by Nina Levine
“Why?” I’m confused about the sudden change in plans. And a little disappointed I won’t be getting to the good part of this afternoon now.
“Apparently, the record label has managed to set up some promo gigs in Australia, so they want us back home within twenty-four hours.”
I raise my brows. “Just like that?”
He shrugs. “It’s what we do, sweetheart. Things move fast and we go with the flow.”
“Okay, so no sex now, but I’m taking a raincheck. And I don’t even care how exhausted you are when we get home, you’re making good on the promises you’ve been making today.”
Grabbing my hand, he begins to lead me to the door while pulling me close, and he says, “By my rough calculations, I think we’ll be able to find some spare minutes in between getting from here to the hotel to the airport. And you know the things I can do to you in minutes, so I’ll make good on those promises.”
My tummy flutters.
I do know the things he can do to me in minutes.
* * *
We arrive back at the hotel to chaos. Just when it seemed like the band was getting their act together, all hell has broken loose.
“What the fuck has happened?” Jett is livid as he looks between West and Hunter. He got a call from West while we were in the taxi on the way back. Van and Tom were in the middle of an argument, and West was concerned as to where it would end up. He’d put Jett on the phone to Van to try and calm him down but, by the looks of it now, that hadn’t worked.
Tom glances at Jett from where he is by the window in his hotel room. Blood sticks to his face – his face that is now covered in nasty looking bruises and swelling. It’s as if he’s gone a round with a boxer. Spitting into the tissue in his hand, he mutters, “Turns out Van didn’t agree with the decision to go home and when we got into it, he raised some other things he has a problem with.”
Jett’s body is tense and anger is written all over him. “So he thought it was okay to use you as a fucking punching bag?”
Tom tries to speak but his face contorts in pain and he struggles to get the words out. We all watch him until West fills Jett in some more. “Van’s pissed that the label wants us to give up some promo he’s organised to go back and do their stuff instead. He’s also still pissed off at you, and when Tom shared his thoughts that you were right about not changing our sound dramatically, he lost it.”
“How’s Van looking?” Jett asks.
“Nowhere near as bad as Tom but he did take a couple of hits, too. Problem with Tom is that Van knocked him down and he hit the ground fairly hard. I’m concerned it’s caused more than just bruising and swelling.”
“And where the hell is Van now?”
There’s a knock at the door and Hunter leaves us to answer it while West keeps filling us in. “Fuck knows. He took off and said not to wait for him when we head to the airport.”
Jett’s body arches with anger and he grabs the back of his neck. “Jesus fucking Christ!” His wild gaze sweeps the room, taking it all in, and then he turns his gaze back to West. “What the hell is happening to us? Do we even have a band anymore?”
My attention shifts to Hunter who has let a man into the room, a doctor by the look of the bag he is carrying. They’re intent on getting to Tom so we all move to let them through, and a moment later the doctor is assessing Tom. Jett hasn’t calmed down but he’s reined his anger in while waiting to hear what the doctor has to say.
Time seems to drag on while we all wait, and I’m keenly aware time is edging closer to when we need to leave for the airport. Eventually, the doctor gives his verdict. “You’ve got concussion and need to rest. I’d actually recommend you go to the hospital to have it checked out.”
“I don’t have time. I’ve got a flight to catch to Australia,” Tom says while placing his hand to his head, grimacing.
The doctor shakes his head as he packs his equipment back into his bag. “No you don’t. No flying while you have a concussion.”
“Fuck,” West mutters, and I sense the tension in the room escalate while all the men look more pissed than they did a minute ago.
“He’s right, Tom,” Jett agrees with the doctor. “You can’t fly. I’ll stay here with you and get you checked out.”
“Like hell you will,” Tom argues, and his voice gets louder even though it’s obvious by the expression on his face that the noise is causing him more pain.
Jett crosses his arms over his chest and it looks like he’s settling in for an argument. “I’m hardly going to leave you alone while you’ve got a concussion.”
“Jett, the label were clear – they want the band back home and doing everything you can to fix the shit going down over there. Apparently, the rape scandal is only getting worse and they think it’s time you all did interviews in order to try to shift public perception.”
“Shit, maybe we should just pay that bitch off,” West interjects. Defeat hangs heavy in his words and I hate that he’s going through this.
Jett’s head snaps around to face West. “No fucking way are you paying her. That smacks of guilt and you’re not guilty.”
West throws his hands up in the air and stares at Jett. “Well what the hell am I supposed to do? She won’t go away on her own.”
I step forward and offer a suggestion. “Guys, why don’t you all go home and I’ll stay here with Tom? I’ll get him to the hospital and make sure he’s okay before we fly home.”
Four sets of eyes are suddenly on me, staring, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. Tom finally speaks, breaking the awkward moment. “Thanks for the offer, Presley, but I’ve got a sister in LA who can help me. You head back with the boys, and, for the love of God, please make sure Jett stays out of trouble.”
Jett frowns at him for a second. Cocking his head, he asks, “I never knew you had a sister here. You sure that’s not a bullshit story?”
