* * *

Arrested. Hounded by the press. Under pressure to make this tour rock. Guitarist Jett has enough problems without getting involved with a woman. But he didn't figure on Masie, with her seductive dancer's body and a smile that puts life back into his world. He has to have her...but Masie has problems of her own, enemies who are determined to stop her following her dream.

(1)

What good was a rock band without some controversy?

That’s what Colby told Jett before punching him square in the mouth. The punch hurt like hell and Jett went flying back into a desk, unable to brace himself since he was in a set of handcuffs. Jett ended up knocking papers all over the floor and lying on the desk for a few seconds, staring up at the bright white light on the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything gone wrong.

But that was weeks ago. That didn’t matter right now. Well, the punch didn’t matter. And neither did the handcuffs, the interrogations, or the meetings with the lawyers. It was all simply background noise now for Jett and the band.

Jett stirred a little, red straw in a coffee cup.

The meeting had split up, finally, and half the group gathered to keep their conversations going while the other half bolted out of the basement of the church, wanting to get away from the empty feeling of it all.

Jett understood both sides.

He was famous, which made the meetings famous. There were some people with dark pasts who sat in the metal folding chairs, bearing their souls in a way that was gut wrenching. For Jett, it was a little simpler than that. He enjoyed the way he felt when he took some of the pills. That was it. Sometimes the guys liked to down a bottle of whiskey and get crazy. For Jett, it was taking a few pills and just feeling very relaxed.

The coffee was like sludge and tasted like death.

He had to wait in the basement for the room to clear out. Then he could make a call and a car would come get him. The press was always waiting, wanting to catch sight of one of the guitarists for Willow Son as he came out of meetings that were part of a deal to keep Jett’s ass out of jail.

The sting operation had been mostly a bust, except for getting Jett. Even that was dumb because it was the first time Jett had bought anything in a long time. It was still illegal though. The truth was that the detectives wanted the source. Jett wasn’t the goddamn source. If anything, he could have done what other rockstars did and had someone else take care of it for him. Buy the stuff. Find a supplier.

But Jett was addicted.

I’m not addicted.

He told that to the band, too. And Harry. And on over the phone to Portis.

What hurt the most was how bad he fucked things up. Willow Son had played a big show on the beach. They’d been signed with Portis. They were ready to record new music and hit the road.

Now the brakes were locked tight.

Really right.

“Hey, uh, Jett, right?”

Jett turned and a short man with glasses stood next to him. He wore what looked like a heavy, ugly sweater. A smile crept across his face.

“Hey. That’s me.”

“I’m Todd. I try to meet everyone a few times as they come and go. We get a lot of people who come and go… and never come again.”

“I don’t think I’ll be here much longer myself,” Jett said. “I hate the attention this brings to everyone else. They need the help. Not me.”

“That’s a noble thing to say,” Todd said. “I mean, for a guy who was publicly shamed for a drug problem.”

Jett smiled. “Not a problem. Just enjoyment.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of people like you who could say the same… but can’t because they’re buried.”

“Look, I get what you’re doing. I appreciate it. I know you care about everyone here. If you want the truth, Todd, I was looking for a good night. That’s all. I could have gotten it some other way.”

“But you decided on this way,” Todd said. “It’s in your mind.”

“Maybe so,” Jett said. “But you’re better off focusing on someone who matters.”

“You don’t feel you matter?”

“Are you a psychologist or something?”

“Nope,” Todd said. “Just a survivor. And in this world, you need friends. Good friends. People that you can count on.”

Jett rubbed his cheek. The cheek where Colby had punched him. “Yeah, I’ve got those, Todd. I’ve got those.”

“Okay,” Todd said. “I just wanted to offer my services. My knowledge. Hell, just my care. And I wouldn’t put you on a pedestal because you’re famous.”

“Thanks.”

“Although, if we’re being honest, I am a fan. I like Willow Son.”

Jett eyed Todd up and down. “You… rock music…”

“I don’t look the part?”

Jett laughed. “I don’t judge a book by its cover. Ever.”

“I’m a big fan, actually. Was really upset when you were dropped by that label. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again.”

“You and me both,” Jett said. He put the coffee down. “I have to get rolling. Studio time. That’s my best therapy. Me, a guitar, and the ability to create. That’s what hurts me about being here, Todd. A lot of these people are still suffering from deep within. They can’t find their way out. Find the light. Find their purpose. I have all that.”

Todd pointed at Jett. “And yet you do something stupid.”

“Ouch.”

“Truth.”

“Thought you were here to help.”

“You don’t want my help, remember? So I’ll just throw you some honesty.” Todd inched closer. “My younger brother was fucked up on things. We couldn’t save him. On and off… but he was never off. He was always on it. Never could get away. And it took him. The night it happened was the night after Thanksgiving. Yeah, Black Friday, right? Go out and save ten bucks on a toaster. We would always cook. It was our chance to spend time as a family. So we all got together. My brother was there. Completely there. We talked, laughed, hugged. It was such a good feeling. That night, he went home and shot up. And kept going until he died. I’ll never forget it. A smile is only worth the soul behind it, Jett. So what’s your soul feel right now?”

“Jesus,” Jett whispered. “I…”

Todd cleared his throat and wiped the corner of his eyes. “You have a good night. Enjoy the studio. Write another hit.”

“I plan on it,” Jett said.

He watched Todd walk away and then turned, heading for a different door. It smacked shut behind him with an echo. The hallway was mostly dark and narrow, almost some kind of sick testament to his own life right now.

Jett stuck his hands into his pockets and walked the hall slowly. At the back door he opened it and stepped outside. Right on time, a black car waited for him. The alley was darker than the hallway. The press could have easily snuck around but they didn’t. Jett wasn’t sure why. Maybe they didn’t give a damn about the story anymore. After all, there was no real story. Jett wasn’t addicted. He wasn’t in rehab. He didn’t kill anyone. That would have made for a great story.

Jett opened the back door of the car and there waited three people.

Colby. Harry. And freaking Portis.

“I thought the car looked nicer than normal,” Jett said as he climbed inside.

He sat down and Colby reached out and grabbed Jett by the shoulder. “How was the meeting?”

“Sad,” Jett said. “Okay? It’s sad. The people in there are really in need of help. I’m not.”

“Tell that to the lawyers,” Portis said. “Not to mention the goddamn police. You know the money…”

“Portis,” Harry said. “Ease up.”

“No. That I won’t do. I can’t believe this is still happening.”

“Look, what else do I have to say or do here?” Jett asked. “I’ve owned up to everything. I had a guy I’d call for help. I was in an accident and hurt my leg. Yeah, it was five years ago, but I liked the way the pills made me feel. The painkillers were good. So I bought some that I shouldn’t have and took them. I shouldn’t have made arrangements like I did. Or at all. I’m sorry for that. I’m really damn sorry for that. I’ve gone to the meetings. I’ve worked with everything. I can’t let the band down anymore.”

“Then stop,” Harry said. “Ask for help when you need it.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Jett, take a breath,” Colby said. “I know we all live with some heavy memories. That’s fine. We didn’t come pick you up to attack you. At all, man. I promise.”

“Then what’s with the car full?” Jett asked.

Portis turned his phone around and showed Jett the screen. It was a picture of a song chart. Sitting at number one was Willow Son.

Number one.

“Congrats,” Portis said. “You guys are number one. The fans want you. I want you in the studio and on the road. But how can I trust all this? I mean, this isn’t the past, guys. This isn’t party time. It’s a goddamn business. Sure, we can have fun. You want to get high, Jett? I’ll make arrangements. But I won’t tolerate illegal activity happening like that. You in the storm. And I’m not going to deal with the death of a band member.”

Portis stopped talking and let it sink in.

Jett looked at Harry, then to Colby.

“Nobody is going to die.”

“You should be sitting in jail,” Portis said.

“Then take me there.”

“No,” Harry said. “All the arrangements…”

“So, I’m that now? The celebrity factor gets me out of trouble.”

“No,” Colby said. “There’s no need to stick your ass in jail. You have nothing to offer.”

“Thanks, bro,” Jett said.

Colby put a hand to Jett’s shoulder again. “But you do have something to offer in the studio. We were working on a couple new songs. Everything is waiting for you. Brantley and Van flew to Los Angeles for some press. Ryker is waiting for me and we’re going to a meeting with a music company about sponsorship.”

“So I’m going solo?” Jett asked.

“That’s right,” Colby said. “You need to work all this out. See if it’s all good.”

“Jesus, man,” Jett said. “You’re acting like I’m some burnout.”

“No,” Harry said. “We’re not treating you like that at all, Jett. It’s pretty simple. You have to stay out of the light for a few minutes to let this die out. Willow Son has to keep the press going. There’s a lot swelling right now and we can’t let it fail.”

“Damn straight,” Portis said. “You fuck up my money…”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Jett said. “I swear on it. You want me to hide in a church basement for addiction meetings, I’m there. You want me in a studio to hide there for a night and record guitar parts, I’m there. Whatever you want.”

“Good,” Colby said. “That’s not the only reason we’re all here together.”

“No?” Jett asked.

Harry was the first to give up a grin, then Colby with that smartass smirk of his.

Jett looked at Portis, who was stone faced, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I give a damn. I guess the music is just that good.”

“Yeah? So what else is happening?”

Portis leaned in. “I’m putting up a good chunk of change. I’m sending you out on the road.”

“No way.”

“Yeah,” Portis said. “I don’t like it. But Harry has put his personal promise to me that it will be fine. I’ve got dates and an opening band for you. Don’t mess it up. Please, I’m begging you. Christ, I don’t beg people for anything. But you guys are just too good.”

“No need to beg,” Jett said. “I’m fine. It was a bad decision on my part. Who is the band we’re playing with?”

“Ever hear of Crutch Fail? They’re from San Diego. I’m personally launching them. As a favor to a friend.”

“A favor band,” Jett said. “Doesn’t sound very promising.”

“They’re solid. You will help them. That’s my goal with it.”

“We’re babysitting a band?” Jett asked. He looked right at Colby.

“Don’t look at it that way,” Harry said.

Jett still stared at Colby.

“Jett, you listening?” Harry asked.

“I’m always listening.”

“Good,” Harry said. “This is a chance to get out on the road. The finances are in place and make perfect sense with the two bands under the same label. Nobody is babysitting anyone.”

“If anything,” Portis said, “you should be the one getting watched carefully.”

Jett gritted his teeth.

“Easy,” Colby whispered.

Jett sat back and turned his head, staring out the window.

You should be the one getting watched carefully.

Jett swallowed hard.

At least he was about to get back on the road and tour. That meant no distractions. No matter what.

(2)

Masie hurried to try and catch a ride from one of the other dancers. It seemed like a dumb job to try and get, but it was money. Definitely not the dream she had of touring the world with a ballet, or living in New York City with the bustling city, bright lights, and constant entertainment.

Music brought her to California and it basically kept her there. She had danced for music videos, which really didn’t have much appeal anymore. She had toured with a few semi-big name artists, but those were always week to week gigs. Either the artist got bigger and went for something bigger in terms of the tour, or they fizzled out, which meant Masie’s job fizzled out too. There was one time she did get to perform on live TV during a music award show, but she had been put in the back right corner and nobody saw her. She even DVR’d the show and all she saw was her hair flipping a few times and that was it.

With her bag slung over one shoulder, she ran down the hall, biting on a hair tie, trying to pull her hair back. She was still a bit of a sweaty mess, working with some band called Crutch Fail. They were okay - more loud and full of image than talent. The beats were doable though. They could be danced to. Then again, it seemed the lead singer - a guy named Colin - wanted Masie and the other few dancers to basically act like strippers. Not that there was any shame in that line of work, but Colin’s fantasy of having a stripper kind of dance was not what Masie would have done, if she were a stripper. There were plenty of opportunities for that, but Masie wanted to keep life this way. A small apartment. A few friends. And that forever hopeful dream of getting the chance to do something bigger.

Hell, this gig with Crutch Fail was the biggest offer she’d had in months. When she wasn’t getting gigs she taught dance at a small school for girls. The job was crazy fun, even if it didn’t pay all that much. It was something. It was experience. And the woman who ran it - Ann Marie - was a sweetheart. The second Masie uttered a word about the chance to dance with Crutch Fail, Ann Marie took her off the schedule, gave her a week’s entire pay, and told her to practice and dance.

Masie opened the door to the back of the building, finally getting her knotty hair pulled back and out of her face. She looked left, right, and sighed. The other girls had left already. She put her hands to her hips and groaned.

“Freaking Colin,” she whispered.

The dumb lead singer had made a few off the record comments about how he and Masie were going to practice one on one after everyone left.

Yeah, right, like Masie was going to get involved with that mess.

Not again…

Masie checked her cell and bit her lip. She could call Ian for a ride, but that would imply certain things. Any favor from him came with a price. Then again, if it wasn’t for Ian, she wouldn’t have gotten this gig. Ian’s brother was was married to the sister of a guy named Portis, who ran a big shot record label. That’s what really sold the thing to Masie. There was always an opportunity to dance for a rock band. Gosh, there had been times when she had received invitations for private parties. One night only, a thousand dollars, all for the wild rockstar life.

But with Portis, it was the real deal. He had contacts far into the world of music. Masie dreamed of one day meeting Portis, or having him appreciate her talents and recommending her to someone else. After all, isn’t that how many people’s big breaks happened?

Hating to make the call, Masie found Ian’s contact in her phone.

They had literally gone on one date, if that’s what you could call it. It was her, him, and three other people, just out for some drinks and casual talk and stuff. Most of it was business. Yeah, they went to a nightclub and yeah, there was music. And, yeah, Masie danced a little. With Ian. But did that all of a sudden sign some kind of contract for a relationship? Because that’s exactly what Ian thought they had.

