Sex, Desires & Rock N Roll Page 19

  Hank clears his throat, drawing my attention. “So, what is this I hear about you dating some hotshot rock star?” His voice is playful yet concerned at the same time.

  I’m a little confused since I haven’t discussed my love life with Hank. Well, not that what is going on with Dash constitutes a love life, but still, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned anything about seeing Dash to Hank. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Hank.” Really I don’t. My mind races through past conversations, trying to come up with a time I actually talked to him about Dash.

  “Well, you know how Claire loves those tabloid magazines, and it just so happened that you were on the cover of one with a certain local rock star coming out of the hottest restaurant in town.” Hank’s eyebrows rise up, challenging me to deny it. The man’s got hard proof. No use saying I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “You saw that?”

  “Yep, I sure did. And it was hard not being able to answer all of Claire’s questions. The woman like interrogated me non-stop all night. ‘When did Jules start seeing him?’ ‘How long have they been dating?’ ‘Have you met him?’ Oh, and my all-time favorite, ‘Is he as hot in person as he is in pictures or hotter?’ Really, Jules, you could have mentioned at some point you were dating Dash Ford, save me from looking like an amateur reporter to the wife. ‘Why don’t you know? You’re not only her boss, Jules is family, Hank!’ Blah, blah, blah, blah…” He mimics his wife’s voice as best as possible, although Hank attempting to sound like Claire is awkward and funny.

  A giggle escapes me, and Hank looks anything but amused. “Oh, laugh all you want, kiddo. You will be coming to dinner sometime this week and spilling everything to the wife. And if she has anything to do about it, your rock star will be joining us. I, of course, told her not to get her hopes up. She’s read about the upcoming tour and being in the studio recording the next album. But she does expect you and all the gossip.”

  “Well, I will see what I can do—about Dash, that is, but I’m not making any promises. Besides, I don’t know if we’re dating. We’ve just been getting to know each other, that’s all.” I don’t want to get my hopes up. I still have to tell Dash about Blake.

  “Well, to hear Claire tell it, you two are destined for something big together—something real. Nothing like what you had with that douchebag…” Hank grits his teeth on that sentence. His neck muscles tighten, and I notice his fists ball up. Hank knows about my relationship with Blake. He doesn’t know every single detail, but he gets the gist of it. He knows without saying.

  “Dash is different. He’s… he’s been there for me when I really needed someone. I… I do like him. How can I not? I mean, he’s gorgeous, beyond gorgeous really, sweet, super talented, witty, sexy…” My mind drifts, and I can’t help the buzz that hums through me thinking about Dash and talking about him.

  Hank again clears his throat, pulling me out of my head. He looks a little uncomfortable. “Well, good to know. Anyway, I just hope this guy treats you right. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me and Claire. You’re family, kiddo. You’re the daughter we could never have…”

  “Hank…” The words get stuck in my throat thanks to the emotional lump stopping them.

  “Yeah, well…” he clears his throat “…just, uh, let me know when dinner works for you. Have a good night, and just be safe. I don’t want Claire to keep worrying about you, kiddo.”

  Hank gives me a small smile and leaves my office. I love that man. Claire is a lucky woman, and I’m lucky to have him as a boss and a surrogate father at times. I grab my purse and turn off the light. My stomach bubbles with excitement, knowing I’m on my way to the studio… on my way to see Dash.

  I PULL UP to the studio’s parking lot and notice a bunch of people milling around out front. Most of them are young women, probably fans of the band. The others are men with cameras—paparazzi. My gut clenches at the thought of having to walk through those men. The last time I did, things didn’t end well for me. But if I’m going to give this thing with Dash, whatever it is, a chance to turn into something—hopefully something more—then I’m going to have to grow a pair and face situations like this head on. With my resolve set, I check my makeup and hair in the mirror. I sweep my fingers under my eyes, erasing any smudges. Reaching into my purse, I find my lip gloss and swipe it across my lips. Giving myself a quick nod in the mirror, I’m ready to face whatever lies ahead. Once I’m out of my car, I feel as though someone is watching me. I glance over my shoulder, noting it’s just me; there isn’t another car or person in sight. I still get the distinct feeling I’m being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and an unsettling feeling stirs inside me. I’m being paranoid. It’s probably just because of what I’m about to face, I tell myself. I straighten my shoulders, putting one foot in front of the other, make my way toward the building.

