Ozzy

 

 

MY MUSE IS IN high gear. I don’t ever remember feeling this creative before. Every day McKenna comes over, I’m inundated with new music or lyrics. Sometimes both.

But it’s not only that she unlocks this part of my brain. She’s my sexual match, too. I love that I can be writing a song one second, then throw her over the sofa the next, and then go back to the song afterwards. And she’s always so responsive.

Plus, she’s a great cook—especially pastries. Damn. I’ve swum more laps since we’ve been together than I can remember. The only issue is she’s skipped my recent concerts and never sleeps here. It’s starting to get on my nerves. I can understand not coming to my concerts all the time, but I’ve asked her over every night and she always has an excuse.

An unscheduled meeting at the Project.

An emergency with a client.

She forgot a change of clothes. I tell her she might as well be naked.

Aside from that, she’s perfect for me. And honest. Right? Ignoring a niggling doubt, it hits me—I’ve never felt like this, even toward Teresa. It’s like she’s in my bloodstream, feeding my organs.

I’m in love.

The thought rips through my brain, causing me to jump up off the sofa. “Bans, come!” I put her leash on and we go for a long, rapid walk around the neighborhood. By the time I return, my heart has resumed a normal pace. Love? Ha! I don’t think so.

A while later, the doorbell rings and I rush to answer it, my fingers itching to sink into her body. “Hey, Ozzy.”

My shoulders drop. “Hola, Aiden.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me.”

Closing the door behind him, we make our way through the house. “Thought you were Mckenna.”

“Sorry, dude.” He detours into the kitchen, pours himself an iced tea and heads toward the patio.

Choosing to stick to a non-alcoholic drink, I do the same and follow him out. “So, what’s up?”

“I got a call from Ginger, and she’s coming to tonight’s concert. Says she’s bringing the surprise she mentioned.”

She’s been dangling the idea of a surprise over my head. I have no idea what it could be—more Molly, maybe? Not that I’ve needed any “extra” help since I’ve been with McKenna. “Sure. Whatever.”

He shrugs. “‘Take Me’ is going over really well. I’m sure Ginger will be very pleased.”

I take a sip of iced tea. “Yeah. And I’ve been working on some more new stuff, too.”

He rubs his lip. “It’s great you’re back in the game.” He drinks and places his cup down on the table, then produces a stack of paperwork.

“Don’t you ever come here without a shit-ton of papers for me?”

He grins. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” He points to the first one in the pile and we start slogging through all the business. When we finish, he says, “So, McKenna, huh?”

I lick my lips. “Yep.”

“Do you want me to pick up anything for her from you? Clothes, handbag? Jewelry?”

His question brings me up short. “Oh shit. We’ve been so focused on writing and,” I slant him a look, “other things, that I haven’t even gotten her a present. Well, other than the skydiving experience. Thanks for arranging that, by the way.”

He nods, as if it was no big deal. I guess for him, it wasn’t. “Okay. Let me know if I can get anything for your girlfriend.”

I can’t have my PA buy my girlfriend a present. Whoa. Girlfriend? “No, I’ll take care of her.”

He scoffs. “I bet.”

I give him a dirty look, then break out in a grin. The doorbell rings and I jump to my feet. “That’s going to be her. Are we finished?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I’ll clean all this up while you go greet your girlfriend.”

“Dick.” Walking through the house, I wipe suddenly damp hands on my shorts. Since when did I get nervous around women, especially one I’ve been screwing? When do I offer a woman repeat performances daily? I place my hand on the doorknob and take a calming breath. Opening it, I look at the sprite waiting for me. “I was just talking about you.”

She smiles and my cock rises to bask in her sunshine. “All good, I hope.”

I wink. “Come on in.” I take her laptop case and bring it into the music room.

In the foyer, McKenna nods and says something to Aiden, which makes him laugh. That’s what she does. She brings light and laughter wherever she goes—all good things. Minus the staying overnight part. Regardless, she’s the real deal. And I’ve begun to crave her.

I break up the pair by kissing McKenna on the lips. Not one to be embarrassed, she kisses me back, Aiden be damned. He clears his throat. “Well, I’m going to leave you two. Remember that Ginger will be in the audience tonight.” My mouth seeks hers again as the gentle click of the front door sounds.

She giggles and steps back. “You’re so bad.”

“What? I hadn’t seen you in hours. I had to say hello.”

She shakes her head. “So, who’s Ginger?”

“Jealous?”

Her hands go to her hips and her foot taps. “Nope.” The “p” pops as she says it, reminding me of the same sound she makes when my cock leaves her mouth. I grab her in my arms and kiss the shit out of her. “I think you’ve earned your answer. Ginger’s my rep from Platinum.”

