Finally, with the equipment ready to go, I grab the mic and we start jamming. Except, when we get to our one and only love ballad in our set, I substitute “Gisele” in for “Jamie,” the original chick I wrote the song for … who I later discovered fucking a technician backstage during a concert. I’ve hated this song ever since ‘cause damn is it hard to be romantic about a chick you despise, but tonight? I suddenly found it real easy to let the words roll off my tongue. It's hard to tell in the darkness of the bar, but I think I can detect a blush on Gisele's cheeks, which of course just means that I belt the words out even louder, staring straight at her while I do it.
Oh yeah, she’s blushing hardcore right now. All of her friends are jabbing her in the ribs and she’s just sitting there with a stupidly happy grin on her face and I’m grinning back and I swear to God, we’re the only two people in that room.
Okay, so the fire marshal probably wouldn’t agree with that assessment, but we’re the only two people in the room who matter.
Finally, the long song ends and after two more fast-paced dance songs, our set is done. We wrap up, but I don’t head out the back with the rest of my band. People are drifting out of the bar and back into the streets, so there’s a little more elbow room in the place, which is nice for those of us who like to breathe along with getting drunk.
I slip into the bathroom for a minute, and check my phone. Dammit, it’s almost one in the morning. I have to take my pill now; I can’t push it any further than I already have. With a sigh, I pop one back. Oh the irony; if a reporter caught me popping pills in the bathroom, no doubt that picture would be on the front page of every gossip rag in the country, below a screaming headline about an out-of-control rock star.
I wait for a minute longer to let the fervor in the main bar die down, and then head back out … toward Gisele. I make my way through the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with anyone or draw attention to myself in any way. The best camouflage is to just pretend that you belong there. Most people don’t look twice.
I pop up next to her elbow. “Hey, Gisele,” I whisper in her very yummy-looking ear.
“Oh my God!” she yells, spinning in a circle and spilling her drink in the process. Hmmm … is that a bourbon? Surely Gisele doesn’t drink bourbon. No one drinks bourbon, other than me. Well, I used to.
God, that smells good. I hope my pill kicks in soon because my willpower is starting to wane.
“Hi,” I say, grinning. She’s panting, her hand over her magnificent chest, and then she starts laughing.
“How are you here and not mobbed by a bazillion fans?” she asks once she stops laughing, looking around the crowd milling about. No one seems to be paying the slightest bit of attention to me.
I just shrug. “No one expects me to come out here in the crowd. For some reason, when you’re a celebrity, everyone thinks that you no longer want to just hang out with people and chill. They expect me to run out the back door as soon as the set is over.”
“The rest of your band did,” she points out, logically.
“Yeah, that’s true,” I admit cheerfully. “Which just made it even easier for me to come hang out with you. No one was expecting it.”
She looks at me skeptically and I can tell she’s trying to do the math in her head—am I really interested in her?
Yeah. I am. I don’t want to freak her out though.
I really, really wish I could remember what happened the other day. That tantalizing question plays around the edges of my mind. Did we fuck? Did she run her gorgeous mouth up and down my cock? Did I pull her hair as I fucked her from behind?
I don’t know.
And that is slowly driving me insane.
“Hold on, you’re in a bar,” Gisele says, looking at me, wide-eyed with fear. “Aren’t you tempted to drink? Should we leave? I don’t want you to fall off the wagon just because of me!”
I shrug. “With the pills, it’s not hard to keep it under control. I can tell you’re drinking a bourbon—nice choice by the way—and so yeah, the urge is there, but I’m fine. I can deal with a little temptat—”
131
Gisele
“It’s kinda creepy,” Kathy says, staring at him. He grins vacantly back at her.
“Don’t be like that,” he says cajolingly. “I can’t help staring at cute girls.”
Kathy giggles, and my hackles on the back of my neck rise. Hold on, why is he flirting with my best friend? He should be flirting with me!
I grab his arm possessively. “You looked really good up there on stage tonight,” I say. Which is the truth, but I’ll admit it – I am telling him because I want him paying attention to me.
He looks up at me with soulful eyes and whispers, “You look good every night.” I try not to roll my eyes. It’s a pretty OTT thing to say and I know that he doesn’t mean it, his drugged-up mind is saying it, but a tiny part of me gets a little shiver of delight at his words.
I didn’t realize I was such a sucker for cheesy lines until now. Or maybe it’s just cheesy lines being said by Stone, I don’t know.
“Well, we should get going,” Ashley says loudly, pulling on Kathy’s arm, yanking her into an upright position. “Good to meet you, Stone.” She drags Kathy off over Kathy’s protestations, and I silently thank Ashley for that. I’ll have to do something amazing for her as a thank-you gift later.