by Kate Stewart
The memory of fetching coffee for some of those assholes during my internship makes me grin.
“And a lot of folks at Penn State thought of me as some kind of token. Like I was taking the spot of someone who actually deserved it,” Will continues. “I guess what I’m trying to say, and not very well, is that I know what it’s like when people assume you got where you are using something other than hard work. Didn’t mean to imply that.”
“No problem.” I relax my face until my smile becomes genuine. “Sorry I got defensive.”
“Then we’re both sorry.” Will returns my smile, straightens his tie, and nods to Sarah as she walks up. “I need to check on something for Qwest. See you in a little bit.”
Once he’s gone, I gesture for Sarah to join me at a nearby table to go over a few details before the doors open.
“You’re feeling better today?” I ask
“So much better.” Sarah grins, looking more like the perky girl I’m used to seeing. “I went to bed as soon as I got home and woke up a new woman. Thanks for taking the bag to Grip.”
“No problem.” I ruthlessly suppress the images and sensations that assault me when I remember being on that rooftop with Grip, and focus on the task at hand. “Did you, by chance, upgrade Qwest to the Presidential suite at the Park?”
I sip my water. As badly as I need a drink, I’ve been trying to cut back. I’m known for holding my liquor, but that doesn’t mean I should. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up drinking vodka for breakfast like my mother.
“No.” Sarah frowns and pulls out her phone, scrolling through emails. “The reservation is for a luxury suite, not the Presidential.”
She whistles and lays her phone on the table.
“Somebody messed up. Costly mistake.”
“Hmmmm. Maybe.” I have my suspicions about other scenarios, but don’t voice them. I just open a few emails that might need my attention. “Did we hear back from Meryl about Grip’s date with Qwest?”
Sarah clears her throat in a way that catches my attention. I glance up from my phone and wait.
“I haven’t heard back yet,” Sarah says. “But does Grip know about this um . . . date?”
“I think Qwest wants it to be a surprise of sorts.” I keep my face impassive.
“She’s wasting her time,” Sarah singsongs the words, a small smile on her matte pink lips. “Grip only has eyes for one woman.”
Sarah is more observant than I gave her credit for. I stand and smooth my hair.
“I don’t think all the girls Grip sleeps with really care where his eyes are,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “There are other parts of his anatomy they’re much more interested in.”
“If that one woman he has eyes for would give him a sign, I’m sure he’d keep his anatomy where it should be.”
“Well his anatomy has to be onstage in about an hour,” I tell her. “So, I’m going to make sure it is.”
Did I say I liked being friendly with Sarah? Retract that statement. I don’t need her that close or seeing that much. She better be glad she’s so efficient.
And that I like her so much.
I prepare a mug of lemon tea in the kitchen for Grip. He’s been performing so much his voice must be tired. I’m walking down the hall to the dressing room, and the door is ajar. My brother’s voice reaches me through the small open space.
“Call me whipped if you want.” Laughter threads Rhyson’s deep voice. “You’re just jealous, Marlon.”
Softer, feminine laughter joins Rhyson’s.
“Rhys, don’t tease him,” my sister-in-law Kai chides.
“He knows it’s true,” Rhyson insists. “You want the wife and kid now that I made it look so good, right? I see it in your eyes. You’re ready to settle down. You’re tired of sowing all those wild oats.”
“I haven’t been sowing anything.” Grip’s voice when it comes has a little gravel in it. “I always wrap it up.”
I clench my fist at my stomach. I know he sleeps with women. If I hadn’t known, he made it abundantly clear last night.
“I don’t mean literally sow,” Rhyson says. “You already had one baby daddy close call.”
“Not funny,” Grip answers. “Too soon.”
“How can it be too soon?” Rhyson demands with a laugh. “Tessa was eight years ago.”
“Considering what she tried to pull on me,” Grip answers. “It will always be too soon.”
Tessa.
Tessa was my close call, too. I may have fallen hard and fast for Grip that week, but I’ve been getting back up ever since. My hands and knees may be scraped, but I’m otherwise in tact, if not a little tougher and smarter. Tougher and smarter should be the natural evolution of a woman. It’s the only way we’ll survive as the “weaker” sex in this world.
