed. “Though having a sister who is going to be a big Hollywood actress someday might sway them.” My heart sank. The chances of my acting career going anywhere lately seemed less and less likely. The depression from earlier returned to engulf me again. “Bry said nearly the same thing,” she continued. “Only he wanted to tell them I was the sister of a famous rock star.”

  “He’s definitely that.” The band’s last album went triple platinum and was still selling so well that their label wanted them to do a follow up greatest hits album and another statewide tour. I was proud of Bryan. Happy for all of the guys in Tempest. Love triangles. Drug issues. Ex’s from hell. Losses and character transformations. Abusive backgrounds that had only recently come to light. Tempest had been through many storms to get where they were now.

  “Our brother’s out back in the studio with mom and Lace. Mom has been trying to talk everyone into road tripping to California in his new SUV to visit you. She misses you, you know.”

  I let out a disbelieving breath. More like relieved I was out of her hair and not causing trouble that resulted in phone calls from the principal once or twice a week.

  “I miss you. I have a three-day break from school coming up. Say yes. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

  Shit. “I miss you, too.” But I had to redirect. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I could come to Seattle.”

  “You could, but why can’t we come to you in LA instead? It would be great to see the sun, in addition to seeing you of course. It’s been raining here for a week straight.”

  “When I get things more settled this semester, we’ll plan that for sure.” Maybe I could fly to LA, pretend I was still enrolled at UCLA. Maybe you should just tell everyone the truth, my inner voice chided. Yeah, but no. My truth was going to result in a double homicide. Both my own. First, my brother would kill me. Then my mother would.

  “How are Bryan and Lace doing?” Chicken shit me. I knew I would eventually have to tell them what was really going on. But I wanted to wait until I had a television series offer, a movie role or at least a big commercial to brag about before I dropped the hammer and told them I had gotten kicked out of school and was living in Vegas. So instead of telling the disappointing truth, I redirected again. “Has our silver-tongued brother talked Lace into reviving her singing career?”

  “They’re good, and no, not yet. She’s about to graduate from fashion school, so she could pick up music again if she wanted to. But I think they’re both enjoying each other’s company with him home instead of on tour. Speaking of singing careers, did you hear that Juaquin’s recording in Vegas?”

  “What?” I screeched. My heart raced. I felt out of breath. “No, I didn’t know. No one told me.” Feeling unsteady, I flopped into the folding chair. The cold metal nearly froze my naked butt, but it jarred me enough to help me focus on the shocking news. “Recording what?” I squeaked. “And where?”

  “The rap stuff he used to do for fun. He’s staying at the Cosmopolitan with Jorge. Prima has a recording studio nearby. Bry’s acting like it’s not a big deal, but War is worried about dissension in the ranks, and Sager is pissed because he’s hanging out with Jorge and some of the other guys from his brother’s old gang.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know.”

  Shit, fuck and shit. Everything she said. Vegas with Juaquin in it. And me in the same town with a secret I didn’t want my family to know. Plus Jorge in the mix. The guy was truly a bad seed. A known drug dealer, he had been with Juaquin when he had been arrested recently, but then nowhere around to lend support when the Tempest drummer had been sentenced.

  A true friend he was not.

  But then it didn’t seem like Juaquin wanted those anymore. I followed the band. I soaked up every snippet of news from my brother. While the rest of the guys steadily paired off with full time girlfriends, Juaquin seemed to isolate himself more. Except for Jorge it seemed. And the strippers of course. Lots and lots of strippers. Meanwhile in the land of don’t-go-there-anymore, I pretended the slap downs Juaquin had given me when I had visited the band in New York and more recently in New Orleans hadn’t hurt, but they had. I might try to pretend it didn’t exist anymore but deep down inside I knew I still had a weak spot when it came to the big sexy Latino.

  “I’ll just avoid the Cosmopolitan,” I decided.

  “Why would you need to do that? Are you visiting Vegas?”

  “Oh, shit.” I hadn’t meant that for her ears. “No. I mean I was thinking about taking a trip out there with some girlfriends from school but not anymore.”

  “I thought you were over him.”

  “I am.”

  “Truly? Your voice says you’re not, and so do your eyes. You can’t keep them off him whenever he’s around.”

  “He’s hot. And he was my first real crush. But that’s old news. I have a boyfriend now. Juaquin hardly crosses my mind anymore.”

  Lies, lies, lies. So many lies.