Masie hated to tear into him and tell him to leave her alone because she feared he’d go to his brother who would then go to Portis and she’d be fired. She could be replaced, easily. She was unknown and had no respect from anyone.

Maybe not even from myself…

When Ian didn’t answer, she reached into her bag for her keys. Her car was still at the studio where the dancers had met to listen to Crutch Fail play live. That was at the band’s request, not Masie’s. Her keys were in her other bag, in the studio. Right on the floor, next to the couch in one of the sitting rooms.

“Damn,” Masie whispered.

She grabbed her phone and called for a cab. It was too late to bother anyone else. She really wasn’t in a good part of the city either. As crazy as it sounded, she was better off staying put at the back of the building, hiding in the dark, waiting for the cab.

One came after a few minutes, a wave of relief washing over her. She really didn’t like being alone and she definitely didn’t want to be alone at the back of a building that had graffiti on it.

In the cab, she gave the address to the driver and she was off to the studio.

Arriving, she paid for the cab ride, and exited the vehicle. She walked to the back door and pulled on it. For a second, panic rippled through her entire body.

Why would a recording studio be open this late?

That meant she’d have to call Ian and deal with his assumed relationship status.

To Masie’s surprise though, the door opened.

She took to the steps and climbed to the second floor landing. The walls were dark and narrow in the stairwell. They freaked Masie out, coming from the woman who stood in a dark alley just a little bit ago, waiting for a cab to come pick her up.

When she opened the next door, another surprise waited.

The faint sound of music.

Masie cringed as she gently shut the door. She worried now that the band had come back to the studio. And with the band always came the possibility of Ian. Then again, with Ian always came the possibility of meeting Portis.

Shaking her head, hating herself for thinking such a thought, Masie moved down the hallway.

The walls were complete with different albums. Gold, Platinum, and plenty of framed pictures with famous musicians and bands, all standing with Portis, complete with big smiles and bigger autographs.

Masie crept slowly, not wanting to interrupt the music. The greater truth was that she hoped she could sneak to get her other bag - with her damn keys - and then sneak out without being seen.

Unless Portis was here.

After a few more steps, she paused.

It wasn’t Crutch Fail in the studio.

No way in hell.

It wasn’t loud, annoying rock music playing.

It was soft, tender. A clean guitar with a soothing sound. It was almost like a lullaby.

Masie caught herself walking beyond the door to the room where her bag was. Her fingers outreached, gently touching the walls. The sound was beautiful. She didn’t know much about music, not like a true musician would, but she knew bits and pieces from studying dance. She felt the music start to change, like a scale change or something. From the echoed upbeat feel to a much slower and darker piece. Almost haunting. It was actually a little scary to hear with her standing in a hallway all alone. The music reverberated inside her body, up to her chest, smacking her right in the heart.

For a brief second, Masie lost her breath.

It was that good. That pure. That real.

It was a far cry from the stuff she had been dancing to with Crutch Fail. Not that Crutch Fail was the worst band in the world, but it was more or less the lead singer that bothered Masie. Freaking Colin was a pig.

But this music right now… it chased everything away.

The last note rang and held steady.

Masie crept forward some more and got to the doorway. The door was open, telling her that whoever was in there wasn’t recording. The last thing she needed to do was bust in on someone recording something and mess it up.

As she crossed part of the threshold she saw someone with her back to her. A leather guitar strap around his shoulder, a dark blue t-shirt that hugged a wide and sexy body. The t-shirt ended right at his belt, hinting at showing skin. It was all insane and stupid but Masie was frozen.

The guy stepped forward, his foot hitting some kind of box and button thing on the floor, and the guitar suddenly came to life again, but with a different sound. That crunchy, rock n’ roll sound. Masie knew it was called gain because she’d heard the word from Colin a hundred times.

But it wasn’t sloppy.

The guitarist stood there and played.

And, oh wow, did he play.

From behind, Masie watched his hand move up and down the neck of the guitar. Notes sounded, music poured from the speakers of the amps, and it was fast, loud, and well put together. The guitarist lifted the guitar so it was vertical and the guitar solo got faster, louder, sounding unbelievable. Definitely the coolest thing Masie had ever seen and heard.

He then hit a high note and bent it until the scream started to feel like her ears were hurting. Just as she was about to stick her fingers into her ears, he climbed back down the neck of the guitar with a fury of fingers, and then hit a deep note, letting it ring, taking his hand away from the guitar.

That’s when he turned around and looked right at Masie.

His face looked chiseled from stone. A little five o’clock shadow grazed his face, his eyes a beautifully rich blue color. His hair was messy, but in a cool, sexy rockstar kind of way.

“Hey,” he said.

“I, uh, my bag.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m so sorry.”

Masie moved to the right and bumped into the doorway. She hit the big glass door and it hit the wall. She jumped and tried grabbing for the handle but missed it. Stumbling into the studio, she moved as though she had stepped into fire. Lunging from the studio room, she was back in the hallway, her cheeks blushing a wild red color. She reached out to the wall to keep herself from falling and she felt her fingers graze the edge of a picture frame. As she turned her head, it was like watching the next disaster happen in slow motion. The picture frame was already sliding down the wall. She put her hands to her mouth and watched it hit and shatter. The picture then seemed to stand there, cracked glass, for a few painful seconds, and then it fell forward.

“Holy shit,” Masie whispered.

“Holy shit is right.”

Masie spun and he was standing right there. No guitar slung around his shoulder. His thumbs hooked into his front pockets. The blue t-shirt came up too damn far, showing half his belt line, among other things Masie shouldn’t have been letting her eyes explore.

Forcing herself to look up, she saw the way his shoulders forced the t-shirt to stretch nice and wide. The kind of shoulders to hang onto…

She was blushing even harder.

“I broke a picture. I’m screwed.”

“Yeah, you are,” the guitarist said. “Mind if you tell me who you are and what you’re doing in here?”

Masie blinked and then realized something.

She told herself for a second that it couldn’t be true… but after the rumors…

It was another total holy shit moment.

This wasn’t just any guitarist.

This was one of the guitarists for Willow Son.

This was Jett.

Complete bad ass rockstar… looking right at her, half grinning.

(3)

If it had been a guy he would have gotten a guitar smacked across his face. Actually, Jett was pissed any way. He looked at the woman’s hands first, wondering if she was some nosey reporter who snuck into the studio.

You think shit like that didn’t happen? Try again.

Jett and Willow Son were still big news and would be with the announcement of the recording sessions and the west coast tour with Crutch Fail. That meant Jett would have to deal with a million questions about his so-called addiction.

Then the damn woman fell forward, lunged back, and charged away. By the time Jett was able to get his guitar off and chase her down, she was standing in the hallway to the studio with a broken picture near her feet.

After their little holy shit and you’re screwed moments, Jett just stood there and waited for the woman to answer his question.

Having a few seconds, he did what any decent man - and true rockstar - would do.

He checked her out.

She wore tight pants. Super tight pants. Black. Her shoes were almost like running, or some kind of athletic, shoes. Her shirt was just as tight as her pants, showing off some very nice and subtle curves. Natural curves, the kind that were meant to be on a woman. Her hair was pulled back in a mess of a ponytail. Everything about the woman didn’t add up to why she was in a recording studio this late at night.

Slowly, she lifted her left hand and put up a finger. Then she moved into the soundboard area. She bent over and crouched a little, leaving Jett with an even more enticing sight. Those damn tight pants hugged her ass in an impossible way. Her shirt pulled up just enough to show a sliver of creamy skin.

Jett turned his head and took a breath.

Since the arrest and the mess that followed, his desire for women seemed to have flatlined a little. Colby and Tessa were inseparable, always working on their schedules to make sure they could keep meeting up and keep their romance of fate (or whatever the hell Colby wanted to try and call it) alive. The rest of the guys were always doing press and writing stuff, trying to keep the Willow Son name from being completely ruined. Although Jett did a hell of a job getting that process started.

It wasn’t that Jett wasn’t interested, it just seemed nothing caught his eye.

Until now.

He looked again, just as the woman stood back up. She held up a bag that was black with some kind of white flowery design on it.

“I came for this,” she said.

She touched her face, obviously knowing how beet red her cheeks were.

It was kind of sexy to see.

Dare Jett think it… almost cute.

“A bag,” Jett said. “Good to know. I thought that maybe Portis had a metrosexual side to himself.”

“You know Portis?” she asked. Then she laughed. “Of course you know Portis. You’re signed with him. You’re famous. Duh.”

She touched her face, then her hair. A piece of her hair fell forward, right in her face. She hurried to blow on it as though Jett hadn’t noticed.

Jett was completely enamored.

He stepped forward. “You know a lot about me.”

“Yeah. You’re Jett. One of the guitarists for Willow Son. You’re…”

He watched her hesitate.

What’s wrong? Want to ask about my drug habits?

Jett felt his smile fade and lip start to curl. “You have your bag now.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know someone was here. I didn’t mean to… it was just… really good. You… the guitar. What you were playing.”

“Okay,” Jett said. “You have a name, sweetheart?”

Why the hell did you just call her sweetheart? Are you really going to flirt with her?

Then again, how was this not the rockstar’s dream? Jamming in the studio alone and a beautiful woman shows up. Tight pants, tight shirt, hips with curves that made his hands tingle in a way only a guitar could do.

Shit.

“I’m Masie,” she said. “I sort of know Portis. I’m a dancer.”

“A dancer?” Jett asked.

Like that was going to make things easier.

“Yeah,” Masie said. “I’ll just go now.”

“What kind of dancer?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Jett stepped closer to her. “What kind of dancer?”

“Just a dancer,” Masie said.

“Clothes on or off?”

Masie gasped. “I’m not that kind. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I mean, I have friends and know people… I just don’t…”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Masie,” Jett said.

He slowly reached forward and touched the piece of hair just dangling in her face. He moved it, tucking it behind her ear.

“What about the picture?” she asked. “Portis is going to flip, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Jett said. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Masie blushed again and smiled. “Okay. Thanks. I, uh, really should go.”

“Have a good night, sweetheart.”

Jett stood with his hands balled into fists and watched Masie turn and walk away. Scanning her top to bottom, knowing damn well he wasn’t hiding it, set a fire off deep inside Jett.

He looked down at the broken picture and crouched down to pick it up. The band in the picture with Portis was Chasing Cross. Definitely one of Jett’s personal favorites of all time. The picture and autographs weren’t ruined, just the broken frame.

“Everything broken could be fixed,” he whispered and stood up, putting the picture in the soundboard room.

Jett then stood there and looked through the glass at the large recording room. The pine colored walls and floor. The track lighting that sometimes felt hotter than standing on stage. The guitars, drums, mics, cords, and amps.

It made his heart race.

That was his salvation. That was his heart and soul.

He gripped the edge of the soundboard and took a deep breath.

Looking to his right, he fantasized for a second that Masie was still there.

But she was gone.

Long gone.

A woman that beautiful… a dancer… who knows Portis…

Yeah, right.

Jett shook his head and went back to work. Cradling and touching a guitar was all he needed. Even if there was another desire to cradle and touch something - someone - else.

************

Masie’s hands were still shaking ten minutes after leaving the studio. She wasn’t sure what got to her nerves more - breaking one of Portis’s pictures or meeting Jett. An actual rockstar. A real musician. A guy totally drop dead sexy. A man who had the guts to ask her if she was a stripper and it didn’t bother Masie. Hell, any other time, she would have considered slapping whoever asked that when she said she was a dancer. But when Jett asked, it was kind of… sexy.

Like he was thinking about it. Picturing her naked. Rocking her body left to right. Stepping toward him. Touching the scruff on his face, finding the steel feel of his jaw under it.

“Christ,” Masie whispered as her mouth started to grow dry.

Sitting in the seat of her car, she felt her thighs ache just a little. Well, just enough that she started to get a little uncomfortable, getting turned on by thinking about a rocsktar.

When she got home to her small apartment, she showered and saw she had a missed called from Ian and Drake. Drake was Clutch Fail’s band manager. Skipping over Ian’s name, she hurried to call Drake.

Curling up on the couch with a glass of lemonade, she waited for Drake to answer.

“You’re calling pretty late,” he said, answering.

“You called me,” Masie said. “I’m sorry.”

Drake snickered. “It’s all good here. We don’t stop until the sun comes up. You feel like coming out for a night?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Come on out and celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Masie asked.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Goddammit,” Drake said. There was some noise in the background. Thumping music. People yelling. “Hold up, Mase.”

Masie shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. Drake was the only person who called her Mase besides Ian, and Ian had gotten it from Drake. She hated it no matter what though. Mase… that’s what she felt like carrying in her purse to chase away guys like Drake and Ian. Of course, that was mace, but it sounded the same and it was insanely annoying.

A heavy thud sounded on the other line.

“Okay, Mase, here we go.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t go out with the other girls?”

“No. They left. Kind of without me.”

“Cat fight shit?”

“Hardly,” Masie said. “Colin told them he and I were going out. So that’s what they thought.”

“Fucking Colin,” Drake said. “What a guy, right?”

“Yeah, he’s a piece of… work.”

Shit. He’s a piece of shit, Drake. Like you. Like Ian.

For some reason, Jett popped into her mind again. She wondered if he was still in the studio. What it was like in the Willow Son world. If they were as sad and pathetic as Crutch Fail.

“You sitting down, Mase?”

“I’m sitting down,” Masie said.

“The hard work has paid off,” Drake said. “Portis talked to Harry and we’re all set.”

“Harry…?”

“He manages Willow Son. We’re going on a west coast tour. Crutch Fail is opening for Willow Son. It’s all political because of what happened with their guitarist. He owes Portis big time and Portis is cashing in. And we’re benefiting.”

“Wait… a tour?”

