Chapter 2

Giovanni

 

Musicians don't retire;

they stop when

there's no more music in them.

~Louis Armstrong
 

 

Simone. Simone. Damn, I love the way you beg.

Sighing, I hung up the phone and leaned back in my chair. I closed my eyes as her song danced in my head. She had a sinful tongue, curling out notes and giving me the sensation of her mouth on mine. With that voice, I couldn’t think of why she wasn’t already a star.

“I’m covered in cream, and you’re just licking.”

I visualized her legs spread apart in front of me and my mouth diving in. Hot cum threatened to burst from my cock. From the moment she started her second song, I’d unzipped my pants and had that wicked monster in my hand, rubbing the tip, thinking of her as she sung those sexy lyrics.

“Please, baby, come all over me. Please, fuck me until I can’t see.

It was a wonder I hadn’t come on my pants and spilled that white liquid all over my studio floor.

Damn her.

Simone did that to me, had me gripping my cock every time her beautiful voice flowed.

The first time I heard her sing, I yearned to hear more. Never had I reacted that way. I hadn’t even looked her up, didn’t want to see her picture. It would hurt the fantasy in my mind. Not that it would matter what she looked like. She could have one leg, purple skin, and three eyes. If she sang in front of me, I would shove my cock deep inside of her.

How crazy is this? I don’t even know what she looks like or her personality and I can’t stop rubbing my dick to her songs.

In the end, looks never mattered. The heart, the passion, the soul did. The sensations that came from being around someone so captivating, that shit thrilled me, had my cock in my hand unwilling to let go.

And she was fucking talented. She deserved all the money I gave her and more. In fact, she should be on my album singing duets with me, but...

Simone. Simone. With that voice, I would lose control.

It didn’t help that I hadn’t had sex in a year which was damn near biblical for me. Usually, I drowned in women.

I’d been living in this cabin nestled in the mountains of Utah. If one would even call it a cabin. I sat on sixty acres. The place had twelve bedrooms and fourteen bathrooms. I’d bought it at forty-nine million. There was plenty of privacy, an indoor pool, a dining room that seated twenty, a fitness center, library, and a garage that could fill twenty-eight cars.

Besides the house staff, no one else lived with me and I loved the alone time.

And then, I’d heard Simone’s recording and began daydreaming about her strolling through my hallways, letting her voice ride the cool air. For now, the phone calls were enough to feed me and keep me moving forward on my album.

However, there was no doubt in my mind that she was the songwriter I’d been searching for.

Jason would’ve laughed at me if he was here. He would’ve thought I was stupid for not flying her out to my studio by now. We should’ve been working on the album, exchanging each other’s creative energy within the walls of my music lab.

Granted, Jason would’ve also tried to fuck her. With a voice and talent like that, we both would’ve fought over her.

Should I have her come out here? Or can we continue creating over the phone?

I knew the answer. She should be here. I just was too scared to admit it. Death did that to people. It made me fear more, over analyze every moment of life. Made me try to be more cautious with every step that I took.

Damn you, Jason.

Jason’s overdose had almost killed me.

We’d grown up together, met in an elite private school for celebrity’s kids, and had never left each other’s side. We both loved music, fast cars, and gorgeous women. When I decided to sing, he wrote all my songs. And with each hit, we partied hard, enjoying our success.

Enjoying it too much.

Our lives had been a constant spinning carousel of hedonism. Due to our crazy times, I was sure our souls had shrunken to tiny prunes. However, Jason had been the champion of debauchery, while I was more of a spectator and participant every now and then.

Months before he died, distance started to come between us. I didn’t like the drugs and Jason couldn’t party without them. My addiction was always music. But Jason loved to get high and remained in a perpetual whirlwind of cocaine and vodka. Toward the end, it was hard to watch his downfall.

You never listened. Should I have yelled at you more? Would it have helped?

Some asshole scientist friend had told Jason that creativity peaked around twenty-three and left you forever. That stupid concept remained with him for life. When we both turned twenty-eight, he was convinced he’d lost all his talent. According to him, heroin and cocaine helped him write because he couldn’t naturally come up with lyrics. I ended up becoming his mother and father all rolled into one, constantly reminding him to eat and telling him to bathe when he walked around smelling like sex and alcohol.

After our second Grammy, we bought this huge private jet; a drug-fueled, flying sex den. And Jason loved it trashy. Shag carpeting coated the floor. Leopard print scaled the walls. A thirty-foot-bar stood in the center. Women constantly packed the plane—fans to groupies, singers and models.

But after a while, it became too much for me. I began to seek silence more than conversation. I started sneaking off and hiding away to write verses instead of diving into the orgies happening all around me.

We should’ve never bought the plane. We did too much. We partied too hard.

