“Soooo,” Mike said after I had seen my boyfriend out, his brows nearly disappearing beneath his artfully disarrayed hair. “You’ve had an…interesting day.”
“Um, yeah.” I snorted. “Something like that.”
“Well.” He patted the spot beside him on the couch. “Come sit beside me, take your shirt off and tell me all about it.” He reached for his massage oil decanter. “We’re skipping the ice cream and going straight to the magic fingers.” He removed the stopper. Already eager, I drew my cross body over my head, then my shirt tossing both into the easy chair opposite him. I quickly wasted no time moving to occupy the cushion he had patted only a moment before. “I know everything but what happened after you left the club,” he reminded me after I removed my bra, pulled my hair forward over one shoulder and presented my back to him. He laid his warm, oiled fingers on my shoulders and immediately flexed and pressed them into my skin. I hissed at first then sighed with bliss as the tension in my muscles uncoiled under his expert hands. “I gotta say,” he continued talking and kneading at the same time, “given the way you flew out of the door at Sexxy and barreled through the one here that a certain Latino has gotten you all riled up.”
“Uh huh.” I didn’t disagree, but I couldn’t manage any more of a coherent response. Mike’s massages were divine. He held two jobs just like I did to make ends meet and to afford his half of the duplex and the car we co-owned.
“I’ve never seen anyone get under your skin so easily. Did he come onto you?”
“No.” I shook my head remembering Juaquin’s fingers skimming my cheek. That wasn’t a come on. It was something else, something that I didn’t want to analyze too closely, something that had me as jumbled up, a myriad of emotions ping ponging around inside of me.
“You telling me he didn’t try anything?” Mike’s tone was incredulous.
Stomach dipping unpleasantly, I shook my head again.
“After seeing you dance?” He stopped massaging. I swiveled around to face him. His thickly lashed cornflower blue eyes reflected his skepticism. “That’s kind of hard to believe, MJ.”
I dropped my head, my hair curtaining forward. I would have to wash it later. The ends would be saturated in massage oil. But that was just it. My bestie had zeroed in on the heart of the matter. The something I didn’t want to analyze. I might be queen of the club. I might have a handsome, attentive boyfriend. Juaquin Acenado might have thrown me a couple of compliments that had made my maybe-I’m-not-so-over-him heart hopelessly hope for things yet again. But I needed to wake up and face a reality that hurt me more than I wanted to admit. The sexy drummer of Tempest, my first real love, a man I remained humiliatingly attracted to despite repeated rejections was never going to want me the way I wanted him. This pathetic Juliet would never get her apathetic Romeo. Draw the curtains and exit stage left.
Chapter Five
King
It had been a long night. After Miriam had stormed out of my hotel suite, I had repeatedly questioned the other Sexxy Club girls trying to get them to reveal information about her, and I had gotten nada for my efforts even though I had poured on the Latino charm, asked nicely and even offered cash. I guess these strippers stuck to their own do-not-tell code. The only thing the mamacita in the cowboy hat had let slip was the fact that the one guy in the show was friends with their Queen.
Friends, my ass, I thought watching the goodbye scene as Miriam rounded the car and took the keys to the Ford Fusion that this Mike Vox dude had been driving. Maybe the cowgirl had figured that at six foot something he could hold his own if someone went looking for him. Well, I had gone looking. I had found his massage studio, alright. But since then things weren’t exactly going according to my plan.
“I’ll see you back at the house later tonight then?” Miriam asked smiling up at him. From my parking spot on the street, I gripped the steering wheel of my Hummer tightly. The leather wrapped metal refused to yield. I wanted to get out, walk up that driveway and take a piece out of him. He might be six foot something, but I could kick his ass.
“Yeah, if I don’t swing by and have a drink with you and Frank at The Palms first.” He glided his fingers into her hair and kissed her cheek. “Love ya, MJ.”
