I shake her off. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”
Jacob blinks and sways on his feet. “Dude, beers with Andrew Lane and Pamela Scott flashed her pussy at us. We’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Or hell,” Mallory mutters.
Chapter Thirteen
Mallory
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Chaser asks as we head back to our place to get his bike.
Okay, probably isn’t the right word, but I don’t want to ruin such an exciting moment for Chaser. “It isn’t every day you’re invited over to one of your idol’s houses.”
“Idol might be a stretch.”
Sure.
“Let me run upstairs and change.”
He follows me but seems jittery. “Are you sure you want to go over there?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
It takes almost an hour to get to Andrew’s house in Hollywood Hills. The driveway’s packed, and music permeates everything on the quiet little street.
“I bet the neighbors love him,” I whisper.
Chaser takes my hand and squeezes. “We won’t stay long.”
“I’m fine.” I glance at the house. “Just don’t leave me alone with—”
“I won’t.”
Andrew’s living room is set up like a stage. That’s the only way to describe the scene. He has two full drum kits, a white baby grand piano, mic stands, a keyboard, and a row of guitars. Some sort of music equipment strewn in every corner of the room. Gold albums and lots of portraits of naked women decorate the walls.
Another black-haired, shirtless rocker is busy hammering out notes on his guitar but pauses to nod at us when we walk inside.
Andrew stops bashing his drums and stands. Commanding as a king, he points his drumsticks at us and yells, “Chaser Adams meet Vinnie Price. Vinnie, that’s Chaser and his chick.”
Chaser’s jaw twitches.
Vinnie holds out his hand. “Cool to finally meet you.” He glances my way.
Chaser nudges me. “This is my girlfriend, Mallory.”
“‘Candy Jar’ girl. Right. Hey, Mallory.” Vinnie sort of half-waves at me instead of shaking my hand, which suits me fine. “I hope you don’t get too bored. Pam headed straight upstairs when I arrived.” He leans in and adds in a lower voice. “She hates our all-night jam sessions.”
“Nah, I got her this huge fucking gas-powered vibrator. She’s busy,” Andrew yells. “It’s cool.”
I blink and stare at one of the few blank spaces on the wall, wishing I could erase that information from my brain.
“Asshole!” A black, patent leather boot flies out of the stairwell, thunking against Andrew’s head. He laughs and tosses it over his shoulder.
Even in flannel pants, a tight T-shirt, and no makeup, Pamela is disgustingly beautiful. She waves her perfectly manicured middle finger in Andrew’s direction. “He’s kidding.”
“Help yourself!” Andrew yells, pointing a drumstick toward the coffee table.
My gaze follows the direction of his sticks to five Tupperware containers set out on the table. The lid of the middle container is off, and I’m pretty sure that’s a sandbox worth of cocaine I’m staring at. In my lifetime, I’ve seen baggies, I’ve seen bricks, I’ve seen vials of the white powder, but I have never seen anyone store it in Tupperware.
I mean, I guess if you’re storing it in such large quantities, freshness is a concern.
Pamela drops down on the floor cross-legged and carefully chops up a few lines. When she’s finished, she hands me a silver straw.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Andrew races over, scoops the straw out of Pamela’s hand and hoovers up everything she just laid out.
Well, that explains so much.
“Help yourself,” Vinnie says to Chaser, waving his arm at a row of guitars in stands against the wall. “We weren’t sure if you’d bring your own.”
“First three are mine!” Andrew calls over his shoulder. “Use whatever you want.”
Pamela leans into her boyfriend, and they spend a few minutes licking each other before she snorts a few lines of her own.
I shift my gaze to Chaser, but he seems to miss that my eyes are screaming get me away from these crazy people and flashes me a thumbs up.
Vinnie plays a few notes I recognize as one of Kickstart’s songs. “‘Hammer to the Heart’ is a killer riff,” he shouts to Chaser.
Chaser watches Vinnie with round eyes and slack jaw, telegraphing how shocked he is that Vinnie knows any of the notes to one of his songs.
Vinnie plays it a few times, stumbling over the same section of notes. Finally, he stops. “Tricky fucker, though.”
“Uh.” Chaser hefts one of the guitars in his arms and demonstrates. “Yeah, there’s a skip from D while still hitting the B string.”
“Oh, fuuuck. Very fucking cool, bro.” Vinnie slaps Chaser’s shoulder and tries the riff again on his guitar.
Andrew races back to his drums and joins in.
“Jesus H. Christ, they can be at this until eight in the morning.” Pamela rolls her eyes.
“It’s fun watching them.” As weird as the night continues to be, I can only imagine how exciting it must be for Chaser to play with one of his favorite bands.