By our third Grammy, Jason had the great idea to start shooting heroin. It was like he couldn’t get high enough. By then, life had become too fast, too much. The women and partying started getting in the way of my true passion—music. He barely wanted to be in the studio. All he wanted to do was fuck and get high.

“Come on, Gio! A fourth album? We’ve got more money to spend in two lifetimes,” he’d said. “Why do you want to do another album?”

“Because music is how I breathe.”

“Well, pussy is why I breathe.”

And with that, he’d grabbed these Armenian twins he loved to hang with and took them to his room. The next morning, I found the three of them naked and dead in his bed. Their eyes were popped open. Dried brown vomit covered their mouths and throats. A hill of cocaine lay on their nightstand next to one needle and several bags of pills. Empty bottles were scattered around the bed. Later, the doctors found all types of drugs in their system. I contacted the twins’ parents and paid for their funeral.

Jason’s side was a different story. I refused to give the body over to his parents or let them go to the funeral. For that reason, the media ripped me apart while my father and mother stood by my side. Jason never wanted me to reveal his secret, no matter how many times I thought his parents should pay. In the end, I knew what the world didn’t.

Jason’s parents were big stars in television, playing wholesome roles that inspired the good in humanity. In real life, his parents were the true reason of his downfall. They gave him drugs at eight to keep him from bothering them. And then at ten, his sick mother got too fucked up off pills one night and introduced him to sex, showing him porn and forcing him to sleep with a hooker. She’d done it for entertainment. She and her friends had laughed the whole time as they’d watched.

Fuck them. They never gave you a chance to grow, so they couldn’t come and say goodbye.

“Goodbye.” I shook my head. “What is good about a goodbye?”

Now, I was just this partied-out husk. It didn’t matter how many thousands of people crowded my concerts or how many millions followed and tweeted my name. I was alone.

And it wasn’t Utah, although my manager, Midnight claimed the place depressed me.

I was alone.

My parents flew out from time-to-time to hang with me. But neither had retired from acting yet, still winning awards and thrilling people on screen. They’d given me an amazing childhood when other celebrity parents ignored their kids. Therefore, I didn’t like to bother them with my sadness. They deserved the freedom to enjoy their lives and not worry about me.

So, I dove into my music.

Now, this will be a gift or curse. Which one are you, Simone?

From the moment I pressed play, every lyric, every note, every fucking tone made my cock hard by the second. It shouldn’t have been that way. I’d been with more women than I could remember, but there was something about her. Something I couldn’t touch. Something that made me crave for more.

Her voice vibrated through my bones and down to my soul. It pumped through my heart. It heated every inch of my flesh. I damn near stumbled as I found my phone and called her manager up.

Simone and I were on the phone the next day, and for the rest of the month, I became too eager to hear her voice. At this point, she didn’t even have to sing a new song anymore. She could’ve just sang the alphabet and I would’ve went rock hard.

Why does she do this to me?

Had I not been so turned on by her, she would’ve already been here, working with me at my studio. But I needed my distance from Simone. I wasn’t sure if I would behave with her so close.

My phone rang.

I put my cock back in my jeans, zipped them up, and picked up the phone.

“Yeah.”

Midnight’s gruff voice rode the line. “How are you doing, Gio baby?”

His real name was Franklin Tyrone Johnson, but everyone called him Midnight. He told me he’d gotten the nickname as a kid. A bully picked at his skin color, saying he was as black as night, but instead of being embarrassed, Midnight embraced his skin color and the name. Of course, that was all after Midnight beat the shit out of that bully.

“How’s those mountains?” Midnight asked.

“Big and cold.”

“That’s why you need to be in LA, baby. You should be here, enjoying this sun. In fact, as soon as Candy is done with my mani/pedi, I’m hitting the pool.”

I grinned, already imagining what Midnight looked like in his office. I bet he sat in his chair with a thousand-dollar shirt opened and his huge belly exposed for all to see. He’d told me once that he’d grown up missing meals most of his childhood. Once he made his first million, he welcomed being fat, stuffing his mouth with food and showing off that belly like it was a six pack.

I grinned. “Tell Candy I said hi.”

“Naw, she needs to focus on my nails. Anytime she hears your name, she’s fucking blushing and shit.”

I’d never been in his office with him alone. Some beautiful woman was always doing something to him in there—giving him a shave or pedicure, massaging his back, or feeding him grapes. He relished in the attention and the feeling of being adored like royalty.

“Anyway,” Midnight said, “I’m glad you’re doing good, baby. Kings should live like kings.”

I shook my head. “What’s up?”

“Heard the tracks from the new chick. Simone’s her name, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to make money, baby.”

“Yeah.”

“Which ones are you going to use?” Midnight asked.

“Probably all three.”

“This will be a hot album. Very grown and sexy. Something you would have to smoke a fine blunt to and sip on brown liquor. High-end, of course.”

