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“Oh. Sorry.” She shifted minutely, enough for me to tap in the combination code for the door–easier for the venue than a set of constantly lost or locked in keys.
“Corner, sweetheart,” I murmured, my heart gripping at talking through this part of my night, but I’d already proved I wasn’t consumable company. “And hush, please?”
There was a song in that.
The corner of my lip quirked as I stared down at her still not moving body.
For the moment, I didn’t mind too much.
Dipping my head, I kissed her gently, surprising us both with the tenderness in my touch, the soft moan that rolled through my throat at the raspberries and licorice taste of her.
She shivered, her body pratically vibrating next to me as she slipped into the small room, found a stained chair, and curled on it like a fucking little goth kitten.
My cock hardened, seeing her there, her tiny body swamped by the huge winged armchair that probably held more DNA than a major pharma company during human trials.
“Don’t talk, okay, sweetheart?” I eyed her and the folder she hugged.
A job. My head tilted to one side. Was that what she was in my dressing room for last time? If so, I’d given her a hell of an introduction to my life.
I held out a hand, and she silently pressed the folder into it.
Good girl, I mouthed, and she turned pink.
Fuck me, I wasn’t going to make it to the stage before I nailed her to the wall.
Humming the opening bars of my first song softly I started my vocal warm up, flipping through the pages as I worked my voice gently, easing into the top and bottom of my range, keeping my volume low. Anything more fucked with my peace and I wasn’t going to break the spell that wound around us as I flipped through her work.
Graphic design.Lancehadmentioned something vaguely months ago about a talent he knew, but he said he already fucked her and so I shrugged it off and stayed the hell out of his sandpit. My life might be screwy, but Lance’s relationships were toxic.
As a manager he got me the gigs that mattered, put my face and name in front of fans and negotiated like a fucking champ. What wasn’t there to love about the asshole whose cold heart matched mine?
This one.I mouthed the words again between breaths, flipping the folder over and pulling a signed album out of my guitar case, one of five I'd fling into the crowd while Lance launched branded merch from a bagel cannon. We worked out pretty fast that the brandedWinter Diamondbacks, my old school band I kept as a part of who I’d become as a solo artist, t-shirts rolled tight and soared well without crowning anyone, or creating a lawsuit.
Indi nodded, taking both the folio and the album and scrounging in the black purse slung between her luscious breasts for a pencil. She flipped open to a blank page and started scrawling a mock up. Within seconds she had the bones of what I wanted, and I smiled my approval.
Her head went down and I ran through my lists, checking my guitars, and closing my eyes as I envisioned the vibe I needed for tonight.
Being a charity concert, the lights weren’t as bright and it was still light outside. Even as one of the headlining acts, I didn’t get the cover of darkness like I wanted. Also, I had to keep this one PG. Fair enough for a cause I’d already donated several million to, despite Lance’s snivelling. It wasn’t like we didn’t have plenty of dosh to throw around, more than a single man and his guitars could use in this lifetime, anyway.
For the next few minutes we worked quietly side by side. The call on stage ran late, but thankfully they remembered not to knock on the door and sent a message instead.
Three minutes. All warmed up, Xoan. Thanks again.
The organiser sent a selfie of blonde hair, the crowd I didn’t want to see, and her personal number beneath.
I deleted the message without sending a reply. My girl for the night was right here with me.
Bent rules, and an encore fuck.Who knew?
The startings of a new song hit me hard. I looked for papers that weren’t already covered by notes but found nothing. Frantic, I grabbed for her–Indi–snatching away her pencil and scribbled a few random lines on the top corner of her page.
She stilled, watching me and when I pressed the pencil back into her hand, she mouthed,good luck.
I gave her the faintest smile, cupped her cheek and leaned down almost enough to kiss her, but not quite. Only enough to taste her breath.
Thank you, Indi.
I straightened, leaving us both airless. Her eyes were wide, and her fingertips brushed her bottom lip as I strode out the door, donning the personality the crowd, theworldexpected from me, and tried not to think of the small kid dying slowly under layer upon layer of created characters I shifted within daily, whenever the mood struck me.