“I love you.” She had her hair down again today. Beautiful and bright eyed, the desert sun caressed her features the way I would if I had any right to touch her.
“Don’t worry about Juaquin saying anything.” I froze at the mention of my name. Had she been talking about me to this guy? Her boyfriend? “I bet he doesn’t want your brother to know he saw you nearly naked.”
She said something soft in reply that I couldn’t make out.
“Now you’re just being paranoid.” Mike shook his head. “You said yourself that Jorge doesn’t even really know Bryan. Also you know that Nance doesn’t allow pictures inside the club. You’re good. You stood up to him. Finally. He’s out of your life, and it’s time for you to start living it for real, girlfriend.”
“You’re right.” She nodded, popped open the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. He leaned into the open window as soon as she was settled and kissed her lips this time as if in apology for his sternly spoken words.
“You better get going.” He knocked on the window frame after she fastened her seat belt. “Drive carefully. Traffic’s a bitch around the Tropicana with all the construction. Have a good day at work. Give Jazz a kiss and tell her hey for me.” I cocked my head at the fond way he addressed her, and the kiss that had lacked anything resembling passion. As she pulled out of the driveway, he watched her. Then his gaze lifted, and he stared straight at me.
Had he known I had been watching them all along? He definitely knew who I was. He hitched a messenger bag higher on his shoulder and moved toward me.
Suddenly feeling like a stalker, I removed the keys from the Hummer, cranked open the door and got out to meet him. Sliding the key ring into the pocket of my jeans, I widened my stance a bit wondering if this might get ugly, maybe even wanting it to because of the uneven way I had felt since I had seen Miriam last night and learned that her life was far from the fairy tale I had always wanted her to have.
“Juaquin.” Mike lifted his chin saying a lot with that move. A. He confirmed he knew who I was and B. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of me, even though I outweighed him by twenty pounds of fighter’s muscle.
I returned the gesture, casually tucking my thumb into the front pocket of my jeans to let him know he didn’t intimidate me, either, although the dude stood a couple of inches taller than I did.
“What the fuck?” He lifted a brow. “Didn’t she tell you to get the hell out of her life?”
Eyes hard, I stared him down from beneath the frayed brim of my favorite ball cap and shrugged. I wasn’t going to volunteer information. I was here to gather it, and I had gotten a shit ton of it already. She had a protector. One I didn’t think she had slept with. But one I hadn’t quite figured out…yet.
“She knows you’re spying on her?” He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. He was looking for clues of his own.
“Not spying on her pendejo.” I broke my silence. I didn’t like the accusation in his tone. I never did anything when it came to her that wasn’t in her best interest. I moved toward him until barely a couple of inches separated us. A car drove by on the quiet palm tree lined gravel side street. I waited for the vehicle to pass before I spoke again. “I came to see you.”
“Because…” He let that hang. Ah, good. He sounded like he was just as suspicious of me and planned to keep things careful and not tip his hand where she was concerned. And even though I didn’t like him near her, I liked that.
“Because I heard you two were close.”
“Hmm.” He studied me a long beat. I wasn’t as tensed for a fight as I had been a couple of moments earlier, but I was ready to take him down if need be. That being if I didn’t like what he said next. “You could say we are.” My hands formed fists of their own accord. Ev
en though I knew instinctively that he hadn’t slept with her, that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. She was Miriam after all. There wasn’t a guy on the planet who could be near her and not want to go there unless…
“Ahhh.” I put together the pieces. “You’re not into women.”
“Not in that way,” he confirmed. “But she’s my best friend, and vice versa. We’re as together as two people can be minus the sex if you get me.” He pulled closer. I got the angry vibes rolling off him as he got in my face.
“I get you.” Since he was taller I had to crank my neck up to maintain eye contact, which I sure as hell did. I wasn’t backing down until I had this all figured out. Everything concerning him and her, not to mention this Frank dude. “But you need to get me too, ese.” I tapped my chest once with my fist to emphasize the importance of what I was going to say. “Miriam and I got a history.” I lowered my voice to a menacing growl. “And I’m not going the fuck anywhere, no matter what she says or what you or anyone else does until I make sure she’s ok. Comprende?”