“Pack your bags, Mase. Make sure you know your moves and shit. It’s going down.”

“When?”

“Be ready to have some fun by tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Masie yelled.

“You heard me. We’re having a… a party, I guess you could call it. Inviting a thousand VIP guests to see Crutch Fail play. Then Willow Son is going to play a small set. The rest of the night is going to spent drinking and partying. It’s fucking happening, Mase.”

Masie stared across the room.

A tour? With Willow Son?

That meant seeing Jett over and over… and over and over…

“I’ll hit you with my details later,” Drake said. “Just wanted to get your reaction.”

“I’m in shock. Complete shock.”

“Well, don’t be. After what the guitarist did… Willow Son is lucky that Portis is giving them a shot. This is good for all of us. I gotta bolt.”

The call went dead.

Masie bit her lip and opened the browser on her phone.

After what the guitarist did…

She knew it wasn’t her business to start digging around, but there were two guitarists in Willow Son.

Jett and Ryker.

Maybe Ryker got in trouble or something.

A quick search brought up a headline that made Masie’s stomach turn.

WILLOW SON GUITARIST - JETT - YELLS “I’M NOT AN ADDICT!” AS HE’S HANDCUFFED FOR… BUYING DRUGS!

Masie shook her head.

She couldn’t get involved with anything like that. No way. She had learned her lesson already.

She was still paying dearly for that lesson.

(4)

Jett sat with the guitar on his lap. A guitar pick between his teeth. He ran his hand through his hair as he listened to the track playback for the third time. It sounded good ,but maybe not completely solid. Ace, the tech behind the board faded out the guitar and then came over the speaker.

“What do you think, man?”

Jett shrugged his shoulders and took the guitar pick from his mouth. “I’m not sold on it.”

“Okay. What do you want to do then?”

“Go get a coffee, Ace.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Go. Take a break. We’ve been at this for too long already.”

Jett looked over his shoulder and Brantley stood and stretched with his drumsticks over his head.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ryker asked.

“I don’t know,” Jett said. “Maybe I’m being picky. I’m just…”

Jett stood up and put the guitar down. He walked toward one of the walls and stood there, hands at his sides.

“Talk to us, bro,” Colby said. “You know the deal. No hiding shit anymore. No holding back.”

“I know we get judged on everything we do,” Jett said. “But this feels deeper. Like whatever we put out next will be under the scope even more. You know?” Jett looked back at the band. At the guys he considered brothers. They were his brothers, man. All he had. Everything else had been taken.

“I get it,” Van said. “Critics are cynical assholes no matter what.”

“I feel like every note I play is just… a chance to let you guys down. Let the fans down.”

“Fuck,” Ryker growled. “You can’t think like that. Did you hear that guitar? That’s solid, Jett. That’s not guitar playing from an addict or a recovering addict.”

“I know that,” Jett snapped.

“Then stop acting like it. If you play the part, they’re going to hang you for it. Unless…”

“Ryker,” Colby said.

“No,” Ryker said. “Unless you want to use it as an excuse. Because you’re hiding everything.”

“Bro, don’t do it,” Jett said.

“I just did,” Ryker challenged. “So come on, Jett. Come on.”

Jett turned, hands in fists.

“Whoa, guys,” Van said.

Ryker put his guitar down.

The two guitarists inched closer.

Are we really going to do this? Jett thought.

Ryker gritted his teeth. “My guitarist, my best friend, my damn brother… he wouldn’t be acting like this. You’re acting guilty.”

“Get him out of here,” Jett said. “Right now. I can’t hear this shit.”

“No, no,” Ryker said, putting his arms out. “You need to hear it. You need to do something about it.”

“I’m going to knock your teeth out,” Jett said.

“Do it. Right now.”

Jett held back. He didn’t want to fight his own bandmate.

But then Ryker pushed him. Two hands to the chest and a shove. Not super hard, but enough that Jett stumbled back. Jett then threw a fist forward. He connected with Ryker’s jaw, sending him spinning. Ryker fell into an amp and caught him.

“That’s enough, guys,” Brantley said. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for the show.”

Ryker stood and pushed by Jett and left the room.

“Dammit,” Jett said. He flexed his hand. He looked at Colby. “I didn’t…”

“You know what?” a voice boomed. “Try this out.”

Jett saw Ryker behind the soundboard. He rubbed his jaw and then dialed up the new song. It kicked off hard and strong, just like a good Willow Son song was supposed to.

The song slowly started to get louder… and louder… and louder.

Ryker stood behind the glass, his head bobbing. He pointed to his ears and then pointed at Jett.

Jett stood frozen.

The song played loud enough that it started to hurt Jett’s ears.

Then came the guitar solo.

Ryker turned everything down except for Jett’s guitar solo. The gain filled notes screeched throughout the entire studio, note after note, all working together like the way an artist paints a picture, or an author puts words to a page to tell a story.

When the solo ended, Ryker hit a button and everything stopped.

It was silence, except for the ringing in Jett’s ears from the intense sound.

Ryker put his hands to the board and stood behind the glass.

“Well, that was quite the show…”

Jett turned his head and saw Portis standing in the doorway. Next to him was a tall, skinny woman, wearing some kind of pass around her neck, a notebook and a tablet in her arms. She was typing something on the tablet.

“We good?” she asked Portis.

“Yes, of course. Come on in. Let’s get settled.”

“What the hell is this?” Jett asked Colby.

“Guys,” Portis said. “This is a dear friend of mine. Sasha, online blogger and writer for five of the best ezines I’ve ever read. She wants to do a little feature piece on Willow Son. Getting resigned, getting into the studio, and getting on the road.”

Jett felt his heart climb into his throat. He looked at Portis. They weren’t supposed to be doing this stuff right now. Jett was supposed to be in the background.

Portis stepped toward Jett and leaned like he was reaching for a guitar. He whispered, “Her boss is an asshole. And hates me. So he told her to run a story about Willow Son or she’s fired. She called me and I told her I’d do this. You have to run with it. Just give her something.”

Portis stood tall and cleared his throat. He adjusted his tie and faced Sasha. “I’m sure you understand my need to stay right here, Sasha. For the band’s protection. Their manager is out at a meeting. One I should be at right now. But I’m giving it up for you.”

Sasha grinned. She wore thick framed glasses and stood as tall as Portis. She seemed like she had a no-nonsense attitude about her.

The second Ryker walked into the room, she looked at him and asked, “What happened to you?”

There were probably half a dozen excuses to pull out of thin air.

But what did Ryker do?

“Jett punched me,” he said to Sasha. “We were in a disagreement about a guitar solo.”

“Shit,” Jett whispered.

An addict… who is violent… hey, there, rockstar cliche…

“You do that often?” Sasha asked, looking at Jett.

“Only when Ryker deserves it.”

Sasha laughed.

Portis laughed.

“Hey,” Colby said, “this is our life. It’s what we do. We have studio sessions. We argue, we’re family. Now I can’t speak for these two guitarists, but I wouldn’t have the guts to tell them anything bad about their guitar parts. Would you?”

Sasha kept grinning. “I guess not. So, everything is okay with the band?”

Ryker approached Jett. He put an arm around Jett’s neck. “Of course.”

“So what I heard walking in,” Sasha said, waving her pen around like a witch’s wand, “that’s something new?”

“Yeah,” Colby said. “Something we didn’t expect anyone to hear.”

“That’s my fault,” Portis said. “I should have called beforehand.”

“It’s not like I have the sample,” Sasha said. “I liked it though. Very good song in the works, it seems. What else is in the works?”

“You know it already,” Van said. “Music and touring. What else is there?”

Sasha looked at Jett. “How are you feeling?”

“Great.”

“I mean, what’s the… what’s the next step for you? Continued meetings? Rehab after the tour? Anything to keep you away from those demons?”

Jett’s throat tightened. “You know what, there’s a lot I could say right now. The typical stuff. The lies. The bullshit. But I’ll give you the truth. I made a big mistake. And I didn’t pay for it the right way. Maybe I should be in jail right now. Maybe I should be in rehab. But you know what? I’ve been to enough meetings to see what demons really are. I’m a lucky man right now to stand here, playing guitar in a studio, punching Ryker in the mouth. Trust me, he deserves it. When you get to know him, he’s a real asshole.”

“Screw you, bro,” Ryker said with a laugh.

“Okay,” Sasha said, waving Ryker off. “Tell me more, Jett. I mean, it’s no lie that’s what this piece is going to focus on. The band is great. We all know Willow Son is amazing. We all know what you guys can do in a studio and on stage. But I want to know… why? What were you thinking? What are you thinking now?”

“Right now, I’m still not sold on that guitar solo you heard,” Jett said. “That’s where I’m at. I’ve had an amazing support system around me. My brothers of rock n’ roll in this room. The fans out there who have kept their faith alive in Willow Son. Emails and letters, those who have suffered in their own right. Those who chase away their demons with the music. Think about that for a second. Someone listening to a Willow Son song right now to keep their head clean and straight. Tell me how that’s not the most powerful thing in the world.”

“I wouldn’t argue it,” Sasha said. “I’m personally three years sober. Drinking.”

“Good for you,” Jett said. “You’re a strong person. Stronger than me. Because… and it’s bad taste to say. But I was never addicted. Never would be either. Just a bad decision and bad timing.”

“You say that, Jett, but what if you didn’t get caught? You would have gotten high on pills. Then what? How much were you going to buy? When would you have called your supplier again? How long until you’d be using your crew to go out and find what you wanted? Not to mention keeping it from the band.”

“Who said he kept it from us?” Colby said, stepping forward.

The tension in the room was thick.

Portis stepped next to Sasha. “I think we have enough, Sasha. This isn’t a daytime TV show attack…”

“It’s okay,” Jett said. “She’s right. Everything is true. How much? How long? That’s a slippery slope. I do think about it, but I have no answer. I’m not going to make something up. My addiction is the music. The studio. My heart races with the thought of getting on that stage tonight and playing. But you are right. It could have been worse and maybe there will always be that temptation.”

“Maybe?” Sasha asked. “You’re a goddamn rockstar. Your entire world is temptation.”

“That’s enough,” Van said. “This is pointless.”

“He’s right,” Ryker said. “Nobody is going to gang up on Jett. He made a bad decision and that was it.”

“Okay,” Portis said. “Sasha, why don’t…”

“Yeah,” Sasha said. “That’s fine. I’ll write up about the song I heard. The brother-like fight between Ryker and Jett. I’ll touch on the arrest, too.”

Sasha turned and stormed out of the studio.

“You trust her?” Colby asked Portis.

“More than the others,” Portis said. “She won’t fuck me. Well, she will… nevermind.”

“Christ,” Brantley said. “This is going to follow us.”

“For a long time,” Portis said.

“Fuck,” Jett said.

He made a line for the door.

Everyone called for his name but he was gone.

Down the hall, he ran. The images of Masie played through his mind again. Her well shaped body, messy hair, big dark eyes staring at him.

He kicked open the back door and found Sasha halfway down the steps. “Hey.”

She stopped and looked up, visibly shaken. “Jett.”

“What… what was that?”

“I’m sorry. I was just reliving my own past. A lot of things you said I went through. Convincing myself so much.”

“What did you do then?”

“I found love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Love. I met someone. And it filled all that emptiness. Once and for all. Isn’t that what part of addiction really is? Just trying to fill a void. We like the way it feels not to feel empty so we keep going back. Until the addiction turns on us and we’re hopeless.”

Jett slowly walked down the stairs. “You can print anything you want. I don’t care. I know what I did. The reason I’ve been hiding is because of the band. The four guys up there don’t deserve to fight my battle. But they will, for me. Because we love each other. I know the empty feeling. Thank you for being here today. And being honest. It’s made me feel honest.”

“Jett, are you still empty somewhere?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Sasha reached out and touched his arm. “This is all off the record. You need to fill that void before something else does. That’s my advice. I’ll run the story as I said though. I won’t paint you bad. You could have been an asshole to me about it, but I saw the truth in your eyes. Maybe that’s why I got a little worked up. Usually when I’m dealing with celebrities, they’re either fucked up or act like they’re fucked up.”

“Trust me, we’re all fucked up,” Jett said with a grin. “The whole world is.”

“I won’t argue that either. Good luck with everything.”

Sasha walked down the rest of the steps and was gone.

Jett backed up and sat down on a step. He folded his hands and rested his chin.

A void.

Christ, if that wasn’t the truth.

The scary part though was that music wasn’t going to be the thing that filled the void fully.

It was going to be something else.

Or someone else… but that would take one hell of a woman.

************

Masie felt Ian’s hand touch her knee. She sat in the backstage area, her heart pounding with nerves. She had made the mistake of looking out to the floor and seeing all one thousand people ready for the show to start.

The club had an upper floor and a lower floor. The main floor was where the stage was. There were three bars against the back wall, along with two sets of stairs that came up to the second floor. Half the second floor was for the general public, the other half for VIP’s, including those associated with the bands playing, and the bands themselves.

Colin had been hanging around the front of the VIP area, looking for women to invite back. That meant anyone showing cleavage was back in the VIP area, drinking and laughing with Colin.

It was a pathetic sight.

Almost as pathetic as Ian trying to make a move on Masie.

She hurried to stand up, adjusting her clothes.

The attire wasn’t the greatest in the world, and included a white t-shirt that was definitely too small and a black bra that showed through the white shirt easily. The shirt didn’t cover Masie’s stomach either. The jeans were torn up, on purpose. It was damn near impossible to dance in regular jeans, but these were cut in all the right spots to allow Masie and the rest of the dancers to move. But it also meant half her ass was hanging out of them. Oh, and another rule from Crutch Fail? No granny panties. Thongs only.

Which meant Masie was wearing a thong with the jeans all ripped up.

