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That doesn’t mean they didn’t bring strays home from the club.
I’d left the pageant princess standing on the patio alone last night with a shocked look on her face. I don’t know why I followed her out there in the first place. It was a bad idea, just like Zane had predicted.
At least he didn’t hit me with “I told you so” when I rolled back up to the VIP lounge. That didn’t stop him from busting my balls, though. It took the patience of a saint to deal with his constant toasts to the death of my dick while simultaneously keeping Vivian from trying to revive it with CPR.
I could’ve had my ex on a silver platter if I’d wanted her. But I’ve been there, done that, rode the psycho-coaster, and exited the park. Vivian is just a reminder of my post-Lam self-destructive apocalypse.
Half of me wants to throttle Tanna for inviting her at all.
My fingers tense at the memory, and the pick snaps again. The bite of the strings on my bare fingertips give me something to focus on instead of women. One who wouldn’t keep her hands off me, and one who wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire.
From the minute I saw her, all I’ve been able to think about is feeling those sinful curves in my hands. However, I wasn’t prepared for the smart mouth attached to the hot body.
Warmth rushes my skin just thinking of her.
Immediately thankful for the guitar in my lap, I shift uncomfortably as my cock hardens. It’s starting to become a common occurrence with this girl.
I think of that mischievous gleam she had in her eye as she shot me down. Along with her quick wit, that did more for me than the skimpy outfit she wore. If she’d been any other girl, I would’ve waited for the next piece of ass to walk by—one that wasn’t such a hard sell.
Chasing some girl wasn’t in my master plan.
I grip the neck of the beer bottle until my fingers turn white. Hitching my elbow back, I pitch it as hard as I can off the deck. Amber glass flies through the air, landing with a thud on the grass below.
“Don’t quit your day job, fucker.”
I cut my eyes to the left, watching as Zane slides the glass doors closed behind him. His bare feet kick a graveyard of beer bottles out of his way as he rakes his tattooed hands over his eyes.
“Pussy says what?”
“You heard me,” he says, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. “Stick with the frontman gig, Jag. You can’t pitch for shit, and the Mets aren’t looking for a ball girl.”
“Suck it, Tierney.”
Taking in his disheveled appearance, I sigh in frustration. Damn, there’s a girl in the house.
My morning just got shittier.
“No thanks. Heidi already took care of that.” He holds up two fingers. “Twice.” His eat shit grin makes me want to slap it the off his face.
“At least you know her name this time,” I snap, looking away.
Zane tilts his head and pauses, deep in thought. “I think her name is Heidi. It could be Heather or Holly.”
His detachment amazes me. “Do you even ask their names before you fuck them? What if they come back with a little Zane?”
“Names complicate things, brother. And don’t say that shit out loud.” He points a finger at me in warning. “No chance of a fuck up when you wrap up. Remember that, Jag. It’ll save your life.” Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he flops down on the chaise lounge beside me. His long blond beard rests on his chest as he scans messages on his phone.
I came out here to be alone, but if anyone has to step into my hell, it might as well be Zane. He’s seen me at my worst.
“Hey, douchebag, what’s with the brew at seven in the morning?” He shifts his gaze to the field where I chucked the beer bottle.
“I didn’t care to hear you getting laid.”
His laugh dissipates into a cough. “Brother, you must be dreaming of bangin’ that country ass because that girl got ridden hard in a stall at the club and dropped off by the curb. You didn’t hear shit. No candy in the cave.”
That gets my attention. “You didn’t bring a girl home?”
“Dude, I’m hardcore but that’s rookie rules, Jagger.” Zane rolls his eyes. “You don’t shit where you sleep.”