Weaker, my ass.
“Just admit you want this,” Rhyson says with a laugh.
I carefully peer through the crack to see Rhyson’s very pregnant wife sitting on his lap. He brushes Kai’s long, dark hair away from her neck to drop a kiss there. I can’t believe Gep, Rhyson’s most trusted security guard isn’t out here keeping watch. Then I notice a shiny shoe only a few feet from Rhyson’s. Figures. Gep is inside with them.
“You two do make it look good.” The smile in Grip’s voice stills my heart for a beat. “But it looks good on you because you found the right girl. A lifetime with the wrong girl is a sentence.”
“Then find the right girl,” Rhyson says. “And do not say it’s Bristol.”
A needle pulls through my heart at my brother’s words. Grip and I aren’t right for each other, but to hear someone else say it, to hear my own brother say it, hurts.
“Don’t start.” Now Grip’s voice is tight. No sign of a smile.
“Yeah, Rhyson,” Kai chimes in. “I believe Bristol will come around.”
You’re wrong, honey.
“I already told you who Bristol will marry,” Rhyson says.
This I gotta hear. My brother is notoriously obtuse about me.
“She’ll marry some guy in a suit with a stick up his ass and who has our mother’s approval.”
Okay. Maybe not completely off base.
“Don’t say that about your sister,” Kai says.
“It isn’t a criticism,” Rhyson replies, his tone ringing with truth. “Just a prediction. Bristol wants more control than what she would have with a guy like you, Marlon.”
“We’ll see, huh?” Grip answers softly. “You might be right.”
“I still have my money on Grip and Bristol.” Kai’s voice is light but a little defiant.
“Don’t lose our money, Pep,” Rhyson says. “Ow! Why’d you hit me?”
“Because you’re being a jerk,” she says, laughing a little. “And I’ll kiss it better.”
They would turn my stomach if I wasn’t getting a niece out of this in the next month or so.
“Uh . . . I’m still here,” Grip says. “Don’t start making out. Remember Gep’s innocent, virgin eyes.”
Gep’s gruff hack of a laugh joins the others. I’m positive the ex-CIA operative hasn’t been innocent or a virgin in decades.
“In all seriousness,” Rhyson continues. “Qwest likes you a lot.”
“What gave you that idea?’ Grip asks. “The way she practically dry humps me onstage every time we perform? Maybe I’ll wear a condom for our set tonight.”
I find myself smiling listening to them laugh.
“She’s a sweet girl,” Kai defends.
Kai actually pointed Qwest my way when the rapper asked about meeting Grip. They’ve developed some kind of odd friendship. Odd because Qwest may be sweet in her own way, but she’s a diva. She and I would still rip each other’s hair out. Kai doesn’t have a drop of diva in her body.
“She’s very sweet,” Grip agrees. “I’ve been surprised by how sweet she is. And smart. And gorgeous. And funny. She’s actually kind of amazing.”
That needle makes another pass through the f
ibers of my heart as I listen to Grip’s glowing words for Qwest. Why wouldn’t he think those things?
“And let’s not forget that asssss!” Grip laughs.
Seriously. The girl’s ass has its own hash tag. I’m pretty sure it’s insured. Rhyson and Gep join in the laughter, but Kai refuses.
“Does it always come down to that?” Kai sounds only slightly outraged. She has room to talk since she has “assets” in that area herself.
“No,” Grip answers. “I like legs and breasts, too.”
“Both of which Qwest had the last time I checked,” Rhyson says.
“Oh, you checked, did you?” Kai asks.
“Not like that,” Rhyson rushes to say. “I mean, not at all like that. It’s just her—”
“Dude, just stop,” Grip laughs. “That’s a no-win grave you’re digging for yourself. I may not be married, but even I know that.”
“Rhyson, to misquote Mean Girls,” Kai says. “Stop trying to make Qwest happen.”
My brother and Kai are film geeks and could talk in nothing but movie quotes for days. How I ever thought they weren’t perfect for each other, I’ll never know.