She stood there and felt wildly exposed.

It didn’t help the way Ian looked at her too.

He stood up and touched her arm. “Hey, you need a drink or something?”

“No,” Masie said. “I’m fine. Just waiting.”

“Don’t think about it. It’s all good, girl. I’ll be right there to take care of you. Hey, I talked to Portis and he’s excited about all this. You know he owns this place, right?”

“This place?”

“Yeah,” Ian said.

“Is… Portis here?” Masie asked.

“He will be. He wants to see Willow Son. It’s their first real show since that guitarist got popped buying drugs.”

“I read it was pain pills. Maybe he has something wrong.”

“Yeah,” Ian said. He leaned in. “Fucking rockstars are all morons like that. Shit, look at these dopes in Crutch Fail. They’re all a product, girl. Remember that. I mean, you’re a product too. But I at least like you.”

Masie felt her stomach flip around a little. She slipped away from Ian. “I, uh, need to talk to the other girls for a second.”

There were doors that led to the dressing rooms. It was simply a wide hallway with several doors. Nothing that really separated men from women. Not that many of the men and women wanted to be separated.

One of the doors opened and out walked the bassist for Crutch Fail, Carson. He had two women with him, one on each arm. They were in nothing but bras and panties. A big grin climbed across Carson’s face as he looked at Masie and winked.

“Looking good,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I don’t think these two would mind one more,” Carson said.

“No thanks.”

“Ah, that’s right. You’re a Colin girl, huh?”

Masie frowned and kept walking.

Carson laughed.

Crutch Fail sucked.

There, I thought it. They fucking suck.

The band didn’t stand any real chance at succeeding, but that wasn’t Masie’s problem.

At the end of the hall, she found the other three dancers. It was basically supposed to be one dancer per band member. Of course, Colin had picked her to be his dancer. That meant Masie had to be near him, dance next to him, and sometimes dance against him.

The other girls - Gabby, Ana, and Josie - stood with drinks in their hands.

There was a bottle of vodka on a small table.

“For our nerves,” Gabby said. “Want some?”

“No thanks,” Masie said. “Should anyone get drunk before this?”

“The band is,” Josie said with her lip curled. “I mean, this is all kind of dumb, right? We’re basically just there to flirt and mostly strip for the band.”

“At least it’s money,” Ana said. “Plus, I met some guy that works for some PR thing. He’s got a modeling thing coming up. I’m going to hook up with him after the show and get more info.”

“You’re going to sleep with him,” Gabby said.

“Of course,” Ana said. “If he gets me a modeling job, I’ll do anything he wants.”

Masie took it all in.

When she was a little girl, she used to stand in her room and wind up her music box over and over, watching the small ballerina turn and turn. She begged for a dress for her birthday and got one. And she wore it until it fell apart… and she stood in her room, turning and turning…

This was a far cry from the innocence of her bedroom.

A lump rose up in Masie’s throat.

“Yo! Ladies!” a voice cried. It was Drake. “It’s showtime! Shake those fine bodies over here and earn your paychecks!”

“God, I fucking hate him,” Ana said.

At least Masie had something in common with the other dancers.

(5)

The band was brought in through the backdoor to massive fanfare. Security had rushed to put up extra gates because the fans were pushing them down. They were literally lifting the gates and walking with them to get closer to Willow Son.

Once in the corridor, the five of them stood like sardines in a can with two security guards that were massive hunks of muscle that stunk like body odor. They were on walkie-talkies, calling out orders.

Jett looked at Colby. Colby forced his hand up and gave a weak thumbs up and started to laugh.

“I’m getting claustrophobic here,” Van said.

“Don’t you sleep on a tour bus?” one of the security guards said.

“Yeah, but it’s usually with a naked woman, not some lunk.”

The security guard gritted his teeth and made for the steps. He pointed and said, “Go up. Second floor there’s more security. You have a private area to watch the opening band before you take the stage.”

“No sound check?” Brantley asked.

“Bro,” Colby said, “this isn’t an arena. We’re lucky to have this right now.”

“So lucky,” Ryker said as he pinched his nose.

“Like you smell any better,” Jett said.

Ryker lifted his arm. “Yeah, but this is rockstar man smell. Ladies love it.”

“Jesus Christ,” the security guard said. “Move, guys. Come on.”

Jett lunged forward and took the lead.

At the top of the stairs stood Harry and Portis.

“What do you think?” Portis asked.

“Nice place,” Jett said.

“Here,” Harry said. “We have an escort to the side over here. To stay out of the way. Not get mobbed…”

As soon as Jett stepped through the doorway, it was chaos. People started cheering like hell. Everyone on the second floor saw the band and went wild. That caused everyone on the first floor to scream, even before looking up and realizing who it was. When they did realize it was Willow Son, the entire place erupted.

“Never gets old!” Colby shouted into Jett’s ear.

“Never,” Jett said.

The rush of that feeling - so many people cheering for them - made Jett smile.

They went to their section of the club, right against the back of the railing, a perfect sight of the stage. There was a curtain hanging with red lights behind it, bleeding through.

Willow Son stood there and waved.

The place kept going wild.

A few seconds later, the lights went out.

The club was dark except for the red lights behind the curtain.

Everyone kept cheering.

Four figures then appeared behind the curtain. Jett could easily see it wasn’t Crutch Fail. These were women’s figures. He gripped the railing tight and watched.

Music started to fade in, a backing track, heavy on the bass and drums.

“Come on… let’s move… let’s… move…”

On that cue, the figures started to move. The second one in from the right caught Jett’s attention instantly. He was a distance, yeah, but the red light made their shadows bigger. The silhouette of their bodies moved. Left to right, getting low, coming back up.

The backing track got louder.

A guitar came in - a live guitar.

Four more figures got on the stage.

Each dancer seemed to get close to a band member.

“Yeah,” a voice boomed through the speakers. “Yeah, it’s time to move…”

With that the backing track stopped, the curtain dropped, and Crutch Fail began their set.

The lead singer played guitar and just stood there, staring out. A woman clung to his side, inching up and down his body as he played. Like he was in command and she was submitting to him.

Yeah, the entire thing oozed with rock n’ roll sex, which was fine with Jett.

What shocked him though was the woman on stage with the lead singer.

It was Masie.

And watching her move sent two jolts through his body.

The first was heat. Intense heat. Those hips, those legs, moving. Her hair let down, long and curly, dancing with her body.

The second jolt was jealousy.

Because Masie was dancing against the lead singer of Crutch Fail.

“Hey,” a voice yelled next to Jett. It was Portis. “Just to give you a heads up. Lead singer is Colin. Bassist is Carson. Lead guitar is Jack. Drummer is Stan.”

Jett looked at Portis. “Stan? That’s not very rock n’ roll.”

“This is a cash play for me,” Portis said. “We’re going to boost them, sell a few million albums, and then they’ll fade out.”

“What’s your plan for us?” Jett dared to ask.

Portis smiled. “You’re my ticket, Jett. So stay away from the pills. You’re going to make it so I can retire and buy ten islands and a wife for each one.”

Portis patted Jett’s back and walked away.

The music blaring through the speakers was barely okay. Too generic and cliche. Christ, Jett could play the entire song just by hearing the first verse and chorus. There was nothing original and exciting about it.

Except Masie dancing.

When she broke away from Colin, Jett was relieved. Such a stupid thing to feel like that.

The dancers then gathered at the middle of the stage and moved with the song. Like they were some drunk chicks at a concert out on the lawn having way too much fun.

“Dancers!” Colby yelled to Jett. “There’s something for us.”

“No,” Jett said. “We just need our instruments. Not eye candy.”

Eye candy.

Did I just call Masie eye candy?

Well…

Jett pushed from the railing and went to get a drink.

He had heard and seen enough for now. And while he couldn’t get away from the loud sound Crutch Fail produced, he could get away from the sight of Masie dry humping the lead singer.

Cool it, man. You don’t even know her.

Jett got to the bar and ordered up a double shot of whiskey and a beer.

The whiskey went down really rough. But the beer was perfect and cold.

Two women slithered their way to the bar, looking at Jett.

He nodded, grinning.

One dared to lean in. “We hate to do this… since we were offered to be here… but an autograph…”

“Done,” Jett said. “What do you want me to sign?”

Before Jett had a chance to process the scene, the women lifted their shirts up. They had large breasts pouring out of white bras. The one woman held out a black marker.

“On the bra!” she yelled and laughed.

In the background, Crutch Fail was working into their second song. Another choppy goddamn song with a rhythm and set of chords that a ten year old starter guitar player could grab in a second.

Jett signed both bras and within seconds, the rest of the band was there. Ryker taking charge next, like a hungry animal with a fierce look in his eyes.

“Hey!” he yelled. “We don’t have to gear up for another twenty minutes. That gives me some time.”

“That gives you plenty of time!” Colby yelled.

“Twenty minutes?” Van asked. “What are the two chicks going to do with the other eighteen minutes?”

Jett laughed and clapped his hands together. He then patted Ryker on the back. “All yours, brother. I’m going to watch the band.”

“They suck!” Ryker yelled.

“Easy,” Brantley said, still holding the black marker. “We have to tour with them.”

“No,” Jett said. “They’re touring with us. We don’t need them. They need us.”

Jett walked to the railing. He folded his hands and leaned over.

The dancers were in the background now, still dancing away. It was almost awkward to watch. Like Crutch Fail wanted to bring some kind of strip club feel to their stage presence. Which for rock n’ roll definitely worked, but it just didn’t feel right.

Jett locked his eyes to Masie. He watched her charge to the side of the stage as the song ended.

“Thank you,” Colin said. “How is everyone tonight?”

The crowd cheered.

Ask again, man. Get them fired up.

Colin didn’t.

“Okay. Cool. Hey, how about a little yell for Willow Son.”

The entire place lit up, screaming.

“Nice,” Colin said. “Hey, check them out up there! Give them a wave!”

A light was plastered across Jett’s face.

It almost blinded him.

He gave a smile and a wave.

The people were going wild and were definitely not focused nor caring about Crutch Fail anymore.

Jett remained at the rail and watched as Colin counted to four and the next song started. Colin turned and jumped, jamming on guitar with another generic song. The four dancers strutted on stage. Jett watched as Masie touched her hair, face, hand slithering down her body to her hips. She cut them left to right, bending her knees a little. She stepped back, turned, the girl next to her turning the other way so their backs were facing each other. Masie then bumped backs with the girl and they slowly wiggled their way down the ground. They sat, spreading their legs.

They waited there as Colin walked toward them. He then stood there, playing guitar, nodding, a shit grin on his face like he was totally cool.

Jett pushed away from the railing. He went and got another beer and then worked his way from the VIP area to the backstage corridor. It was close enough to time to start getting ready for the show. He had seen enough of Masie like that.

She was beautiful though. Really beautiful.

He couldn't get her out of his mind. The way she moved, the shapes of her curves, especially when she had been dancing in the shadows with the curtain up.

There seemed to be a lot of people everywhere. Normally for a Willow Son show there was an entire crew that had to work the concert. Everyone from guitar technicians, who strung up the guitars and tuned them, to guys who took care of lighting and sound boards, to the crew who packed up the stage and put it on a truck to take it to the next city.

But here, it was completely different. It had more of a party atmosphere, with people lingering around, drinks in their hands, talking and laughing, all looking for a chance to talk to someone famous.

Jett was famous.

He was stopped two times by people who were looking for answers to a couple quick questions. Of course the questions revolved around his arrest and what the future of his addiction would be. With a smile on his face, a forced smile at that, Jett declined to answer any questions about his personal life.

It felt like walking through a maze just to get to somewhere private. When he finally did, he grabbed a beer from a small fridge and stood at a large mirror, staring at himself. In the background he could still hear the droning sound as Crutch Fail worked through their set.

The five minutes of quiet were definitely needed. Jett sat with a guitar and strummed through a few songs, desperate to clear his mind. It seemed the second he was able to actually clear his mind, the door exploded open and in walked the rest of the band.

"What the hell you doing here alone?” Ryker asked.

“Just needed a minute,” Jett said.

“They're not very good, are they?" Colby asked.

"I don't think it really matters," Jett said. "We have to thank those guys out on the road with us."

"Personally, I don't give a shit,” Van said. "As long as we’re on the damn road I'm happy. I just want to play music."

There was a knock at the door and then it opened.

It was Harry.

He approached the room with caution, as though he knew he was going to get ganged up on. He put his hands out, asking for peace.

“Relax,” Brantley said. “We know they suck. We’re going on tour with them.”

“Like we have a choice,” Colby said.

“It’s not all bad,” Harry said. “Portis is the one putting the money up for it all. Not you. Not me. Just roll with it. You know how these things work. It plays its course. The more important thing is the new music. You guys have to get some things together.”

“We’re working,” Jett said. “No worries. Hey, what was with the interview ambush?”

“Yeah, that was crap,” Harry said. "I'm really sorry that it happened the way it did.”

“I’m not,” Jett said. “I said what I had to say though. No bullshit. No cookie cutter answers. I just let it out there. Portis watched me do it. So he didn’t seem to mind.”

“Good,” Harry said. “This is all going to pass over soon enough. I promise. As long as the fire dies out on its own and stays out.”

“You mean, as I long as I don’t have an actual addiction?”

“I never said that,” Harry said. He opened the door. “Crutch Fail is playing their last song. You have about twenty minutes until showtime. Get out there and destroy the place, guys. Make Willow Son what it deserves to be. The fans are behind you. I’m behind you. Goddammit, even Portis is behind you, even if he’s covering his own ass. He can’t do anything without you guys. But don’t get cocky.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Jett said.

The door shut.

“He better not,” Ryker said.

Jett looked at Ryker and made a fist. “Want me to match the other side of your face?”

