CRASH & BURN (Rule Breaker) (7 page)

“Speaking of which…did you get any?”

She’d prepared for this very question and answered as she’d practiced. “Do you think a man like that doesn’t have a cache of women? No, the only thing he sees when he looks at me is dollar signs. I have to take singing lessons, exercise, change what I eat, and drink less. He’s no different than Mom and Dad.” A strange stabbing pain began in her chest. That was so untrue. Jonathan was the first person besides her band who seemed to understand the trial of having parents like hers. She felt horribly like a traitor, backstabbing the one person who got her.

“Lanie, don’t say that. Your parents love you. They just wanted the best for you. At least you have parents that cared enough to nag and send you for routine torture.”

“I guess you’re right.” She wouldn’t argue the point. Christy’s parents had let her run wild at the age of sixteen, when she’d needed them the most.

Clarissa, aka her handler, entered the reception area and smiled over at Alana, holding an iPad and typing away.

Alana whispered, “I’ll send Lansing’s driver to kidnap you. We can stew together in a fuck-em’ if they can’t take a joke soup. What do you say?”

“Better than hanging out here. I’m in. Definitely, some sprucing up would do nicely. I need to convince Billy that I’m not banging anyone else. Especially Tyler. How long before the Batmobile comes ‘round? Listen, text me. ‘K? Someone we could use just waltzed by.”

“Sure. But don’t wander off. Christy?” Christy was gone. Alana sighed.

She walked up behind Clarissa and tapped her handler on the shoulder. “I’d like Christy, the other guitarist, here as well. We’re both due for some primping. That alright? Do I need to call Mr. Lansing?”

Jon’s assistant nodded as she pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “I don’t see why not. I can authorize it.”

Clarissa wasn’t bad at all. With her black frame glasses and blond hair neatly tucked into a bun, she wore her business suit with flair while rarely cracking a smile. But somewhere in the depths of Clarissa’s hazel eyes, Alana spotted a wild child. And for that she cut Clarissa some slack on not bitching it up too much on their first outing. “Does she have the means to get over here?”

“We need to pick her up,” Alana said.

“Where is she?” Clarissa asked, taking out her stylus.

“Motel Seven-Two.”

Clarissa’s eyes widened, but she kept on writing on the touch-screen. “The one off Harding?”

“Yep. Most of the bands are staying there.”

Alana’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and the text from Christy. “Strike that. Coco Joe’s”

“I see. Fine on that coffee house. It’s not far away. But back to the hotel you’re staying at. Do you think Orion would mind a change in digs?”

Alana pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She bet Clarissa would turn up her nose if she saw the condition of the rough and rambling rooms and the patio furniture that had been thrown into the pool. It had been a raucous time this last week, more so from fans overwhelming the place. Literally hundreds of boisterous people gathered there at night, bringing massive quantities of booze for the bands’ impromptu jams. Jon had been right. It was party central and if she’d returned last night it would have been two or three or six before she’d fallen into bed.

“It’s a wreck right now, and I don’t know. I heard about how well unilateral decisions have gone. Don’t you think this should be discussed with the band?”

“Sure. But I take it, if you think it’s a good idea, won’t the rest of the band buy into it?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re exactly pushovers.”

“Ms. St. James,” Clarissa said, stepping closer and arching a brow, “I’m pretty certain when I say, from now on you are the lynchpin of Orion. I get it that you want to be a team player, but that’s not how this works. I’m certain Mr. Lansing will explain it all, but take it from someone in my position, start thinking of what’s good for your career. Frankly, what impacts you, impacts all of your band members’ careers. It would be no different if, say, the drummer…Hank Berryman, or the guitarist, Billy, had caught the attention of a producer. There’s always a central force. This time it was you. Don’t you think Christy or Hank would be thinking of their future if it was their turn?”

Alana stared at Clarissa, taking in what the woman said. Yep, she was half-right. Had the shoe been on another foot, Carl, and especially Billy, would be grabbing the golden ring with both hands, but then she was just as positive they wouldn’t leave the other band members in the dust. All of them were loyal. Trusting. And that’s why they were in this mess with Tyler.

“We don’t backstab,” she said softly.

Clarissa’s eyes widened and she quickly responded, “I wasn’t inferring anyone in the group was. Only to think of your future.”

