Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (61 page)

Her face filled his phone screen on the second ring and she smiled a happy grin. “Hey.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi!”

“Want to hook up?”

And what happened next was not surprising considering his day. From beyond her side of the phone, a male voice demanded to know who she was talking to. The screen went black, and he heard her call back to this unseen man, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

And then in a normal tone she spoke back into the phone with a giggle. “I’ll be
there
in a sec.”

“What? No. No you won’t.”

“Huh?”

“Who’s that? With you?”

“My boyfriend. But we have an open relationship.” She practically whispered.

“No you don’t. Go fuck your boyfriend.”

His thumb ended the call.

What the hell had just happened? For sure, he never knowingly messed with married women. But boyfriends; game on. What was going on inside his fucked up head? The trash bin tempted him again. It was easy to imagine his black goodie bag inside the knotted plastic bag.

Unlocking his screen, he dialed desperately again.
Please. Please. Please
. He put distance between him and the trash and threw a fresh ‘stick’ for Rascal. The rings went to voicemail.

“Hey. Scar? I wish you were here. But I understand why you’re not. I do. Yeah, I do. I’m not happy about it, but… Anyway, I was just hoping to hear your voice. To talk…”

He ended the call.

Wandering to the trash can, he opened the lid. Flipping open the blade of his pocketknife, he slashed a hole in the bag and retrieved his kit. It was early, but he made sure the house was locked and turned out the downstairs lights before going up to his room. Dropping the kit to the vanity, he pulled the zipper and delved his fingers inside for the folded paper.

For several seconds, he lost himself, eyeing the stamp. A half sun and half cloud. He unfolded it, dumped it into the toilet. As he’d done this morning, he ripped the paper into tiny bits. But this morning, the paper had been empty. Now, when he flushed, both paper and powder swirled in the whirlpool of the bowl before disappearing.

That was that. Temptation removed.

T
hey went to the sushi restaurant Colt had suggested when asking her out the day she’d met him.

She drank too much wine and knew this to be the case when she found herself wanting to slide into his lap. He’d pinched a rainbow roll between his chopsticks and held it out to her to try. That’s all. No holding her hand or sneaking a touch here and there. No brush of his long legs against hers at the bar. A freaking taste when she’d shaken her head that she’d never eaten that flavor, and he could have pulled her into his lap and had his way with her.

Excusing herself, she escaped to the bathroom and wiped at her neck with a cool hand towel. Giving herself an extra couple of minutes to sober up, she pulled her phone from her purse and saw the missed call. Putting it to her ear, she listened to Gage’s voicemail. If she hadn’t known him so well, hadn’t grown up with him, she might have missed the forlorn pitch of his voice.

Quickly, she dialed and breathed in relief when he answered, but then she found herself tongue tied after the initial greetings.

“I miss you.” He repeated that part of his voicemail. “You still at Colt’s?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re eating now at that place he’s so crazy about. But yeah.”

“You’re breaking up. Sorry I didn’t get that.”

“I said yes. But we’re not there right now. At his house.”

“Dammit, I can’t… You’re breaking up.”

“I’ll call you in a little bit.”

“Yeah. Dammit.”

When the call ended, she texted him for good measure and hoped it went through.

Feeling surer of her ability to resist the rock star charm, she rejoined Colt, and they left the restaurant. While they were waiting for his car to be brought around, he asked with amazing ESP, “Heard from Gage yet?”

“I missed a few calls from him. Tried to call him in the ladies room just then, but there was no signal.” As she slid into the passenger seat and watched him tip the valet, an idea struck her. When he folded into the car, she asked, “You hear from him?”

“Sort of. This morning. He wasn’t in a talking mood.”

“How often does he… How often does…” She couldn’t say it.

“Get strung out?”

She nodded.