“Okay then,” Van said. “No more fighting. Let’s get out there and get some buzz going. Grab a drink, gear up. I just want to play a fucking show.”

“Agreed,” Jett said.

The band opened the door and started to linger around. People asked for autographs and pictures. The guitar techs were quick to ask for a set list to get the guitars in order. Sound guys met with Colby to talk about acoustics and vocals. Since this was a smaller venue there wasn’t a traditional soundcheck where the band would set up earlier in the day and play some songs. They kind of had to go by the seat of their pants right now.

It made it raw. It made it dangerous.

The noise that called themselves Crutch Fail was done playing. The house music was playing some local radio station.

The band appeared in the hallway, sweating and cheering themselves for a good show. It was one thing to be confident in your sound and stage presence. It was another to be a complete asshole about it.

As Colin walked along the hall, he touched everyone, nodding, smiling, actually asking to sign autographs.

Jett stood with his arms crossed, watching it all unfold.

Colin, Carson, Jack, and Stan all moved down the hall right toward the end table, definitely going for drinks. They’d be drunk in an hour and puking by two in the morning. The young life of rockstars. Except you needed talent to back it all up.

“Hey, man,” Colin said, patting Jett on the shoulder. “You ready to play?”

“Yeah.”

“Tough crowd out there. I think they’re used to Portis’ style, you know? That fancy, corporate laid back shit. They don’t get the sound.”

“It happens,” Jett said. “You live and move on.”

“Good advice.”

“Shit, this is wild,” Jack said. “Standing with the guitarists from Willow freaking Son. It’s wild. Wild. So wild.”

Jett raised an eyebrow. Ryker then asked, “Hey, is it wild?”

“What the fuck?” Jack asked.

“Take it easy,” Jett said.

“No, fuck you, man.”

“Fuck him?” Ryker asked. He grabbed Jack by the shirt. “Fuck him?”

As expected, thanks to technology and social media, there were a dozen cell phones out and capturing the scene.

“Bro,” Jett said as he grabbed Ryker’s arm. “Not worth it. We have to tour with them. It’s all good.”

“It’s all good,” Ryker said. He let Jack go. “Why don’t you and the gals grab a drink and watch a real band play?”

“Fucking assholes,” Colin said. “Watch your backs.”

Crutch Fail walked the rest of the hall.

Jett punched Ryker in the arm. “You can’t do that shit. You know how it is with us right now, man. Shit.”

“They’re assholes.”

“Of course they are. We were too when we were a young band.”

“We were talented.”

“Granted, but still, take it easy. Let time…”

Jett’s eyes were no longer on Ryker. He watched as the dancers appeared. One, two, three… and Masie.

“What the hell are you counting for?” Ryker asked.

“Nobody,” Jett said. “I mean, uh, nothing. Just get ready, Ryker. Dammit. No fights.”

Jett pushed away from Ryker and charged down the hall. One of the guitar techs tried asking Jett something and he did a quick spin like a football player dodging a tackle. Jett walked backwards a few steps and yelled out, “Just go with your gut. I don’t give a damn what guitar I play as long as it has six strings!”

Jett then turned and kept going. At the end of the hall there was a stairwell. He kicked the door open and charged down. He made it to the first landing and then put on the brakes. Masie stood at the top of the landing with her cell in her hand. Jett almost damn tackled her.

She saw him and screamed, dropping her phone.

It landed smack on the landing, luckily not going down the steps.

“Holy hell, sorry,” Jett said. “I, uh, just wanted to see you.”

“See me? Why?”

Jett bent and grabbed the phone. It had a picture of Masie on the stage, after the show, smiling big. Sweat beads on her forehead, her hair messy, but that damn smile so cute and pretty.

“Sending pics?” Jett asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Masie said and grabbed the phone.

“I bet your boyfriend likes that.”

Masie snorted. “Boyfriend. Right.”

“Where are you headed now?”

“Downstairs. That’s where the dancers go to get changed.”

“Then?”

“I guess out in the crowd. Or go home. Whatever works.”

“No, don’t do that. Come with me. We’ll go upstairs. Get a drink and relax. Enjoy the show.”

“I’m kind of a mess.”

Jett reached out and touched a piece of Masie’s hair - just like the first night they met - and he fixed it. “There. Now you look perfect.”

Masie blushed. “Let me at least get changed.”

“Okay,” Jett said. “I won’t be here though. I kind have to go save the night for all those people out there.”

Masie laughed. “You don’t like Crutch Fail?”

“Well, I see now that you’re a dancer for them. So I won’t say anything bad.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Masie said. She leaned and whispered, “They really suck. I know it. But it’s a job. It covers my bills, you know?”

“I get it,” Jett said. “You do what you have to do. Promise me you’ll be up in the VIP area, okay? Don’t hang down there. I’m sure you don’t want to deal with Crutch Fail.”

“Ugh, no. I think I’ve touched Colin enough for one night.”

The words ripped through Jett with a fiery jealous feeling. He never got jealous and really didn’t like the feeling.

He stepped toward Masie, envisioning just putting her up against the wall right in the stairwell. His hand touched her waist for a split second and then he backed up. Christ, he wanted to get to know her, not scare her away.

“I have to go,” Jett said. “Just wanted to see you again. You’re a really good dancer, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, right,” Masie said. “They were nothing short of sex moves out there. Of course you liked it.”

Jett took Masie by the hand. “Seriously. I watched you almost the whole time. You have talent.”

“Thanks.”

Masie took the steps and stopped. She looked back as Jett still stood there. He wasn’t going to move until she was out of sight. He wasn’t going to let a second go by that he could spend looking at her.

“For the record,” Masie said. “I was sending the picture to a friend. Not a guy either. Someone important to me.”

“Good to know,” Jett said. “You could send it to me. I wouldn’t mind having something to look at.”

Masie smirked. “I don’t have your number, big shot rockstar.”

“Oh, you have my number, sweetheart.”

Jett left it at that and turned. He sucked in a breath and listened until the echoing footsteps of Masie was finally gone.

At the top landing, Jett leaned against the wall.

“Shit,” he whispered.

The door opened and Harry appeared. “What the hell, Jett? We’re looking for you. It’s time to play.”

Jett pushed from the wall.

Time to play.

(6)

Masie got changed and wished she could take a shower. The band always promised that once the shows got bigger they would be playing at arenas where everyone could shower. Or better yet - they’d have a tour bus where the dancers could shower with the band.

Yeah, right.

Masie would rather smell of sweat than do anything with Colin without clothes on. Bad enough she had to dance up and down him for thirty long, painful minutes.

The other girls were dressed, cleaned up, and working through the floor to the bar. They had a little flock of guys around them wanting to buy them drinks with the hopes of experiencing their dance moves in private. Masie thought about just going out there. She thought about going home, too.

But this was a Willow Son show. She’d never seen one before. It didn’t cost her anything.

Jett did invite me upstairs. I should just go…

Masie crept back to the steps. She climbed them and opened the top door. A security guard stood there, arms crossing, eyeing her.

“Lost?” he asked.

“No. I was invited.”

“Yeah? They all…”

“Hey, she’s cool!” a voice yelled.

Masie looked and saw Colin charging toward her.

No, no, no…

“What?” the security guard asked.

“She’s with me. Come here, Masie, come on.”

Masie moved by the security guard and Colin had an arm at the small of her back.

“You need a drink. You worked hard tonight.”

“I’m good,” Masie said. “I just want to watch Willow Son.”

“Oh, I get it. They’re better than us?”

“I didn’t say that,” Masie said. “I was…”

“There’s my girl!” another voice yelled.

Masie never felt so popular.

Ian approached, trying to look good in an expensive suit. Masie wiggled away from Colin.

“I hate this guy,” Colin growled. “Have fucking fun tonight.”

Colin left and Ian was there to take his place.

Masie had no choice but to hug Ian. It was just their standard greeting. He plastered a wet kiss on her cheek and Masie backed away.

“I’m all yucky still,” she said. “I just came up to see the band. I mean, Willow Son, not Clutch Fail. I was on stage with them.”

“Don’t sweat that, girl. It’s all good. Come on, let me get you a drink.”

Masie hated walking with Ian. She hated that he touched her lower back. Then again, at least it kept everyone else away from her.

They sat at a two person table right next to the railing. It was reserved specifically for Ian.

Masie rolled her eyes when she saw the little sign with his name on it. Most certainly Ian didn’t pay for the table. It was a total hook up from Portis.

Ian hurried away to get drinks and Masie peered over the railing down at the stage. Her heart started to race.

Willow Son.

The second Ian returned with drinks, all the lights went off in the venue.

Perfect timing.

Everyone in the place started to scream. The sound went straight through Masie’s ears. It was so piercing it hurt everywhere. But she couldn’t stop looking and waiting.

The band walked on stage without a curtain, without anything fancy. It was completely basic and stripped down. Even more of a shock, the band was holding five acoustic guitars. They each walked to a barstool - even the drummer - and just sat there.

The crowd was going wild.

Lights shined on each of the guys and they all waved.

It kept the people screaming and cheering for Willow Son.

Then started a chant… “We love Jett! We love Jett! We love Jett!”

Masie watched as Jett stood from the barstool and waved with both hands.

He sat back down and Colby leaned forward. “Wow. Are you here to see someone?”

The crowd cheered louder again.

“I think they want to hear some music,” Van said.

“No,” Colby said. “They want to see Jett!”

The “We love Jett!” chants began again.

Finally, Jett leaned forward to his mic. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”

His voice was sexy coming through the speakers.

He strummed a chord on his guitar.

“I’m not going to say anything. I’m going to just fucking play guitar and be a rockstar. Is that okay with you?”

The crowd cheered.

Masie even raised her hands and started to clap. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled.

“I think they’re ready,” Ryker said.

“Ask them,” Van said.

Colby leaned forward. “Are you ready?”

The people cheered.

“No,” Colby said. “I’ll try again. Are you fucking ready?”

The place got louder. The crowd on the floor started to move. They were shifting, already trying to get closer to the stage.

“So are we,” Colby said.

All the lights went out.

A guitar started to play. A light hit Jett first. Then a light hit Ryker. He started to play a lead part. In a matter of a minute, there were five lights back on the stage and all five guys in Willow Son were playing.

Colby started to sing and the show officially started.

Masie couldn’t take her eyes off it.

Even stripped down with only acoustic guitars, Willow Son was so much better than Crutch Fail.

They played three songs acoustic and then all got their electric instruments. When that kicked in, it was like walking the hall of the recording studio when Masie caught Jett jamming out. The feeling deep inside her body. The rumble of the bass. The thunder booms of the drums. The electric screams of the guitars. Colby’s amazing voice.

She was so lost in the show, she barely touched her drink. And when Ian touched her back, she jumped. She looked at him and he was pointing for the door.

Her first thought was Portis. Maybe she’d get to meet him. She hated to ditch the concert but she had to. Just in case.

She followed Ian back to the corridor. Willow Son’s kick ass music pushed through the thick walls, but it was low enough that she and Ian could talk.

“Hey, girl, you okay?” Ian asked.

Stop calling me girl. I’m not your girl, dude.

“I’m fine. I’m enjoying the show.”

“I wanted to talk to you. I have to fly out tonight. Like right now.”

“You do? Why?”

“My brother. Something with an old house of his. He needs my help. You can fly with me. Portis gave me a credit card. I can grab you a ticket.”

“I can’t do that. I have practice. I don’t know what the schedule is like for the band.”

“It’s only for a couple days. Portis won’t mind.”

“You know I can’t do that, Ian.”

“Damn, girl. I swear you use me for money.”

“Excuse me?”

“How the hell did you get into the VIP?”

Jett fucking invited me.

Masie didn’t respond.

Ian shook his head. “Whatever. I have to fly out. It was nice to see you.”

Ian stormed away.

At least he didn’t kiss me, Masie thought.

Before Ian was out of sight, Masie charged back toward the bar area. She stood at the railing, her eyes going right for Jett.

She watched him moving along the front of the stage, playing guitar. So smooth and calm, like he was right where he was meant to be in life.

That’s when she started thinking about what she read. The stories online. The dumb rumors about drug addiction and whatnot, that was one thing. But he had gotten arrested for buying pills. That was real. And it seemed like it wasn’t a one time thing either.

Masie swallowed hard. She told herself that it really didn’t matter because it wasn’t like she was going to get to know Jett all that much anyway.

Then again…

Jett looked up right at her. He spotted her and pointed. He waved and continued playing guitar, not missing a note. He then swung his guitar to his side and started to rock his hips, laughing as he did so. People were grabbing for his feet and ankles, wanting to touch the rockstar.

It made Masie’s entire body ache.

He was trying to flirt with her from the stage.

And it was working. That was the scary part.

The show was finished.

Jett tossed a handful of guitar picks into the crowd, waving and smiling at the people as they all cheered and reached for him and the rest of Willow Son. With one final wave, Jett went to the side of the stage. It wasn’t like the arenas at all. There really wasn’t a place to hide until you were completely backstage in the hallway.

A guy stood there handing out bottles of water. Jett twisted off the cap and chugged the entire bottle. He then went right for the stairs and up. At the top of the VIP landing, he started to look for Masie. But before he could find her, he was swamped by other people. There were fans looking for pictures and autographs, Portis whistling, looking to meet with the band. Harry pushed through the small crowd, a cell phone to his ear, yelling at someone about something. It was a little chaotic for a few seconds.

Jett hung with it though. He put his head down and walked through the crowd, signing what he could.

Portis had bodyguards to stop all the madness and get things organized again.

“Have a seat,” Portis said to the band, pointing to a table.

It was a round booth.

Willow Son sat. Sweaty. Tired.

“That was a great show,” Portis said. “And nobody bought drugs after it was over.”

