by Virna DePaul
“I wasn’t bothering her, bro, but look at her. Tell me she doesn’t look like that chick from the happy massage place that was here earlier today.” Tucker pushed his drink tumbler in my direction. “Am I right?”
Great, high school jokes all over again. I clucked my tongue. The last time I clucked my tongue, Samuel’s friend, Nicolas, earned himself my handprint on his face. Enough was enough. I didn’t need any more Asian jokes when I was already feeling like an idiot for being here. “Say it again,” I prompted.
“Say what again?” Tucker pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re not mad, are you? Sweetie, I’m just paying you a compliment. You are, without a doubt, the finest Japanese princess I have ever laid eyes on—”
“Dude…stop.” My defender shoved Tucker’s chest and simultaneously pulled back on his shirt, throwing him off-balance.
Which was actually helpful, given I’d just shot out my wine glass and dumped its contents down his hairless chest at that precise moment. The liquid created a shiny trail down into his pants. “I’m not Japanese. I’m American, of Chinese descent, if you must know. We’re not all alike. Unlike assholes. I heard that once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.”
Punk Cowboy scoffed a laugh, and I turned to walk off, find Rosemary, leave the party—at this point, I didn’t care—but I wasn’t going to stay here and take this. The people next to me broke into cheers over my display of bravado, but I couldn’t focus on them. I’d come here for one thing and one thing only—not to party, not to bond with my fellow tour mates, not to experience a Beverly Hills party for the first and last time in my life.
No, I’d come only to meet my bosses, wherever they were, if they were even here.
“Hey…” Punk Cowboy’s hand reached into mine—warm and strong—and he spun me toward him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry about Tucker. Not to defend him, but he’s just drunk. Normally, he’s a stand-up guy.”
“I hadn’t counted on harassment being part of the job.” Guess I already had something to report to my boss. “Can you tell me something before I go? You seem a decent enough guy.” I took my hand back and gripped my purse strap instead.
“Sure, anything.”
“Can you tell me where Liam Collier and the other guys are? I just came to say hello then get going.”
He studied my face carefully, as though maybe I was kidding, as though I was some clueless fish that just flopped out of the water. “I’m Liam Collier.” His hand, covered in silver rings, extended toward me. “Pleased to meet you. And you are?”
Mortified.
Abby “Mortified” Chan.
CHAPTER TWO
Liam
The angel standing before me was a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Lucy Liu, a vision in classic black, with porcelain skin and minimally painted eyes. Yeah, she stood out like an Aston Martin among Chevys and Toyotas, but I liked that about her. Her delicate hand slipped into mine, and I felt the thick pads of her fingertips.
Okay, maybe not so delicate.
“Oh. I didn’t realize…you were…nice to meet you…” She fumbled with her words, squeezing my hand softly instead of shaking it. “I’m Abby. Your cellist.”
Cellist? “No shit?” My depraved mind flew to an image of this tiny girl, naked and cradling a huge cello between her milky white legs, head tossed back in ecstasy. Whoa. I shook away the vision.
“Yes, shit.” She smiled.
“Sorry, I mean, wow, that’s awesome…that you work for me. And that you play cello. Fantastic.” I was fumbling my words, a pretty fucking amazing thing. Few people left me speechless anymore. I’d seen and done it all these last few years, but I’d never had a prim and proper class act join my tour before.
She stood wringing her hands as though we were at an eighth-grade prom and I was asking her to dance. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I had to be on my best behavior around this chick. “And here I was, thinking you didn’t need me for anything after the way you handled Tucker over there.” I gestured in the general direction he’d fled after Abby scorched his ass.
“Was he a friend of yours?” she asked.
Man, she really didn’t know us from a hole in the wall, did she? Refreshing! “Tucker? He’s our drummer. You’ve probably heard of Tucker the… You know what? Never mind. And that guy right there…” I pointed to the guy in the pool who’d been wrestling with Jacob in front of her before they’d both fallen in. “That’s Corbin Ross, our bassist.”
