The first drive of the tour goes off without any hitches. We complete the eighteen hour trip to Seattle in the early morning, and there’s a palpable energy that comes with being on the road again. A feeling I didn’t realize I’d missed until we were here again. I can’t wait to get onstage in a few hours. After practicing in our LA basement for the past couple months, this packed arena of screaming fans is a sweet reward.
I’m also ready for the ladies. Groupies. They get a bad rap, maybe because they’ll do almost anything for a few minutes of time and attention. But I like to focus on the positives. Like from the second I walk into the room, they know everything about me. There’s no breath wasted on introductions, exchanges of useless information such as where I grew up or what I like to do in my free time. All of that has been published in Rolling Stone and a bazillion gossip rag articles. Any of the women who follow us and have done their research will know all they need to know. These are the ones who make it backstage, begging and bribing their way through security. They come prepared and it only leaves more time for what’s most important . . . exploring a more basic element: attraction and desire.
Lexi’s steel toed boots laced up over those goddamn fishnet stockings flash before my mind and I have to shake my head. No. She’s off limits. Besides, even though she’s fucking hot, she wants nothing to do with me. I can sense her impulse to flee or kick me in the balls every time we meet. I’m not a masochist but I can’t help but want to find and push her buttons so she’ll lash out. Even I can admit that’s fucked up.
Doesn’t make it any less fun.
“T, have you seen Bedo?” Austin plops down next to me on the green room couch.
“No, not yet.”
He stretches out his long legs, pulls at the black jean material, and then checks his cell. “He should be here, right? He always makes the first show.” He’s a little superstitious, though he’d never admit it, and the fact our manager isn’t here yet is starting to pick at his nerves. His right leg bounces with the tap of his heel.
“Need something to calm you down?” Iz says from the corner. He lights up a joint and takes an extensive hit before holding it out.
“No thanks, Iz. I just want Bedo to show the fuck up.” Austin pops off the couch and paces the length of the room. Fuck. He’s wound tight. Maybe I should go find Jax and ask him to let some girls into the room now. Austin could use a BJ more than a hit of weed.
“He’ll be here, Austin. Bedo’s never let us down,” I say and check my phone for the tenth time. We don’t go on for at least another ninety minutes and the show hasn’t even started yet. I glance across the room to where Sean’s completely blocking out this outburst, earbuds in and bass on his lap.
“But what if something happened to him? What if he’s stuck in traffic? Did his plane ever land? Do we even know what flight he took? We can’t have a bad omen on our first headline tour!”
“Hey, man.” I stand and grip his shoulder. “How about you sit down, play some video games, have a beer, and I’ll go check on Bedo’s ETA? You just chill here. Everything’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He nods his head several times and sits back into the couch. Iz passes him a drink and I make my way out of the dressing room as fast as I can. I wasn’t freaking out or worried about Bedo, but after listening to Austin’s tirade there’s a sliver of concern working its way through my mind.
Fuck. I don’t need that shit messing with my head. I need to be thinking happy thoughts. Favorite things. Women. Fishnet stockings. Pussy. Leather. Lace. Steel toed boots.
As if my imagination has the power to conjure all my heart’s desires in the flesh, Lexi Marx steps from behind a doorway and into my direct path. My mouth salivates. My heart kicks up a beat. And of course, my dick tests the restraint of my leather pants.
Her eyes lift to meet mine and that anger flares, as if she can’t stand to see me walking in the same hallway. Maybe I should be pissed, insulted, but no, it fucking excites me, and my brain scrambles to think of ways to mess with her.
“Looking fly, Miss Marx. Good enough to eat.” I lick my lips.
Her eyes widen and she stops to place her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”
God, could she get any hotter? “Just thinking I could use a snack.”
“I hope you starve.”
“Oh, that burns a little. It’s okay. I don’t scare easily.”
“More like you don’t take a fucking hint.”
“Ouch. Someone’s pissy. You nervous, first show and all?”
She pauses and her nostrils flare, but then her lips pull up into a smile that’s so scarce it’s frightening. Shit. I’ve pushed her too far. I consider covering my balls before she retaliates. “This is not my first show, Trent. I’ve been playing music longer than you’ve been fighting hard-ons. So, yeah, I’m ready for tonight, and any indication I’m not has more to do with my present company than anything else.”