* * *
Miriam
“You’re late.” Vincenzo’s sour faced PA waved me impatiently inside the suite.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Traffic was horrible with all of the new construction.”
“Well then, you should have left earlier,” she chastised. Her heels clacked her displeasure on the Carrera marble in the foyer. I entered the ten million dollar recently remodeled penthouse suite as she exited, hurrying to do her boss’s bidding I had no doubt. Vincenzo Campanella, the new owner of the Tropicana, demanded as much, and not just with his PA, from all of his employees myself included.
“Miriam!” Jasmine Campanella, Jazz to her friends dashed across the room and launched herself into my open arms. She hugged my neck while I squeezed her tight.
“Jazz. I missed you.” I buzzed her soft cheek with a kiss. “That one’s for me.” I gave her a second kiss on the other cheek. “And that one’s from Mikey.” She giggled. She had a little crush on my best friend. I was smiling widely when I set her back and took her in. Twin braids. Sparkling jade eyes. Cute bedazzled outfit from Justice. She had obviously just returned from another good week with her mother. I was glad. I loved to see her happy, and I had truly missed her. We hadn’t known each other long, but we had both become very attached, very quickly since I had taken the job as her companion and chaperone. She was eleven. She didn’t really need fulltime supervision on the weeks that she reluctantly spent with her father. But he was a powerful businessman with lots of money and the kind of connections that made as many enemies as friends. It made sense to have someone responsible watching out for his daughter when she wasn’t in school.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked her.
“I wanna go swimming, but Daddy says I should work on my script.” She dropped her gaze to her pink converse tennis shoes. “So I guess we’ll do that.”
“Hey.” I gently lifted her chin with my finger. “That probably won’t take all day. We can go down to the pool later.”
“Maybe,” she mumbled, but her smile had fled. Her lips pressed into a responsibility flattened line. “But only if I can finish all the extra homework my tutor gave me first.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll do it tomorrow then.” It was early in the school year, but she was already struggling with her classes. She had a form of dyslexia similar to my own. Her father wasn’t exactly understanding about it, letting her know quite frequently and publicly that she would do better if only she put more effort into her studies. Words with partial truth from those we long to please had the sharpest edges. I knew that from personal experience. So yeah, we had more than our dyslexia and love of the theatre in common. We had our father issues, too.
“I have an idea.” I put my hands on her shoulders that were way too slender for the crap ton of baggage she carried on them after her parents’ divorce. “Go get your homework. You can do it at the dining room table while I make us sandwiches for lunch. Then we can run your lines together at the pool.” Her eyes brightened. “What do you say?”
“I think you’re brilliant.”
“Far from it.” I snorted, but I was glad she thought so. I was certainly clever enough to work around her father’s demands. And apparently gotten smart enough to push Juaquin out of my life. Finally.
“Miriam,” Jazz called, and I turned to glance back at her. “I’m glad you’re here. Everyone else who works for my dad, well, they’re on his side. So much so that sometimes they scare me. But you’re different. I trust you. If I didn’t have you, I don’t know what I would do.”
“You won’t ever have to find out. I love you, Jasmine Campanella. Actually I’m the lucky one to get to spend time with a smart, sweet girl like you.”
She smiled in response to my words, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I understood. All the praise in the world couldn’t make up for the harsh ones of a father.
* * *
King
“I’m fucking fine. Alright? For the last time. Give me a little space.” I had the lyrics in front of me, but I just couldn’t seem to find the beat. Crossing my sticks, I laid them on my thigh and scowled at my drum kit as if it were the problem and not me.
“What’s got you so messed up?” Jorge asked giving me a look. My latest eruption was one of many and that wasn’t the first studio tech I had run off with my burst of temper.