“Right. What about Wesley Shaw?” she asked.
“Wes?” I scanned around for our lead guitarist, but he was more the private type and was probably upstairs in a bedroom taking his pants off as we spoke. “I don’t know where Wes is. Probably better that way.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I do need you,” she said, clearing her throat. “For something, that is. My paycheck,” she clarified, breaking out another thin smile.
“Ha, ha, good one.” I grinned. Then, because I’d talked to everyone at this party except for her, I sat my ass against the edge of one of Robbie’s potted plant things, crossed my legs, and studied her—the way she scoped around, trying not to notice the naked people in the pool, as if hoping horse blinders would appear on the sides of her face.
I wanted to put my arm around her and tell her it was going to be okay. The lifestyle might be a little crazy, but we were basically all good people.
We’d never had a string section on tour with us before, but back in December, I told the guys that I thought Save Me Tonight and Never Again could use some instrumental backup onstage. Other bands did it for their live shows, and their songs were all the richer because of it. Wes, Tuck, and Corbin had been on board, but the hard part had been convincing Robbie. He’d thought it would give us too serious an appearance, like an older band wanting to grow as musicians when we should still come across as bachelor playboys. He’d finally relented, if only because I insisted, so I was really bummed to have missed the string rehearsal this afternoon. Unfortunately, there’d been a thousand and one things to do before we headed for San Francisco. But if I’d known Abby was going to be there…
“Well, I just wanted to say thank you…for employing me.” She laughed in a really cute nervous way, hands clasped in front of her. “I look forward to the tour starting tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for doing an awesome job…you know…playing the cello.” I pretended to hold an oversized cello upright and slide an imaginary bow across the strings.
She reached out, placed her small hands over mine and corrected my wrist, swerving it back and forth. “It needs to bend, like this, in order to keep the bow straight.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” I did my best to imitate her hand movements, but the truth was, I couldn’t focus on anything but the touch and feel of her hands on mine. “Thanks for the tip, Teach. I’ll see you at the buses tomorrow.”
She smiled, and holy shitballs, Batman…Tucker was right—she looked like the girl from the happy massage place, yeah, but ten thousand times prettier. Without hardly any makeup, without her hair done, with most of her body covered, too. It was hard not to imagine her dressed in something shorter, tighter, with maybe a pair of black patent leather boots up to her knees and some cherry blossom red lipstick outlining that perfect mouth.
My brain shivered.
“Will do. Have a good night.” She turned to leave then stopped and faced me again. “And thanks for stepping in earlier. That was nice of you.”
“Anytime.” I gave her my best smile, and she walked off, joining a tall, leggy blonde waiting for her nearby. I wondered if she worked for me, too. But my interest in the blonde was fleeting.
Abby was smaller in stature, but the impression she’d left on me was huge.
Again, I pictured her naked and playing her cello.
And like a string, I quivered.
*
Once the party died down, I meandered through the house, wondering whe
re everybody was. Even Helen usually followed me around—had since middle school—but tonight, she seemed to be missing in action as well.
I headed upstairs to Robbie’s guest bedroom where I’d be staying tonight. All four of us would be sleeping at the house. It was tradition the night before a tour, and though I wasn’t fucking hammered as balls as I usually was, I was tired and ready for bed. I opened the door and spotted Corbin in there, half-naked with the pool chick he’d been sucking face with earlier. Actually, I’d been with her before, too, but I fucking forgot her name. “Hey…uh…both of you,” I said. Man, I was out of it. I’d completely forgotten about the threesome Corbin had planned for us tonight.
“Bro! We’ve been waiting for your ass,” Corbin cried, holding out his arms to welcome me. He sprawled out on the bed with Pool Chick lying alongside him, her upper half propped up, as though she’d been kissing his chest before I opened the door.
“Yeah, Liam, bring that hot ass over here.” She beckoned with a glittery silver fingernail.
