I Saw You (5 page)

As her friend, for the time being I decided to leave it alone.

“Thanks for understanding, babe. I promise to return the favor the day you fall.”

“Just be careful you don’t trip and crash instead, Cheetos,” Ashley grumbled before placing my food on the table, kissing me on the cheek, and heading toward the door. “Or I will kick her ass.”

Just as her
hand made contact with the handle, there was a knock. Ashley opened the door and the same employee from before stood on the other side. In his hand was a huge floral delivery. Automatically, I knew what they were: bells of Ireland and hydrangeas.

Being the son of a florist meant that you learned a thing or two growing up.

The arrangement was enormous; huge with white hydrangeas taking up most of the space inside the tall crystal vase. The bells of Ireland were strategically placed throughout in tall spears. Not too feminine; it held a touch of masculinity in the simplicity that I liked.

But why the hell were they being delivered to me?

A throat cleared, and I looked away from the flowers and to the hotel’s employee. “Sir, I need your signature.”

“Sure?” It was posed as a question, and he arched a brow. Blame it on the arrangement; it’d thrown me off.

“Wonder who they are from.” While I signed the COD, Ashley took the tiny envelope sitting within the white flowers.

“No clue.” Pulling a few bills out of my pocket, I tipped the man and made a move to close the door. Curiosity was a bitch and had begun to slowly choke me.

“I’m sorry for the bother,” he spoke just before the door closed.

Pulling it back open, I gave him a nod. “Yeah…”

“Would you mind signing something for me? If not, I understand.” His politeness wouldn’t let me deny him.

“Of course. Do you have something?”

Nodding vigorously, he pulled out an old gas receipt with a smile. “Really appreciate this, man. I’m a huge fan.”

“My pleasure…” I trailed off, waiting for him to give me the name he wanted me to make this out to. For all I knew, he wanted his nickname and it was peanut.

“Steve.” His voice squeaked a bit at the end, and I had to bite my lip in order not to laugh. After signing his receipt, I held my hand up for him to wait and walked back into the bedroom. Ever since we started, I’ve kept a small stash of band swag with me at all times when we travel. You just never know who you could meet. Grabbing a lanyard, a poster, and a group pic signed by everyone, I walked back into the room and handed him the items. “Thank you. Oh my God, thank you so much!” The guy’s smile was huge, and his hands shook when he extended one out toward me to shake.

“No thanks needed.” With that, I walked him back to the door and wished him a good day. Turning back to face my gift and best friend, I found her eyeing the envelope with curiosity and something else…something I just couldn’t put my finger on.

“Who would send the rugged, crass, and sometimes dangerous Chester Greene an arrangement of this magnitude?” Ashley mused, her hand waving the small white envelope in the air. “No one that I know would.”

“Give it, Ash.”

She pouted and looked at me from beneath her lashes. “Don’t be such a spoilsport and ruin my fun.” The entire innocent and coy act on her wasn’t attractive in the least. Now, if it were Arianna…fuck.

“Ashley, give me the envelope.” A demand, not a request.

“Nope.” Taking a step back, she made to open the private note.

“Ash…” I followed her movements, my voice a warning. One she ignored, and before I could snatch the envelope away, she was reading the private note inside.

Her face turned red, and her fist clenched and crumbled the tiny note in her hand. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What the hell?” Perplexed, I moved to remove the note from her grasp when she tossed it onto the floor as if it was trash, pissing me the fuck off if I were being honest.

“Seems you won’t have to beg after all,” she murmured under her breath, but I heard. Picking up her phone and wallet from their place on the coffee table, she marched over to the hotel room door and threw it open. “Seems she’s interested. Isn’t it wonderful?”

I was lost. What had gotten into this crazy woman?

Ashley stormed out of the room, leaving me with more than one mystery on my hands, but she’d have to wait. At the moment my attention was solely on the crumpled small white card on the floor.

Not wanting to waste another minute in doubt, I bent down and picked it up.

And then, I laughed. Hard.

Good luck tonight, Cheesy.

I’ll be watching.

Sincerely,

Arianna Garcia xoxo

Well played, baby, well played.

I Saw You
...

