Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  When we finally made our move, we vowed to do it different. Do it with fresh eyes and on our terms, which is the main reason we decided to name our casino The Hotel. The name doesn’t promise a tropical paradise or a trip to another country, but in a market saturated by the biggest, the flashiest and the gaudiest, it was our way to stand out, and it worked.

  It’s been a crazy ride, but if I could do it all over again, I’m not sure I would. There was a brief time four years ago when I thought I could walk away. Turn my back on everything. Seventy plus years of familial obligation and the weight of becoming a pillar to a community that already made my knees buckle under its weight. But I fucked up my chance, let her slip through my fingers, and the trappings of the life I’d wanted so badly to escape are now the only things I have left.

  I check my watch again. Ten minutes later, Aaron is still going. It feels more like twenty. They have five more minutes then I’m out. If Connor has a problem, he can come find me. Truth be told, he has no more interest in this banal meeting than I do, so we’ll see if he comes looking.

  Aaron is at the podium. His slight frame a wisp of color behind the heavy wood. The room erupts in applause, and I realize I’ve blocked out everything he was saying. He waits for the clapping to die down before he continues, too pleased with himself.

  “As many of you know this is a huge deal for The Hotel. Landing an artist of this caliber for a residency finally puts us in a position to compete with some of the larger corporate hotels on the Strip.”

  I’ve seen the list of local bands under consideration for the residency, but there was definitely no one of caliber and nothing to applaud over.

  “Sin City is the local band, and according to most critics and fans, they’re the architects of the “Las Vegas Sound.” All four members are native to Las Vegas, but Sinclair James and Adam Beckham have to be two of the brightest stars this valley has ever produced. We’ll be holding a press conference Friday immediately followed by a reception.”

  I jolt forward in my seat. The news like a cattle prod to my spine. Sin City? As in Sinclair James’s band. I rest shaking hands on the table, intently focused on Aaron. There is no way in hell I missed a memo about Sin City. I’d just met with Connor a couple of days ago to finalize the budget for the upcoming residency, and he hadn’t said a word. If the CEO didn’t know, they must have just confirmed.

  Sin City is coming back to Vegas. Sinclair James will be back in Vegas, at my casino.

  I dated Sin forever ago, long before Connor moved back to the States and we started The Hotel, way before I chose to conform and assume my father’s role. Hell, for most of our relationship, the band was a lounge act. What my mother took great joy in calling the Las Vegas equivalent to a factory worker and I was still trying to forge my own path instead of following the one that had been laid out at birth.

  It’s been years. Four years... since I’ve seen or spoken to Sin. The last time I had any real connection happened a couple of months after we broke up. A video of her singing at a studio in London went viral on YouTube. She was breathtaking in her pain, and I took comfort in the fact she was just as miserable as I was. That I still made her feel something.

  When I finally got past the visuals long enough to listen to the song, I was sick. Disgusted with what I’d done and how I’d broken us. That goddamn song was awful. All my missteps, all the regret, all the heartbreak laid bare for public consumption. I must’ve heard her sing “Exquisitely Broken” every day for months, and that was before the official video came out. One that featured a man who looked exactly like me caught in a twisted web of his own making, just like I had. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting on the sofa watching my TV doppelganger act out the worst day of my life. I just kept thinking, this isn’t a game, it’s my life. Even though the listening public didn’t know TV guy was supposed to be me I felt exposed. Flayed open in the worse possible way.

  The single went platinum, and so did the EP that followed. I watched her star rise just like I imagined it would, but the higher she rose, the farther she moved away from me. There wasn’t only time and space between us anymore. There was media and fans. There was persona and security. There was a completely different life I wasn’t privy to, and that reality sucked.

  Through the years, I’ve followed her career. Year one post Sin, I turned into a low-key stalker. She avoided the valley, which meant I had to find her. I’d coincidentally end up at signings. I created dummy social media accounts to follow Sin City’s posts without alerting Sin or the band to my presence. I listened incessantly to local radio channels. I would show up at concerts and try unsuccessfully to get backstage. I read all her interviews and watched every TV appearance. When she started modeling for high-end designers, I bought fashion magazines just to feel a little closer to her. That was a low point, but it was all I had so I took it.

  It was around that time that the articles started to shift. The interviews didn’t focus on Sin’s heartbreak anymore or the asshole, me, who broke it. They focused on her current love life. Not a day went by I didn’t see a headline linking her with tortured artsy types, from actors to pro athletes, and then I saw the picture of her with the ultimate, tortured, artsy type Adam, her so-called best friend and the lead guitarist for Sin City. The picture was taken backstage at a concert. From the look of the image, they had no idea a camera was present. His fore- head rested against hers. He had a hand on either side of her face, and that connection that I’d always felt between them was palpable from the pages of a magazine.