I distinctly recalled the feel of those sharp nails digging into my ass at some point. Oddly enough, the memory didn’t have me hardening. Didn’t even have my dick twitching with mild interest. “Wow, you know what? I totally forgot about this, uh…meeting, and I’m actually kind of tired. So you guys party without me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Corbin’s eyebrows flew up. “Dude, Bella wore her good-luck bikini just for us, for the tour.”
Bella, that was her name.
“Yeah, Liam.” She reached back and undid her bikini top, freeing the most beautiful set of perfect tits the world’s eyeballs had ever seen. “You sure you’re tired?”
Okay, so I wasn’t dead. A stirring in my pants called to me.
Corbin cocked his head. “Dude, it’s bad luck if you don’t help me. I mean, look at her. Clearly, I need backup.”
I laughed. “You’re man enough to handle her alone, Cor.”
“What? Liam, what the fuck’s gotten into you lately? What happened to our kickoff tradition? Now, watch…something bad will happen, and it’ll be all because you wouldn’t help me suck her tits. Come on, bro. Take one for the team.”
Bella giggled.
Funny.
Four years ago, I was a senior in high school and would’ve given anything for a woman of this caliber to want me, and now here I was, actually considering skipping her. Was this life actually getting old? Still, I couldn’t let Corbin or even Bella see how tired I felt, or word would surely get around that Liam Collier was losing his mojo.
“Fine, I guess I’ll sacrifice myself.” I overacted the martyr thing.
“There you go!” Corbin pumped his fist then resumed making out with Bella.
Pulling off my vest, I tossed it onto a chair and climbed into bed on Bella’s other side, loving the big, comfy pillows piled up behind me, wishing I could sink in and just fall asleep there. But Bella had other plans. She turned to me, ran a hand up my leg, then cupped it around my package and squeezed. Leaning into me, she kissed the side of my face until my lips connected with hers and soaked in her strawberry-flavored scent.
Fucking beautiful woman, no doubt of that.
So why couldn’t I get into it?
Bella pulled away and gave me fantastic blue eyes before turning back to Corbin and undoing his jeans. She pulled them down just far enough, fished around inside his shorts, and pulled out his cock, dropping her head and starting to work on him.
I closed my eyes. Did not need to see my buddy’s bits and pieces, but I could hear the sounds of skin and sex, including the slurping and gagging that she was so good at. Gah, now I really do remember her.
After a minute of me lying there, listening to Corbin groan, watching her head bob up and down, she turned to me. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Am I neglecting you?”
“Nah, you’re good.”
I would’ve been fine just watching, but her body twisted, and she threw a leg over my torso, straddling me, leaning forward to press her sweet tits into my face. Ohh, sweet mercy… Those amazing nipples grazed my lips, but I couldn’t drink them in. She lowered her face to kiss me, but I turned my cheek, so she kissed my neck and ears instead. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something so intimate about kissing, so entirely personal, that I just couldn’t bring myself to do it tonight for some reason.
Closing my eyes, I felt her breasts leaving a warm trail down my chest as she kissed down my body, pausing at the sensitive skin just underneath the button of my fly. Her hot breath waited there while she fumbled with my zipper. Between my swirling, half-drunken thoughts and a dizzying sensation, I couldn’t think straight, and for a moment I thought—hoped maybe—that she could be someone else.
The cello girl.
I imagined Bella was Abby, tugging with need at my jeans, pulling them down, wanting desperately to envelop me in her mouth. Now that would be awesome, experiencing that reserved, shy woman unfold and give herself to me. No offense, Bella, but I expected it from you. But Abby?
Warm, slinky hands reached into my shorts and wrapped around my cock, hard and ready at the thought. All I had to do was let her pleasure me, relinquish and just feel, the way I’d done hundreds of times before with a different flavor woman every other night, but what did it all mean? What good was all this sex if the person you were having it with just disappeared and didn’t scratch your back afterward, didn’t care if you suddenly became an average guy with an average income?