Tom pulls his phone out and passes it to Jett. “Search for Tina and call her. She’ll verify it.”
Jett calls her and she agrees to come and take care of Tom. As he passes the phone back to Tom, he says forcefully, “I don’t want you coming home until the doctor clears you, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tom waves him away. “You all need to get to the airport. I’ll be okay on my own until Tina gets here.”
Hunter nods, but doesn’t move. “What about Van?”
Jett scowls and grabs his phone out of his pocket. He dials a number and puts the phone to his ear. After a few moments, he says, “Van, we’re heading to the airport. You better be there, asshole.” As he shoves the phone back in his pocket, he mutters, “Fucking message bank.”
At this point, I’m guessing Van won’t be there. And wondering like hell where the band will go from here.
19
Jett
I check the time on my phone for what feels like the fiftieth time. Half a fucking hour until we leave. And he’s still not here. Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I scowl. Van’s fucked up this time, and I’m almost out of patience with him.
Presley leans her head against my shoulder and murmurs, “Thank God I’m with the band . . . flying on a private jet is the only way to travel.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, sweetheart, stick with me and we’ll see the world by private jet.” Thank fuck she’s here; her presence may well be the only thing helping me keep my shit together.
“Now that’s a tempting thought, Mr. Rockstar,” she teases. I know she’s teasing because Presley is one of the only women I know who wouldn’t stay with me simply to enjoy the luxuries in life. And that’s exactly why I will give her every damn thing she ever wants or everything I think she might want.
We retreat into silence and I watch Hunter and West for a moment. They’re both sitting on their own. Hunter’s scrolling through his phone, and West has his head resting on the back of his seat with his eyes closed. We’re all exhausted and pissed off. Not a great combination. So it’s probably a good thing Van hasn’t shown up. Although, th
at will only prolong the inevitable.
I shut my eyes and try to push the shitty thoughts swirling through my mind away, but all I can think about is the band and where we’ll go from here. Ten fucking years and Van’s attitude is threatening to throw all that away. Not to mention his bad behaviour. I have no idea how Tom will handle this. If he walks away from us, we’ll struggle to find a manager as good as he is. Tom’s well respected in our industry, and there are a shitload of bands who would kill to have him manage them. He’s been our manager for eight years and was instrumental in steering us in the right direction when we first started out all those years ago.
“Jett.” Presley’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“What, baby?” I ask, opening my eyes and looking at her.
“Van’s here.” She jerks her chin in his direction and I twist my head to look at him.
He’s not as banged up as Tom is, but at least Tom got a punch or two in; Van’s face is bruised and his lip is cut. The scowl on his face tells me he’s still pissed but I don’t have it in me to care. I leave Presley and walk to where he is. “What the hell happened with Tom?” I demand, already feeling the beginning of another headache. The last one I had has only just subsided so this only makes me more irritable.
He drops his duffle and plants his feet wide while crossing his arms over his chest. “Do I even get a say in the band anymore, Jett?” The hostility radiating from him can’t be mistaken, and I rack my brain trying to figure out where it’s coming from.
“Of course you get a say,” I throw back at him. “Where is this shit coming from?”
My question fires him up. His face twists in fury and he snaps. “This shit comes from me never getting a say in the decisions we make. It’s either you or Tom or the label, and for once, I want to feel like my opinion fucking counts.”
I stare at him in confusion. Frowning, I say, “You do get a say; we all do.”
He shakes his head furiously. “No, we don’t. If we did, I’d get a say in going home today, I would have gotten a say in coming here in the first place, and I sure as fuck would get a say in our next album.” His chest heaves with a harsh breath and he jabs his chest with his finger before thundering, “I get no fucking say!”
“Do you think I wanted to come here?” I yell back at him. “And then to practically turn straight around and go home… yeah, that was high on my list of priorities. And the new sound on the album? I’m for that but like I said, we have to be smart about it. You’ve got your head in your ass if you think we don’t listen to you. No, strike that… I think your head is out of the game, I think it’s been screwed up by Caitlin, and I think you need to hurry up and sort that shit out in your mind because it’s clearly affecting your ability to think straight.”
His face reddens at the mention of his ex-fiancé and the vein in his neck bulges. He drops his arms and clenches his fists at his side. “That bitch is wiped from my memory. Don’t fucking mention her again.”
“I’ll keep mentioning her for as long as you keep acting like the dickhead you have been for weeks now.”
“She’s got nothing to do with this!”
“We’ve been friends for over ten years, Van, and I know you inside out, and I’m telling you, she has everything to do with this.”
He glares at me in silence for a minute before picking up his duffel and throwing one last statement at me. “A friend would pay more attention, Jett.” And then he stalks off to a chair, leaving me baffled as to what he means.
Before I get my thoughts together, though, we’re given the go-ahead to board the plane. I’ll give him some space for now, but we need to sort this the fuck out, and quick. Our band’s future has already been threatened by scandal. We don’t need to put a nail in the coffin by losing a member.
* * *
“You’re wide awake, aren’t you?” I ask Presley as she tosses and turns in my bed. We got home about an hour ago and came straight to bed, but she’s been restless ever since.