“A lot now. It was a ‘once every few weeks’ thing until this last year. Then the second we were off tour, he’d be fucked up all the time. He cleaned up enough to make another album, go on tour again. But halfway through the tour he was using so much he was fucking up the shows. And getting us sued.” Here he downshifted and threw her a meaningful look. “I know you think the rest of us have no pity at the possibility of him doing time. But that may be the only way to clean him up—the only place he can’t walk out of.”

A tremor ran through her limbs at the idea of Gage behind bars.

Colt only scanned music stations, and a few miles, exits, and turns later stopped in a parking lot. “Want to see something cool?”

She was already beholding the ocean at sunset, and the sight rendered her incapable of much more than an agreeable nod. Golden hues shimmered on cresting waves, and an ethereal glow bathed pedestrians as the sun melted into the horizon.

The car locked as they left it. Colt was carrying a hoodie and a cap. He slipped his signature-tattooed arms through the jacket and jammed the cap onto his skull, pulling the bill low over his forehead. A pair of shades completed the transformation of rock star to average Joe.

Yeah right. Only if the average Joe wore over a grand of clothing and accessories!

Rubbing her bare arms against the chilling gusts rolling in from the sea to the left, she enjoyed the beauty around her as they traversed a concrete path in the sand, which ran parallel to the beach. When the sight of the surf disappeared behind walls of graffiti art, her eyes rounded. They roamed the exhibition, and although she knew he’d seen it hundreds of times, he was patient while she took it all in. Even the trunks of the palm trees were beautifully painted.

They resumed following the path, and the beach-at-sunset view on their left was again unhindered. His destination was just ahead. As they drew closer, she saw bodies in various gliding stages. Scattered spectators watched skateboarders leap from ramps, glide around concrete bowls, and what she later learned were ollie stairs. Colt chose a vantage point near a large curved ramp, and she propped on the guardrail beside him.

It was amazing to watch the skaters, who ranged from nine or ten, through to adult, navigate the course. When one particularly skilled teen glided by, his long hair cascading from beneath his helmet and flying behind him, Colt elbowed her. As the skater circled again, she recognized Seth. The board gathered speed, ramped up the wall, caught air, twisted, and came down again.

This impressive display incited shouts and calls from specific bystanders, including the two of them. A particularly vocal group of teen girls shouted his name along with hoots of encouragement… “Helluva handplant, Seth! Yes!”

Colt flicked his eyes their way, and thinking he’d be proud his son was apparently the babe magnet he himself was, she teased, “Hot fan club.” But the curve of Colt’s lips was more automatic than amused, and he didn’t reply.

After a few more minutes of filming with his phone, Colt sent a text—apparently to his son. Because almost immediately, Seth waved at the girls as he glided beside them and then stopped in front of his dad. As dusk encroached, the bystanders had thinned, and an exodus had begun from the skate park.

Colt and Seth high-fived, and Seth skated alongside as they began to walk toward the car. A few boys rolled over and some goodbyes were said. One of the teens joined them in the migration to where Colt had parked. Now it made sense why Colt had opted for the Jeep and not one of his sports cars.

“Jeter’s getting picked up at our house.” Seth spoke of his friend.

“Okay,” Colt agreed, and then teased Jeter. “We’ll see you when we get there then, buddy.”

The boy expelled an embarrassed laugh, and Seth rolled his blue eyes. “My dad thinks he’s
sooo
funny.”

At that point, Colt grinned and sent an identical smoky-blue eye roll to her. “I
am sooo
funny. Scarla thinks I’m funny. Right?”

She responded with a smile and he reached for her hand.

At the boys’ request, Colt swung through a Taco Bell drive-through. While waiting for their food, which included at least half the menu, Seth asked to borrow his dad’s phone. Colt passed it back without question, but Seth alluded to his intent reprovingly. “You haven’t tweeted in days.”

“Don’t get too crazy,” Colt warned.

“I’m just adding one of the videos you took tonight.” Seth read aloud as he typed. “Tricks at Venice Skatepark. Hashtag myson. Hashtag nograsshopper.”