“Maybe it isn’t Qwest.” Some of the laughter fades from Rhyson’s words. “I’m just saying I know how important family is to you. I don’t want you wasting any more time than you have to pining for my sister when she hasn’t budged all these years. How long are you gonna wait?”
I glance through the crack again and see Rhyson holding Kai even tighter, his chin on her shoulder and her temple leaned against his head. With Rhyson’s hand splayed across her baby bump, they’re the picture of marital bliss. Happiness personified. Grip’s eyes reflect the same emotions roiling inside me. Maybe a little envy. Maybe a little doubt. He’s probably asking himself the questions Rhyson asked of him.
What is he waiting for? Me? To change my mind? I won’t. It shouldn’t be me. He needs to see that, and I know what I need to do to make sure he does.
Chapter Seven
Grip
THE LIGHT KNOCK on the dressing room door interrupts my conversation with Rhys and Kai. And Gep, if I count his non-verbals as conversation, which I pretty much have to since he barely speaks.
“Come in.” I expect a stagehand to tell me it’s almost time, but it’s Bristol.
God, she’s beautiful.
I’d like to kick everyone out, lock the door with us on this side, and fuck her against the wall. She could keep those heels on, too. I can imagine them digging into my butt while I tear that ass up.
I’m not a gentleman.
I feel like I’m channeling Uncle Jamal for a moment. Maybe Rhyson’s right. Maybe she needs a guy wearing a suit accessorized with a stick up his ass. Tonight, she looks like the definition of class.
Those heels are the color of tangerines and match the cropped top showing off the golden skin of her stomach. The long sleeves cling to her arms, and the narrow white skirt hugs her hips, ass, and the infinity of her legs. The coppery streaks stand out in the dark hair parted down the middle and pulled back at her neck.
“Hey.” She hands me a steaming mug of lemon-scented something or other. “For your voice.”
It takes no effort to hold her eyes with mine when I accept the drink. I will her to remember our bodies pressed together on the roof under a full moon. She’s wearing blush, so I can’t tell if she’s flushing or not under my stare, but she gives nothing else away so I can’t know for sure.
“How’s my niece today?’ She rubs Kai’s little belly.
“She’s good, Auntie Bristol,” Kai says affectionately.
“What’s up, brother?” Bristol musses Rhyson’s hair with her knuckles.
“Nothing much. Just supporting our artist.” Rhyson swats her hand away and grins at her. “Excellent job tonight, as usual.”
“Thanks.” Bristol checks the items on my dressing room table. She’s anal about our riders, and I know she’s making sure everything we requested is there.
“I talked to Danny today.” Approval lights Rhyson’s eyes when they rest on his sister. “He says you laid down the law and got things straightened out for their show when no one else could. He couldn’t stop singing praises of your bad assery.”
“It was nothing. I’ll probably join them on the road for at least one stop. Maybe after Grip drops.” Bristol leans against my dressing room mirror to face us. “Kai, if you weren’t so preggers, we’d get to hear you tonight.”
“Small mercies.” Kai rubs her belly and allows herself a wry smile. “Or not so small. I’m sorry I can’t perform our song, Grip.”
My first single from the album was a collaboration with Kai. We got the video in the can, but she ended up pregnant and having some complications that kept her from performing live. The song still stayed at number one for weeks.
“Don’t think twice about that.” I grab her hand. “You just keep growing my niece in there.”
“If she gets any bigger,” Kai says, toggling a smile between me and Rhyson. “I’ll pop.”
“Soon,” Rhyson says with a tender smile.
“Well, I love the single with Qwest.” Kai’s shoulders start moving to the song she must hear in her head. Not only is she a great singer but also an incredible dancer. One of Prodigy’s most versatile artists, she’ll start working on her debut solo album soon after the baby arrives.
“My favorite line of ‘Queen’,” Kai continues. “Is the no one sees your crystal crown lyric.”
“Neruda,” Bristol and I say in unison.
