Leo chuckled. “Yeah, it’s bigger than the Taj Mahal. Nora’s got a giant office for her clothing line business, and I ended up with the smaller one—of course. We’ve got a huge theatre room, an Olypmic-sized pool—even Gabby’s room is unbelievable.” He paused. “This is probably boring as shit to you. You’re the one with all the excitement … gearing up for a movie role, working on the new album—”
“No, I do want to hear about it.” Plus, I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t get the part.
“Yeah?”
He loved talking about his family, and I grinned even though he couldn’t see me. “Spill the beans, man. Tell it all.”
He settled in, his deep voice describing life at Chez Tate. “Nora went over the top with the nursery. She had this artist come out and paint these constellations and unicorns on the wall—it’s fairytale land in her room. I’ll be upfront with you—Gabby is spoiled rotten. She gets whatever she wants between me and Nora and Aunt Portia. I mean, she’s one, but she runs the house.”
I laughed, and we chatted a bit more until he put Nora on.
“How’s this V chick doing? I hope she’s ready for questions, because I want to know all about the girl that Lion Boy is bringing home. Frankly, I’m shocked you’d even bring her back to BA and around all those crazy people we went to high school—”
“About that. I’m not sure if she’s coming.” We hadn’t talked in the three days, not since the camping trip. I cleared my throat. “She’s—I don’t know—it’s weird right now.”
She got quiet and I could imagine her standing in her new house, narrowed eyes, trying to suss me out from two thousand miles away. A notorious people watcher, she had a big brain, and her favorite pastime was figuring out what made people tick.
She said, “I’m hearing some uncertainty in your voice. What’s going on? Do I need to come to LA and kick some girl’s ass? Or are you the one with the problem? Hmmm, come on, you can tell your stepmom.”
I groaned. “Just because you’re married to the man who raised me does not make me your stepson. Just ewwww.” I paused. “But back to V—we got physical and things are off.”
“Which is code for you had sex, and now you don’t know how to handle it,” she said. “Typical.”
I didn’t want to get into this. “Just put Gabby on, will you?”
She laughed. “Fine, avoid the issue—just like your brother—although I have trained him in the past few years to talk about his feelings …” she trailed off and I heard muffled laughter and then silence.
“Nora?”
I could hear rustling sounds—and then sighs.
“Are you getting busy with Leo while I’m on the phone with you?” I called out.
From next to me, Spider did a lewd gesture with his hands and Vilma’s eyebrows went up. Meh. It was Leo and Nora and they were known to be lusty.
“Nora, I’m hanging up if you don’t say anything.”
Her disembodied voice came through. “Okay. Enough. Stop kissing me there, Leo.” She giggled.
I shook my head. “Get a damn room and put Gabby on.”
“Okay, okay, here she is,” Nora said, and I heard Gabby breathing into the phone. I went into crazy uncle mode, as Spider called it, and started in with some baby talk and then sang the “Superman” song for her. It was our thing. We passed people on the street who stared, but it didn’t slow me down. I pictured her in Nora’s arms, clutching the phone to her head, her blue eyes—which were just like mine and Leo’s—as big as saucers as she hung on to my every word.
I said my goodbyes when we were led to our table at the Rio. We settled in and ordered drinks. I got a beer and Spider ordered a double shot of Jack.
Vilma began her interview as we ate. A pretty Latino with long dark hair and nice curves, Spider’s eyes kept drifting over her assets. Thinking of Mila, I barely resisted the urge to kick him under the table,
“Our tag line for the cover is going to be The Best in Indie.” Vilma said. “It’s quite an honor for the Vital Rejects to be on the list, and I just wanted to say that when this story came across my desk, I got giddy. Your music is one of my personal favorites. Can you tell me what’s in store for the band next? Is it true there’s a movie in the works?” she asked us.
Uh, no.
I cleared my throat. “We’re working in the studio on a new album. We don’t have definite tour dates yet, but they are coming. As far as movie rumors, we’ve not signed any deals.” In fact, I’d been toying with the idea of ditching Harry and looking for other representation.
