When Chaser said, “around nine,” he meant it.
My pink and aqua Swatch says it’s almost ten before the club lights dim.
The room’s full, and as soon as the lights go down, people push and shove their way to the front. The crowd’s feverish excitement to see Chaser’s band intrigues me.
This is the band I stood around with all day and got hosed down by yesterday, right?
“These guys are so hot,” Audrey yells in my ear, as a steady thump from one of the drums fills the air.
“You’ve seen them before?”
“A few times. Big party band. Their after parties are supposed to be wild.”
Huh.
This shouldn’t surprise me. Underneath Chaser’s sweet demeanor, I sensed an edge of something wild and untamed.
As soon as he enters my mind, he takes the stage. Women scream at the top of their lungs, shoving their competition out of the way in a savage effort to secure a spot in Chaser’s direct line of sight.
He leans over, smiling and talking to a few of the girls. An instant stab of hot green jealousy pokes me. Am I one of many he invited here tonight?
Darkness falls, intensifying the screams and whistles from the crowd.
Rough, uneven notes blast through the small club, shaking the floor.
The whole song kicks in. A burst of white, fizzy sparks shoot straight up in the air. The sudden blast tears a scream out of my throat. Feeling silly, I glance around, but no one heard me over the roar of the crowd or the painful grind of the music.
Audrey giggles in my ear. “Aren’t they amazing?!”
I can’t answer. I’m too mesmerized watching Chaser play. He seems to be in a completely different place than the rest of us. Crowd, girls, even his bandmates, I think, are forgotten as he plays. Between songs, he opens his eyes and searches the crowd.
“Let’s move closer up front,” Audrey says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the wall of people before I can answer her.
Where there seems to be no space to move, she creates an opening. Pushing and sliding her body between other bodies. When we finally come to a stop, I look up. Chaser’s handsome face is directly above us. Is it my imagination, or is the softer smile curving his lips different from the flirty one he flashed at the gaggle of girls earlier?
“You made it,” he mouths.
I nod and smile like an idiot, and he doesn’t drop his gaze. Our eyes lock together as his fingers fly over the guitar. Now I understand how easy it is for everything in the room to disappear when caught up in the music. I can’t decipher the lyrics the singer screams into the microphone, and I have no idea what the song’s about. It’s beautiful, though.
During a lull, the singer walks off stage. Chaser winks at me and turns his back to the crowd. The other band members have stopped playing. It’s just Chaser up there all alone.
The crowd hushes.
Someone screams.
Chaser begins to play. A musical journey that’s loud, up and down, and intricate all at the same time makes all the guys in the crowd roar and run their fingers through the air as if they’re playing right along with him.
“He always turns his back on the crowd when he solos,” Audrey shouts against my ear. “But he’s a guitar hero and he’s got a nice ass, so it’s cool.”
Yes, he does. I don’t like her noticing it.
My eyes are glued to his bare back, mesmerized by the rhythmic shift and dance of his muscles. His inked skin glistens with sweat, and I’m overcome with the urge to lick each bead trailing down his back.
What’s happening to me?
I’ve never had a desire to lick sweat off a man before.
Eventually, Chaser’s solo fades out, and the room is plunged into darkness once more.
People scream and chant for the band to take the stage again, but the lights blink on, signaling the show is over.
Audrey bounces up and down on her toes. Even with her dark blonde, crimped hair plastered to her sweaty forehead, she’s easily the prettiest girl in the room. Guys move in on her like sharks.
A pair of arms wrap around my waist, gently squeezing. My mouth opens to scream until I recognize the tattoos on the thick forearms holding me in place.
“What did you think?” He says the words against my hair, and they’re innocent enough, but a zing of pleasure fires through me. I twist, so I can see him. He’s wearing a dry shirt and a ball cap low on his forehead.
I raise an eyebrow at the hat. “If I don’t, we’ll never get out of here,” he explains.
“Oh. You want to leave?”
“We can stay for the next band if you want.” He flashes a quick, cocky smile. “But they’re not as good.”
“Chaser Adams! What are you doing with your arms around my girl!?” Audrey shouts as she jumps up and down next to us. I pull back, but Chaser tightens his hold, blocking my escape.
“How you been, Audrey?” His jaw ticks as he spits out each word in a tight voice.
“Good!” she answers with a little too much familiarity for my taste.
They stare at each other in a way that suggests they’ve spent time in each other’s orbit. My heart flutters, and my stomach tilts. I wave my hand in Audrey’s direction. “Audrey’s my neighbor. She unofficially adopted me the day I moved in.”
Chaser’s mouth settles into a grim line and he nods. “That was nice of her.” But the way he says it makes it clear he thinks anything but.
What’s their deal?
“I’m fine if you want to go,” Audrey says to me.
“Are you sure?” I hate leaving her here, but I don’t think Chaser plans on unwrapping himself from around me anytime soon.
“Yes, honey,” she says in the patient, big sister tone she uses on me frequently. “I survived the strip on my own long before you showed up.”
Chaser grunts, but doesn’t say anything.
I give Audrey a quick hug and allow Chaser to drag me backstage.
The band’s celebrating. Except for the lines of cocaine everyone seems to be inhaling, it’s a scene of debauchery unlike anything I’ve seen before. Drugs were common among my father’s associates. Topless, gyrating women and public sexual acts were not.
Nowhere seems safe for my eyes, so I bury my face against his shirt, inhaling his smoky leather and spices scent.
“You okay, princess?” he asks, brushing my hair off my forehead.
I must look like an idiot. What kind of twenty-year-old is embarrassed by this sort of behavior today? “I’m a little sleepy.”
He jerks his head toward a man at the back of the room surveying the crowd. “You want a bump? I can hook you up.”
The offer doesn’t faze, offend, or shock me. I’ve had enough cocaine shoved in my face since I arrived in Hollywood to keep an elephant high for a month. But it’s not something that’s ever interested me. “No. Thank you.”
He focuses on me one hundred percent and the attention unnerves me. “Let’s go.”
Slipping two fingers in his mouth, he whistles and signals to the singer that we’re leaving. His warm hand wraps around mine, and he pulls me outside.
“Where’s your guitar?” I ask.
“Van. We got a kid who watches all that stuff.”
“Oh.”
We don’t speak, but my mouth turns up when we stop at his bike. “You rode here by yourself.”