GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance)

Midnight had laughed when Jason and I had come to his office with our demo.

“What do two rich white boys know about rhythm and blues?”

“Music isn’t a color,” I’d told him.

“Shit. Music is a color, baby, and it’s green. Don’t you ever forget that.” Midnight laughed again and picked up our demo. “I’ll listen and if I see green, then we’ll be cool in the gang.”

Ten years and three hundred million dollars later, Midnight was eager to make more money. “You need to bring your ass back to LA and bring that fine ass Simone with you.”

My heart skipped a beat. I cleared my throat. “She’s fine?”

Midnight ignored me and continued his rant about my new state. “I didn’t even know that fucking Utah existed until I went to high school and had to take a test on it. Before, it was just one of those boring-ass states between Cali and New York.”

“It’s peaceful out here and you didn’t answer the question. Is she beautiful?”

“Look. You’ll be fine with her around. I met her twice when she was with her other band. I almost signed them, but the leader was a jerkoff. I think they were dating at the time.”

“What was the band’s name?”

“Can’t remember. One-hit wonders. The name was something stupid. Didn’t know she had talent at the time.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “But is she beautiful?”

“You haven’t seen her?”

“No.”

“What the fuck is going on with you, Gio? There’s no internet in Utah?”

“I’m just in a weird space. I barely go online.”

“She’s a beauty. Mocha skin. Big pretty brown eyes. Long curly hair and hips that would probably make you spend a good million on her. Too much ass for you, though.” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t know what to do with all that ass. And sisters won’t help you out when you get back there. You better know what you are doing, or they will clown you.”

“Okay. I get the picture.”

“And it’s all hers too. Ass, hair, all of it.” When Midnight bragged about someone’s looks and talent, it was worth noting. He had over the top standards, loved his women plastic and structured like stiff Barbie dolls. But he always picked out the stars before anyone knew they would become one.

Fuck. She’s beautiful.

Hunger rose in my chest.

Midnight continued, “She should’ve been the leader of the band but again, the guy in charge was a jerk off. I had no time for it, so I didn’t sign them. But I’m glad she remained dedicated to her music. These tracks are fire.”

I sighed.

“Just have her come up,” he said.

I frowned.

“I bet she would be hard to fuck anyway. Ru is her manager. He’s a slave driver, extra possessive of his artists, and only picks the ones that keep their heads in their music and nothing else.”

“I’m going to think about it.”

“Don’t think too hard. You’re killing me and making the GioKnights wait forever. The four-year anniversary for Cruel Heart is in two weeks, and you’re already trending on Twitter and Facebook.”

“Great. Thanks for that.” I frowned. “That definitely doesn’t stress me out even more.”

“I’m just saying. The world is waiting. Stop tripping over your own dick and take a step out on faith. Fly her up. Do the album. And do not become tempted by the booty because it’s too much ass for you.”

“I’m getting there with having her come up.”

“Consider getting there sooner, baby.”

“All right. All right.”

We hung up and more emotions battled through me—lust for Simone and excitement to make new music, fear of being distracted by her, and anger for not having her at my house already.

I checked my computer. Simone’s email sat in my inbox. I pressed on it and delivered the tracks to my phone. Once they downloaded, I plugged in my headphones, left the studio, and went into my secret world that not many knew about.

Cool air rose on the third level of my house. I’d knocked down all the walls and created this massive, little model train world that expanded thirty feet. I entered and shut on the lights, illuminating the tiny world I’d been building the whole year.

When Jason died, we were all shocked to discover he’d had a detailed will as if he’d known he would go before thirty. Meanwhile, Jason had left me all his money—around twenty-six million. His parents tried to fight the decision but lost. And because Jason knew me so well, he’d written two guidelines with the spending. The first was that I couldn’t donate any more than fifty percent of his money to charities.

You knew I would’ve given it all away. Didn’t you, Jason?

With half of his money, I’d started a foundation for people struggling with drug and alcohol addiction. Over a hundred facilities were being built for those who couldn’t afford treatment centers and counselors. They also assisted the family members that tended to be victims of their loved one’s drug abuse with housing, job assistance, and food for their kids.