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He's wearing tight jogger shorts that probably double as swim trunks. His paper-thin white tank top clings to his muscular frame. His hair wild, untamed, just like his personality. It stretches past his ears and tickles the top of his shoulders. His dark sunglasses sit on the top of his head, and he's sporting a week-old beard.
He truly is sex on a stick.
It takes a minute for me to find Adam, but I do. He's the hidden treasure buried deep in the cave, totally worth the extra effort.
Adam has his back pressed against the side of a building, attempting to blend into the scenery. While his brother is dressed for the beach, Adam has gone for comfort. A simple navy t-shirt, tan khaki shorts, and boat shoes. His understated style is a perfect complement to his calm personality. He's easy on the eyes, dark curly hair, strong jawline, and the most adorable ocean-blue eyes. His face is military approved, clean shaven. Most women make the mistake of looking right past him—,their loss. I got the pleasure of spending a few hours in a studio with him and can testify he's deceptively handsome.
Cheers shoot up from the crowd around Laredo. He takes a quick bow and then opens his arms like a conquering hero expecting roses to be tossed at his feet. I don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. An awkward giggle escapes from one of the women before he pulls her into a tight hug. He whispers something into her ear, which elicits more laughter. One of the other older, wiser women grabs the girl by the hand and pulls her away. His words carried by a warm ocean breeze, "I'm here all week."
Emily and I are ten yards from him, close enough for me to hear Laredo's last plea to the woman.
"And that's why you're here." I wave a hand toward Laredo and remind Emily why I've asked her to tag along. "He's trouble with a capital T, and I'll need your help to keep me on task. He's going to try to get under my skin and my skirt, and I don't have time for either. I'm here for the music."
Emily knows my history with bad boys. "Doesn't look like you have anything to worry about. It looks like he has a hookup already."
I laugh. I may not have spent much time with Laredo, but his reputation precedes him. And the stories of his extracurricular activities right here at Seaside last year are legendary. "That never stopped him before. Last year, he missed the curtain for his band's performance because he was hooking up with some rando. He left his sister and brother on stage by themselves. They had to enlist the audience to call his name out to find him."
"A bad boy, huh?" Emily says it like it's not a bad thing.
"He's trouble."
Laredo strums a new tune and swings from side to side in search of his next victim. Our timing is unfortunate because he spots us. He immediately shifts the song. Three chords are all it takes to remind me he's going to be as much of a handful as I recall. He jumps right to the chorus of the Pat Benatar classic Heartbreaker. There's not a subtle bone in that man's body.
We stop two feet in front of him, and I reach into the back pocket of my jean shorts to pull out a few loose coins. I toss them at his feet, blow him an air kiss, and step around him. "Laredo, this is my good friend, Emily. Hands off." He lowers his chin to his chest with a polite nod and a sexy smirk on his face and continues playing.
I step around him toward Adam, who pushes off the wall and approaches. I sprint the final two feet to him and wrap him in a tight hug. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for coming all this way on short notice. It's great to see you again." I'm not known for being a warm person, according to my press. Yet, after experiencing just a few seconds of Laredo, I've come to appreciate the calm and safety of Adam more.
"I still can't believe you reached out," Adam says in typical fashion. "You could have the pick of any guitarist in the world, and you choose Laredo." I press up on my toes and place a warm kiss on his smooth face. I'm shocked that my initial instinct is to linger. "I'll let you in on a secret. I picked you." I lower and attempt to read the swirl whipping in his ocean blue eyes. Adam has always been a tough read for me, but for a second, I thought I read a flash of desire. I must be mistaken.
My hand finds its way to his chin, my fingers stroking it. I press a quick ghost kiss to the tip of his chin, shocking both of us.
His eyes flash in surprise before his gaze lifts over my shoulder, and I remember we're not alone. "Adam, this is my good friend Emily. She's hanging with us for a few days." I turn and am shocked to find Laredo standing next to her with his arm resting on her shoulder. Five seconds. That's all it's taken for him to break my rule.
Emily's eyes freeze, like a deer caught in headlights. I tried to prepare her for Laredo, but there's nothing like the real thing. I pinch two fingers and lift his arm off her shoulder. "I thought I told you, hands off."
Emily is shortish, five four, African American with a short, burnt-orange colored afro.
Laredo runs his tongue across his bottom lip. "And are you going to give me a better place to put my hands?" His gaze lowers from my eyes to my chest, and I fight the instinct to knee him to the groin. My eighteen-year-old self might have found his line attractive. Hell, even my twenty-five-year-old self may have fallen for it. I'm just on the other side of thirty these days. I've been through the battles and have fended off advances from men for over a dozen years.
"Here's a thought. Why don't you keep your hands to yourself?" I'm surprised to hear Adam's voice behind me. His challenging tone lowers the rising anger in my blood. Like I said, he's a calming force. "Bro, focus. We're here for one reason and one reason only. The music. What don't you get?"
Half of my heart swoons at Adam's words. He gets it. At least part of it. I'm all in for the music. But taking the journey with my best friends by my side delivers unparalleled joy. I've learned to embrace and enjoy the moments along the way. Adam is all about the music. Laredo is all about fun. Hopefully, over the next few days, we'll find the balance.
Free of Laredo's clutches, Emily shakes Adam's hand, and they chat. Laredo reaches for my hand, and I don't refuse it, even after what just occurred. He hooks his neck for me to follow him back to where he left his guitar travel case. When we reach it, he doesn't drop my hand.
"I knew you couldn't stay away. After Boston, I counted the days until your call. What took you so long?" Gone from his voice is the bravado I've come to expect from Laredo. His last question feels like a question and not a line used to pick up a girl. I pause to see if he's expecting a reply. When he gives my hand a quick squeeze, I realize he is.
"Hey. I heard about the record contract," I whisper my answer, not wanting anyone to hear us. My sympathetic words cause a reaction. He drops my hand and bends to pick up the case.
"Their loss. I can't wait to see their expression when they see I'm hanging out with the lead singer for Devil May Care. I bet they'll care then." And it's back. The bluster I expected earlier. The reckless arrested development behavior I saw firsthand when he blew up his family band right here in Seaside. Yet, for the first time, I sense his swagger is a front. A false blanket to hide his truth.
It's not my place to call him on it. Besides, I could be wrong. This could be a new tactic of his to get in my pants. Yep, guys will try anything. "Can I ask that you not post anything for at least a week?" When he doesn't immediately react, I continue. "You know, closed-door sessions and all. We may leave with nothing concrete, and that'll be ok. No sense needlessly getting anyone's hopes up." He forces me to paint the complete picture for him. I can imagine him posting photos of us working together, tagging everyone who has turned their back on him and bragging. If we decide in a week that this experiment isn't worth the effort, he'd have needlessly given more ammunition to his detractors.
"You're here. I'm here. Don't you see we were always destined to make beautiful music together? Inside the studio and out. You'll see." He disregards my concern and fails to read the disappointment written across my face. I'll speak to Adam and get him to monitor Laredo's social media accounts. I made the mistake of following Laredo on Instagram during a break in the studio back in Boston. By the time we returned from break, he had posted a selfie and a screenshot of my follow, half-implied that we were best buddies making music together on a secret project. On the ride back to the airport, I unfollowed him.
"This week is important, Laredo. Let's not make it into something it's not." I can't believe I have to say these words aloud. I imagine I'm just the latest in a long line of people that have stated these same words to him. Why did I think this was a good idea?
It's an important week for me. But if this doesn't work out, I have an out. I get to go home to my friends, my band. Hell, I could pivot to another guitarist if I think this plan is worth pursuing. I have options. I'm not sure how many chances Laredo has left.