She scribbled in her notebook and then looked back up. “And the question everyone wants to know is are you still dating Blair Storm? You haven’t been seen in public since the Hollywood Insider ran photos of you with a dark-haired girl. Can you tell me more about who this girl is and is she someone special?”
My mouth dried. I knew the tough questions were coming, and I could handle reporters, especially ones who tended to blush every time I looked at them, but this time I froze. I realized I wanted to be seen with V in public—even if we were just friends.
I must have waited too long to answer. Spider jumped in. “Blair is such an incredibly beautiful person, both inside and out, and one of our dearest friends, especially mine. She is an inspiration to me.” He leaned in. “In fact, she’s donating fifty thousand dollars to the Lyons Place Orphanage here in LA. You must ask her about it. Her fans would love to hear how Miss Storm supports the needy.” Yeah, Spider had a vindictive streak.
Vilma wrote in her book furiously while I just shook my head.
“So you and Blair are just friends?” she asked.
She wasn’t going to let it go. I licked my lips. “Blair’s a very special person in my life.” Special like a lunatic. “And that’s all you need to know.”
“What about the Mystery Girl, Sebastian? You’ve never come out and talked about her. Why all the secrecy?”
I stiffened in my seat, setting my beer down carefully as I eyed Vilma. No one was going to harass V.
Vilma picked up on my body cues. “Does that question upset you?”
I smiled tightly. “Of course not. The so-called Mystery Girl is not anyone we know. She happened to get sick at the restaurant and I helped her. That’s all.”
“He’s a fucking hero. That’s what you need to publish.” Spider waggled his eyes at her and ran a finger down her arm. “Now, when are you and I going to have drinks—alone? I need some advice on this new tattoo I want to get—maybe a brown recluse on my arse. What do you think? Would you be scared of that?”
Usually, I groan at Spider’s pick-up lines, but he was flirting to save my ass.
Everything zoomed out when I happened to glance across the restaurant and see V at a table near the window. I did a double take. She sat with Wilson and a thirtyish-looking man who was currently staring at V like she was his chocolate soufflé.
I inhaled sharply and jerked my eyes back. I didn’t want to cause any undue attention her way, but why was she here and who was she with? Wilson was fine—he was in his sixties—but the other guy …
Even from here, I could see that she looked beautiful. Her hair was wild as it fell on either side of her angular face. She’d gone heavy on the lipstick and mascara and it suited her. As I watched, she turned to Wilson and I got a load of what she was wearing—a slinky as hell silver top that plunged deep between her breasts. You could plainly see the curve of her tits … that I’d sucked and loved and held in my hands just three days ago. I felt my face go red with anger. One thing was certain, she’d evolved since the days when I’d perched on my patio and spied on her.
No more lonely girl who wore band shirts and ate cheese puffs and Oreos.
She laughed suddenly, the sound clear as a bell, and all the memories from the camping trip came back. She’d told me she loved me. And yeah, my chest had seized at the thought of saying it back—because first off, it would be a lie, and secondly, I had never said those words to a girl
.
Since then, she hadn’t returned my texts, nor had she played her violin outside.
Yep. V was pissed at me. And she had no fucking right.
I glared at them. Then why was she in such a good mood when I was miserable? I sipped on my beer and pretended to eat as Spider and Vilma kept the interview going. I jumped in a few times, but mostly I let Spider handle it.
“… mate, you okay?” Spider’s voice penetrated my thoughts a while later.
I looked at his face, down at my half-eaten sandwich and at the empty chair next to him. “She’s gone?”
Shit, I was out of it.
He nodded. “I saw V, too, so I told Vilma we had another appointment—I’m meeting her for a drink later tonight. I told her I’d give her more scoop then.” He paused, flicking his eyes over at V. “You wanna get out of here? I’m itching for a cig.”
“Thanks for covering for me.”
