The Rockstar''s Virgin

  Thus, our occasional butting of heads on the whole sex issue. She understood where I was coming from and why I wanted to wait, but she didn't get it.

  “So, is he marriage material, do you think?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. He probably won't even call, so I think we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves.”

  Cora took another swig of her drink and relaxed back against the cushions. She'd picked that couch out for me when I moved into my own place after my business got up and running. The chair I was sitting in, on the other hand, had come from the apartment we used to share together. I liked that I still had it, and we still sat and chatted like we had back in the days we lived together.

  “And if he does call?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I'll see what happens.” I gave a joking wiggle of my brows. “Who knows? Maybe he'll be my knight in shining armor.”

  Cora scoffed and took another drink of wine. A deeper one.

  “Babe, I know you're joking, but there is no such thing as a knight in shining armor. The best you can hope for is someone who sees the real you.”

  “Exactly. And waiting for the right guy will help me achieve that goal.”

  Admittedly, the thought of waiting until marriage had started seeming a little far-fetched, even for me. But the idea behind the goal remained the same.

  “The day I meet a man who looks past these...” I pointed to my generous bosom, the bane of my existence all through high school. “We'll talk.”

  Cora laughed. “They are a fantastic pair of tits though, you've got to admit. Hard not to look at.”

  “They're a phenomenal pair of tits, but I've got a whole lot else going on, and I won't be shortchanged because some guy wants to cop a feel.”

  She barked out a laugh.

  My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I leaned over to look at it. It was a Seattle number, but one I didn't recognize.

  “I think this might be him,” I said, eyes wide.

  Cora snickered. “It's pretty late. Think it's a booty call?”

  I slapped her hand away as she reached for my phone, then answered it. “Hazel Hunter speaking.”

  “Hello, Hazel, it's Jack Shaw. We met at the wedding earlier today.”

  “Of course!” I shot Cora a wide-eyed look. “How's it going?”

  There was noise in the background, people talking and laughing. It sounded like he was in a bar.

  “Things are great. I actually wanted to ask you to join me at a party tomorrow. Well, more of a networking event, if you will. Are you free?”

  I should have asked more questions. I should have made it seem like my calendar wasn't pathetically empty. Instead, I immediately said, “Sure. That sounds…fun. What time?”

  I noticed Cora bursting with glee as I gave him my address, and he said he'd pick me up just before nine. He was professional on the phone, which helped put me at ease about going to a random party with a stranger. But the opportunity was way too good to pass up. I couldn't believe that I might be that close to getting out of weddings.

  Cora hit me with a barrage of questions as soon as I hung up. “What did he say? Did he ask you out? Are you running away together?”

  I laughed and threw a pillow at her. “He invited me to a networking event tomorrow. Some fancy guest list thing.”

  “That’s amazing!” Glass now empty, Cora sprang to her feet and made a beeline for the fridge. “Another round.”

  Four

  Sean

  It wouldn’t matter if they put my brother in a rehab center at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro – the paparazzi would always find a way to swarm it like a cloud of locusts.

  Luckily, I'd gotten pretty damn good at avoiding the blood thirsty gossip hounds, and managed to slip through the back door unnoticed while they were distracted by the fancy car I'd hired to pull up out front.

  The center's administrative staff, on the other hand, were not so easy to get around.

  “Sir, you can't be in here,” a woman with thick-framed glasses and a matronly looking dress said. She'd watched me duck in from the door leading out back to the garden, and I could already see her hand reaching for the phone to call security.

  “It's okay.” I raised my palms toward her. “I'm here to see a patient. Guest. Whatever you call them.”

  She narrowed her eyes and picked up the phone.

  I bolted forward. The last thing I needed was to be dragged out of a rehab center in front of a mob of paparazzi. They'd have a field day with a shot like that.

  “Please, listen. My brother's here–”

  “It's okay, Holly. He's here to see me.”

  I turned to see my brother in the doorway, wearing a pair of white linen pants and a white t-shirt. They always tried to make the patients here look like the disciples of some straight-edged cult.

  I tried not to think about the fact that my brother was apparently on first name basis with the rehab staff. Maybe it was just Holly. Then again, from the number of times he'd come here, I doubted she was the only one he knew.

  Apart from his clean cut attire, Dave was looking pretty fucking rough. He had big purple bags under his eyes that almost looked like bruises, and he needed a shave and a haircut. He was two years younger than me, but right now you wouldn't know it. He looked closer to forty than thirty.

  Holly put the phone back on the receiver but gave me a nasty glare all the same. “You need to empty your pockets and you can leave out the front door when you go.”

  I nodded. “Will do. Thanks, Holly.” I showed her I had no drugs hidden anywhere. My pockets were already empty.

  She rolled her eyes and looked back at her computer screen.

  Dave walked forward, pulling me into a hug. I think it was something they taught him at one of his many stints in rehab, cause we'd never been huggers before.

  “I'm glad you could come,” he said.

  He smelled like shit. He could shower all he wanted, but until the drugs were out of his system, that rotten smell would leak out of his pores like poison. I hugged him back though. It was the least I could do for him, given the fact that it was my fault he was here in the first place.