  I remember what Dash told me—keep your head down and don’t engage with them. My fingers grip my purse, and I hug it to my side. With my head down, my long hair cascades against my face, creating a curtain to hide behind. My steps quicken the closer I get. No one notices my approach until I’m just a few feet away. Flashes go off, the clicking of several shutters fill the night air. In rapid fire, they pepper me with questions.

  “Are you Dash’s girlfriend?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “How did you meet Dash?”

  “Have you met Nadia?”

  “Are you and Dash just fucking?”

  That last questions gets my attention. My head whips up, and I stare straight into the lens of a camera, multiple flashes going off in front of me. I’m momentarily blinded when I feel a hand grab my forearm. I try to turn out of the hold when a voice whispers in my ear, “Jules, it’s just me, Russell. I’ll help you get in.” My vision focuses to see Russell’s usual blank expression. He wraps his arm around me and with his other hand stretched out guides me through the crowd. The closer we get to the girls, the louder the voices become.

  “Oh my God, are you going to see Dash?”

  “Take me with you!”

  “I’ll do anything just let me go in!”

  Their voices become nothing but buzzing in my ear when we reach the entrance. Russell’s meaty hand pulls it open and ushers me inside. The screams and shouting become muffled.

  “Breathe, Jules, it’s all good now.”

  I release a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. My hand shakes against my purse as I wait for the calm to come. Realization dawns on me as the voices outside subside into quietness. I made it through the mob without an episode. I did it. I survived the paps and the fans. I made it.

  “The guys are through there.” Russell brings me out of my head and gives me a quick smile like he knows exactly what I just accomplished. After all, he did witness what happened the last time I came face to face with the flashes of a pap’s camera.

  “Thanks, Russell.”

  He gives me a curt nod and then opens the door to the studio for me. My ears are immediately assaulted by the sounds of Dash’s melodic voice. He sounds so beautiful, so pure. There’s emotion in what he sings, and the edgy raspy-ness his voice has adds another layer to it. His voice has the ability to reach into not only your heart but your soul and hold it prisoner until it’s ready to release you. The lyrics drift from the speakers in the room.

  “I’m the one to blame. I’ve tried everything to make it go away. But the feelings chase after me, reaching for me, grabbing me. Over and over I try to run, I try to hide. But it keeps finding me, haunting me. What was once so innocent, so pure, rots away like a buried corpse…”

  His words wrap around me—my heart, my soul. There is so much pain behind his words, in his voice. I know there are other people in the room with me, but all my attention is focused on the man standing in the booth with the headphones on. His eyes are closed, his long eyelashes cast haunting shadows across his cheeks as if they are aware and realize the words
he’s singing. The tendons in his neck strain, Adam’s apple bobbing with each word, each breath. I am mesmerized by him. His lyrics speak of a person burdened—broken. I can’t help but wonder how much truth are behind them, and if so why?

  “My boys could really go far, if he could just concentrate. This makes take thirty of this track. I can’t help but wonder if you have anything to do with this change I’m seeing in Dash. What do you think, Julia?”

  Roland’s voice slips through my Dash-induced haze. “Jules, my name is Jules.”

  He dismisses my request and continues. “I don’t like it, and I won’t have you jeopardizing anything that I’ve built.”

  “Don’t you mean what Dash, Lance, and Vic built?”

  Roland seems taken aback by response. I don’t think he expected me to stand up to him. I think he sees me as a wilting flower and hopes I’ll go away. Well, that’s not going to happen. As long as Dash wants me, I’m staying put.

  “Of course. The boys and myself.”