“We won, motherfuckers,” Tex bellowed the moment we’d left the stage. Behind us, we heard some laughter and shook our heads. We weren’t that far from the stage, and they’d heard. Tactful, the man was not. “Damn, it feels good to finally hold one of these.”

We won in both categories, and it felt fan-fucking-tastic.

“Dude.” Rex wasn’t eloquent, but the smile on his face spoke volumes. We’d been prepared for song of the year—I’d written a corny speech and all—but as we came up to receive the statue, we were slammed with the news of winning both.

If we made any sense at all while accepting, I had no clue. Didn’t really care either way.

“Fucking right we did.” Yeah, I yelled that shit out and bumped fists with Tex. The other two stood to the right side of us, matching grins on their faces. This was so unlike our typical behavior, but even moody celebrities got goofy with excitement at points.

So many years of blood, sweat, and tears poured into this career, and to have the world recognize you felt amazing. Accomplished, as if we were on top of the motherfucking world.

A simple song—in both lyrics and melody—had become a huge hit. Something I’d written in the spur of the moment, in the middle of the night, after awakening from a dream. It was to become a bonus track on the next album.

But then, we were approached by a major motion picture company at the request of their newest acquisition’s. The author was a fan and demanded that we be a part of her movie. We’d been a bit hesitant at first, but after meeting her and getting an understanding for the project itself—the story—the track we’d already laid down was the obvious choice.

An overnight success. The fans of the love story became obsessed with the song and us, pushing our already popular band into a more mainstream market. Household names to more than those who loved rock music.

Full of adrenaline and excitement, we made our way toward the back and into the annoying press area. This was necessary. No way of getting out. Reporters from all over the world and social media markets were there to get exclusive reactions after each win.

“I’d say it’s about damn time, old man.” At Cris’s words, Tex flipped him the bird. Spring chicken he was not; he was the oldest at the oldest at forty, and we rubbed it in his face every chance we got.

“Not old, you ass. Distinguished.” Tex’s offended face had me almost bowled over in laughter, but I held it in. Not so much luck with Cris and Rick. Those two cracked the fuck up. This country boy turned California resident was anything but prim or proper.

“Is that what your poor, blind mom is filling your head with these days?” I jested, biting the inside of my cheek to hold in a chuckle. “Or was it the young bimbos from the bar two days ago?”

“Funny,” he deadpanned, a slight hint of mirth dancing across his features. “I thought with your head so far up that delectable—”

“Watch it, dick,” I growled in warning. Within seconds I’d gone from happy and carefree to ready to deck a motherfucker.

Tex held his hands up and backed away, lazy smirk in place.” Don’t look at me like that, Cheetos.” I bristled at the name while staring him down. “She was a true beauty.” The rest nodded, and my fist clenched tight. “Any man with a pair of working eyes and dick would salivate over her.”

“The ass and face on that chick,” Cris groaned crassly.

I took a step toward him. “Don’t talk about her like that.” It wasn’t his fault that she was connected to my every thought; didn’t stop it from pissing me off, though.

Cris’s smile fell, and he tilted his head to the side while appraising me. “Why are you suddenly so possessive over this woman? You’ve never—”

“Off limits,” I hissed while looking them each in the eye. “I mean it.” They seemed stunned by the threatening tone, but didn’t speak. I waited for them to nod in understanding before carrying on. “For some crazy, fucked-up reason, she’s important. Has gotten under my skin, and we’ve only met once.” With one hand, I fisted my hair and pulled, not the least bit worried about all the crap the stylist had used to hold the Mohawk in place. “And while I don’t understand the why, I don’t care. Arianna Garcia will be mine.”

From the looks on their faces, it was finally sinking in just how serious I was.

“Sorry, Cheetos.” Rick stepped forward and placed a hand on my arm. “It was just a joke…no harm meant.” First instinct was to push him off, but this was my friend and I knew him. He wasn’t an asshole. “The girl is stunning, and you can’t fault us for noticing.”

Nodding, I shrugged his hand off and walked over to the table with water bottles placed atop it. Grabbing one, I twisted the cap off and chugged half its contents down. Anything to try and calm down. To contain the desire to break someone’s face.

Because the truth was that all men have that asshole personality within. Some might deny its existence, but it was a wasted effort. Jealous and possessive, protective and overbearing—it showed how we cared.