Bags of food passed through the window, and the subject dropped. A fast food aroma filled the car, but she was still too stuffed with sushi to be affected even by the smell of soft tacos—her weakness. The talk in the back didn’t slow much while the boys ate. Music thumped through the speakers, and Colt seemed wrapped up in the current song as he navigated the snail’s pace of the freeway. His lips moved, silently syncing the words in the lyrics. From the back seat, cackles grew more frequent and gradually increased in volume.

“All right. Too much fun. Can’t be good. Give me that!”

She couldn’t hide her amusement when Seth evaded his father’s blind backseat grab for the phone. She turned in time to see the teen type something, and both he and Jeter whooped loudly as they watched the screen.

“I mean it!” Colt warned as the car rolled to a stop behind the red taillights ahead. “You’re having way too much fun. What’re you doing?”

“Told you. Just playing on Twitter.” And Seth laughed again. “Shit, Dad. You gotta see this!”

“I’ve been trying to…”

Seth shook again with laughter and surrendered the phone.

The traffic inched forward and stopped again. The glow of the phone screen and the dash lit Colt’s features. His scowl soon lifted and he too, chuckled.

Curiosity got the best of her. “What? What’s going on?”

Seth leaned forward, resting an elbow on each of the two front seats as he told his story. “Some girl tweeted Dad.” His voice elevated several pitches as he mimicked a female voice. “’If ‘at Colt Powers’ tweeted me, I’d cry.’”

When Seth dissolved into a laughing fit again, Colt finished. “And apparently…” Here, via the rearview mirror, he narrowed his gaze on the actual culprit. “’
I
’ tweeted back―”

“Get ready to cry!” Seth unanimously finished the sentence along with his father and fell back into the shadows with another fit of laughter.

“What happened then?” She had seen the guys interacting on Instagram and Twitter with their fans a couple of times, and it had always been entertaining.

“She selfied herself screaming.” Colt grinned and twisted the phone screen to her, but the line of traffic through the windshield again claimed his attention.

She giggled at the seven-second image and then sobered slightly, realizing she had never been a young teen who’d mancrushed over teen and twentyish celebrities. That was Ivy. Ivy had Pinterest boards of superstar hunks and hundreds of Tumblr reposts of her favorites. Was Ivy now living her dream? Had one of her men jumped off of social media and into her arms?

“She did? I wanna see.” A hand appeared between the seats, interrupting her thoughts, and Colt dropped the phone into Jeter’s palm.

When they were parked in the drive in front of the Powers’ house, the boys immediately exited the back. Intending to pause Colt long enough to thank him for the evening out, she reached, and her hand landed on his arm.

Misunderstanding her chaste intentions, he leaned toward her, and her eyes fluttered closed when his lips settled on hers. The kiss wasn’t hot and hungry, but it wasn’t tender and sweet either. It was easily the best she’d ever had, excluding one. Yet, the passion was practiced—not a spontaneous combustion like when she’d kissed Gage. His tongue stroked hers one last time, and she thought he was easing out of the kiss. Instead of retreating, his tongue curled enough to caress the backside of her lips hitting a sweet spot that had her groaning and digging her fingers into his arm.

She was practically panting when they parted. His eyes ran over her face, and she clung to his gaze, shaken and confused about what she was feeling.

“Thought this wasn’t a date.” She managed to toss out the wry words and lift her brows when reminding him of his words before they’d set off to the restaurant.

He returned her grin with one of his famous ones. “It wasn’t… Until you stole a goodnight kiss.”

“
I
stole?”

“I was getting out of the car like a gentleman.” He reminded, and she realized her hand was still on his arm when he lifted it, touching his forefinger to her lips.

“Lipstick?” She inquired and searched for any signs on his lips. The shade was one of the ‘all day stay’ varieties, but she wouldn’t doubt such a thorough kiss might have done some smearing.