“Of course.”

And then Midnight did his thing that Jason used to call the pimp pep talk.

“Gio baby, I expect nothing but greatness from you, and you repay me with greatness. While these other guys are bopping around half-naked on videos, we’re doing the money dance. This album will add diamonds and rubies to your throne.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Leaning back in my chair, I lifted my feet and placed them on my desk, waiting for the inevitable question to come. “Just go ahead and say it.”

“Motherfucker, when are you going to record this album with her? Why is she still in New York and you in Utah? Either you should be there, or she should be in those damn white mountains.”

Closing my eyes, I rubbed my head. “We’re still building that connection.”

“Building a connection?” Midnight snorted. “She already wrote three hits. You need to replace Jason. That’s a sad fact. I know it hurts, but God has given you a replacement. Get her on the team.”

“I’m not ready to have her in the studio yet.”

“Look, she might not be Jason. He was Picasso with the lyrics and layering of sound. But give her a chance.”

“No, it’s not that. I agree. She’s just as talented as Jason. Maybe even more. She could be a legend.”

“Then, when’s she’s coming out?”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “We’re still building a connection.”

Silence came next.

“What, Midnight?” I asked. “Just fucking say it?”

“Building a connection? I don’t understand one word you’re saying. What’s up? Are you okay, man? I know Jason’s death hit you hard—”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need me to come up there?”

“No.”

“Maybe, you should wait a while before making this album or—”

“I’m fine.”

“Then, what’s the hold up, baby? Fly her up, get her in the studio, lay these tracks, let’s make this money, and reshape the world. Have you been meditating?”

“Of course.”

“Your head’s good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Listen. Kill the spirit and the body dies. Kill the body and the spirit creates other bodies.”

“Thank you, ghetto guru.” I laughed. “I said I’m fine. It’s not Jason’s death. I’m not having any more nightmares. I’m at peace. Really.”

“Something is up. I can feel it. What’s the hold up, baby?”

“Why are you pushing me on having Simone come out here?”

“I need that money, baby. My wife needs a pink private jet to match my blue one, baby. My mistress been begging daddy for a Patek Philippe watch. You know that motherfucker cost 1.3 million? Apparently, she can’t tell time unless the numbers are surrounded by diamonds.”

I shook my head. “And what does your side chick want?”

“A side chick doesn’t want for things. She’s just happy to be on the team.”

My next words dripped with sarcasm. “I don’t know why I never get you to write my love songs. You’re such a romantic guy.”

“My love songs would be too real. They wouldn’t make us any money. People like to lie to themselves. But, stop getting off the topic. What’s up?”

I let out an exasperated breath. Midnight had been a second dad to Jason and me. There wasn’t much we could keep from him.

You better not laugh, Midnight.

Of course, he laughed for several seconds. “You’re afraid to fuck her?! G-fucking-O, the cock star of the decade is afraid to have sex with someone.”

He coughed and laughed some more.

“Thanks, Midnight. I knew you would be a soothing ear in my time of need.”

“Baby?! What’s the problem? Just fuck her and then record these hits.”

“I think she’ll be a distraction.”

“She’ll only be one if you allow it. And since...well...since you’ve moved to Utah, you’ve been fucking disciplined. I can’t believe you’ve been there for so long. What the fuck is in Utah but white people and snow?”

“I am white, and I do like snow.”

Both of my parents were Italian. I had an olive brown tint to my skin, black hair, and blue eyes. When I’d entered the rhythm and blues genre, everyone tried to talk me out of it, figuring I would do better with pop.

Midnight had laughed, when Jason and I had come to his office with our demo.

“What do two rich white boys know about rhythm and blues?”

“Music isn’t a color,” I’d told him.

“Shit. Music is a color, baby, and it’s green. Don’t you ever forget that.” Midnight laughed again and picked up our demo. “I’ll listen and if I see green, then we’ll be cool in the gang.”

Ten years and three hundred million dollars later, Midnight was eager to make more money. “You need to bring your ass back to LA and bring that fine ass Simone with you.”

My heart skipped a beat. I cleared my throat. “She’s fine?”

Midnight ignored me and continued his rant about my new state. “I didn’t even know that fucking Utah existed until I went to high school and had to take a test on it. Before, it was just one of those boring ass states between Cali and New York.”

“It’s peaceful out here and you didn’t answer the question. Is she beautiful?”

“Look. You’ll be fine with her around. I met her twice, when she was with her other band. I almost signed them, but the leader was a jerkoff. I think they were dating at the time.”

“What was the band’s name?”

“Can’t remember. One hit wonders. The name was something stupid. Didn’t know she had talent at the time.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “But, is she beautiful?”

“You haven’t seen her?”

“No.”

“What the fuck is going on with you, Gio? There’s no internet in Utah?”

“I’m just in a weird space. I barely go online.”