“Thanks for that,” Jett said.

“Look, I’m keeping it simple. I want you guys to finish up two songs and then get on the road. I want an album before the end of the year.”

“That’s a heavy load,” Van said.

“Yeah, well, you can handle it. You have a blank check as of right now. Signed by me.” Portis punched the table. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“You keep telling us that,” Brantley said.

“Hey, here’s a thought,” Jett said. “How about an opening band that can actually play.”

“Take it easy,” Portis said. “That’s a money play. They have image.”

“They have dancers,” Ryker said. “Not that I’m complaining about watching women wiggle around on stage.”

“I’m done with this shit,” Jett said. He slid to the edge of the booth and stood up. “There’s nothing else to talk about.”

“Don’t be rude,” Harry said.

“I’m not,” Jett said. “I just poured my heart out on stage. My night’s done. I don’t give a shit about anything else. Okay?” Jett stood eye to eye with Portis. “You want us on the road? We’re there. You want us to take on Crutch Fail? Fine. But they’re not going to amount to anything. We both know that. They’re your money play? That’s your business decision. We will support them. Call them out on stage. Play with them. We’re fucking Willow Son. That’s where it begins and ends.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Portis said.

Jett took a few steps and Portis called his name.

“If you need,” he said to Jett, “I can arrange for a specialist to be on the road.”

“A specialist?”

“You know, for addictions. I’d like for Willow Son to go on the road as five guys and come back the same.”

Jett made a move. He was going to knock Portis’ teeth out.

Ryker dove from the booth and speared Jett, charging him back and away from Portis.

“That was goddamn uncalled for,” Harry snapped. “You know that, Portis. Christ.”

“Hey,” Portis said. He fixed his suit. “I’m just offering. Take it easy, gentlemen.”

Jett pushed Ryker off him. They swapped a few hand slaps, daring each other to throw a punch. Nobody did though.

Ryker put his hands up. “Bro, calm down.”

“Fuck,” Jett growled.

He stormed away, down the hall and toward the VIP area overlooking the stage.

The place had mostly cleared out by then. The downstairs bar was closed. The upstairs bar was still open.

But it wasn’t the bar Jett was looking for.

It was Masie.

And he found her.

Standing at the railing.

Jett took one step and then paused. He eyed her body. Those damn curves that were amazing. Her hair was pulled back again.

Casually, Jett strolled up next to her.

“That was a good show,” he said.

Masie looked at him. Her eyes went wide. “Hey. Jett.”

“Hey. Masie. The dancer.”

“Yeah, the dancer.”

“So what did you think?”

“Willow Son? Far better than Crutch Fail.”

“Thanks,” Jett said and grinned. “I think so too. But I’m biased. What are you drinking?”

“Water,” Masie said. “I have to drive.”

“You don’t have to drive.” Jett turned and leaned with his back to the railing. “I have a car. I’m famous.”

“Famous,” Masie said. “Yeah.”

Jett stared at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Reading the headlines again?”

Jett pushed away from the railing.

“Hey, wait up,” Masie said. “I didn’t say anything, Jett.”

“You didn’t need to.” At the bar Jett ordered a beer. He then said, “And a water, please.”

“It’s all taken care of,” the bartender said. “Portis.”

“Of course,” Jett said.

He handed Masie her water.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Sit down,” Jett said.

They sat on barstools.

There were still plenty of people hanging around the VIP bar. Jett didn’t feel private or comfortable. He actually hated the after party stuff like this. Especially when it was people he didn’t know. People who paid huge money to be there. People who were cashing in favors to be there.

“Don’t read that shit online,” Jett said. “Be your own judge of me.”

“Kind of hard to get away from, I bet,” Masie said.

Jett leaned toward her. “How does someone in your shoes become a dancer for Crutch Fail? Is that what you dreamed of as a kid?”

“Totally,” Masie said. “I always said I wanted to rub against a weird looking dude who thought he was the hottest guy ever. What girl didn’t dream of that?”

“Good to know,” Jett said. “And you’re going out on the road with them.”

“Apparently.”

Jett finished his beer and put the empty glass on the bar. He stood up and faced Masie. “Well, Masie, the dancer, if you’re going on the road with them, you’re going out on the road with me.”

“Now the tour seems worth my while,” Masie said.

Oh, you want to flirt, sweetheart?

Jett touched her face. “Yeah, I’m worth your while. Remember one thing. I’m a real rockstar.”

Jett turned and walked away, again.

Masie chased after him.

“You keep running away from me,” Masie said. “You invited me up here.”

“And you showed up.”

“Yeah. Well…”

“Well what?” Jett asked.

“What did you want?”

Jett opened the door to the stairs. He nodded and Masie started to walk down them.

They got to the first landing and he stopped her. One hand was at her waist, the other hand against the wall. He was way too close to her for comfort right now. This wasn’t comfort, dammit. This was pleasure.

“What are you doing?” Masie asked. “Don’t you want to be up there at the party?”

“No,” Jett said. “I’m looking right at you. And you’re burning right through me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s none of your business, sweetheart, but I’ll tell you anyway. I bought some pills for fun. I got caught. It was a dumb mistake. People love to write shit for attention. I’m not an addict. I’ve never been one. I was in an accident and liked the way the pills made me feel at that time. So every now and again I’d grab some pills and enjoy them. Was it wrong? Yeah. Was it stupid? Definitely. Did I take too many? Never. Was I hooked? Nope. But then I did it once and got caught. That’s what happened. That’s what I’m facing. It pisses me off that my famous name put me in the news but got me out of some of the charges. So I feel like a big cliche. I was at the studio recording some tracks when you came in. And here we are.”

“I never judged,” Masie said. “I promise, Jett. All I’ve wanted is to meet someone who could help me. Portis, I always figured. I don’t want to be a dancer for Crutch Fail, but it’s what I have in front of me.”

“Wrong. You have me in front of you.”

“Does Willow Son need a dancer?”

“Nope. But I could use one.”

Jett smirked and Masie’s cheeks burned red.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know about that. Our first, what, date, I’m drinking a glass of water and you have me in a stairwell. Doesn’t exactly scream romance, does it?”

“I don’t know. Depends on the person.”

“I’m not one of those groupies upstairs. Sorry.”

“Good. I’m not looking for a groupie.”

Masie bit her bottom lip. She then said. “I should really go. I have to get up early and practice. It takes an entire morning of self loathing to get ready to dance for Crutch Fail.”

Jett laughed.

She’s really cool. Down to earth. Freaking beautiful.

“Well, if it’s that bad, then maybe you should go.”

Masie started to slither away. Jett wasn’t going to damn move. She could move around him.

Masie took the first step and stopped. She looked back. “I’m sorry I looked you up online. That wasn’t right of me to do. I just never thought I’d run into a rockstar. I mean, a real one. Someone famous. Like you. And I kind of liked talking to you. That guitar stuff you were playing was really amazing. I can still hear it.”

“Hey, Masie? You want to know how I know I wasn’t addicted to those pills?”

“Sure.”

“Because they didn’t make me feel the way I feel when I look at you.”

Masie froze and sighed. She shook her head. “You can’t say that stuff to me, Jett. We don’t even know each other.”

Jett took the first step, then the second and third

Now he was eye level with Masie.

He touched her cheek. “Let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart. I can say and do whatever the hell I want.”

Jett made a move. He kissed Masie’s sweet, thin lips. He kissed her once, then twice. He pulled back, knowing damn well that if he kissed her again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Jett then walked back up the stairs. He didn’t hear Masie though.

He smiled.

He had no freaking clue what the hell the plans were for tomorrow.

But Jett knew one thing - he was going to see Masie again.

(7)

Jett opened his eyes and sat up. He looked across his bed and it was empty. He reached over and touched the other pillow. Pulling it to him, he couldn’t believe the first thing he thought about was Masie.

It seemed really stupid.

Climbing out of bed, Jett grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and tossed it over his shoulder. He left the bedroom and walked out to the main part of the hotel room to find the leftovers of a little party. Empty bottles scattered around along with five guitars, part of a drum set, and the band crashed on the couches and floors.

Ryker was on one couch. A woman rested on top of him. She was topless, her breasts pressing to Ryker’s body. Van was on the other couch, on his back, his right arm covering his eyes. He was fully clothed.

Brantley was on the floor, in a sleeping bag with two women.

Jett grinned and shook his head.

He went to the kitchen area and found a pot of coffee made. Someone had the sense to set it before crashing.

That was good.

Because Jett didn’t remember a thing.

He went back upstairs and then Willow Son took the night over. There were drinks, drinks, and more drinks. A fuzzy car ride to the hotel that was charged to Portis. And then Jett remembered the big, comfy bed.

And now it was morning.

After pouring a cup, he stepped back over a lightly snoring Ryker and went back to the bedroom. He sat down on the corner of the bed and to his complete shock, the bathroom door opened.

A woman stood there wearing a fuzzy white towel. She had blonde hair down to her chin, soaking wet.

“Hey,” she said.

“Uh, hey. Good morning.”

The woman smiled and walked to Jett. She grabbed the mug of coffee from him. “This for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

He casually looked back at the bed.

What the hell did I do last night?

The woman sipped the coffee. “Not too bad.”

“Did you make it?” Jett asked.

“Yeah. I get up early all the time. So I put it on and took a quick shower.”

Jett looked at the open bathroom door. “Is this the only bathroom in the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay. So you didn’t sleep…”

“In the bed?” she asked. “Oh, I slept in the bed. Next to you. Absolutely.”

Jett swallowed hard. “Cool. Very cool.”

“You don’t remember a thing, do you?”

Jett shook his head. “Not a thing. Sorry.”

The woman reached out and traced Jett’s jaw. “Don’t be. You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You’re a rockstar. It’s all expected.”

“If I’m the rockstar, then who are you?”

“Nice one,” she said. “My name is Andrea. I work in the PR department for Portis’ record company.”

Jett stood up. He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I slept with someone who works for Portis?”

“Well, slept in the sense of sleeping.”

“So we didn’t…?”

“I thought we were,” Andrea said. “You were definitely into making out. It was pretty hot. Had me going for a little bit. Then you stopped and just said you couldn’t. Never thought I’d have a rockstar tell me that.”

“Oh, shit,” Jett said. “Well, I mean, you’re very pretty. I just have personal stuff…”

“I know,” Andrea said. “That’s kind of why I was here. I was snooping on you. I was supposed to end up in your bed.” She waved her hands and said, “Check for pills.”

“Portis?”

“Yeah.”

“He paid you for that?”

“Yeah.”

“Overtime wage?”

“No. But I figured if it got me in bed with you and I got something… that’d be a bonus.”

“Sorry you didn’t get the bonus.”

Andrea touched the top of the towel and grinned. “I could accidentally just open this towel right now.”

“Yes, you could.”

“And if I did…”

“I’d help you put it right back on.”

“You’re one interesting rockstar,” she said. She sipped the coffee. “You don’t fit the mold.”

“Good to know.” Jett turned and walked to the bedroom door.

He opened it and Ryker stood there, his eyes half shut. “Morning, bro. I need to piss.” He saw Andrea and his eyes opened wide. “Whoa, hey.”

“Now there’s a wild rockstar,” Andrea said. “You almost got arrested last night.”

“I did?” Ryker asked.

“You dropped your pants and stuck your ass out the window. Someone complained and the police were called.”

“Wow,” Ryker said.

“It’s all good,” Andrea said. She drank more coffee and walked by Jett and Ryker. “I need to ask for a raise.”

She left the bedroom.

Ryker punched Jett in the shoulder. “Speaking of getting a raise… damn, man. She was hot.”

“We didn’t screw around,” Jett said. “I need to get out of this hotel. Studio time. We have to record some tunes. Get ready for the tour. First show is next week, man. No more partying and shit. We have to get down to business.”

Ryker put an arm around Jett. “You may not remember the night, brother, but you were the one who wanted to party. You came back up to the VIP lounge and went right for a bottle of vodka. You went right behind the bar and took a bottle. You had the bartender drinking, who is probably fired today.”

“Wow,” Jett said.

“So whatever happened between you storming away from Portis and coming back, it did something to you.”

Masie.

That’s when an idea struck Jett. He looked at Ryker. “Hey. We should meet up with Crutch Fail today.”

“What?”

“You heard me. We should. I mean, just to talk about the tour. Yeah. I’m going to give Harry a shout.”

Jett was fired up. So fired up that he called Harry and left the hotel room without a shirt on. He got all the way to the ground floor before realizing it. When the elevators opened and people looked, the chaos quickly ensued. First, it was someone famous in the hotel. Second, not having a shirt on attracted more attention. Jett was able to get the elevator doors shut before anyone could really get to him. But that didn’t mean there weren’t pictures snapped.

Freaking technology.

Two hours later, Jett was carrying a guitar case down the hall to the studio. Willow Son was set for a one hour recording session and then they were going to the Crutch Fail practice stage for a visit. Well, the rest of the band didn’t want to go. But Jett did. He made a promise to Masie he’d see her and he wasn’t going to break that promise.

He opened the door to the recording room and the guys were already setting up. They all started to laugh when Jett walked in. He stopped and looked down, wondering if he forgot to put on shoes or zip up his fly. But it wasn’t that. Jett saw the glass window that separated the recording area and the soundboard room. There was a printout of a shirtless Jett on the elevator printed and taped to the glass.

“What the hell is this?” he growled. He dropped his guitar and tore it from the glass. “Who did this?”

Everyone laughed.

“Looking good,” Brantley said.

“Where’d you get this?” Jett asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Colby asked. “Bro, that’s one of a dozen pictures that’s been shared a million times today. You’re actually trending.”

“Trending?” Jett asked.

“People are sharing it and talking about it,” Van said. “Portis wanted to know if it was a PR move.”