  “If
you say so.” She sighed. “But I’m not sure I believe you. You talk about Mike all the time. But you hardly ever mention Frank. It’s like you’re afraid to go all in with him, leaving yourself an opening in case Juaquin ever changes his mind.”

  “Frank works a lot.”

  “I get that. Commercial contractors travel and can’t control their hours, but still. When you’re in love with someone, they should take precedence in the order of conversation over your gay best friend and a high school crush you profess to be over.”

  “Stop busting my balls, Annie.”

  “Stop living a life of denial, Miriam.”

  “It’s how I roll,” I returned airily. The land of denial might have been my residence when it came to Juaquin but at least I had a serious relationship. My mother had never dated anyone after my dad broke her heart.

  “You ready, MJ?” Mike rapped on the door, his eyes widening as he took me in. I wasn’t close to ready. I covered the receiver. “I’m done with Trinity. She’s on the last part of her pony thing. You need to hurry. Get your costume on.”

  I nodded to him, then spoke to my sister. “Annie, I’ll talk to you later ok?”

  “Sure. But what part are you doing? It’s only September. You didn’t tell me you were in another play. It sounds like a western.”

  Hardly. I cast my gaze around the room hoping to find a source of inspiration for another lie when suddenly it came to me. “Oklahoma. The musical. It’s a student interpretation. For fun. I’ll tell you more when I’m not so pressed for time.”

  I hung up and pulled in a breath as I exited the dressing room into the hall. It felt like the only full one I got before I skidded to a stop just off stage. My music had already started. I had to let everything go to become one with the rhythm and the dance. Disappointment, guilt, trepidation. I imagined them floating away from my fingertips as I drifted out to the center of the stage and lifted my arms above my head.

  When I danced I went to a place that was only for me. No, not the land of denial. A place where I called the shots. A place where I often pretended that Juaquin was out there watching and that his attention was riveted solely upon me.

  Spinning, my back to the audience, I knew in reality that the club was practically empty. That it contained only two men. Mike had told me they were seated at a small table in the middle of the room. I swayed my body slowly. I rolled my hips. Tonight I pretended Juaquin was one of those two men. That his heated gaze followed the side to side motion of my hips and the sexy upper body shimmy that it had taken me months of belly dancing lessons to perfect.

  Strategic lighting made the white halter dress I wore nearly transparent. With only a tiny G-string beneath, it tantalized. The music and my movements did the rest.

  My hair long and loose, I gathered it in my fist. I wrapped it around my wrist and turned slightly to reveal the large bow that secured the flimsy garment at my nape. It and the tub on the other side of me set the intimate scene… a woman getting ready to take her bath. Even with only two in attendance I could feel their anticipation, their focus and their desire for me to unclothe. Imagining one of the men was Juaquin drew my nerve endings taut, caused my skin to prickle with awareness and made me want to rush it.

  But not yet. More buildup. More movement. More tease.

  I circled my hips. I touched myself, tracing my tits, pouting my lips, sliding my hands back and forth across my pussy before I turned my back to the men and lifted my hair exposing my delicate neck and the tempting bow. Statue still I allowed several beats to pass. I pretended Juaquin scooted to the edge of his chair. I imagined that his long talented fingers tightened around his tumbler but that he hadn’t touched a drop of his Maestro Dobel. That he had forgotten everything and every woman he had ever had but me and the desire to see more of me.

  I heard him groan. I was so far into my fantasy that I believed it. Believed he was here. Believed he was watching me and that he wanted me to undo the tie. A shiver rolled through me. My heart sped up. My mouth went dry. I tugged the bow. My top released.

  The soft cotton slid over my nipples. I wished it were a sheet. Wished I were in a bed with him. That he would reach for me and that his fingertips would skim over me next. My lips parted to accommodate my rapid breaths. But I somehow managed to remember the routine and caught the bodice before it could slide past my waist. I lifted it over my chest holding it up with one hand while tilting to show a tantalizing side view.

  I heard a curse. In Spanish. My heart skipped over the next beat.

  Could it be?

  Was it possible?

  Was it truly Juaquin out there?

  I stole a sideways glance trying to make out the faces of the men. Bright stage lights blinded me to their features. Could one of them be the sexy Tempest drummer? Surely not. I was imaging things. Better than usual tonight because I knew Juaquin was in town. I could almost feel his hot gaze sliding over my near-naked body like a caress. I knew I was wishing for things that couldn’t be because here on this stage I ruled, and deep down I wanted to believe that if he ever saw me here he wouldn’t be able to resist me.