McKenna’s finger trails across my cheek. “Then I guess you need to be in tip-top shape for tonight.”

I wink. “Want to help me get there?”

 

 

HOURS LATER, MY bandmates surround me at the Jade. Mark, the bassist, says, “Listen to what Jazz came up with for your newest song.”

Caught up in their exuberance, I motion for the lead guitarist to play. He modified the bridge and chorus somewhat. Clapping him on the back, I say, “I like it, Jazz.”

“Thanks, man. I thought the riffs would really go well in there.”

Strapping on my own guitar, I ask him to play it again and then copy him. A thought filters into my mind and I try it out. “What do you think of that?”

Jazz copies what I just did and adds some more beats. Soon, we’re rocking out to a new and improved version of the song. Mark joins us with his bass while Stan pounds out a beat on his leg, the table and whatever else is nearby. From across the room, Tim hits some keys on the portable keyboard.

Aiden appears in front of me. “Guys! Guys! Save some for the concert, okay? You have fifteen minutes.”

Where did the time go? Grinning at each of my band members, we high five each other and they head to their dressing rooms before going backstage. When my dressing room is empty, one person claps. I whip my head around to find McKenna grinning at me, her long skirt flowing freely around her calves.

Swinging my guitar to my back, I open my arms. “I’m so happy you made it. When did you get here?”

“I slipped in about five minutes ago.” She wraps her arms around my waist. “That was awesomesauce, Ozzy.”

Nodding, my chin bounces off the top of her head. “It felt pretty great.”

“Tonight was the first time I saw you guys really rehearse together as a band. It was cool.” She leans back and smiles.

Stealing a kiss, I reply, “It was. I’ve never worked together like that on a song before.”

“Another notch in your belt. I’m so happy for you.”

“Me, too.” I kiss the top of her head.

Aiden walks into the room. “Sorry to break you two up, but you need to take your mark, Ozzy. And don’t forget, Ginger will be here with your surprise afterwards, so definitely be out to impress tonight. Break a leg.”

Squeezing McKenna, I say, “See you on the other side, Dulcita.”

“Knock ‘em dead.”

With a kiss, we part ways. Tonight’s going to be epic.

 

 

AFTER THE CONCERT, which went great, I grab the bottle of water from Aiden’s hands. “That was the best performance of ‘Take Me’ yet. Good job!”

“Agreed.” I down the bottle and hand the empty back to Aiden. “Felt great out there tonight.”

As I’m heading down the hallway toward my dressing room, Aiden calls out. A note of caution in his voice makes prickles run up my spine. “Ginger’s in your room already. She has—”

Tamping down my body’s odd response, I continue on my journey. “A surprise. Yeah. I know.” My stride lengthens as I picture myself in the shower. With McKenna.

“Ozzy!” Aiden’s voice can barely be heard above the din of backstage.

Sometimes he can be such a worry wart. I wave my hand and continue toward my dressing room. McKenna’s standing in front of the door, waiting for me to get to her.

“Super show, Ozzy!” She says as she jumps up into my arms and wraps her legs around my hips. Her nose wrinkles at my stage sweat.

Catching her lips in a kiss, I find the door handle, open it and slip us inside. She laughs while our mouths devour each other. My balls tighten at the sound and I squeeze her tighter.

A cough penetrates my mind. It’s followed by a masculine chuckle. Ginger says, “Surprise!”

Great timing. McKenna releases her legs from my middle and I lower her to the floor. Turning, I greet my rep. “Ginger, may I introduce you to McKen—”

My voice stops mid-introduction. Ginger, blonde and skinny and dressed in a mini skirt-suit stands next to Luis.

Luis.

Ex-best friend and homewrecker extraordinaire.

I go rigid. Next to me, McKenna places her hand on my arm, rubbing her fingers up and down. “Ozzy?” she whispers.

The asshole extends his hand. “Long time no see.”

I remain motionless. A huge part of me wants to beat the shit out of the asshole. A very small part wants to hug my former best friend. I’ve fantasized about what I would do if I ever saw him again, but now I’m overcome with emotion and can’t make a move.

Luis drops his arm. Ginger looks between us. “Ozzy, your concert was great. I really liked ‘Take Me.’ And the audience did too.” She pauses. When no one speaks, she continues, “Since you’ve vetoed ghostwriters, Platinum wanted me to bring Luis back to help you finish out the album. He’s my surprise.”

Beside me, McKenna repeats, “Luis.”

He’s not my collaborator any longer. Keeping my eyes locked on the asshole, I give a curt nod to Ginger. McKenna’s now rubbing my arm in small circles.

