“That disgusting. What are you doing here?”
“Looked like a good place to sleep,” he said.
Nash climbed to his feet, stretching his neck.
I didn’t get how they did it. How they could play for hours on a stage then get destroyed with booze and drugs - and women - and then sleep it off so easily.
Nash ran a hand through his hair and it was instant sex pouring from him.
Fucking delicious and perfect as always.
He lifted his arms over his head to stretch some more and his shirt pulled up.
The V cut down into his jeans seemed totally unnecessary and unfair.
“I’m going to get some coffee before we leave,” I said.
I made it two steps and Nash had his hand on my stomach, stopping me.
Without looking at me, he said, “I don’t like you crying, babe.”
“Oh?”
“Someone broke your heart,” he said.
“None of your business, Nash.”
“It was the boyfriend you mentioned before. Someone serious. Someone you were with for a long time. And it went to shit. And you listened to my song to get through it.”
I karate chopped my arm to his arm to knock his hand away.
I walked down the hallway and wiped the corner of my right eye.
Fuck Dillion.
Fuck Nash.
Better yet…
Fuck all men.
9
NASH
It was the last show before heading home.
That was the word they all used but I wasn’t sure what that meant anymore. The city was home, sure, but the house I had was just a house. Hell, there were people in the house more than me. People paid to take care of the palace on the hill overlooking a fucking rock star dream.
The road served me better.
I didn’t get into too much trouble on the road.
There were some moments that got the best of me but usually it was when we were home. If I wasn’t in the studio or on stage then all bets were off.
Even women couldn’t keep me down.
Or maybe one could…
I took my earpiece out and waved to the crowd, amazed that I was thinking these thoughts while twenty thousand people screamed because my band and I just played an amazing fucking show.
We kept the setlist the same with the exception of Left Away. I took that out at the last second when I saw Liv arrive at the show. Wearing black jeans with a little rip on the right thigh. An ash gray t-shirt that had nothing on it which made it fucking impossible to not watch her chest dance a silent song that sung loud and fucking clear to my cock.
I pictured her crying at the show.
She didn’t know I saw her. She didn’t know that I kept a close eye on her from the corner of my eye most of the show.
Something about that song really got to her.
Instead of playing that, we did a stripped down acoustic version of You Only Cry. With no soundcheck on it. No practice either. The five of us were on stage with our guitars and I leaned toward Jay and told him what we were going to do.
It took a real band to make that kind of change. And it took real musicians to pull it off flawlessly like the guys did. They were my brothers and most of the time took the ride with me, no matter where we went.
We stood on stage and gave our last goodbyes to the fans and to the Line Whores with us. Security then helped them off the stage. With the exception of a few that Jay and Dex picked out for themselves.
I walked off the stage and went to the right to find Liv.
Jimmy was right behind me, asking what I needed for my room.
I ignored him.
Liv was walking toward me and didn’t realize I was there at first.
When she saw me, she stopped. “What? Nothing worth fucking tonight?”
All I had to do was grin for her face to turn bright red.
“I walked into that one,” she said.
She breezed by me and I took a deep breath, thinking about her body.
My finger hooking that towel off her… the way she quickly turned.
But, ah, babe, your favorite rock star loves a nice ass as much as a nice set of tits.
And fucking hell did Liv have a nice ass on her. The kind with enough to grip, pull and push with…
I spun around and saw her on her phone, heading for the doors.
“What am I doing here, Nash?” Jimmy asked.
I looked down at his hand full of a white powdered bad idea.
“Last night on the road, Jimmy,” I said. “Go get lost until morning. Tell Toby you can have my room. Anything in there is yours.”
I walked away, skipping my usual hallway routine.
I even skipped the backstage party.
Tonight, there were two stripper poles and a disco ball that changed colors.
And tonight, we demanded thirty-two inflatable unicorns floats.
Just for the fuck of it.
I kicked open the back door to the arena and looked around for a ride.
We usually just took the bus to the hotel.
Bill stood outside the door, smoking a cigarette, scrolling on his phone.
“Porn?” I asked.
“Nah, some game,” he said.
“I need a lift to the hotel,” I said.
Bill tucked his phone into his pocket and flicked his cigarette away. “Consider it done.”
I scanned the keycard and the lock opened.
Fuck invasion of privacy.
Liv was on my tour and this was part of it.
I walked through the hotel room in the same clothes I had worn on stage.
“Where are you?” I called out.
My eye looked to the messy bed. The sheets pulled back, pillows indented with Liv’s head and hair. Clothes tossed around.
I curled my lip.
“Nash?”
I looked over my shoulder and Liv was coming out of the bathroom, a hand towel wiping her face.
“You’re… what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be deep in some woman who you don’t even know her name?”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me who broke your heart, babe.”
“What?” Liv asked. “The coke snorting, whiskey sipping, panty collecting rock star is worried about some guy who hurt me?”
“Not some guy,” I said. “He was the guy.”
“Why does it matter?”
“You used my song for him.”
“Does that bother you?”
I slowly turned and stepped toward her.
The gray shirt and black pants were worse for me than all the coke and whiskey in the world.
“Better yet, why does that bother you?” she asked.
I had officially stepped out of my own element.
These precious hours after a show were saved for strippers and pussy.
Not this shit.
Yet I couldn’t help myself.
“I changed the setlist for you,” I said. “Now I need to know why I did that.”
Liv slowly shook her head. “Okay. Fine. Dillon.”
“Dillon?”
“Yeah.”
“That was his name?”
“Yeah. Dillon Raegon.”
“And?”
“And what, Nash?”
“How old?”
“Are you going to tell me about your first love?”
“I’ve never had one yet,” I said. “And this guy was your first love. He popped your cherry, huh?”