  Now I get to see her again. The only woman to ever hold my heart. The one that slipped through my fingers taking a part of me, the best part that only existed in her presence. Sin City will be working for my hotel, and I’m pretty sure Sin has no idea I work here. I don’t know if the universe is finally throwing me a bone or if it’s a rare combination of factors setting up the perfect storm. Whatever it is, years of curiosity will be satisfied. I want to know if there are vestiges of the girl that I met ten years ago and the woman that I have never stopped loving. The girl I knew craved passion and creativity. She exuded a social magnitude that drew me in from the first encounter, and we were in love. If that girl still exists, if there’s a chance, no matter how far- fetched, I’m taking it.

  “We’re requesting that all senior management be present for the press release and reception that will immediately follow. Before the media arrives, we’ll have a less formal meet and greet where you all will get an introduction to the artists. After meeting with them multiple times, I guarantee you all will be just as excited as we are to have them with us for the next year. Are there any questions?” Aaron looks around the room expectantly.

  The meeting lasted another forty-five minutes after that bombshell. I was supposed to be gone forty minutes ago, but here I am, sitting at the conference table and watching my colleagues file out when Aaron places a hand on my shoulder.

  “We came in almost fifty grand under budget, man.” He moves my shoulder back and forth in his excitement.

  “That’s... uh... really great. So, you said Sin City will be here an entire year, huh?”

  He puffs his chest with a sense of accomplishment. “Technically it will be two weekends a month, a total of forty-eight days spread over fifty-two weeks. Since they’re local, we won’t have to put the band up in the hotel, well at least most of the band. That’s one of the ways we were able to come in under budget. Ms. James will be on property, but everyone else will be staying in personal homes.”

  Aaron, being in entertainment, understands hotel profits a little better than most. He gets that gains do not negate or impact the budget allotted for a project because the revenue earned is not immediately available. We track everything down to the cost of replacement light bulbs needed to light the stage. Eating the cost of a hotel room that we could otherwise book is a loss. Sure, it balances in the end but in the meantime, it ties up funds allocated
for other functions. This is definitely a W for his department.

  “I’d heard that the lead singer and the guitarist are a couple?”

  I try to slip that question in without sounding too invested in the answer. My life is distinctly divided into pre-Sin breakup, and post-Sin breakup. If you weren’t in my life before the breakup, and no one at The Hotel was, there would be no indication that I’d ever known Sin. I don’t go around telling all who will listen that I once upon a time dated a pop singer who at the time wasn’t famous. I’ve known Connor since grade school and with him going to undergrad on the East Coast and grad school in England, I don’t think he’s put the pieces together. When our relationship ended, Sin exited stage left. She didn’t pass go or collect two hundred dollars. It was the damnedest trick, like magic. Now you see me, now you don’t. She became a ghost, only existing in fractured memories and phantom touches.

  In the years since she’s been gone, I’ve done my best to relegate her presence to the times when I’m alone where I can recall the exact texture of her skin and the husky timbre of her voice. This time was mine, she was mine. I could reminisce. What we had was unique and maybe once in a lifetime.

  So yeah, I asked a question. The one thing I probably shouldn’t. The one thing I have wanted to know for years. Are Sin and Adam a couple? While we were together did, they... did she ever... If they are a couple one room would suffice, and one bed, and one shower. My pulse kicks up thinking about the two of them taking full advantage of all the amenities in our hotel rooms. Together.

  But on the slim chance I’m wrong, that hundreds of publications are wrong, I wait for Aaron’s answer. Sin was always so adamant they were friends. God, if they’re not together... I can’t even let that thought percolate. I’m not saying I’d do anything stupid, but I’m not saying I wouldn’t either. There is no telling what fool thing I’d do if given another shot. It would sting to get confirmation that she went from me to Adam. Okay, that’s bullshit. I don’t need a definitive answer for it to sting, but it still doesn’t change the fact I want one.

  I stand up, collecting the few papers I have on the table, trying to feign disinterest like we’re discussing the weather, but every molecule in my body is zeroed in on his answer.

  “I don’t think so.” A slight frown creases the skin between his eyebrows. “The couple of times I met with them, they seemed more like siblings, and they wanted to take the residency because their base guitarist is expecting his first baby. They all just seem like a close-knit family.”

  A firework of emotion burst through my body and the papers I’d been gathering into a neat pile with deep focus fall from my flustered grasp as his words sink in. Fuck yeah! Those words are exactly what I needed to hear.

  I’m not a cup-half-full kind of guy. I don’t pray regularly or hope for the impossible, but this whole situation seems like something bigger than me at work. What is the likelihood of Sin and I being in the same stratosphere let alone the same hotel for a year? I’m a finance guy who sits behind a desk, and she’s a rock star who travels the world. For the first time in a long time, I let the idea of reconnecting with her take root.

  Aaron pats me on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the door. When the door shuts behind him, I’m the only person left in the room.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to whatever’s out there that brought Sinclair James back into my life.

  Preview of Exquisitely Hidden

  Book 2 Sin City Series

  I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

  in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

  —Pablo Neruda

  For the hidden lovers that found love in the light.