“I’m not blind when it comes to her appeal.
Fuck
, one look at her and…”

“And what?” Tex chimed in, amusement tinging his tone.

I leveled him with a glare, not that it mattered. Caused him to smile harder. “Just don’t talk about her as if she were just another groupie
whore
.”

“Didn’t mean it that way, Chester,” Cris defended. He’d come over to where I stood and grabbed a bottle off the table. His posture relaxed, the complete opposite from mine. Leaning against the table, he tilted his head toward me and took a sip from his own bottle. “You know me, bro. I’m not a dick, nor have I ever treated a groupie or the chick who makes my coffee at the shop near my house like a
whore
. Not that guy.” And I knew he wasn’t. Irrationality sucked balls. “I was just goofing around. Trying to get a rise out of you.”

“It worked.” Yeah, I grumbled that shit, causing the other to let out a low chuckle. Not low enough.

“She’s important to you?” It was a rhetorical question, and I looked back at Cris with an ‘are you really asking me that’ look. “Then that makes her family.”

“Thank you.” All this happening was baffling me. We met once, and yet I was ready to punch one of my brothers for pointing out something as obvious as her beauty. Why?

“Now…” Tex came forward, his hand waving our award in the air “…I’m certainly not trying to be a dick here.” I cocked a brow at him but remained quiet. “But, and this is a huge but…I’m going to state the obvious. She isn’t your girl.”

“No shit, Captain Obvious,” I snapped.

“Will you let me finish, dumbass? I was going to add a ‘yet’ before you interrupted.”

“My bad.” And then just for the fuck of it, I punched him in the arm. “And you are correct. ‘Yet’ is the word to use. Because if there is one thing I am, it’s a cocky son of a bitch.”

A snort to my left made me look back at Rick. “No arguments there.”

Flipping him off, I turned back toward the conference room a few feet away. “She will be mine tonight. Mark my words, I will have that beauty.”

“Congratulations.”
Brian came out from the conference room with a huge smile on his face. “It’s been a long time coming. Fucking enjoy this moment, assholes.” Crass, and a male pig, the man had been with us since the very beginning. Was just as much a part of the band as I was the lead singer.

“Thanks, Gramps,” Tex deadpanned before hitting him with the statue still in his hand. “By the way, have you called to make sure everything’s taken care of for tonight?”

Just on the other side of the door, a round of laughter broke out. The female singer of the year had taken her award before us. A bubblegum pop singer who was as intelligent as a candle stick—no substance. Acted as she was told, and her pussy was mediocre at best. Not worth the trouble, yet I’d wet my dick last year and she’d become clingy.

Thank fuck for Ashley.

“All is set to go.” Brian nodded, then cringed a bit as said pop star decided to belt out the lyrics to her latest hit. Studio made. The girl sounded like shit. “How is that even popular?” he asked us with a scrunched-up face, head tilted toward the door.

“Great tits and ass.” That was Tex.

“Semi cute face,” Cris added.

“Flaunts herself for the benefit of the old men in that room, same ones that own her label,” Rick interjected.

“Ding, ding, ding…we have a winner,” I finished.

“Sadly…” He coughed then, his amusement causing him to choke mid laugh. A tear ran down his face, and then the motherfucker giggled like a schoolgirl. Weirdo. “It’s the truth. Music execs aren’t exactly quiet about their conquests, especially the young and dumb ones.”

“Are you jealous?” Tex couldn’t help himself, much to Brian’s annoyance.

“Fuck you.”

“Not my type.” Brian walked right into Tex’s reply.

“Get the fuck in there and look like you have common sense. This award was huge for your careers. Monumental.”

“Monumental.” I laughed. “Since when do you use big words? Have you been reading the dictionary again?” Brian didn’t reply, just glared at me while the others broke out in loud guffaws. “Cause if you are, I demand you hand over your man card.”

Rolling his eyes, he straightened his tie. “Don’t hate my eloquence.”

“Eloquence my ass.” Mimicking his actions, I pulled the bowtie out and popped open the top two buttons of my dress shirt. I would never try to be something I was not.