Clapping hands sounded and then a deep, throaty laugh rang out. “What have we here? Yummy!”

Alana glanced over her shoulder to meet a pair of lively dark eyes set in a face that, hands down, was titillating with an androgynous type of beauty. Waxed brows, the perfect amount of scruff going on over his carved jaw and cheeks. The man’s lips had seen collagen injections at some point. A sole pinky ring glittered, reflecting a sunbeam that flashed around the waiting area of the salon with each whirling hand motion as he approached Clarissa.

“Welcome, darling! It’s been far too long, but I’m overjoyed to see you in the flesh again. Especially after the last celebration.” The man pop-kissed Clarissa, reinforcing Alana’s suspicion that her handler kept her private side hidden.

Clarissa stepped back, her cheeks glowing, and she cleared her throat. “Andy, make the acquaintance of Alana St. James. Our newest client.” Clarissa glanced over to her charge. “Ms. St. James, may I introduce one of the most talented stylists we use, Andy Ligon.”

“Please, call me Alana. Both of you. And nice to meet you, Andy.”

“Kitten, you are
bitchingly
beautiful. And what a handful, I bet. I get you, all right, and don’t envy any man who wants a second of your attention.”

“I suddenly want to be badass. Possibly. May I take the fifth?”

Andy threw back his head and laughed. “I saw you earlier this week. At Vendome’s. Speaker-dancing ring a bell? But my lips are sealed. Zip on that one.” He winked at Alana and proceeded to walk around her, lightly fingering her hair.

Clarissa opened her large purse. “Here. Hard copies of the screen test. Makeup included,” She handed over a file folder to Andy.

“And another band member is on her way over. Can you handle two at once?” Alana said without thinking.

“Oh darling, I hit for the other team. But you’re so goddamn hot, I could see my way clear to make an exception,” he chortled. “Is your friend the same heat level as you?”

“Christy? She’s super-sexy. Petite.”

“The guitarist? Tiny thing with oodles of curves.” Andy worked his hands, waving the air in a figure eight. “Men must love to eat her up. But in a different way from you, I imagine.”

“That’s Christy,” Alana exhaled, agreeing silently that her friend had a dizzying effect on the opposite sex.

“
That’s Christy
what?”

Swinging around at the ultra-familiar voice, Alana asked, “Jeez, how long have you been eavesdropping?”

“Not long enough, considering you’re hooking us up with this hunky cut of sex on display. Don’t act as though you’ve seen a ghost. Coco Joe’s is down the block. Not much of a limo ride. But holy smokes, you’re gorgeous. What’s this about another team?”

Christy stood with hands on her hips, sunglasses perched on her upturned nose, and a tight, red jersey dress hugging her figure. Today her hair was pulled back into a demure plait, unlike the usual mass of feathery black layers that framed her porcelain face. Christy’s square jaw and dimpled chin were even sexier when she pouted, as she was doing now.

Alana had seen this stance during their search for gigs. Power-punches didn’t land any harder, and Andy was in for a wallop. Other team or not, Christy took each man as he came and didn’t relent until someone cried Uncle. Generally—unless Billy was involved—Christy won each round.

“As I live and breathe. Sugar, you are a wild cat. When was the last time you were spanked into submission?” Andy’s gaze languidly traveled over Christy.

“You ask a bunch of
hawt
questions.”

“And you inspire a lot more. So, just you two? None of the guys from the band? Say, that drummer with the arm tattoos?”

“Oh jambalaya. Somebody’s got a man crush,” Christy teased, walking toward Alana.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted a lick of his sweat?” Andy asked.

Looping her arm though Alana’s, Christy shot back. “Honestly? No.”

They both ignored Andy’s snort. “God, am I glad to see you. How’d it go last night?” Alana asked.

“Ladies, you can continue with the gossip fest after we get you in robes. Clarissa, take them back to my corner. We’ve a new espresso machine, if you’re interested. I want to review these.” Andy sauntered off, flipping through the pages in the file.

Clarissa held out her hand. “Christy, pleasure. I’m Clarissa Walkens from Lansing Records.”

“Mr. Lansing is going all out. What’s the catch?”

Clarissa took the bit in her teeth with her seamless answer. “He’s exacting when he spots talent. Not many people catch his eye. But when they do, he puts in one hundred and fifty percent of his resources and energy. Count your blessings, and don’t screw this up.”