  Prologue

  Adam

  Las Vegas

  I sink into the cushions of the chaise lounge as I eye the backyard. Trimmed hedges line the brick fence, and towering palm trees rest in the corners of the yard. Wicker patio furniture with bright blue cushions sits under the covered patio and, to round it off, the infinity pool overlooks the Las Vegas skyline.

  Nestled in the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area on the western edge of the valley, it’s perfect.

  Sometimes, I have the urge to pinch myself because I still can’t believe this is my life.

  The sun warms my skin, soaking into muscle and bone, relaxing me to the point of senselessness. I look over the top of my mirrored sunglasses as a big body breaks the surface of the water. Seth’s lithe form cuts through the water, smooth and deliberate. His last strokes shorten as he nears the side. Instead of turning for another lap, he places both palms on the edge and lifts himself out.

  I can’t help but stare, even when I know his body as well as I know my own. I’ve caressed every sinewy inch, memorized every peak, kissed every valley, but I’m still in awe of all things Seth Cody.

  He walks toward me, unblinking, chiseled jaw clenched, and I have to fight the urge to fidget under his gaze. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s right in front of me. Lowering, his solid body settles near my hip, and his soft, cool lips brush along the whiskers on my jaw in a slow tease before moving across my mouth.

  “Seth,” I say in warning as I turn slightly, dislodging his lips from mine. Even the briefest touch of his lips against mine makes my blood rush through my veins and my body hum with the need for more.

  More skin.

  More touches.

  More everything that after today will no longer be mine.

  Seth leans into me. The beads of water glistening on his tanned skin roll forward to splatter on my chest and arms. His nimble fingers remove my sunglasses, and I stare into sad, whiskey-colored eyes. His hands move into my hair as he angles my head, licking up the center of my lips, asking permission.

  “Kiss me,” he says.

  But I shouldn’t.

  Last night we had spoken like two sensible adults, no yelling, no cursing, no tears. I made it clear I don’t do relationships. Even when every fiber of my being is begging me to reconsider. I let him know I have no intention of picking up the mantle and becoming a representation for gay men anywhere, let alone in the music industry. Regardless of the fact, when I look into his eyes, I see forever. I told him that being in Las Vegas, trying to get custody of my little sister, and being the leader and the glue for my band is more important than our fledgling relationship. Although the idea of never touching or kissing or simply being with him—really connecting as two human beings who can lust for and love one another—kills me.

  I try to turn my head away from the sweetest temptation, but his hand in my hair hampers my half-hearted escape.

  “You want me, Adam. I’m right here.” He nibbles on my bottom lip. “Right in front of you. Take me,” he pleads. This time when our lips meet, my heart whispers, “one more time, please” and I let him in. He tastes like chlorine and summer, tangy with the bitterness of unrealized hope. I revel in the pressure of his mouth and the heady taste I get when his tongue finally breaks the barrier of my lips to twist with mine.

  I ache for this man. Always and only for him.

  I groan into his mouth and curl my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into me. If this is the last time, I might as well make it count, right? That’s why he woke up in my bed, was swimming in my pool, and is currently kissing me with sad acquiescence. Letting him go is its own kind of torture, but not allowing us these last couple of hours to say good-bye . . .? My brain can’t even comprehend that, even if it’s asking for trouble.

  When it comes to Seth, I’m greedy. I want to be the object of his desire, and the vessel for his lust. So, I take what he’s offering and plunder his mouth. I kiss him like it’s the last time because it is. I kiss him like he’s precious, and like I’ll miss him because he is, and I will. I own his mouth the way I want to own his body—deep and sweet with the sting of pain.

  We part on a breath, and
I look into those pretty, pretty brown eyes and, for the first time since I told him we were over, I regret it.

  He deserves better than me.

  He deserves a man who can love him out loud and in front of the world. One he can build a life and a future with.

  I chose my path at seventeen and claiming a man for my very own has never been part of the plan. I have the music and my band—my family. I always knew fame would demand its due. It’s the way this world works.

  I trail my fingers across the thin, red material of his swim trunks. His shaft twitches under my touch and air hisses from his mouth at the contact. I smile because I love that his body is so expressive and reactive to the softest touch. I work my hands under the waistband of his shorts and pull them down his hips. I see nothing but unfettered inches of honey-kissed skin and a long, thick dick lined with veins tapered to a flared crown as I slide down the cushions. My lips brush across the sensitive skin of his ribs and the divots of his abs.

  “Adam, it doesn’t have to end here. We . . . ahhhh—”

  The words die on his lips as I open my mouth wide and moan around his length as it slides along my taste buds to the back of my throat. His hands cradle the back of my head, while his hips involuntarily roll with pleasure.

  I suck him down until he launches forward, and my nose settles in the soft hair at the root of his dick. I suck him until the muscles in his thighs shake and his shaft becomes impossibly hard and pulses.