Surprise locks my eyes with hers when she makes the connection between my current single and Neruda’s poem “The Queen.” Maybe the book I gave her meant something to her after all. Or am I doing what Rhyson said I do? Wasting my time and reading too much into things that don’t mean anything?
“The poet?” Surprise blooms on Kai’s pretty face, her tilted eyes sliding between the two of us. “You’re a fan, Grip?”
“Huge fan.” My eyes haven’t left Bristol’s face since she mentioned Neruda, my favorite poet. “I didn’t realize you were, Bristol.”
“Lucky guess.” She shrugs and straightens from the dressing room table.
“You’re still coming tomorrow, right, Bristol?” Kai tucks into the crook of Rhyson’s arm.
“Tomorrow?” Bristol frowns and screws up her face. “I should know this, right?”
“Lunch at our house. The whole Prodigy team is coming over.” Kai laughs and rubs her baby bump. “You have just a few things going on, so I’ll give you a pass on forgetting.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be there. One o’clock?” Bristol asks.
“Right,” Rhyson says. “You want your favorite? Empanadas?”
Bristol and I exchange a quick look. There’s no way she isn’t recalling last night on the roof. I hope she still feels my hands all over her because I still taste her. I’d back her into a corner and taste her again right now if it wouldn’t horrify Rhyson. He swears up and down that Bristol would destroy me if we ever get together. He doesn’t realize that’s a risk I’d take every day and twice on Sunday. I’m not sure he really believes I’m serious about Bristol. Hell, Bristol may not think I’m serious. Kai would probably start cheering. She’s pulling for us if no one else is.
“Whatever’s easiest,” Bristol says. “Grip, you’re on soon.”
She walks to the door, class and grace and elegance twined into one girl I can never get out of my mind. “I’m going to check a few last things.”
At the door, she practically bumps into someone.
“Excuse me,” Bristol says. “Oh, Qwest, hi. How are you?”
Qwest steps fully into the room, the energy that explodes when she performs on stage, latent and waiting for her to pop the top.
“I’m good.” Qwest gives Bristol’s toned body a head-to-toe inspection. “Damn, you look good, girl. You got a man I haven’t heard about?”
Bristol’s husky laugh drifts back into the room and caresses my ears.
> “You never know,” she says, injecting some mystery into her voice.
Tension grips my neck and shoulders. Even though I know she isn’t dating anyone, our exchange last night about fucking other people has been haunting me ever since. I try not to think of her with other guys. Hell, I sleep with other girls, but if she even hinted we had a chance, that would be over before she could even ask. She knows that, right?
“How’s the Park?” Bristol asks. “Your suite is okay?”
“That suite is the bomb!” Qwest’s dark eyes glimmer with pleasure between the fake lashes she wears for stage. “Maybe the nicest I’ve ever stayed in.”
“Good,” Bristol says. “I’ve got a friend there who went the extra mile for me.”
“You mean Parker, Bris?” Rhyson asks, a slight frown on his face.
She looks over her shoulder to her brother. They aren’t your typical twins, but every once in a while I suspect they’re telepathically communicating things the rest of us are missing.
“Yeah, Parker,” she confirms. “I need to go.”
She’s gone before Rhyson can ask the questions I see lining up in his eyes. I hadn’t thought of Charles Parker since our artist showcase in Vegas. His family owns the Park Hotels all over the world, and when we held our showcase at the Park-Vegas, he was wrapped around Bristol like a damn vine. I haven’t seen or heard any sign of him since, so he hadn’t entered my mind. Now, I wonder if she has been seeing him and I was just that oblivious. If she hid it from me. Or worse, maybe she wasn’t hiding it from me at all. Maybe I didn’t occur to her and she was just living her life like she told me.
“Is Bristol dating Charles Parker?” Qwest asks Rhyson.
“Not that I know of.” Rhyson shifts Kai so he can stand. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he hooked her up, though. Our families have been close all our lives. Our mothers are best friends. Roomed together at Wellesley.”
How did I not know this? I’ll be following up with Rhyson later. But first . . . I need to deal with Qwest. Rhyson, Kai, and Gep tell us they’ll see us out there, and all drift out of the room, presumably to give us some time alone.