Lead (Stage Dive 3)

My date gave me his crooked smile. Damn, he was cute. The problem with spending quality time with the godlike Stage Dive boys was, you lost touch with normality. They were the ideal that  p**n y dreams were made of. Right here beside me, however, Dean Jennings was all that and then some. Brown hair fell to his shoulders and a silver ring pierced his lip, green eyes watched me with faint humor.

“I’ve worked with Jimmy on and off for the past six years,” he said. “I know he can be a handful, so if you need to get back to him we can do this another night.”

“That’s good of you, but he’s fine. He wanted me out of the house, so he’s probably in need of some space.”

Dean nodded. “I think it’s great the way he’s gotten clean and everything.”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t have been easy.”

“No.”

He picked at the label on his bottle of beer. Around us, the cool people partied in the underground dive bar. It was in Chinatown, a band and hangers-on favorite.

Maybe this bar was also the one Jimmy had referred to as his pick, though it wasn’t the kind of place I could imagine anyone wearing a suit. Some of the women here were definite eye-catchers. There was a jukebox belting out indie classics, a couple of pinball machines and a pool table. The place had a nice, dingy, sticky-floored vibe and they also did awesome chili fries. I popped one into my mouth and my taste buds wept with gratitude. Either that or I was drooling, they were just that good.

“Sorry. Guess you can’t really talk about him,” said Dean, summoning me back to the present once more.

I half covered my mouth with my hand. “No, not really.”

“There’s stuff in my contract about discussing them too, but since you’re one of the in crowd…”

“It’s a strange world we live in, isn’t it? Being on the fringes of famous people’s lives.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it is. Some of the stuff I’ve seen over the years, back when all the guys were single and partying every night, it was pretty insane.”

“Groupies and all that sleazy stuff?”

“All of it.” He took another swig of beer.

Well, now this interested me. I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table of the booth we were sharing. “You must tell me all. Leave out no details.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “They’d kill me.”

“If you’re not willing to sacrifice yourself to sate my curiosity, what use are you?”

He shook his head, eyes shining. Such a pretty man, not drop-dead gorgeous like Jimmy, but then, who was? I myself was no top model and yet Dean shuffled a little closer, his warm smile never fading. Now and then, his gaze dropped to the mounds of my br**sts. I could forgive him that, in fact, I even kind of liked it. To be appreciated as an actual female was a fine sensation, one I hadn’t had in quite this way for a while.

“I can tell you about the time he invited a couple of girls on stage in Rome about five years back. That one’s pretty much public knowledge anyway,” he said.

I gasped in true shock horror fashion. Gossip was the worst. “I remember hearing rumors about that.”

“Jimmy’d been drinking heavily, they all did back then. At first it was cool, the girls were just hanging off him while he performed. But then during Dave’s guitar solo the three of them start making out. One of the girl’s gets her hand down Jimmy’s pants while the other’s undoing his belt buckle and going for the zipper. Jim’s laughing his ass off, doesn’t care. Security went on stage and stopped them, but the cops shut the show down due to indecent exposure. Fined him a shitload of money over it.”

“Wow.”

“Lucky no one got a clear picture.”

“Very.”

Dean slowly shook his head, admiration shining in his eyes. “Jimmy was one hell of a guy back in the day.”

I frowned. “He was out of control, hurting himself.”

“Yeah. That too.”

“I think I prefer the man he is today.”

“Of course,” Dean said quickly. “Absolutely.”

“You were never tempted to pick up a guitar or some other instrument and get out on stage yourself?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I’m no Jimmy Ferris. Crowds scare the crap out of me. All those people staring at you, gives me the chills.” He mock-shivered in demonstration.

I laughed. “No, it doesn’t really appeal to me either.”

“Yeah. But those guys, they’re made for it. Especially Jim. The man’s a living legend.”

I nodded in agreement. Then the most shitty, horrible thought descended upon me and I couldn’t shake it. “Oh god, he isn’t paying you to take me out tonight, is he?”

“What? Fuck no, of course not.” Dean reared back. “Why would you even think that?”

My forehead met the table, dark hair falling around me in a curtain to hide my idiocy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’d prostitute yourself for my benefit.”

“Lena?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Lena, look at me.”

A hand gently applied pressure beneath my chin, encouraging me to rise. His eyes were so wonderfully green you almost had to wonder if they were contacts. Not that it mattered, I was just grateful they weren’t ice blue. Also Dean’s face was wider than Jimmy’s, less sculpted. He wasn’t as tall, but he was looking at me as if he liked what he saw, like I met his criteria, whatever that might be. No disdain, no impatience. It was refreshing.

“Hey,” I murmured. “So, let’s just forget that I asked that.”

Ever so carefully, he tucked my hair back behind my ears, just like Jimmy had earlier. The contact was surprising, but I held still, letting Dean get closer, curious as to where this might go.

“I like to embarrass myself horribly now and then,” I said. “It keeps life interesting.”

“Right, I’ll bear that in mind.” He smiled. “I think what we have here is an opportunity to have some fun. So, with that in mind, you feel like going dancing with me, Miss Morrissey?”

My smile might have been slow, but it was wholly genuine. “I’d like that.”

# # #

Dean walked me to my car close to midnight. By “my car,” I meant Jimmy’s, of course. Dean took one long look at the shiny overpriced vehicle and said a whole lot of nothing.

”Jimmy insisted I take it,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “He worries about me driving in the rain. I tried to say no, but….”