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Aftersaying my goodbyes,Iget in myChallengerand brave theLAtraffic to get downtown, taking advantage of having the extra time to think.
Ineed to address this thing withShae.Neitherof us has spoken about what happened onFriday.Weboth know things have gone too far, butIdon’t think either of us knows how to pull it back.Andwhat we’ve done has only whet my appetite.We’vetouched each other, tasted each other.ButIwant to know how it would feel to work my dick into her.Tomake her writhe and moan.Towatch her come on my cock.
Thenot knowing is slowly driving me mad.
Myfingers are choking the steering wheel, soItake a deep breath and loosen my grip.Thiswhole thing is a shit storm waiting to happen.Ijust need to stop thinking about it for a few minutes.Stopwanting to touchShae.Stopfeeling guilty aboutBeau.
Atlast,Ipull into the parking lot atMick’s.Idrive to the far end, since my car stands out amongst most of the others.Thisis not the kind of place many celebrities visit—which is one of the thingsIlike about it.Mickgave me a key for the back door soIcan come and go unnoticed, andIuse it now, then make my way through the storage room toMick’stiny office.
Iknock and stick my head in.He’son the phone, but a grin creases his face when he sees me.Hecovers the receiver. “I’llbe done in a second.Grabyourself a beer.”
Inod and head back to the storage room, which doubles as a kitchenette with a mini fridge, sink, microwave, and even a small fold-out couch.
Grabbinga bottle of lager from the fridge,Icrack the top, then sit at the small, scratched wooden table that has only three chairs around it, all of them wobbly.
Thewalls of the room are stacked with boxes holding various music supplies—picks, drumsticks, guitar strings, amplifier parts.Youname it, and there’s a box of it in this room.There’sonly one window, set high up on the wall, which lets in just a few dusty beams of light.
Yet, despite how poky and cramped this place is, for some reason, it feels more like home to me than the apartmentIlive in.
Afew minutes later, the door toMick’soffice opens, and he comes out, wearing a big grin on his face. “Hey, man, it’s good to see you.Beena while.”Heslaps me on the back.
“Gotback a couple of weeks ago.Butwe jumped straight into filming and practicing our new stuff, soIhaven’t had a spare moment to come by.Figuredit was time to get more picks, though.Havethe newDunlopscome in?”
Hisgrin widens. “Surehave.Youstill using the one-millimeterTortexsharps?”
WhenInod, he goes to a stack of smaller boxes and sorts through them, giving a grunt when he finds the right one.Comingback over, he slides the box onto the table in front of me.
Iopen it and run my eyes over the contents, then pull out one of the blue triangles and flip it through my fingers a few times, testing its feel.
“Here,”Micksays, grabbing an oldGibsonfrom where it’s propped in the corner.Hepasses it to me, andIrun through a few chord progressions, tilting my head to listen.
“Good?”Mickasks.
“Great.I’lltake five packs.”
“Noproblem.I’llpackage them up for you before you leave.”HeknowsI’mnot here just to buy picks and go.
Mickgrabs his own beer from the fridge, then sits down opposite me. “Howhave things been anyway?Ihate to say it, man, but you look tired.”
Ichuckle, thoughI’msure it’s nothing but the truth.Sleephas been elusive for the last few days. “Theband is good.Reallygood.Wethink we might be up for aGrammynomination this year.”
Hiseyebrows rise. “That’sgreat.Youboys have earned it.”
“Wedon’t have it yet.”
“Don’ttell me that’s what has you looking like someone just kicked your dog, though.”
“I’mjust not sleeping well at the moment.”Ilet my fingers play over the strings of theGibson, knowing he won’t leave it at that.
“What’sgot you down when you should be on top of the world?Womantroubles?”Hehas a smile on his face, but his faded-denim eyes are a little too knowing.He’snot married, and he’s never mentioned a girlfriend, but he might have some wisdom to share.
“Sortof.”
Hisbrows shoot up. “Sortof?Idon’t think there issort ofwhen it comes to problems of the female kind.Thoseusually take up your whole mind.”
He’snot wrong.
Irun my fingers over the strings, debate how much to say. “You’veheard me mentionShaebefore.”