She shifts in the bed again and rests her head on my chest. “Sorry…” she murmurs, “I shouldn’t have slept so much on the plane because it’s coming back to haunt me now.”
I put my arm around her and pull her closer to me. It’s nearly four in the morning now and I’m past the point of exhausted where I probably couldn’t sleep even if I tried. “I’d suggest we have sex but I’m not sure I could get it up, I’m so damn tired,” I say as I press a kiss to her head.
Her body shakes gently with laughter and she lifts her head to look at me. “Jett, you could get it up in a coma. Just be honest, you’re too lazy and can’t be fucked.”
I laugh and move my hand so I can smooth her hair and then pull her face to mine. Kissing her, I mutter, “You might have a point there. Now, if someone was to do all the work for me, I wouldn’t say no.”
She licks her lips and smiles. “No isn’t in your vocabulary, Mr. Rockstar.”
Raising my brows, I ask, “So, is my dick gonna see any action or are we all too lazy this morning?” She has no idea how awake I am now.
Faking a yawn, she slides her body on top of mine and puts her head down on my chest. “Maybe I’ll just sleep here.”
“Or maybe you won’t,” I growl as I move us swiftly so she’s under me. Placing my hands on the bed, either side of her, I stare into her eyes, and say, “How ‘bout I wear you out so all you’ll want to do is sleep.”
Her eyes light up with anticipation. “Someone’s woken up.”
I take her lips in a rough kiss, and when I begrudgingly let them free, say, “Someone did a good job of waking me up.”
She wraps her legs and arms around me, and my cock hardens more when her warm breath floats across my skin. “Someone needs to shut up and hurry the hell up. A woman could die of dick drought when her man insists on talking too much.”
Lust courses through me and I push my cock against her. Thank fuck we’re naked already; I hardly have the patience for foreplay here, let alone removing clothes. I bend my face so my lips are near her ear, and rasp, “Someone’s got a dirty fucking mouth that drives me the fuck wild. Maybe I should shove my cock in there so that we all stop talking.”
The way her nails dig into my back, and the way her pussy meets my dick as she thrusts up, tell me she’s down with that idea, but suddenly the need to be inside her is overwhelming and I know there’s no way I’m letting her pussy go now. Her mouth will have to wait.
“Fuck, Presley…” I groan as I resist the temptation to drive my cock deep inside her.
She moves one of her hands to the back of my head and pushes my face to hers so she can kiss me. The minute her lips find mine, I’m done. Her kiss is demanding and I fucking love it when she’s rough like this. When I can feel her need for me. It’s one of my biggest turn-ons.
I wanted to give her foreplay but I can feel how wet she is already, and I know I’m not going to last, so I thrust inside her. The moan that falls from her lips and the way her pussy squeezes around my dick give me all the feedback I need. I pull out and thrust back in, hard and fast. My promise to fuck her into exhaustion is the only thing on my mind at the moment. Everything else is a blur as I work towards that.
Our bodies move together in relentless pursuit of pleasure.
The push and pull of the chase.
The giving and the taking.
The need for more.
The insatiable hunger for everything we can give each other … for everything we want to take from each other.
I thrust.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Fuck.
I cling to her as my orgasm rips through me. My body tenses and I still as it takes over.
I let it consume me.
I am fucking consumed.
Presley consumes me.
She fucking owns me.
“Jett!” she cries out as she comes. Her body jerks and her pussy tightens around me as it hits.
I le
t her ride it out until I can’t hold my body up any longer. Pulling out, I lie next to her on the bed. I’m fucking spent.
She moans and it’s the sexy little noise she makes that always makes me want to pump my dick in her again, but no matter what she says or does to try to convince me, I can’t go again. Groaning, I say, “I want to fuck you again, sweetheart, but there’s just no way my body or my dick’s gonna play nice. Jesus, I don’t even have the energy to give you my tongue.” The tiredness seeps deep into my bones and sleep threatens to take hold.
Rolling over, she places her arm across my body and rests her head on my chest while I put my arm around her. Her leg tangles with mine, and her breathing is the only sound she makes. We lie there for a long time, silent. Almost asleep. And then she murmurs, “Are you guys going to be okay?”
I blink my eyes open and frown. “What do you mean?”
“With Van… do you think the band is going to be okay? He seems so angry and disconnected from you all. It worries me.” Her voice is soft and I can hear the care in it. I love how she cares about this. I don’t feel alone in it now I’ve got her by my side.
I let out a long breath. “I honestly don’t know. He’s always been moody but this is a whole new level of moodiness. I feel like he’s pulling away.”
She’s quiet for a beat and then whispers, “Or trying to tell you something.”
Frowning again, I say, “If he’s trying to tell me something, he should just fucking say it. I’m growing tired of his anger and his moods.”
She shifts to rest on her elbow and stomach. “Maybe he doesn’t know what it is he’s trying to say, Jett. Haven’t you ever felt something that you can’t quite put your finger on, almost like a pent up frustration and anger at someone or at a situation that you just can’t express, not even to yourself?”
“No, I haven’t.” I have no clue where she’s coming from here.