“Barbarian.” He was trying so hard to keep a serious face; too bad for him we all saw the way his mustache twitched. “Fuck you. Is that better?” Nodding in unison, we pissed him off. Or at the very least, he tried to appear that way. “It’s like dealing with prepubescent assholes.” We shrugged. “I’m trying to be the nice and supportive manager you pay me to be, yet this is the shit I get?”

“Your pussy is showing,” I stated, and the other three hummed in agreement.

“That was a bit much, wasn’t it?’ Brian cracked a smile, that second twitch causing us all to laugh again. “Get the fuck in there and behave. Especially you, Rick.”

“What did I do?” The man had the balls to sound offended.

“Are you serious right now?” An exasperated sigh left Brian. “Jesus,” he exclaimed and raised his hands up toward the heavens. “Don’t fucking ask the female reporters to give you a quick flash of their boobs or to go back to your room. No.”

“Boobs? What are we, twelve?” Cris chuckled.

“I give up.” Brian sighed while shaking his head. “Just go, and don’t make me look bad.” For all the bullshit he was spewing, the man was used to our antics—was far worse than we were on most days. This was the second time in our ten-year relationship where he’d tried to keep us in line.

Tried
being the operative word.

In our line of work, you couldn’t take yourself too serious. That’s when egos clash and what was a beautiful working relationship could go sour and fast.

The dull sound of reporters talking grew quiet the moment we entered.  A few flashes went off as we took our seats behind a long table, microphones set up in front of each chair and a bottle of water beside that.

“You guys ready to begin?” Margo, an older woman wearing the event productions lanyard, asked.

“As we’ll ever be.”

At my grumpy reply, she giggled. “Not a fan of these things?”

“No.” Came from the four of us.

“Wrong business to be a part of…don’t you think?” Those words would’ve pissed off any other group or solo artist. Not us. She actually seemed shocked by what she’d said and tried to backtrack. “I’m so sorry. Please, I meant—”

“Relax.” Tex winked, and she loss the stiff posture. “We’re not offended by a simple truth.”

“Thank you.” Gracious smile. “And by the way, I’m a huge fan.” With that, she turned around and faced the members of the media who’d been busy watching the exchange with curiosity. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I present to you tonight’s biggest winners….Deep. They’ve won both song and album of the year.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Like a pack of wild animals, they barked over each other. Questions were shouted. People were pushed out of the way. They were relentless.

“Who was the striking brunette you were seen fighting with a few nights ago, Chester?”

“Where’s your ever-faithful girlfriend? Does Ashley know about this other woman?”

“The both of you seemed passionate as you argued. Didn’t look like an innocent meeting between fan and singer. Was she demanding you leave your girlfriend of two years?”

“Who are you taking home tonight? Ashley or the mystery brunette?”

All these questions and more came flying at us from various reporters and I had no clue who said what. Holy fuck?

“Enough.” Tex slammed his hand atop the table, knocking down his bottle of water and mine. “What is wrong with you?” The room grew quiet; the only sound heard was his harsh breathing into the mic and the click of recorders being turned on. “This line of questioning is distasteful and better left to the shitty gossip rags. Not you. You, who are supposed to be the real journalists sent out by reputable media outlets to cover the event. If it hasn’t been made clear yet…” He pointed down the line at all four of us. “Whom or what we do in our personal lives is just that…personal. I will not sit here and have my band—but more importantly, my brother—disrespected.”

“Word.” Cris stood up from the other side of me and held out his fist for me to bump. “We’re out.”

Standing up to leave, we were rushed again by a barrage of questions. More of the same, while others tried to backpedal and asked how we felt about the wins tonight.

Too fucking late.

Margo, the same lady from before, came to us with a horrified look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” I’d found my voice again.

“We’ll rein them in, I swear.” The anger in her tone almost made me smile. “Please, take a moment to calm yourselves while I have a word with the room. This is beyond embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we aren’t staying,” Rick, who’d been quiet until then, spoke. Coming to take a stand beside her, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, making her blush. “Please forgive us.”

A few of her colleagues, coordinators and representatives of the event tried to get us to reconsider. Assured us they’d kick anyone out who didn’t adhere to questions pertaining tonight’s win.

“Not happening.” Raising my voice, I attracted the attention of everyone within the room. “In all the years during our rise to fame, I’ve never put up with this type of shit. This disrespectful treatment. Not then or now. Won’t happen.”