  Dave had supported my dreams since the moment I first told him, stars in my eyes, that I wanted to move out of our shitty, backwater town and into the limelight. Then, when the time came, he followed me to Seattle. After that, he followed me around on tour as my roadie, not even getting paid those first couple of jobs. We shared everything, though. Booze, drugs and women. But the drugs and booze and adrenaline that always slid right off me like water on a duck, dug their nails into him and squeezed. Harder and harder. The drugs squeezed him so hard that he would probably call this place home by now. So while I'd been busy making my star shine brighter, I'd watched his fade and sizzle away.

  The man he was today, the shaking mess of a man in front of me, was my fault. I'd been too late to help him. By the time I tried to intervene, he was too far gone. Cutting him off had just made him angry at me, and even though I still paid his rent and bills, he'd thrown more shit in my face in recent years than he ever had before.

  That was when he was using. When he was sober, he was a different guy.

  He was sober now, even if he was going through withdrawals. I knew he had to be, and not just because rehab would be a hard place to get one's fix. If he wasn't sober, his hug would have looked a lot more like a punch to the face.

  “They gave me that room on the top floor again.” Dave released me and stepped back. He wobbled on his feet. “Wanna come see it?”

  I nodded and followed him silently to the elevator. Only once we were in his room, with its white-washed walls and minimalist furniture, did he start talking again.

  “Tell me how things have been going with you.” Sean flopped onto the bed, putting an arm behind his head as he addressed me. “It's been a long time. Seeing anyone?”

  I exhaled through my teeth. “Of course not. Am I ever when you ask me that question?”

 
He shrugged. “You were dating that Jasmine chick for a while.”

  I recalled my rocker ex-girlfriend, the one I'd spent just as much time fighting as I had fucking.

  “Our relationship was complicated. There weren't any real emotions there. And anyway, we've been broken up for a long time now.”

  Dave scoffed. “Of course there weren't any real emotions.”

  My jaw tightened. “And what's that supposed to mean?”

  I hadn't come here to have my life analyzed by my drug-addled brother, but who was I to stop him from talking about whatever he needed to distract him from the pain?

  “It's hard to feel something for a person you've never met.”

  I frowned, confused. “I met her many times. Most of them naked.”

  “But she never met you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger.

  Man, he must've been pretty fucked up, might have lost more than a few brain cells this last time. “I don't know what you're talking about, Dave.”

  His glassy eyes caught my gaze and held it. “How is anyone supposed to see who you are when you don't even know?”

  Silence lapsed in the space between us. Then I laughed. “Shit, maybe I should have you writing my songs.”

  Dave gave a tense smile, one that told me without words that he wasn't buying my apparent brushing-off of his words. I changed the topic, telling him about the event being hosted at my place tonight.

  “I can't stay much longer,” I said. “Took me forever to find a back way into this place, and I've got to get ready soon.”

  “Sure thing,” he replied. “Thanks for stopping by.” He stretched his arms outward in a gesture to encompass the room. “I'll be here if you need me.”

  Five

  Hazel

  I knew it was the coolest party I’d ever been to before I even walked through the front door. When Jack said it was a networking party, I’d pictured the conference room of some swanky downtown hotel, maybe even a ballroom if it was really fancy. But this place was a literal mansion, huge glass windows spilling light onto the circular drive like liquid gold.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked, hand on the small of my back.

  “It's amazing!” I tipped my head back as we entered the foyer, admiring the vaulted ceiling and the modern chandelier that hung above the floating staircase. “I've never been in a house this big.”

  “Let's get you a drink, then maybe I can show you off a little. Oops, I mean, around. Show you around.”

  I plastered a smile on my face and let him lead the way to the bar, where we both grabbed glasses of champagne. Even if Jack was trying to get in my pants, at least he would introduce me to few people who weren't. I'd been skeptical at first about the viability of this party as a business venture, but I'd never seen so many rich and important looking people in one place.

  “Oh...” Jack said, eyes attaching themselves to a tall brunette beauty at the other side of the room. “That's a client of mine...potential client, actually. I should go talk to her.”

  And just like that, my host was gone. Shit.

  I slipped over to the wall so I could get a better look at the people there. And watch when Jack was finished “networking” his potential client. I wondered if he would be so interested in attracting her business if she wasn't ridiculously good looking. Though I hadn't looked forward to facing down Jack's advances, I was left feeling a little like chopped liver.

  At the far end of the room, I caught sight of a tall, dark haired man mounting the staircase. He looked familiar, and I squinted my eyes to hopefully get a better view.

  Holy shit.

  This room didn't just look like it was filled with rich and important people. It was filled with rich and important people. Exhibit A: the walking pile of sex walking up the stairs, a.k.a. Sean Morris, lead singer of Flagship Inferno.

  My eyes teared up from staring so hard, but I was afraid of blinking in case he disappeared like a mirage. I liked his music, though I'd never gotten into the whole Flagship Inferno vibe. The band was all about partying and having a good time while they were young and famous, and their fans often followed the same kind of rules. Cora loved them, especially the sexy, lead singer with the devil-may-care attitude. She would freak when I told her he was here.