  I continued with my routine. Using the dance moves I had fine-tuned with countless hours of practice, I floated gracefully on my bare tiptoes across the floorboards. Then I climbed into the tub, dipping my body in and out of the basin pretending a lover lay beneath me while purposefully keeping my breasts strategically hidden from view.

  I saved the reveal for the crescendo. My bestie had been a professional stripper for years. He had helped me get my start in the business. He had taught me that it is the tease that drives men wild more than anything.

  It was time. The music had reached the peak. I stood. I turned full front to face the audience. I let my bodice drop. It fluttered to my hips. My tits were the only part of me I bared, but it was enough.

  I faked a gasp, as if I only now realized that anyone had been watching me. My eyes wide I brought one hand to my mouth. I snapped the gauzy shower curtain closed with the other. The lights went out. The heavy velvet stage curtain dropped. The whoosh of air from it as it hit the floor lifted my hair. The lights came back on. Retying the bodice, I climbed out of the tub.

  On a regular night the men usually went nuts, their cat calls and suggestive innuendos pursuing me as returned to the dressing room. Only this time it went differently. This time there was a voice I recognized. This time I heard my name. The real one. The one I never used here.

  Chapter Three

  King

  I stared at the stage trying to reorient myself in a world that had suddenly turned upside down. Over the years, I had imagined being with her. Dreamed of it. Jacked off to thoughts of her, more than once. But the reality of what I had just witnessed eclipsed any fantasy. Her performance brought me to the edge, balls drawn, cock hard, totally primed. Ready to fucking explode.

  To touch her.

  To take her.

  To finally make her my own.

  Those thoughts rippled through me like an earthquake.

  “Tell me that isn’t who I think it is. Jackson’s hermanita?” Jorge asked.

  I nodded, though there was nothing little about Miriam. Ample tits to overflow in my hands, hips curvy enough to take it however I gave it. She was a real woman, a mamasota in a world of mamacitas who didn’t even rank remembering. But the fact that Jorge had just shared what I had seen drove me crazy.

  So have countless others. Logic shoved its way to the front through the crowd of emotions inside my head. Miriam’s routine was well rehearsed. She was no novice. She had been doing it for some time. I had heard the hype regarding the Queen and her bathtub number. Miriam had more than lived up to it. The promise of what lay beneath that dress of hers beguiled me. It had since she had started developing all those enticing curves. Well, she wasn’t underage anymore. And she wasn’t the least bit timid. She owned her womanhood. So sexy, she had set me on fire with the first smoldering glance over her shoulder.

  Madre de Dios I wanted
her. I wanted to slide my hands under that skirt and unveil her like a bride. I wanted to take her six or seven ways, all hard and fast before I thought about slowing down to explore. With her I had years of fantasies to catch up on.

  Get it together, pendejo, I chided myself on the heels of those thoughts. You couldn’t have her back in New York during the Brutal Strength tour. You couldn’t have her in Southside on her eighteenth birthday. You couldn’t even have her the last time you saw her backstage in New Orleans when she made you a no strings offer that about made you lose your mind. And you can’t have her now here in Sin City, either.

  She’s Bryan’s sister. She’s off limits. Nothing’s changed.

  Or had it?

  I thought she was in school in LA, studying to be an actress. No way would I have imagined that she was the queen of the Vegas strip circuit.

  Why was she here?

  And what happened to the dream she had been pursuing?

  I needed answers.

  I wanted them now.

  And I fucking would get them.

  But first I had to have another drink. I wasn’t in any shape to approach her in my present state of arousal. Somehow I’d always managed to do the right thing by her in the past. But now that I had seen her half naked I wondered if that were even possible anymore.

  “Don’t know why I never noticed before, but Miriam is prime firme.” Jorge raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A waitress instantly appeared. Tits bared, pasties barely covering her nipples, her beaded short skirt revealed more of her ass cheeks than it concealed. “Another round,” he ordered.

  “Yes, Mr. Rodriguez.” She batted her glued-on lashes at him, adding a side glance at me. I knew her game. She was available to fuck for a price and would do both of us without hesitation. Not that I was opposed. She was fine and all, but she paled in comparison to Miriam. Every woman did. Each time I got off with one of them I was left feeling more dissatisfied than ever. Things had been that way since my Rock Fuck Club hookup with Raven.