He shrugged. “Consider it me saying I’m sorry for messing with Mila. You were right … I’m not boyfriend material. I can’t be good for a girl.” He cleared his throat, a surprisingly serious look on his face. “We never had sex, you know. Third base, yeah, and there was that time in the pool—”
“Stop right there.” I held up my hand. “Keep your dirty deeds to yourself. Just stay away from her unless you want to put a ring on it.” I stood up and tossed back the rest of my beer.
He stood and slipped on his blue leather jacket. “Okay. I’m headed to get a haircut. Steve’s holding a spot for me. You wanna go?”
“You go on. I’m going to say hi to V and Wilson.” And find out who that guy was.
Spider fidgeted. “Don’t make a scene, man.”
I reared back. “Holy shit, what alternate universe is this? You covered my ass at lunch, you did the right thing by ending it with Mila, and now you’re telling me to not make a scene? The guy who smashed up five guitars on stage last year alone?”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I paid for those guitars and the crowd fucking loved it. You know girls fancy me when I get all beastly.”
I groaned. “Whatever. Tell Steve and his girls hi from me, and I’ll be in for a cut soon.”
He left and I headed over to V’s table.
I knew the moment she realized I was there, because her eyes flared wide and a flush started at the base of her throat and went all the way up.
I nodded at Mr. Wilson. An older man, I’d watched V come in and out of his house a few times when I’d been driving by, and I guess he was her only friend besides us.
Wilson indicated the brown-haired, suave-looking guy who sat next to V. “This is my son Mark Wilson, Sebastian.”
I reached over the table, shook hands, and exchanged pleasantries. Was my handshake super firm—to the point that he winced? Maybe.
“He works for Paramount as a studio head,” Wilson added proudly.
Perfect. Not only was he related to Wilson, but he was successful. I tried to not glower—or bare my teeth at him. It was hard because his eyes were glued to her breasts, and he was sitting too fucking close to her.
“Would you like to join us?” V asked. Her face was devoid of emotion, and I should have been glad about that—that she was okay with us—but instead it just made me more antsy.
I rubbed my mouth. “No, but thank you. I just ate actually. We had a lunch interview.”
“Oh. I hope it went well,” she said coolly and then sipped on a glass of water, her tongue darting out to lick the drops off her bottom lip.
My ribs got tight, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from losing it. I wanted her. Even here in this crowded restaurant.
How the hell were we supposed to just be friends?
“I hear you may be in the next Hing movie, Sebastian,” Mark said, and I swiveled my eyes to him. “It’s a rare musician who can convince that bastard to give them a chance.” He smiled.
I blinked. Was the asshole sincere? “Actually, I think Hing has gone in a new direction.” I shrugged to blow it off.
V set her glass down rather loudly. Her face was white.
Mr. Wilson darted his eyes between me and V, a worried frown on his face, and I knew it was time to leave, but first …
“V, uh, may I speak to you alone? There’s something I forgot to mention earlier …” My voice trailed off. I stood there like an idiot.
Her hands twitched on top of the table. “Sure.” She rose up. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be right back.”
She came around the table and I bit back a groan. Her silver top was nothing compared to the short black leather shorts she wore on her long legs. On her feet were a pair of tall, black shiny boots. It was enough to make me squirm.
“What are you doing … and where are we going?” she hissed as I led her back to the busy kitchen at Rio’s. Waiters, managers, and chefs scurried in and out as we weaved through a corridor of ovens and prep areas. No one stopped us, and since it was the height of the lunch rush, I figured we had a good chance of skating by.
“Act like you own the place. It works for me,” I said, nodding at a server as we headed toward the back.
“You’re insane.” She sent a wild-eyed look around. “If someone figures out who I am, Blair will crucify you in the media.”
I got to the back of the kitchen expecting to see a back door, but there wasn’t one. All I saw were rows of walk-in coolers. I must have went the wrong way. I strode up to the pastry chef who was decorating some cakes.
“Sir?” I asked and slipped him a wad of hundreds and patted him on the arm. “Need to use your walk-in cooler for five minutes. You good with that?”