Jett crumbled up the paper and dropped it to the floor.

There was a knock and then someone asked, “Everyone dressed?”

It was Portis.

Standing next to him was Andrea. She had a leather folder with her. She smiled and winked at Jett.

“Seriously?” Jett asked. “What do you want, Portis?”

“Just checking on my favorite band. What do you have for me?”

“We’re setting up,” Ryker said.

“Okay. Well, this is Andrea,” Portis said. “She and Jett know each other already.”

Brantley hit a few cymbals.

“Dude!” Jett yelled. “Cut it.”

Andrea laughed. “Well, the shirtless thing is viral. Nothing we can do to stop it. So I have an idea.”

“What’s that?” Jett asked.

“How about a shirtless picture of the band? For a pre-release thing for the tour?”

“Are you serious?” Jett asked.

“Thanks, man,” Colby said and slapped Jett on the back. “Now we have to get half naked because of you.”

“You don’t have to,” Andrea said. “But it would be smart.”

“No, they have to,” Portis said. “I have a photographer coming in thirty minutes.”

Portis winked and left the room.

“Just great,” Jett asked.

“Don’t blame me,” Andrea said. “I get paid to come up with good ideas.”

“Technically it was my idea,” Jett said. “You’re welcome.”

Andrea smiled. “And you’re welcome I don’t tell anyone about your bedroom problem.”

She left as the rest of the band clapped and yelled.

“What the hell happened?” Brantley asked.

“Did the little Jett forget to show up?” Ryker asked.

“Fuck you guys,” Jett said.

He took out his guitar and plugged it in.

The band kept pestering him.

“Well, if his name is Jett,” Colby said, rubbing his chin. “Then I guess you could call his package… a puddle jumper?”

“Puddle jumper!” Van yelled and cracked up. “Holy shit. That makes sense. Jumping puddles? You know… cause they’re wet…”

“Shit, we get it,” Ryker said.

“Wait,” Brantley said. “The PR lady couldn’t get up a good story…”

Colby gave a thumbs down.

Jett finished tuning his guitar. He then folded his arms and waited.

“So,” Van said. “Wait. Jett was grounded. Not cleared for take off.”

“That’s a good one,” Colby said. “I like that.”

“He couldn’t get clearance,” Ryker said. “No, wait, that doesn’t make sense. Hmm… he couldn’t get hard…”

“I could get hard!” Jett growled. “I didn’t want to sleep with her. Dammit. I was drunk. I just wanted to crash and get the night over with. Now let’s do this.”

Jett flipped the switch on his amp and his guitar came to life. He quickly started to play something, anything. He warmed up for a few seconds and then started to play the guitar solo from the new song. Ryker quickly caught up with Jett and started to play his part. Van was next. Then Brantley. Once the solo was done, Colby stepped to the mic and started to sing. They ran through the last part of the new song.

“Are we warmed up now?” Van asked.

“Are you done with the dick jokes?” Jett asked.

“Hey, come on,” Colby asked. “We’re just fucking around.”

Jett sighed. He nodded. “Okay. I’m just nervous. I mean… dick jokes… buying pills…”

There was an uncomfortable silence until Jett smiled.

“You ass,” Ryker said. “Was that your attempt at a joke about yourself?”

“Maybe,” Jett said.

“Stick to guitar playing,” Van said.

“Good idea.”

The band ran through a couple new songs, trying to piece together verses, breaks, bridges, and solos. They had another song basically all wrapped up, minus Colby who didn’t have any lyrics yet.

The photographer showed up on time and had the band take their shirts off. They then started to play again and the photographer wandered around, snapping plenty of pictures. It amazed Jett that this guy was probably taking a hundred pictures and his job would be to pick just one. One picture to spread online.

The only good part of the photographer was when he left. Because that meant it was time to head over to the Crutch Fail practice.

The guys put up a fight, but Jett didn’t give a shit.

He wanted… no.

He needed to see Masie. Because of this woman, he had given up a night of wild sex with a different woman. He had to find out why he did that.

************

Masie bent her knees and let out a breath. She reached for her water and a foot swung and kicked the water off the stage. She looked up and saw Colin standing there.

“Whoops,” he said.

“Really?”

“You thirsty? Come give me a kiss.”

“Screw you.”

Colin grabbed between his legs. “Let’s go. I’ll call practice right now. You and me. Sneak in the back. I’ll get you up an on amp and then we’ll make it really rock.”

Masie felt like she could throw up.

She thought about everything she could respond with, but she sucked it in. She held the comments to herself. She needed the job. The job technically gave her experience. She could use it then to springboard herself to something else. When it ended with Crutch Fail she could then tell everyone she toured as a dancer. Not just with Crutch Fail but the tour included Willow Son.

Masie climbed from the end of the stage and grabbed her water bottle.

“Hey, we need to run through that chorus again,” Colin said in the mic. The sound up here sounds like shit, too. Can we fix that? I mean, can we actually sound like a band?”

Masie grinned and sipped her water.

Sound like a band? Get a real band.

“Let’s run through it again without the dancers,” one of the sound guys said.

Crutch Fail’s manager was a short, round guy named Lenny. He had an obvious combover and his cheeks were always red. He always ran back and forth, a phone to his ear, hand waving in the air. He was always pissed off and he obviously hated dealing with Crutch Fail. This was just a job and a paycheck for Lenny.

He walked by the front of the stage and pointed to Jack. “Play the fucking song again! The entire song. Let’s get the fucking sound right.”

He walked to the seats on the floor and plopped down. He shook his head and looked at his phone. He rubbed his forehead, looking ready to throw the phone on the ground and quit.

I know the feeling.

Masie finished some water and then heard Stan smack the drumsticks together. Crutch Fail started to play again. The song sounded exactly the same as before. It was a long four minutes to sit through. Colin sang, pointed, and shouted orders into the mic. The sound guys played with the guitars, bass, and drums. By the end of the song, the sound seemed to be what everyone agreed upon.

They finished and Colin gave a thumbs up.

“Great,” Colin said. “Now get the women back up here. One more song.”

Masie climbed the stage and Colin called out the song.

At least this one Masie wouldn’t feel like a dog humping someone’s leg.

The four dancers met at the middle of the stage, all their backs together.

Right before the song was about to begin, the backdoor to the practice stage opened. Masie did a double take when she saw Willow Son walking in.

“Look at these guests,” Colin said into the mic. “We better make this count.”

And with that, the song began.

Masie moved across the stage, knowing all her moves. Her eyes, however, kept going to the back of the room. She couldn’t fully see Jett, but he was right there. Sitting there, hands tapping on the seat in front of him. A fantasy ran through Masie’s mind of her dancing only for Jett. Just her and him together. Moving, enjoying each other’s company, things getting hot and wild.

It was so good to think of something like that, she completely forgot about the song. The music and noise faded out of her mind. It was just her body moving, her mind thinking about Jett. Going from side to side, working the stage like she was the rockstar. A sense of empowerment running through her body.

The final part of the song came and the four dancers got together. As they were told to do, they danced in a circle together. Their heads, hands, and legs moving to the beat of the song. If anything, this was the best Crutch Fail song just because it had a decent beat. For all Masie knew, this would be their one big hit. She could see people jamming in their cars to it. But that’s all Crutch Fail would be. A one hit band and then fade out. Not like Willow Son. Willow Son was a force.

The song ended and Willow Son applauded.

Masie looked to Jett and he stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled.

“Thank you,” Colin said. “Should we have a double band session?”

“No,” Jett bellowed.

His voice carried through the building.

“That’s it for me,” Carson said. He took his bass off. “I need a drink. I’m done for the day.”

The band jumped off the stage, leaving their gear behind.

“Holy shit,” Gabby said as she moved by Masie. “Willow Son is here watching us. It’s so hot, isn’t it?”

“They are hot,” Josie said. “I mean, just insanely hot.”

Willow Son slowly stood and were walking around the back of the building. They were talking to their manager, Harry.

“What do you think, Masie?” Ana asked.

“Yeah, they’re something,” Masie said. “Hey, are we practicing privately at all or what?”

“No,” Josie said. “We know the moves. It’s done. It’s not like we’re ballerinas or something. This is a rock tour. They’re paying us to be on stage and look sexy. And I’m sure they figure we’ll eventually crack and sleep with them.”

“You will,” Ana said with a laugh.

“Me?” Josie asked. “Never.”

“Masie will,” Gabby said.

“Not a chance,” Masie said.

“Like hell,” Gabby said. “Colin handpicked you. You better play by the rules.”

“What rules?” Masie asked.

“Come on, you know the rules. Everyone has to sleep with someone to get ahead.”

Masie kept her mouth shut. She walked away, grabbing her bag.

She hated when people like Gabby said things like that.

Once off the stage, Masie went to the side door. All she wanted now was a hot shower and then something to eat. The day had been mostly productive. It was better than having a terrible day.

Outside, Masie rushed to her car. Before she could open it, someone was calling her name. She looked back and saw Jett racing toward her, waving his arms.

No, Jett, please. Just not right now.

He got to her car. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Why? Something wrong?”

“Just tired. Long day so far. I guess we’re all ready for the tour. Which is good.”

“Hey, wait a second. I came all the way here to see you.”

“And you’re seeing me now, Jett.”

Jett stepped back. “Whoa. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Masie said. “I’m just…” She looked at the practice stage building. She shook her head.

“Hey, what is it?” Jett asked. He touched her arm. “Did something happen in there?”

“No,” Masie said. “I’m grumpy. That’s all. Maybe a little mad at myself for leaving last night. I should have stayed. Hung out with you and the band. Mingled.” Masie looked into Jett’s eyes. “Maybe it would have helped me. Right? Sleep with someone to get ahead.”

“Who said anything about sleeping together?” Jett asked.

“Exactly.”

Masie opened the door and Jett backed up. He folded his arms. “Did you hear something about me?”

“What? No. Why?”

“You seem way different today, Masie. I spent my entire day waiting to see you.”

“Like I said, you saw me.”

She started her car.

But Jett wasn’t accepting that answer. He put his hands to the open window and leaned down.

“Let’s forget about all this stuff then tonight. Just you and me. I’m going to take you out to dinner.”

“No thanks. I don’t need…”

“Yes, you do,” Jett said.

He touched her chin and smiled. It made Masie’s toes curl in her shoes. Her body was heating up more now than when she was dancing on stage.

“Jett, you don’t know me,” Masie whispered.

“I’m going to fix that. Starting tonight. I’ll be there around seven to pick you up. Just you and me. We’ll do something fun and low key.”

“You don’t know where I live.”

“I’m a rockstar. I can find things out. Unless, of course, you just tell me. Whatever you’d prefer though.”

Masie smirked. “Come find me. Then we’ll talk.”

Masie crept forward and Jett moved from the car. As she drove away, she didn’t believe for a second that Jett would actually find her and take her out. And when she thought that, she instantly regretted leaving.

He was right there. Right now. Waiting for her.

But Masie’s heart hung with weight.

She really wanted her opportunity to come forward with her personal career. Not to repeat the same mistakes from before. Because the last time it all got messed up, it cost her damn near everything.

(8)

Masie showered, dressed, and stood at the window like a kid waiting for the first flake of snow. She smiled the entire time, living out the fantasy of Jett actually showing up. It was almost seven and there was no sign of Jett. It wasn't like Masie had gotten into some kind of ballroom gown or anything. She was in what she thought to be regular clothes. After all, Jett did say something fun and low key, right?

Masie’s cell started to ring.

It was Ann Marie calling.

That was one call Masie could never ignore.

“Hey there,” Masie said.

“Masie. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You too. Did you get my pictures?”

“Yeah, I love them. I just love them. That show looked really great.”

“It was fun,” Masie said.

“Masie?”

“What?”

“It was fun,” Ann Marie said. “That’s a total lie.”

“How’s the dance school?”

“That’s what you want to ask me?”

“Yes,” Masie said. “Please. Just tell me.”

“The school is great. The girls miss you, of course. I show them the pictures. They’re so excited that you’re famous now.”

“Famous? Not even close.”

“To them, Masie, you are. Remember that. I’m sure this isn’t your dream, but it’s something.”

“I know. It is something.”

“The girls are amazed by it. You have to stop by. When you get a break from touring. Oh, I can’t believe I get to say that. Touring.”

“It’s a small tour,” Masie said.

“It’s a tour.”

“I know.”

Masie bit her lip, feeling selfish and foolish. A lot of people would give anything to be in Masie’s position. It was work. It was dancing.

“Tell me about it,” Ann Marie said. “Tell me what’s so bad.”

“I had a different vision,” Masie said. “I know I’m lucky. It’s just… the band… the guys…”

“Sweetie, that’s all men,” Ann Marie said and laughed. She had been divorced twice. “They’re all the same. Whether you’re dealing with rockstars or someone who is a professional.”

Masie shut her eyes and nodded. She knew it. Oh, she knew it.

“I hope it leads to something else for me,” Masie said.

“It will. I promise. Even if you get off tour and nothing comes right away, just know this is huge. You never know who you’ll get to meet.”

Masie glanced at the clock. It was just a couple minutes from seven.

“You know they’re touring with Willow Son, right?” Masie asked.

“That’s amazing,” Ann Marie said. “Have you met them?”

“Yes, I have. I got to go to the VIP lounge last night.”

“Were you a good girl?” Ann Marie laughed and giggled.

“Of course I was,” Masie yelled. “My goodness, Ann Marie.”

Ann Marie laughed again. “Hey, it’s all good and fun. If I was your age. And I had that opportunity. My goodness.”

“Oh, stop, you’re going to make me blush.”

“Don’t blush. You’re a beautiful young woman.”

“Thanks,” Masie said. “Do you have plans for the next recital?”