“Whoa. Okay. Now that we’ve gotten housekeeping out of the way, I’ve been slammed from every side this morning. No problem, Clarissa, I think we all understand this is a ginormous opportunity.”

“Great. Then you both come with me and we can get started. Any questions?” Clarissa asked.

She and Christy shook their heads as though they were in the principal’s office back in high school. Alana could feel Christy pressing closer against her side. For all her bravado, Christy was unsure of herself, and that was more than likely the reason her friend came off so upfront and tough. Not often had Alana seen Christy get directly in anyone’s face with the intent to draw blood.

Alana hugged her. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Just pretend like you own the place and that you’re wearing your ass-kicking commando boots. A little bravado goes a long way.” They walked behind Clarissa’s stick-straight figure, down the hall of the salon, and into a dressing room.

“Change, and then come out so I can direct you to Andy’s section. I’m going to make some calls, but if you need anything, just poke your head outside.” Clarissa shut the door.

Flipping her glasses on top of her head, Christy revealed her red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Alana stared at her friend and asked, “What in the name of Shortsville happened?”

“Billy seriously thinks I’m fucking around with Tyler. He’s livid. I’ve never seen him so mad.”

“Did he touch you?”

“I wish. He wouldn’t even look at me. Forget hate-fucking, or his normal route when he thinks I’ve stepped out-of-bounds. If he’d spanked me, I’d have tangible proof that he cared. He left this morning after accusing me of fucking and fucking up.”

“Uhh, I don’t think it’s that bad,” Alana said, remembering her own bottom being smacked by Jon. Repeatedly.

But spanking…a sign of caring.
He’d spanked her butt but good
. Her bottom still stung from Jon’s hands and his cock. Her skin tingled at the memory of him doing just as he promised to make a point. Heat pooled between her legs. Ache. Need for him smoldered.

Jon was the first man who’d laid a hand on her ass. The first man that had taken her in that manner. The first man to make her crazy, ready to fight him tooth and nail…that’s what it felt like in the alley. Raw and hateful, until his hard body made her come undone. Her hunger for Jon had wildfire tendencies and finally burst apart with him thrusting into her on the seat of his car, her orgasm a near-supernova explosion.

So many emotions in one night, and even now she regretted it was over. Damn, her craving for him had taken on colossal proportions. How was that even possible? They’d see each other later and a new, jagged sense of anticipation swam deep in her belly. She wondered if Jon thought of her one-tenth the time she spent recalling him.

Alana smiled at Christy. “Men suck. And I don’t mean in the good way.”

“Tell me about it,” Christy sniffled. “I saw Billy this morning in the parking lot with some bimbo draped over him.”

“Don’t go there, Christina Dallas McDougal. You know how it is, and especially at that motel. There’re groupies all over. Fans.”

Tears started falling faster than Alana could wipe them away from Christy’s glimmering blue eyes. “It was worse. Fiona from Queen’s Revenge had him cornered. She picked up a huge record contract. I think she wants Billy to join her band.”

“He’d never leave Orion.”

“Don’t be too sure. No one knows what to think. You’re the one who left with Lansing last night. None of us were whisked away to some fancy hotel.”

Alana released Christy. “I don’t even know what it’s about.
Mr. Lansing
said he didn’t trust me to get it together for the screen test this morning. So, don’t think anything is set in stone. I have no clue what he has planned. I’m in the dark as much as you all. But I do know that I’m not jumping ship. And that goes double for Billy. He started this group. Why would he leave it to go work with Fiona in an all-female metal band as one of her lackeys?”

Christy laughed. “When you put it that way, fine. But he still could see his way into her panties. You didn’t see her rubbing her tits all over his arm. Billy could have backed away. He didn’t.”

“You have been known to get things a bit off. Jumping to conclusions is only boxing yourself in. Right now, let’s concentrate on the next step. Take off your dress and change. All you need to be worried about right now is how you’re going to get your hair done. We can do this step. Can’t we?”

“Affirmative.” Christy nodded and pulled off her dress, and stood in heels. She grabbed a robe, flashing her thong and rear end.

Alana gasped. “You got another tattoo!
Booyah
, that’s a doozy, darling.”