“Absolutely.” He pocketed the money in his white chef outfit.
I winked at him. “Keep this between us, and I’ll eat here for the next week, and sing nothing but praises for your cakes—” I looked at his nametag “—Carl.”
He grinned. “No problem, Mr. Tate. We protect our customers.”
“Can you make sure we have some privacy?”
“Damn straight,” he said. “Loved your last album, by the way. Think you can get me some tickets to your next show?”
“Whatever, man. It’s yours.”
Not waiting any longer, I opened the cooler and pulled her inside and shut the door. We were surrounded by rows of cold beer, boxes of lettuce, and big jugs of mayonnaise. Not the most romantic place.
She tossed her hands up in the air. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like a crazy person. You interrupt my lunch like a caveman and practically pull me back to this cold refrigerator with you—”
“Are you on a date with Mark? Dressed like that?” I glowered.
She tilted her chin up. “He’s a nice guy, and maybe I wouldn’t be opposed if he asked me out—after all, I’m not tied down to anyone … not Geoff or you. But for your information, I’m here to discuss the gala. Both are big contributors to the event and very interested in providing—”
I kissed her. I told myself it was to shut her up, but the truth was she was so damn beautiful. And her nipples were like beacons in her shirt. I wanted my hands on them.
She pushed at my chest—until I stuck my tongue in her mouth and she let out a little whimper and clawed at my shoulders to pull me close.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was jonesing for another go.
Her tongue battled with mine, and we escalated fast. I eased her back against the wall, sliding my hand inside her shirt and squeezing her breast. My lips followed my hand, sucking her nipple through her silk shirt. She clutched my hair and moaned.
“I want my mouth all over you, V. Again. I can’t get enough.”
She let out a shaky breath as her hand went to my jeans. She unzipped them, slipped inside and stroked my cock, her soft fingers ghosting over the head.
“I can’t quit thinking about you,” I groaned as she cupped my balls and squeezed. “All damn day you’re in my head … all fucking night I’m dreaming of you.”
“Good,” she
breathed.
We were desperate. Hot. Needy.
Hurry, hurry ran through my mind.
I just wanted her.
Just one more time and that would be it. One last time. I promise, I told myself, and then we’d just be friends.
“Why haven’t you called me back? Why are you ignoring me?” I said against her neck, my teeth taking a bite and then my lips soothing it.
No answer. But her hands clenched around my cock, making me hiss.
“Fine. I know what you want,” I said and kissed her mouth hard, my hands pulling at her hair. She returned it with her own fire, her teeth and lips ravaging me. We tore into each other, anger and lust and jealousy and pent-up animal need driving us.
I panted. Out of control. “Spread your legs, V.”
She did, and I propped one of her legs up on a box of beer as I slipped a finger in her underwear and skimmed across her pussy. All the blood in my body went straight to my cock. “You’re so wet for me. I need you—right now. This is all I can think about. You. Me. Fucking.”
She stopped unbuttoning my shirt and shoved at me.
I stumbled back. What?
“That’s what this is to you, isn’t it? I’m just another girl. In fact, this probably isn’t the first time you’ve had sex in a refrigerator,” she yelled at me as she yanked down her skirt. “You saw me with Mark, and you just had to come over and put your mark on me—no pun intended.” She pointed at the wet spot on her shirt.
“No, it wasn’t like that.” It was. “Shit, V, it feels like we aren’t even friends anymore.” I tugged at my hair. “I’m sorry, it was my fault at the canyon. I couldn’t say no to you, and now I want you again. You looked so good and—”
“Just stop. I told you I wouldn’t regret it, and I don’t. It was the best sex I’ve ever had, okay. Is that what you want to hear?”
Hell yeah.
She continued. “But—but I need to protect myself. You have the power to hurt me, Sebastian. We’re friends and nothing else from now on.”
Fuck. I scrubbed my face. What was I doing? If I couldn’t love her, then at least I could leave her alone.
Very Twisted Things (Briarcrest Academy #3) Page 15