  “Well, Roland, you have nothing to worry about. I want Dash and the guys to be successful and go as far as their wildest dreams. I would never think of interfering with that. But if Dash wants me around, I’ll be around until he tells me otherwise. So you have nothing to worry about; we’re on the same page.”

  His eyes narrow and then he leaves, going back over to the sound board. I’m actually quite proud of myself for voicing how I feel, although something tells me this won’t be the last time Roland and I tangle. Even though he’s the guys’ manager and has been from the beginning, I get the distinct feeling there are just dollar signs in his eyes and he could really care less about Dash or the band. They are just a means to an end in his bank account. It’s just this aura he has that screams it. He actually reminds me of… of Blake. Blake carried himself with the same arrogance. I give my head a shake, wiping away any thoughts of Blake. He doesn’t deserve my thoughts anymore. He doesn’t deserve to take up space in the presence of Dash.

  Dash’s voice continues to come through the speakers until he opens his eyes and notices me. His bright blue eyes sparkle and then smolder. My heart flutters, my pulse quickens. His voice fades and he pulls of the headphones, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Alright, Dash, that’s it.” I finally notice the other people in the room. A couple of men are at the sound board clicking and pushing various buttons and switches. Lance is sitting on a stool, his bass guitar resting against his chest. Vic sits in a plush chair thumping his drum sticks against the arms of it in a steady rhythm that seems to coincide with what Dash was just singing. Both Lance and Vic have noticed me and give me a smile that is playful and welcoming.

  “Hi, guys.”

  “Hi yourself, Jules. Glad you’re here—thrilled actually. Now my boy can stop being such a pussy…” Vic points a drum stick at me, spinning it between his fingers. His smile broadens as if he knows something I don’t.

  “Vic.” Lance’s tone is a warning.

  “What? It’s true. Dash has been a little pussy for the last few hours. ‘Are we done yet?’, ‘Is Jules here?’, ‘Anyone hear from Jules?’ He’s been going on and on.” Vic’s usually deep voice has gone up a few octaves if that’s even possible. I know he’s just teasing. It’s something I’ve come to understand being around the three of them lately—they love giving each other a hard time anytime and any way they can.

  “Don’t let Dash hear you say that.” Lance gives Vic a pointed look even though he’s smiling.

  “Don’t let Dash hear what?” Dash enters the control room, and my world stops. His jeans are slung low on his hips and his black T-shirt hugs his chest, giving you a little taste of what’s underneath. His hair is in a disarray thanks to the headphones and I’m sure from pulling his fingers through it in frustration if what Roland told is correct about how many takes the last song took. His gaze is only on me even though his words were directed to Lance.

  “Oh, just that Vic seems to think… Owww! What the fuck?”

  “Oops, my bad. Sometimes my sticks are slippery little suckers.”

  Everyone laughs in the room except for me and Dash. Our sole focus is only on each other; the rest of the room doesn’t exist at the moment. In a few short strides he reaches me, and my heart beats wildly in my chest.

  “Hi, Sunshine.” His hands come up and cup the sides of my face while pulling me lips to his. I don’t get a chance to say hi back, and that’s fine with me at the moment. Kissing Dash is pure heaven. His lips are soft and know how to kiss. I feel it from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.

  “Get a room.” Vic’s booming voice interrupts us. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. I had forgotten we weren’t alone—Dash seems to have that effect on me… a lot.

  Dash gives my lips one last peck before turning his attention to Vic. My cheeks feel cold once his touch his gone. His hand quickly finds mine. I like, probably more than I should, the way he touches me, like he has to. “Fuck off, dickwad.”

  “Ohhhhh, good come back, peckerhead.”

  “Umm, you two are really mature,” Lance muses while strumming his bass.

  “Whatever. You’re a pussy too. You hooked up with their friend and then decided you guys were better off being friends. Who does that? Oh, I’ll tell you who, a pussy.”

  “What? You mean you and Tracy… I… she didn’t… when…” I can’t believe I had no idea Tracy and Lance actually hooked up. I mean, I knew she had him in his sights, but I thought that it was just a fangirl crush thing. I never thought she would really act upon it. And then not to tell me. Oh, Tracy Scott will be getting an earful when I see her.