“Great to hear,” I say and her brittle front drops for just a second. I’m a bastard for not just walking away. “Kick ass on that stage. And when you’re ready to celebrate after the show, you know where to find me.”
Her shock comes in more of a sputtering expletive than actual words, and I let a wide smile spread across my face. It only pisses her off more.
“I don’t need to get fucked by you or anyone else. Asshole.”
Laughter tumbles from my mouth and I take two steps closer so she has to lift her chin to hold my gaze. Those eyes, full of feisty energy, combined with her lush red painted lips kick up every desire within. My voice drops to a whisper and I cock one eyebrow. “Maybe you’re upset you’re not getting Mr. T tonight?”
“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and steps back. “I can say with absolute certainty that I never want Mr. T treatment.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t enjoy it. In fact, I’m sure they’re lining up now for the chance.”
“I’m aware of your whorish ways.”
I gleam at the idea she really has checked up on me. Does that mean she’s interested? Or just curious about who she’s touring with. Her lips pull into a smile and I’m sure she feels she’s finally bested me. Ha! She’ll have to hit harder and deeper than that. “I guess we all can’t be goody two shoes with our chastity belts firmly locked down. You know, you seem pretty uptight, Lexi. I could help you out with that. A good lay does wonders.” My eyes travel to the top of her fitted tank and the bra that peeks out at the neckline, along with her cleavage.
“Let me spell this out for you, Trent. I don’t like you. I don’t want to sleep with you. You do not impress me. So you have a guitar? Great. So you have money? Special.” She rolls her eyes before landing them back on me with a glare. “I don’t know anyone else who has money . . . Oh, wait. I do. You have a dick? Doesn’t every other man? The only thing I appreciate about you is the opportunity you have given me to open for the band. That’s it. And I bet that decision wasn’t even made by you. It was made by the label.”
Holy fuck, she’s even hotter when she’s verbally combative with her intelligence. Sean’s right. She’s too good for any of us assholes, but it doesn’t make me crave her any less. I want to respond with something clever. I want to kiss her until she unleashes all that fury into kissing me back. God, how I want to fuck her. Instead, I stand here like a dumbass, lips parted while I battle my desire of what I should and what I can do next.
“Nice. Now you have nothing to say, Mr. Suave? I’ll make this easy for you. From here on out here’s how it’s going to go. I play. You play. Don’t fucking hit on me. Don’t fucking flirt with me. That’s the extent of our relationship. Understood?”
She holds my stare until her eyes wander, traveling over my body and landing back at my lips much wider than before. I’m no mind reader, but that’s got to mean a part of her wants me, too.
“So it would be wrong of me to tell you how hot you are right now?”
She growls, a sound that starts low until it explodes into a scream.
Oh, shit. Pushed too far.
“Everything all right out here?” Bedo’s stern voice breaks our little confrontation. “Lexi, they need you backstage. You’re on in fifteen.”
“I’m out of here.” She pushes past without another glance, careful not to touch or brush against any part of my body.
“Bedo! My man! You gave Austin quite a scare.” I turn and meet my manager’s calculating stare. “You were almost late.”
“I’m never late,” he snaps and then turns from our green room. “Walk with me, Donavan.”
“Am I in trouble?” I jog to catch up with his quick strides.
“Tread easy with that one. She’s not a groupie,” Bedo snaps and then lets out a string of curses when his phone buzzes. With his eyes trained on the screen we walk back to the green room.
“So I’ve noticed. I’m just messing with her.” I’m also extremely turned on by her, but I don’t add that part. Even I understand the possibility for disaster that would come with us hooking up. Not that she’d let me close enough to touch her, let alone kiss her. But fuck, those lips . . .
“I mean it, Trent. Not that one. Find another play toy.”
“Hands to myself. I’ll be a good boy. Swear it.” I hold my hands up in surrender and Bedo shoots me a stare before pulling open the green room door. I don’t know if he believes me, but he lets it go and moves on. Austin springs from the couch as soon as we step inside and all returns to a familiar routine, waiting and shooting the shit. Iz puts away his paraphernalia to tap on his drum pad. I warm up my vocals. The stage and fans are waiting, calling, and the jolt of energy is just out of reach. I try really hard not to think about the feisty little blonde warming up the crowd. And more so, her red lips moving against my mic. I’ll keep my hands off, but my imagination is another story.
I make no promises there.