“Yeah. I’m working on something. I was hoping you could offer some of the fancy rockstar moves. The girls would love that.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Masie said. “I can’t wait to get back there.”

“No,” Ann Marie said. “No. You’re not coming back here. You’re going to be on tour for the rest of your life.”

Masie had to laugh. She loved Ann Marie’s spirit. The woman always knew how to make her smile.

“I miss you,” Masie said. “I know we’re only an hour away, but it feels like so much more.”

“Yeah, it does,” Ann Marie said. “I promise, we’ll see each other soon. Maybe I’ll get some tickets to a show. So I can see what everyone else does.”

“That would be amazing. To see you in the crowd of a rock concert.”

“Hey, I used to party,” said Ann Marie. “I can get wild.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Masie looked at the clock again.

It was after seven.

Jett wasn’t coming.

A little pain rolled through Masie’s heart. She couldn’t believe she actually felt let down right now. She was the one who drove away from Jett. He had made it clear he had come to see her. And yet one stupid comment from one of the dancers and it got to Masie.

“Hey, are you there?”

Masie blinked. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Did you hear me about Mrs. Lawley?”

“No. What?”

“She got busted for stealing the newspaper.”

“I told you she was taking it,” Masie said. “Did she get arrested?”

“No,” Ann Marie said. “She’s seventy. The police came and yelled at her. She gave me the newspaper and walked away.”

“Think she’ll do it again?”

“Of course! It’s something I’ll have to deal with until she dies.”

Masie laughed again. “That probably won’t happen for a long time.”

“Yeah, she’ll be the one who lives…”

Ann Marie’s voice faded as Masie heard a knock on her door. She lowered her phone and turned, looking at the door. She put the phone to her ear again, hearing Ann Marie laughing.

“Uh, Ann Marie, I have to go,” Masie said.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s business. For the tour.”

“Oh, great. Well, good luck. Have fun. Please, Masie, have fun. Try to enjoy yourself.”

The call ended and Masie rushed to the door.

She opened it and let out a gasp as Jett stood there, holding a single pink rose.

He was in jeans and black t-shirt, but the look, the entire appeal of him, he didn’t need a suit and tie to look damn good. He grinned and offered the rose to her.

“This is for you, sweetheart,” Jett said.

“You’re late,” Masie said.

“Yeah, I am. I blame the driver.”

“Bad directions?”

“I managed.”

“How the hell did you find my address?”

“I have my ways.”

“Tell me.”

Jett looked around the apartment. “Your boyfriend here?”

“I have no boyfriend. You know that.”

“Good.” Jett wiped his forehead. “I’d hate to have to fight someone.”

“So if I had a boyfriend you’d still intend on buying me dinner?”

“Of course,” Jett said. “You were the one that said we were sleeping together.”

“And a rockstar accepts that answer?”

“Well, you did speed away from me before,” Jett said. He leaned against the doorway, hooking a thumb through one of his belt loops. Everything about him screamed sexy. “But I couldn’t let it end that way. So I figured I’d drop by and give you a rose. I mean, there is a car waiting right outside for us. I shut down a pizza place just for us, too. I was thinking maybe a walk on the pier. Go out near the water. Feel the ocean breeze. I mean, nothing romantic. Nothing that would implicate sex at all. That’s not who I am.”

“You’re full of shit,” Masie said.

Before she knew what she was doing, she pushed at Jett’s chest. Her hand pushed, then lingered, feeling muscle.

She quickly took her hand away.

Scrambling to save herself (because she knew she was a second away from kissing Jett) she looked at the rose.

“I should put this in water.”

“A single rose?” Jett asked. “Really?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Do you have your keys?” Jett asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jett grabbed Masie’s wrist and pulled. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait!” Masie cried out. She lunged back into the apartment and grabbed her bag. She then shut the door and was inches from Jett. “There. Are you sure about this?”

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn't be here,” Jett said with blazing confidence.

Outside, there was a car waiting.

Jett opened the back door for Masie to go in first. Then Jett climbed in and shut the door.

The car started to move.

Jett looked at Masie. “You like pizza, right?”

“Of course.”

“We can do some fancy restaurant if you want. But I hate that stuff personally. It’s nice to be normal. Under the radar a little.”

“I don’t think anything about you is normal, Jett.”

“Because of what you know?”

“No,” Masie said. “Because of what I’ve seen. You’re a rockstar.”

“And you’re a dancer,” Jett said. He took her by the hand. “You’re a rockstar to me. To get on stage and live your dream. Even if it’s not perfect. It’s something. That takes some serious guts.”

Masie nodded. “That means a lot for you to say that.”

“And I mean it.”

Masie hesitated and it actually worked to her benefit. Because Jett leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. The kiss was perfect, sexy, just like Jett. He pulled back only an inch. His forehead touched Masie’s.

“I have been wanting to do that since I’ve seen you on stage today.”

“I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“Good.”

Jett kissed her again. This time, the kiss was even hotter. Jett’s mouth slowly opened, his tongue gently coming forward. Masie returned with her own kiss. Their tongues touched and Masie instantly started to melt. She leaned back to the leather seat of the car, her hands touching the edges of the seat. Her body shivered with a deep heat. She tried her best not to end up foolish, but her mind screamed, I’m making out with a rockstar!

When Jett touched Masie’s cheek, she hurried and put her hand to his. She gripped his hand. Losing herself in the moment of fun - and something much deeper inside her - Masie pulled at Jett’s hand. She felt his hand move over her shoulder and then down.

As Jett cupped her breast over her shirt, Masie put her head back and let out a sigh. She shut her eyes, feeling Jett’s lips and tongue kissing her neck. Each kiss was wet, slow and sensual. Her body reacted fiercely, leaving her inner thighs trembling with a crazy need for Jett to keep going.

Keep going. Please, keep going.

But then Masie’s mind overtook her heart and body. She pressed at Jett’s shoulders, pushing him away from her neck. His hand slid away from her breast, down to the seat. She looked at him, a cocky grin on his face. He was an expert at this game. This wasn’t some cat and mouse thing, not at all. This was predator and prey.

Masie liked it, but she warned herself to be careful.

Because of what happened last time.

She had been right on the cusp of an opportunity and squandered the entire damn thing.

“Jett,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I…”

Jett pressed forward and Masie didn’t try all that hard to fight him off. His lips touched hers again and he pulled away for good this time.

The smile didn’t leave his face.

He rubbed his jaw and cleared his throat. “So, tell me what it’s like to be with Crutch Fail.”

“You saw it,” Masie said.

“How did you land it?”

“Wait, before any of that, I want to know how you found me.”

Jett stared at her and smiled.

Masie gushed even more. She knew one thing… this guy, this rockstar, he was nothing but trouble.

************

“The truth?” Jett asked.

“The truth,” Masie said.

Jett could stop tasting her. Her sweet little lips. The silky touch of her neck. How her breast had filled his hand. Hell, she had moved his hand, right?

Even still, it didn’t matter. Jett was in charge of the night. He wasn’t going to let Masie slip between the cracks again.

“Your friends ratted you out,” Jett said.

“My friends? Who?”

“The other dancers.”

“Oh,” Masie said. She rolled her eyes. “They’re not my friends.”

“Yeah, well, they gave up your address pretty quick.”

“What did you do? Sleep with them?”

“Not all three. Just one.”

Masie’s eyes went wide.

Jett laughed. “I’m only playing, sweetheart.”

“You probably did though.”

“No. Not my type. They’re almost too easy.”

“Oh, and I’m suddenly a challenge?”

“Well, to be fair, you wouldn’t give me your address.”

“Fine. But I’m not a conquest. I hate that stuff.”

“Look, you crashed my recording session and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. That’s stuck with me. So here we are, going to grab a bite and take a walk. It’s all innocent.”

“Until it’s not,” Masie said.

“And who gets to be the judge of that?”

Masie smiled.

Jett knew he was going to be the judge of it.

The car came to a stop and Jett opened the door. They were at a corner pizza joint near a dark pier.

“See,” Jett said, “the commercial crap is down there a few miles. But here are the hidden gems. We used to crash here and eat here. The owner lets you write on the walls. He takes pictures and then repaints it at the beginning of the year. Really cool.”

“And you paid to shut it down for the night?” Masie asked.

“Just for you,” Jett said. “I’m not going to lie though. It’s sometimes annoying. But it’s better than getting bothered by people.”

They went into the pizza place. The smell of warm cheese and bread made Jett’s mouth water. Then again, that could have been because he was staring at Masie’s backside again. At this point, he didn’t care if she caught him. Her body, her curves, they were too perfectly put together not to admire.

“I thought you liked your fans,” Masie said as they took a seat.

The owner of the pizza place, a guy named Frankie, came over. He rubbed Jett’s shoulders and patted him on the back.

“You paid too much for this,” Frankie said. “I’m still taking delivery calls.”

“No big deal,” Jett said. “I just need privacy.”

Frankie looked at Masie. “Yeah, I get that. I’ll bring you something to eat and drink. Talk away. I’m not even here.”

“Frankie’s a good guy,” Jett said. “He put up with a lot of shit from us. His wife passed away a few years ago. Something with her liver. Really sad. They were actually thinking about selling the place and retiring together. Now he’s going to do this until he dies. His tribute to her.”

“That’s heartbreaking.”

“That’s why you don’t fuck around in life I guess,” Jett said boldly. “You see something and you take it.”

“Is this like a lecture of how I shouldn’t be on tour with Crutch Fail?”

Jett laughed. “No. If you left the tour, I wouldn’t have the chance to see you. But, I will say this. Don’t take hell from them at all. Do what your heart is telling you.”

“Jett, if I did that, I’d be in New York City. That was the plan. The dream. And it just didn’t happen.”

“Why?”

“That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Masie shook her head. “Not right now. I hate talking about that stuff.”

“Okay. Well, you know tons about me.”

“I’m a dancer,” Masie said. “I’ve done it since I was kid. I used to live an hour south of here. Little town called Cressmen.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Typical town,” she said. “I grabbed a job on a whim at a dance studio. For kids.”

“Wait,” Jett said. “You teach dance to kids?”

“Yeah. Not a glamorous thing, I know.”

“But it’s something.”

“So is dancing for Crutch Fail.”

“Because you want to meet Portis.”

“Exactly.”

“None of the guys introduced you yet?”

“No,” Masie said. “And I’m not playing games.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours…”

Jett raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me Colin said that to you.”

“Yes he did.”

“What an idiot.”

“Agreed.”

Jett growled. “Well, if you want to meet Portis, I’ll let you meet him. But I can tell you this. He’s a jackass.”

“I’m sure he is. But he knows people. Other artists. Managers. Touring companies.”

“Is that what you want, Masie?” Jett asked. “I mean, to be on a tour with a band or musical act?”

“Are you going to judge me for it?”

Jett reached across the table for her hand. “Of course not. I’m asking because I want to know what would make you happy.”

“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“Deal.”

Frankie was at the table with a pizza pie and a pitcher of beer.

“Beer okay?” Jett asked.

“Perfect.”

“You’re really turning me on with this,” Jett blurted out.

“Oh?” Masie asked, her cheeks flushing.

“You like to drink a cold beer and eat a hot pizza.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know… a dancer or woman worried about her figure.”

“Please,” Masie said. “I’ve made my peace there.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look at me.”

“Trust me, I’ve been.” Jett grinned.

Masie gasped. “Oh, yeah. What I mean is… I’m not naturally skinny. I can’t control it. I’ve hated myself for it. I’ve probably been skipped over for jobs because of it. But I can’t do anything about it.”

Jett leaned over the table and purposely looked at Masie’s body. “Nah, nothing wrong to me.”

He then watched her try to wrestle away a smile.

They ate and left the pizza joint. On the way out, Jett hugged Frankie, thanking him for the help to shut the place down.

Outside, the night was cool. Jett saw Masie shiver. He quickly put an arm around her, pulling her close. They stutter stepped a little, walking toward the pier. Masie was comforting for some reason.

They got the beginning of the pier and Jett stopped and turned Masie, putting her against a light pole. The light shined down right on them. He stood in front of her, touching her face.

“Where’s the demon?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Inside. Where is it? What is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s something in there. It’s keeping you guarded. It’s keeping you driving me crazy, sweetheart. I want to know. No matter what. I’ll never judge you for it.”

“Oh, Jett…” Masie put her hands to his chest. She bit her bottom lip. “It’s not that easy.”

“Yes it is. It’s just words. Coming from your mouth.”

“We have to tour together.”

“Different bands.”

“Still. What am I supposed to do? Open up to you and trust you? And then watch you on the road? Doing your thing.”

“What exactly is my thing?”

“The rockstar thing. Women. Excess.”

“Pills?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Jett gritted his teeth. “You want to know something?”

“Sure.”

“There was a woman in my bed in the hotel when I woke up today. You know what? She wanted me and I didn’t want her. Even though I got a little too drunk… I didn’t want her. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t try anything. That’s your fault.”

“Thanks for the blame. You don’t have to be like that because of me. You do whatever you want.”

Masie turned and Jett pressed himself harder to her body, keeping her in place. “I’m looking at exactly what I want, Masie.”

Masie let out a deep sigh.

Jett inched down and his lips flirted with hers.

That’s when Jett’s cell started to ring. A few seconds later, Masie’s started to ring.

Of course, it had to be Portis calling. And, of course, for Masie, it had to be something to do with Crutch Fail.

The night, the date, it was over now.

No.

Jett stopped Masie at the car before they got back inside.

“Raincheck on this,” he whispered. “We’re going to walk that pier together. I’m not going to stop coming after you.”

“That’s kind of bold to say. Maybe a little creepy.”

“It would only be creepy if you didn’t want it.”

Masie’s mouth fell open.

Jett leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Next time, sweetheart. You won’t get away next time.