  Lance gives Vic the evil eye, making the big, bad tattooed drummer cower. Lance gives me an impish look before explaining. “Sorry, Jules, we didn’t want you to find out this way… Thanks for that, asshat… we got together and realized the chemistry just wasn’t there, so we’re gonna be friends. It’s no biggie, so you don’t need to freak out on her. I’m sure she was going to tell you but you’ve both been kinda busy. Don’t let her know that Chatty Vicki told you, okay? I know she wanted to tell you herself.”

  I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and the pleading look he’s giving me has me letting Tracy off the hook. “Sure, Lance.”

  “Thanks, Jules.”

  “Okay, Lance, we’re ready for you in the booth.”

  “Guess I’m up. Later.”

  Lance makes his way into the booth while Vic goes back to tapping his drum sticks against the arms of his chair. I guess the conversation is effectively put to rest.

  “All set, Dash.” Russell peeks his head into the room. I wonder what’s all set.

  “Thanks, man. Ready to go?” Dash gives me that crooked smile he knows gets me every time.

  “Sure, my car is parked right outside. I’ll follow you back to your place or…”

  “Nope, you’re riding with me. One of the guys will make sure your car gets to where it needs to be, which I’m hoping is my place?” It’s cute how he can be this mega confident singer on stage, but at times, like now, he can be so unsure of himself. Like there was really a chance I would say no to going to his place.

  “I like the idea of your place.”

  “Good. Even if you didn’t, I was going to kidnap you and take you there anyway,” he teases, and I love the playfulness.

  I step into him, pressing my body against his. “Maybe I want to be kidnapped… by you.”

  He steps even closer, practically fusing our bodies together. “Hmmmm, that can be arranged. Tie you up, have you at my mercy so I can do dirty, delicious things to your body with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue, my…”

  “Maybe spank me too…” I don’t know where this blatant sexuality is coming from, but I’m embracing it. Dash makes me want to me do dirty things. Very dirty things.

  He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s being tortured. I notice his free hand is in a fist, his knuckles turning white. His other kind of squeezes mine tight, but not painfully.
“You’re killing me, Sunshine, you’re fucking killing me.” His husky voice makes me shiver in a good way.

  “Sorry…” I whisper, not sure he can hear me.

  Dash’s eyes flash open, swirling with intensity. “Don’t. Don’t ever apologize. Ever. There isn’t a reason to. Not now. Not ever.” He bends down so we are eye level. “Are we clear, Sunshine? I love our banter. I love the torture you’re inflicting on me because you’re being spontaneous, carefree, and playful. I love that you’re able to be that way with me. And hopefully it’s only me. So don’t ever apologize for being like that, got it?”

  His words carry so much more than he’ll ever know. I nod. “And I am only this way with you.”

  Dash’s eyes light up, and he straightens up to his full height. “Good to know. Now, are you ready to get out of here, or do you want to spend more time with Chatty Vicki?”

  “Hey, what did I do?” Vic frowns in the corner.

  “Let’s go.” With our fingers laced together, Dash pulls me toward a hallway, Russell taking the lead. I’m a little confused as to where we’re going.

  “I’m making sure we get out of here without too many eyes on us. It’s just a precaution. The back entrance is pretty concealed. That’s why I parked my bike back there.”

  My steps falter at the word bike. He means motorcycle, right? I’ve never been on one, and they scare the shit out of me. But the idea of sitting behind Dash with my arms wrapped around him sounds pretty enticing, making me ignore the trepidation I’m feeling about being on one for the first time. Dash chuckles next me. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. And I get the distinct feeling you’re going to love riding on Rosie.”

  “Rosie?”

  “Yep, that’s what I named her because she black with fire-engine red flames on her. Trust me, Sunshine, you’re gonna love riding her.” Dash gives me a wink, giving me the feeling he’s referring to a different kind of riding.