“Mr. Greene, we understand your frustration, but please allow—”

Raising a hand, I cut the man speaking to me off mid-sentence. “Fuck them. I’m done.”

“Will you still be performing?” Margo’s tone was high—a nervous squeak.

“Yes.” Then, one by one, we turned around and exited the room. The clicking of cameras followed our exit. There was no doubt in my mind that this interview would be splashed across every gossip site within the next thirty minutes. Late breaking bullshit.

Like I said—fuck them.

Our departure, angry and with the boor banging against the wall, got the attention of everyone within the backstage area. Giving us a wide berth, they avoided the group of angry-looking motherfuckers making their way toward the private dressing rooms.

Once inside the room, we closed ourselves off, waited for our cue to hit the stage.

“Ashley was fucking right.” Throwing myself down on the couch, I tipped my head back and took in a big lungful of air. Burned me to admit, but they’d tear Arianna apart if given a chance. My wanting to pursue something more with her would bring her embarrassment if not handled correctly.

Problem was, how the fuck did I get that fiery Latina to agree?

“Explain?” Rick took a seat beside me and mimicked my position while the other two prepared themselves a drink. “What did Ash say?”

“Warned me about how the media would portray Slim.” Arianna would never sign up for this shit. A beautiful woman like her didn’t have the need to.

“So walk away and save her the bull.”

“Impossible.” Couldn’t even if everything within me told me it was the right thing to do.

“Then how are you going to convince her to let you be the boyfriend of another?” That right there was the million-dollar fucking question.

“Not give her a choice.”

I Saw You
...

“Ten minutes,” someone yelled through the flimsy door of our dressing room. We’d been quiet. For myself, I was trying to figure out the clusterfuck my life had become. A man who prided himself on not having complications, I now found myself stuck.

Between a rock and a hard place.

Between hurting my best friend or the woman I was infatuated with.

Yes, infatuated because there wasn’t love. Not yet. But I wasn’t a closed-off asshole that didn’t recognize the possibilities. There had to be a goddamned reason as to why I couldn’t get her off my mind. Why our chemistry was off the charts. Why I wanted to see her again. And again.

“Let’s get this over with so lover boy here…” Rick chuckled while flipping me off “…can see his women.”

“There’s only one,” I defended.

“What’s her name? Ashley or Arianna?”

Standing up from the couch, I ran a hand through my unruly hair, the Mohawk long gone. “I’m as uncomplicated as they come, dick.”

“Right…” Cris, who’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor, paused the drumming against the bottom of his Chucks. Pointing a drum stick at me, he laughed. “Pick, Cheetos. Barbie-like blonde? Or naughty brunette?”

“It’s not a contest. No choice needed to be made.” At the small vanity with a mirror, I wet my hair and sort-of fixed the mess. “Ashley isn’t what I want. Never has been.”

“Tell her that.” With a clap of the hand from Cris on my back, they filed out of the room. They were wrong. Ashley didn’t want more with me. She cared. Was acting as a sister would protecting a sibling.

“But what if—”

“Hey, bro.” Tex poked his head back in the door. “Let’s get a move on. Three minutes and counting.”

Nodding, I followed him down the hall and onto the darkened stage area set up for our performance. No one could see us until the first set of pyros went off. Behind the mic I stood, feet apart and shirt now off. There was a crackle in the air.

A hum of excitement.

This is what we did. What we loved.

“Our next performers don’t need a long and winded introduction. Stand up and welcome…Deep.”

There it was. That fucking rush. An adrenaline-filled cloud that infiltrated every singular molecule in our bodies and made us high.

A boom filled with fiery light brought all eyes on us. Screams followed. The chant of our names. I fucking lived for moments like these.

A guitar riff rang through the air, and the crowd moved closer to the stage. It was the first beat of our biggest hit to date. A song simple in melody and lyrics, yet fit the movie it represented to a T. The drums followed, low and almost hypnotic in sound.

Humming into the mic, I waited for my cue to start singing. Every single person in the room was on their feet, swaying, shouting their appreciation for us.

Smiling, I sent the crowd a wink and brought the mic closer to my lips. “I fucking love you too.”