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Christ, this is all I need right now. What the hell is Brooklyn doing in there? I really don’t need the groupie’s friend talking shit about me. Brooklyn will run out of here before I can even try to stop her. Thankfully, the door pushes open and she walks out, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You actually waited for me,” she says, honestly impressed to see me there.
“I told you I would. Now come on, let’s go hang out,” I say and wrap my arm around her shoulders.
We get to the table and everyone is gone. They’re all dancing and that’s fine by me. I want to get to really know who Brooklyn is anyway and it’s much easier without them around. I ask her if she needs another water and she says yes, so I go get her one and myself a beer. When I get back to the table she graciously takes it. “So let’s start from the beginning. I’m Crosby Fitzgerald, better known as Fitz. I’m the lead singer of Renegade. Ethen, Ralph, Nate and I have been friends since high school and that’s when we started the band. I never in my wildest dreams thought we would be the success we are today.” I take a sip of my beer and raise my eyebrow at her.
“Oh ummm okay. I’m Brooklyn Adler, I guess I’m better known as Brooke. My life is completely boring compared to what you’re used to,” she says and sips her water.
“I call bullshit. Tell me more,” I push.
She takes a deep breath and says, “I’m the manager at a bank. I’ve had the same routine for years and especially the last year since I’ve been with Hank.”
Just hearing his name pisses me off. Why? I have no idea, I don’t know him or her for that matter, but from what Poppy said I just know I wouldn’t like him. I won’t let Brooklyn know that though. “So I guess things like this party are a bit overwhelming to you, huh?”
“Without a doubt. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great and I’d love to be out there like Poppy, but it’s like I’m stuck being me,” she says and covers her face. “Sorry.”
I pull her hands down and grin at her. “Please don’t keep telling me you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. Why do you say you’re stuck being you? I don’t think anyone is stuck, if you want to change, you can.” Hell if she only knew what I was planning to do minutes before I met her and now the only thought I have is wanting to know every detail about her.
“Even if I wanted to try to change, Hank wouldn’t have it.”
I hate him. What kind of guy wouldn’t allow his girl to change? Sounds like a complete douche bag. “So tell me, if you could change and Hank wasn’t in the picture, what would you be like?”
She thinks for a minute and looks around smiling. “I’d be like Poppy. She is so full of confidence, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Plus, the relationship she has with Nate, well it’s just something special.”
“They definitely do have something special. Stop me if I’m getting too personal, but you’re with someone, isn’t it special?” I know I’m asking too much too fast, but I need to know what this guy is all about. Why the fuck would he let his beautiful girlfriend go to New York alone?
She clears her throat and gives me a weak smile. “Maybe that’s for another time.” Got it, touchy subject.
For the next hour, we talk about the band and what it is like on tour. How we got our start and I begin dishing out gossip on the guys. I have her laughing and I mean really laughing, which holy shit is somehow turning me on, it’s not something I’ve ever heard before. I hadn’t expected this sweet sound, almost musical, with the way it pitches up and down. The way she tosses her head back, her long brown hair falling down around her. Her emerald green eyes, brimming with tears of laughter. And let’s not forget the way her tits bounce each and every time. It’s not just turning me on, but seeing her so happy and into the conversation is pretty fucking cool.
“So than Poppy walked in with a water gun and sprayed them both down. Ethen has yet to bring a groupie to her place again,” I say and we both laugh.
“Holy shit, I would have loved to see that,” she says and eyes my beer for like the hundredth time.
“Brooklyn, would you like to try my beer?”
She bites her lip again and I reach over and rub my thumb over her bottom lip, releasing it from her perfect teeth. “We’ve been having fun, don’t get shy on me now. Try it, if you hate it, I’ll go get you something I know you’ll love.”
I hand her my beer and she takes a tiny sip and nearly spits it out. I can’t help but laugh and I take it back. “Ew, how the hell do you guys drink that? It tastes horrible.”
This time I nearly spit my beer out from laughter. She’s definitely getting more comfortable with me and I like that. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I rush up to the bar and order a Malibu Bay Breeze. It’s sweet and I figure since she likes the smell of coconut, she probably likes how it tastes. I grab the drink and bring it back with me, handing it to her before I sit down. “Now try that and I guarantee, you’ll love it.”
“Thank you, Fi
tz,” she says and brings the glass to her lips. She takes a small sip and then another and before she puts it down, she takes a large sip. “Holy crap, you were right, this is really good.”
“Just remember, it has alcohol in it,” I say, not wanting her to chug the whole thing.
When the drink hits her, she becomes completely relaxed, laughing and even flirting a little with me. It’s the alcohol, but damn I like it. She’s more of the party girl I’m used to, but a classy one, like Poppy. She’s been more open too, she’s been telling me about her structured life and how Hank has made it worse. She even told me that she isn’t happy with him anymore, but is too stuck in her routine to do anything.
I don’t push her or ask anything that she would regret answering the next day, especially since she’s working on her second drink. I know I’m usually an asshole and don’t bother with worrying about women’s feelings, but she’s different. That and I’m feeling pretty drunk right now too.
“Can I ask you something that’s bothering me?” I ask and she nods her head. “Why do you call yourself Brooke and Poppy says your name is Brooklyn?”
She takes a sip of her drink and blows out a breath. “Hank says that Brooklyn is a city, not a woman’s name. He refuses to call me Brooklyn, so he calls me Brooke. Everyone back home calls me Brooke now. It’s just easier to let him call me Brooke and not argue about it.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What kind of piece of shit is this guy? I’m ready to fly out to California and beat his ass to teach him a little respect. Again, I know, look who’s talking, but when you have Brooklyn as your woman, why would you do anything but worship at her feet?
