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“Hey,” he grumbled in his deep baritone.
“You ready for tonight?” I hoped he knew I wasn’t talking about the concert.
His mesmerizing eyes darkened. “I’m ready.”
Apparently, he knew exactly what I was talking about. I couldn’t help but grin.
I was about to make a suggestive comment when we were interrupted by Ghost Parker’s PR rep, Trudy.
Trudy placed her hand on his biceps, squeezing it to get his attention. “Bash...”
His eyes lingered on me, but he finally pulled them away and looked at Trudy. “What’s up?”
Trudy pulled a young girl who was cowering behind her out and placed her in front of him. “This is Felicity.”
Bash nodded and said hello, but then his eyes were back on me.
I took in the other girl. She was young, maybe 20 years old at most. She had that wholesome, girl next door look down pat, barely there makeup, shiny plumped-up lips, long wavy hair down her back, and non-slutty clothes that bared her flat midriff yet still looked innocent enough. She was even batting her eyelashes innocently at Bash.
Trudy pulled on his biceps again. “Felicity is the contest winner. She won the date with you. I’ll bring her backstage after the show. I got a driver for you and made reservations at a restaurant at L.A. Live. The driver will have all the details.”
Bash frowned at Trudy. “I’ve got plans already. Reschedule.”
“Not going to happen.” Trudy crossed her arms over her chest, not giving an inch. “This is for charity Bash.”
His jaw clenched. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing about it?”
She shot him a warning glance. “I don’t know. Did you read the email I sent you?”
The little doe-eyed girl with the perky tits and flawless skin didn’t look too bothered by the conversation. Bash looked around the room and then bellowed out, “Donovan, get over here.”
Donovan was standing less than ten feet away with his arm draped around another barely legal girl, this one in full-groupie attire.
Trudy’s hands were on her hips when Donovan approached. “He’s giving me trouble about the contest.”
Donovan chuckled as he looked over at the winner, Felicity. He patted Bash on the arm and kept his voice down, but I could hear every word. “You’re lucky she’s so hot. Let her take some pics for her social media. It’ll be great publicity. Give her a night to remember, if you know what I mean. A few times. It’s for charity.” Then he actually winked, clapped Bash on the back twice, and wandered away.
Trudy gave Bash a death glare and then retreated, leaving Felicity bouncing on her toes with excitement. “I can’t wait for you to perform tonight, Bash. I’m a really big fan.”
Disappointed, I turned to leave, but Bash caught my arm to stop me. He was pleading with his eyes for me to understand. “I won’t go. I’ll make Trudy reschedule.”
Keeping my expression neutral, I said. “I have to go meet up with Kaylie and the others. They just got here. They’re in the VIP lounge.”
His hand dropped to his side. “I’ll make the date real quick. An hour tops, I swear. Then I’ll meet you guys out. I won’t be long. I’ll get it over with and then I’m all yours.”
Not trusting myself to say anything, I nodded and then turned around. Before I left, I heard Felicity asking him in that sweet-as-pie voice for a picture of the two of them together.
Scanning the room for Arianna, I walked away. I found her making out with some big dude who I didn’t remember being in any of the bands. I could see why Ryder wanted someone to keep an eye on her. She didn’t seem to care who she ended up with.
It took some time to extract Arianna, but then we made our way out. I had to weave through all the young girls who were flashing tits and ass cheeks. I sighed. When did I start hating on young women?
I guess I was just feeling insecure. Maybe a bit older and wiser. It was frustrating to see all these young, fertile girls — just like I was — wasting their time chasing rock stars, thinking they had all the time in the world. Or maybe my biological clock was ticking so loudly it was driving me insane.
I could rattle off fertility facts like a freaking specialist. Women were most fertile in their 20s. Welp, that was long gone. At age 32, fertility started to decline. I guess I was in the declining phase. By age 35 — right around the corner for me — that decline sped up. At age 35, your odds of conceiving after 3 months of trying were just 12%, and it went downhill from there. While the odds nosedived, the risk of miscarriage, genetic abnormalities, or pregnancy complications began to rise.
So, maybe I was just jealous watching these young girls rubbing all over these rock stars. They still had lots of time while I felt like my window was closing fast. I’d always been a pragmatist. I needed to find a husband, so I could start the family I wanted.
Instead, I was chasing after a rock star, just like these clueless girls. These past few months, I may have stuck with only one rock star that rocked my world, but time was still ticking. In less than three months, we’d be divorced and our kinky sex agreement would be over. Bash would be free to go back to his lifestyle. Our marriage would be chalked up to a bad decision that would never be mentioned again and we’d both move on. I needed to prepare myself and stop fantasizing about anything different.