“Nothing, ese.” Total and complete bullshit. I had been irritable since Miriam walked out of my suite last night, and if I was more honest with myself I would admit that things had been going fucking Southside long before that. “I just don’t want to waste everyone’s time.” We had been in the tiny ten-by-ten-foot windowless cube trying to cobble together a decent recording from my notebook of rhymes for hours.
“You’d be in a better mood if you had gotten laid last night.”
“None interested me.”
“Really?” He raised his brows. “‘Cause I saw a lot of hot snatch in your room.”
“Miriam Jackson is not snatch,” I growled under my breath.
“Ahh. So we come to the heart of the matter.”
“How do you mean?”
“C’mon, ese. We’ve known each other too long. Don’t play fuckin’ dumb with me. I’ve never known you to turn down any of the mamacitas. But then she shakes those chichis.” He wiggled his chest and cupped his hands in front of himself. “You want the forbidden fruit, eh?”
I glanced away. Jorge was a fun guy, but he had hit too close to the truth. I did want Miriam. But that was another something I didn’t particularly trust him to know.
“So just go get her, hombre. You got the goods on her. Threaten to tell her family about what she’s doing here if you have to. Whatever it takes just so we can get some fucking work done. Bryan’s not around to stop you. He doesn’t even have to know. She sure won’t tell him. What happens in Vegas and all that shit, right?”
Chapter Six
Miriam
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked lifting my hand from the table and squeezing it.
“Nothing.” I frowned at the fizz in my rum and Coke and focused on him instead.
“I know better, babe. I’m a guy but you gotta give me a little credit. You hardly said two words during dinner. You haven’t touched your drink and you haven’t asked me to dance even though the DJ played two Quentin songs.”
“Oh.” I twisted the cross pendant that hung from the leather choker around my neck and offered him a weak smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been poor company. Jazz had a difficult day with her dad, and I guess I’m still a little down after the audition yesterday.”
“Not asking for an apology. I just…” He leaned closer putting his mouth near my ear so I could hear him better over a sudden commotion at the entrance to the club. “I care about you, babe. And I wanted to make sure I haven’t done anything wrong.” His breath tickled my ear. I pulled back to look him in the eyes. Sincerity blazed from their depths.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I had to shout to be heard over the pumping bass even though our faces were less than a foot apart. I stroked my fingertips across the soft fuzz of hair over his ears. “I care about you, too.” Not enough. My sister had been right. I had been holding back. I had been in a holding pattern for too long waiting and wanting another. But that was over. It had to be over. If I didn’t yet feel more certain about it, I soon would. I just needed to try harder. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to Frank’s firm ones. “Dance with me?” I asked taking his hand.
He nodded and took the lead guiding me to the dance floor. Since our table had been close, it was really only a matter of a couple of strides across industrial grade carpet fashioned to look like rattan and one step up onto a plastic surface that pulsed alternating shades of glow to accentuate the music.
Frank was an energetic partner and by the second number, I was flushed from exertion trying to keep up with him. Lifting my hair with one hand, I fanned the back of my neck and my face with the other. I glanced at the palm tree framed stage hoping the DJ would pick a slow song. He did, but I didn’t get to catch my breath because it got lodged in my throat. Juaquin suddenly materialized, two girls in tow, both dressed in slinky little dresses more revealing than my own and both very pretty if you liked the skeletal-I-never-eat-more-than-a-grain-of-rice look.
“Oh, hey, Miriam.” His ebony hair perfectly styled, the silky layers lay smooth on the sides and unruly over his forehead. He swept his arrogant rock god gaze over me. “You look nice.” The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal the strength in his forearms and his trousers hugged his physique in a way that had to be a custom fit. “Different.” He made a face like he was straining to think hard that in no way detracted from his cover of GQ level hotness. “I guess it’s because you have more clothes on.”
Scandalous Beat (The Tempest Rock Star series Book 6) Page 6