My body temperature rises the longer I look at the man I used to call friend. I note the changes in his appearance since the last time I saw him. He’s thinner, if that’s even possible. His clothes hang loosely off his skeleton-like frame. His bald head is covered in a fedora, as usual. His beard is longer than I remember, scruffier and ungroomed.

Ginger pushes Luis toward me. “You two need to get reacquainted.”

Luis extends his hand again. “Looking good, Ozzy.”

I retreat a step. “Can’t say the same.”

A cell phone rings. Knowing it’s not mine—I always leave it turned off in here during a concert—I ignore the sound, and remain staring in disbelief at Ginger’s surprise. How could Platinum possibly have thought this was a good idea?

“Well, I’ll see you both at the after-party. Enjoy catching up.” Ginger picks up her bag with logos all over it and walks past McKenna, who, I now realize, is on the phone.

Luis begins, “Listen, Ozzy. It’s been years. I’m ready to leave the past behind and start writing together again. We produced some great hits. We used to be hermanos.”

I brush out a harsh laugh. “Says the man screwing the bitch who just got a ten-million-dollar payday.”

At his side, his hands fist. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you.” I step forward and bring both of my hands to his chest and push. He falls two steps backward before catching himself.

From off to the side, McKenna’s rising voice captures my attention. I ignore the loser in front of me and focus on the one person in the room who matters. “Everything okay?” I whisper.

Keeping her eyes on the floor, she shakes her head and turns. Well, fuck. Since I can’t talk with her right now, I turn my attention back to Luis. “How are you spending my money? Buying a house? What about a yacht? I know she always wanted one of those.”

He flips his hat in a way I used to think was cool. When it’s back on his head, he shrugs. “We’re not together anymore.”

I laugh. A full-on belly-laugh. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t she?”

The corner of the room goes silent. McKenna picks up her bag off the floor and says, “I’ll leave you two to sort things out. I have to go.” And just like that, she leaves. In the moment I need her the most.

“McKenna, wait—” My words float into nothingness as she closes the door behind her. What the actual fuck?

Whirling on my former best friend, I snarl, “I don’t know what caused you to think this was a good idea, but you can go crawl back under the rock you came from. I don’t need you.” I turn and follow McKenna, blood coursing through my veins like a fast-moving stream on its way to the ocean.

The bright red stripe in her hair is already halfway to the lobby. Since I know where she parks, I bypass the main lobby and take the backway to the parking garage. Sure enough, she’s getting into her Honda when I enter the deck.

Still fuming that Platinum thinks I need Luis, I grab my helmet, hop on Shirley and follow her. Where is she going? Is she meeting up with another man? Why am I torturing myself with such thoughts? Seeing Luis has scrambled my brain. She’s not anything like Teresa. But I didn’t think Luis and Teresa could double-cross me, either.

Amid traffic, I follow her to the driveway of a small-ish house with a slightly-overgrown lawn, and park the bike on the street a few houses down. McKenna gets out of her car but, instead of going into the house, she rushes in the opposite direction. Dismounting from Shirley, I keep pace with her from two blocks away. Up ahead, an older woman in her pajamas is the only other person on the sidewalk. Several cars pass.

McKenna reaches out and touches the woman on her shoulder, causing her to spin around. Her arms flail and it appears as if she’s going to fall, but McKenna catches her. Why didn’t she walk around her?

Stopping, I watch as McKenna wraps herself around the woman and then jumps back as if scalded. She says something to the older woman—seemingly trying to comfort her—but the other woman shakes her head.

I stand, transfixed, watching the exchange and ready to intervene if McKenna needs me. Even though she just bailed on me. She turns and points down the street, directly at me, and her mouth falls open.

Shit. Caught.

When in doubt, deflect. I raise my chin and walk toward the two women, one of whom is shooting daggers at me from her eyes while the other starts fluffing her hair. “McKenna.”

I look at the older woman, who starts at my voice, her latte-colored eyes meeting mine. Eyes that match McKenna’s exactly. I take a wild guess. “Mrs. James.”

The older version of McKenna looks confused. “Mateo, we’re way past such formalities.”

Mateo?

McKenna springs into action, wrapping her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Excuse me,” she says as she navigates past me.

What is going on? Who the fuck is Mateo? I follow the pair down the sidewalk, which takes a surprising amount of time considering her mother stops to examine every thing—some flowers, a sign, rocks. What’s wrong with her? Is she on drugs?

At her driveway, McKenna turns and addresses me. “Good night, Ozzy. I think you’ve seen enough.”

Oh, hell no. This does not end here. I’ve let this woman into my home, my life, my heart. No way is she going to get away with locking me out of hers.