“She’s a beauty. Mocha skin. Big pretty brown eyes. Long curly hair and hips that would probably make you spend a good million on her. Too much ass for you though.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t know what to do with all that ass. And sisters won’t help you out when you get back there. You better know what you are doing, or they will clown you.”

“Okay. I got the picture.”

“And it’s all hers too. Ass, hair, all of it.” When Midnight bragged about someone’s looks and talent, it was worth noting. He had over the top standards, loved his women plastic and structured like stiff Barbie dolls. But he always picked out the stars before anyone knew they would become one.

Fuck. She’s beautiful.

Hunger rose in my chest.

Midnight continued, “She should’ve been the leader of the band but again, the guy in charge was a jerk off. I had no time for it, so I didn’t sign them. But I’m glad she remained dedicated to her music. These tracks are fire.”

I sighed.

“Just have her come up,” he said.

I frowned.

“I bet she would be hard to fuck anyway. Ru is her manager. He’s a slave driver, extra possessive of his artists, and only picks the ones that keep their heads in their music and nothing else.”

“I’m going to think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard. You’re killing me and making the GioKnights wait forever. The four-year anniversary for Cruel Heart is in two weeks, and you’re already trending on Twitter and Facebook.”

“Great. Thanks for that.” I frowned. “That definitely doesn’t stress me out even more.”

“I’m just saying. The world is waiting. Stop tripping over your own dick and take a step out on faith. Fly her up. Do the album. And do not become tempted by the booty because it’s too much ass for you.”

“I’m getting there with having her come up.”

“Consider getting there sooner, baby.”

“Alright. Alright.”

I checked my computer. Simone’s email sat in my inbox. I pressed on it and delivered the tracks to my phone. Once they downloaded, I plugged in my headphones, left the studio, and went into my secret world that not many knew about.

Cool air rose on the third level of my house. I’d knocked down all the walls and created this massive little model train world that expanded thirty feet. I entered and shut on the lights, illuminating the tiny world I’d been building the whole year.

When Jason died, we were all shocked to discover he’d had a detailed will as if he’d known he would go before thirty. Meanwhile, Jason had left me all his money—around twenty-six million. His parents tried to fight the decision, but lost. And because Jason knew me so well, he’d written two guidelines with the spending. The first was that I couldn’t donate no more than fifty percent of his money to charities.

You knew I would’ve given it all away. Didn’t you, Jason?

With half of his money, I’d started a foundation for people struggling with drug and alcohol addiction. Over a hundred facilities were being built for those who couldn’t afford treatment centers and counselors. They also assisted the family members that tended to be victims of their loved one’s drug abuse with housing, job assistance, and food for their kids.

Jason’s second guideline was that I do something that only made me happy with the rest of the money. He was so serious about it, he’d hired a board to oversee all my spending.

Many wondered what I did with the left over thirteen million. I’d already had mega mansions and luxury cars. I’d traveled more than anyone due to my parents taking me everywhere when I was young and then all my touring later.

So, I ended up doing the one thing I’d always wanted to, but thought it would be too stupid to do. I created the world’s most expensive model train set ever.

Thirteen million dollars of a tiny United States covered a massive room—harbors and airports, roads and buildings that spanned over the little country. Real water filled the ponds and lakes. It was over eight miles of track, four thousand buildings, and even two hundred thousand LED lights and figurines. The set-up utilized sophisticated software to control and direct the movement of trucks, cars, planes, and boats.

I pressed play on Simone’s first song and began moving my favorite train around.

“Naked, she begged, please. Naked, she begged, please.”

Walking over to the other side of the room, I moved the train toward the tiny model of New York, wondering what Simone was doing now.

“So close, so wet, and so hot, naked, she begged, please.”

As the train approached New York, the entire state lit up. The Statue of Liberty glowed green. The Empire State building illuminated white, red, and blue.

“I’ll give you want you want, he said, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tiny model of Times Square came alive. Billboards glowed and moved around.

“With your legs open, spread wide, just moan for it, one more time.”

The train rounded Central Park and chirping sounds filled the air. Tiny fireworks shot above that area of the model and sparkled.

“So, naked, she begged please.”

But unlike Jason, I felt her voice in my heart. Some voices stopped at my ears, but there were those few singers that could pierce my chest and capture every heartbeat.

Fuck this. I’m flying her up. I can focus with her here. It’ll be fine.

I stopped the train, shut off the music, and closed my eyes, thinking about what she’d said on the phone.

“But what if she loves to beg? What if it turns her on?”

Groaning, I whispered to myself, “Then, she can have whatever she’s begging for, as long as she wants it.”

I must get her here…for the music. Nothing else.

I turned her song back on, reached my hand down the front of my jeans, and stroked my hard cock to sweet Simone.

“Naked, she begged please.”