  I watched him ascend the rest of the staircase, disappearing from view. Where was he going? To the bathroom, perhaps? No, I was sure whoever owned this house would have a bathroom on the main floor, if not several.

  After about ten minutes, my date still occupied by his potential client, curiosity got the better of me. If someone caught me upstairs and made a big deal about it, I could just say that the bathroom was full and I was having a lady problem. Nobody questioned lady problems.

  No one even looked in my direction as I crept upstairs, emerging onto a landing that narrowed into a long, dimly lit hallway. The farther I walked, the quieter the noise from downstairs became. But I started hearing other noises coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. I could see a crack of light on the opposite wall and headed that way. It was a little snoopy, but I wanted to see what was going on. And hey, if whoever was in there was doing something private, they would have closed the door, right?

  The door was practically half-open. Inside was a huge, elegantly decorated bedroom. I didn't have much time to take in the furnishings, however, because my eyes immediately tracked to the naked woman on the bed and the equally naked man snorting a line of cocaine off her ass. Not just any man. Sean Morris.

  I stepped back, feeling like a complete idiot. The floorboard gave a pathetic creak under my foot, and Sean's eyes snapped up to my face.

  That's it. I'm out of here.

  I turned on my heel and scurried back to the stairs, which I took two at a time until I reached the main floor. Then I made a beeline for the bar. My first fancy party, and I'd already played the unwitting voyeur to a coke-snorting rock star. Bravo to me.

  At the bar, I ordered an appletini and felt very cosmopolitan. I used the time the bartender took making the drink as an opportunity to scour the room for Jack. I spotted him not too far away, chatting up a different woman than the one he'd originally chased after in the first place. This one was blonde, with hair extensions that could have been seen from space. Before I had the chance to contemplate whether I wanted to return to his side at all, Jack spotted me.

  He waved, said something into the blonde's ear, then started trudging through the crowd toward me. I grabbed my fancy martini from the bar and met him halfway.

  “Where did you get off to?” He winked. “Getting into trouble?”

  “No,” I answered a little too quickly. “I, uh, was just looking for the bathroom. Jeez, this place is like a maze. You wouldn't believe...”

  I trailed off because I noticed that Jack wasn't listening. His attention was elsewhere, those deep blue eyes focused on the form-fitting dress of the redhead who'd just swanned past us.

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I'm going to go get some air.”

  Jack nodded absentmindedly and wandered off.

  How was I supposed to do any networking when the only guy who could introduce me to the right people kept getting distracted by every passing skirt? I supposed that I could go up to people and initiate conversations, but I'd never been good at that. It was no great coincidence that my closest friend was also my only friends.

  Deciding to cut my losses and head home, I started for the door, making determined sips of my appletini as I went. Hey, free booze was free booze. No sense in wasting it. Once outside I’d message an Uber to pick me up.

  My path was intercepted mid-sip. I nearly spat my drink out when I tracked my gaze up from the broad, t-shirt clad chest in front of me to the smoldering ice blue eyes up above. Sean Morris. Again.

  Did he recognize me as the peeping Tom from upstairs? Surely not. He'd only seen me for a second. But if that wasn't the reason why he was blocking my path, what was?

  “Going so soon?” he drawled.

&
nbsp; I gulped. Why did I suddenly feel so small? Obviously, there was the fact that he couldn't have been shorter than six-four, and I only stacked up to five-ten, but there was something more. Something that made my face burn.

  “I'm not much of a party person,” I replied.

  What a lame answer. Cora would throttle me if she could see me right now, talking to a rock god and being totally weird about it.

  “Come upstairs with me, and we'll have our own party,” he replied, his eyes falling to my lips. “Maybe all you need is a more...intimate setting.”

  I blinked, as if I expected the mirage to fade away. But Sean was still standing there a moment later, looking at me with fiery, lusting eyes. Did he have the right person?

  “Uh, thanks but no thanks.” I weaved my way around him, but he put out an arm to stop me.

  “Oh, come on, Snoopy. I saw you looking.” His lips curved into a seductive smile. “Don't pretend like your panties aren't wet just thinking about all the things I could do to you with a cock like mine.”

  Before I'd been a little confused, perhaps a bit miffed. Now I was downright scandalized. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Obviously, he was a rock star, but did that give him the right to go around sleazing on random girls at parties who were clearly uninterested?

  “My panties are none of your goddamn business,” I growled. Then, in a wave of fury, I tossed the rest of my drink in his face. I'd seen it done in movies and on TV dozens of times and always thought it looked like a fun thing to do.

  It was.

  In fact, I wished I had two drinks so I could do it again.

  Instead, I made a speedy exit so I wouldn't have to face whatever repercussions that would come from tossing a drink in the face of a real-life rock star. Angry groupies? A violent meltdown? A head-splitting guitar solo? Who knew. Certainly not me, who was halfway down the driveway before I realized I was still clutching the martini glass.

  I tossed it into the bushes in a huff. I should have never come to this damn party in the first place. I hadn't made any progress professionally. Instead, I'd reaffirmed my belief that men were pigs and I'd spend the rest of my days alone, listening to Bonnie Tyler and getting steadily more bitter. An eternal virgin.