My mom didn’t care if my dad couldn’t buy her a new car, keep her in a condo overlooking the ocean, or buy her jewelry every day of the week. Mom loved Dad despite him being an average Joe all these years. Now that shit was real. My mom and dad had material things now because of me, so did my brothers, but it had never been a requirement to love one another.
I wanted that same kind of love for me. Maybe not now, not on the first day of a new tour, and not for a while. But eventually—one day. I wasn’t ready to give up the life just yet. Hell no, a life like mine would be brutal on a girlfriend. I would never subject a woman to life on the road and to our endless raunchiness. That was why I’d let go of Vanessa, my high school girlfriend. It was why I’d broken her heart, prompting her to…
Ugh, I couldn’t think about that right now, or things would deflate. Literally. One of the saddest days of my life.
“Mmm, baby, you’re one of a kind,” Bella cooed.
My eyes popped open to see her holding my cock with both hands, ogling it like it was going to be difficult stuffing it all in her mouth. Instead of turning me on, it highlighted even more that I was just a famously rich piece of meat to her. “You know what? That feels really good what you’re doing…” I pushed her hands away gently. I had no interest in insulting her. “But we have to get up early, and I’m kind of buzzed. I’d hate to not remember this in the morning. I’d much rather you do it once I’m sober so I can really enjoy it.” I gave her my best smile. No pun intended, but I didn’t want to come across as a dick. Girls could be so sensitive, even dangerous ones like her.
Her brow furrowed and she pouted. “You sure?”
“Yeah. You and Corbin have fun.” I sat up, pushing myself back into my shorts and zipping up my jeans. Although this was supposed to be my bed tonight. I guess I’d have to sleep downstairs or, hell, even at home.
I grabbed my vest. My wallet went back in my pocket, and I pulled out my bike keys.
“Dude, what is up with you?” Corbin gave me a worried look, as Bella fell over him again, her head bobbing up and down. “Since when do you not want this magic mouth all up in your business?”
“Just staying focused, bro. I’ll see you in the morning.” I left the room and closed the door behind me before he could say anything else, pressing my back up against the wall. I sighed. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I slinked past people sitting on floors and lying on sofas, and past women giving blow jobs to our roadies and crew. When I made it to the front door, there was Helen, m
y best friend, face all somber, as though someone killed her cat. “Helen…geez. You fucking scared me, coming out of nowhere like that. What’s up, Wednesday Addams?”
“Where you been?” she asked, like she was my mom or something. Helen could be so fucking clingy sometimes.
I gave her a once-over. She looked pretty hot tonight in tight jeans, a perfect, fitted tank that hugged her boobs, and lots of necklaces tangled in her cleavage. I’d touched them once. The boobs, not the necklaces. Sophomore year. But I’d been drunk, and we’d both laughed it off. “I was upstairs getting a blow job. Blew my load all over her face. It was fucking awesome. You?” I knew the answer would disgust her, but that should teach her not to ask where I’d been anymore.
“Bullshit.” She called my bluff. “You’re going home. Nothing happened.”
My chest deflated. “How’d you know that?”
Helen scoffed, shook her head. “You think you know a person.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, whenever you have sex, you stay in bed till at least noon the next day with said person. If you’re leaving early, it’s because you’re tired and want to sleep undisturbed.”
“Am I that transparent?” My eyebrows flared.
“To me, you are.” There was the girl I was used to, though there was something in her face tonight that tipped me off.
Something had changed. I just wasn’t sure what it was. Had she met someone? Did he not feel the same way? Was that why she seemed so gloomy? I knew I should be a good friend and ask her. But right then, I just wanted my bed and some sleep. “Okay, well, I’m heading out.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she swirled around the contents of her glass—Jack and Coke, most likely. “Need someone to go with you?” she asked suggestively.
Uh…what? Sleeping with a warm body would be nice, and Helen did know me better than anyone, but we weren’t bed buddies. Maybe she was just lonely and wanted someone to cuddle with, but if she was that vulnerable, I didn’t want to risk leading her on. I’d never thought of her that way before. She was just Helen, my best friend since middle school—no more, no less.