Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) (16 page)

From the look on her face, I know I’ve just sunk the basket. Fuck Tina Nunes. I have plenty of fucking swagger. It helps me negotiate a deal like I’ve been doing it all along, rather than leaving it to Yael. It was his band before. It’s our band now. I start my negotiations high, which she counters with something more modest. It’s almost a sexual act getting us on the same page, figuring on fair compensation, though it’s less than what we ordinarily pull in.

I figure a gig is a gig, and any amount is better than zero. At least that’s how I plan to pitch it to Yael and the guys.

I don’t leave the bar until we settle on a date. One: I’m not going to let her blow me off. Two: It makes me ridiculously happy just to be with her again. I can see in her eyes that, married or not, she still wants me. This is good news for New Vanni, who is all about gratification. It gives me a couple of months to perfect this new persona, the one that will make Pam second-guess jumping into a marriage with whatshisname.

I want to punish her even more after spending the afternoon with her. If that means I have to keep putting myself in her face, to remind her of what she gave up, then that’s what I’ll do.

I know that doesn’t make me a nice guy, but I’m beginning suspect that nice is not on the short list of the New Vanni’s qualities. He’s got determination, ambition and a healthy ego, and, frankly speaking, nice isn’t always compatible with those things.

Old Vanni was a nice guy. He was raised to be a nice guy. And where did that get him? He ended up alone while his “nice” girlfriend screwed his best friend behind his back for months, right when he needed her the most.

Old Vanni or New, I wasn’t going to make
that
mistake again. Love is for suckers.

Hell, I think I’ve found the title to a new song. I work on it as I hop over to Manhattan to let the guys know the big news.

“You did what?” Yael asks.

“I got us a gig. It’s at my neighborhood bar.”

He scoffs as he returns to his guitar, tweaking notes for a new original song. “First stop, Bensonhurst. Next stop, the Cleveland. Maybe Sandusky. I know. Cucamonga.”

“That neighborhood is invested in me. What better way to sell out a venue?”

“Of what? Thirty?”

“One hundred and fifty, actually,” I say, suddenly annoyed. “And since when are we pickers and choosers where we book?”

“I’m trying to get our foot in the door. You do that in the city, where people are constantly scouting out new bands–bands that have already worked their way up to play there.”

I chuckle. “You’re such an elitist, Yael. Learn that at Julliard, did you?”

Yael sighs as he looks up at me. “It’s nothing personal, Vanni. It’s just that… we’ve played those gigs already.”

“Really?” I shoot back. “I haven’t.”

Our gaze holds for a moment. “Look, man. If you have something that you want to prove–”

“I do,” I say as I cut him off. “Not just to the people in the neighborhood, but to you too, I guess.”

“Vanni,” he starts but I’m ready to dig my heels in.

“So here’s the deal. I get us a gig in the city, a big one, and you do my show in the sticks.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “And where is that?”

“Sedução.”

He laughs the minute I say it. “Do you know how hard it is to get booked there without some kind of connection?”

“Oh, I have a connection.”

“And who is that?”

“Tina Nunes.”

Again he chuckles. And each time he does, it only solidifies my resolve even more. “Sure,” he finally says, and I know now it’s a challenge. “You get us into Sedução and I’ll play your neighborhood dive.”

“Deal,” I say as I spin on my heel and stalk out his front door. I have no idea how I’m going to make this happen, but I’ve got two months to figure it out.

Because I no longer have any money to wave at Sedução, and it really didn’t work when I did, I know I have to plan another type of attack in order to get Tina’s attention. I enlist the aid of my favorite salesgirl as I stop at the vintage shop to boost my wardrobe. Thankfully she wears a nametag, so I don’t have to confess that I never got her name in the first place. “Hey, Chelsea,” I say with my best smirk. She blushes almost immediately.

“Hey, Vanni,” she says. And she didn’t even need a nametag to do it. “What are you doing here?”

I run a finger along one of the shirts near where she’s standing. “Does a guy need a reason to see his favorite shop girl?”

She giggles and looks away. She seems so young, like a schoolgirl. It’s hard to believe she’s the same girl who practically jumped me in a sexy ménage a trois with her best friend. “So how’s Jena?” I ask, patting myself on the back that I remembered at least one of their names.

You should always remember your first threesome. It’s just good manners.

“Good,” she says. “We thought about seeing another show, but a lot of your venues are 21 and over.”

I stand a little closer, hovering over her, practically inhaling her sweet scent. “There are ways around that,” I tell her.

Her hopeful eyes widen. “Oh yeah?”

I smile a little wider. “Yeah. I could put you on the crew to get you into the club. They’ll just mark an X on your hand so you can’t get drinks at the bar. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, but, what can I do?”

I run a finger down her arm, bared by the sleeveless top she’s wearing. “You can dress me,” I tell her in a lower voice. I clasp her hands in mine and guide her back to the dressing room, which is concealed by clattering beads and panels funky, multi-colored fabric.

I barely get the door closed as I lift her up against me. She’s so small it makes me feel like a giant. Her arms lock around my neck and she kisses me back as hard I kiss her.

I didn’t necessarily mean to seduce her in that small cubicle, but seeing our reflection in the mirror make it a temptation impossible to deny. My hands spread large against her tiny frame, molding her to my body, which isn’t looking too shabby given how much time I spend in my makeshift gym at the house. I’ve already outgrown most of my shirts as a result. I watch as she peels my shirt from my torso, discarding it into a heap in the corner. “I know what you need,” she says before she disappears from the cubicle. She comes back with a black shirt that is a size too small. Funny, six months ago it was my regular size. The shirt hugs every contour of my chest as she pulls it down. I reach for her again, but she shakes her head with another grin. She escapes one more time to fetch a pair of scissors.

She cuts a small spot in the top of the shirt, then uses her fingers to tear it open, like she can’t wait to see what’s underneath. I lift her up until her legs lock around my waist. She’s wearing shorts, which makes fucking her a little more difficult. Instead I just grind against her, so she can feel how hard I am. She moans against me before inspiration hits.

“I’ve got an idea,” she says as she practically jumps from my arms. When she returns, she’s carrying motorcycle jeans made of black leather. Before I can say anything, she’s unfastening my denim and peeling it from my body. “Every bad boy needs some leather,” she says as she kneels in front of me.

I feel like a bad boy as I stand in front of her, which I can see at every angle thanks to the mirrors. There’s a smile on my face as I step out of the jeans and into the pants. She bites her lip as she eases the tight jeans up my muscled thighs and around my ass. There’s no hope of fastening them, not in my current aroused state.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” she teases.

“Not yet,” I tell her as I cup the back of her head with my hand. She easily pulls my cock free and I watch her in the mirror as she blows me. God, she’s good at this. “How did a young thing like you get so good?”

She moans against me, and I’m putty in her hands.

I stare at my reflection and the New Vanni comes more clearly into view. There’s no trace of a nice guy in that small cubicle, getting blown by a virtual teenager, out in public where anyone could walk in, including her associate minding the cash register some thirty feet away. And he’s not sorry, not in the least little bit. He’s given himself permission to take what he wants.

If only Tina could see me now.

Like I promised, I get Chelsea into the next gig that weekend. She brings a new friend with her this time around, someone over twenty-one. I wear the outfit she’s chosen for me, and all I can think about is how hot she looked going down on me in that public dressing room. It lights such a fuse to my performance, even I wouldn’t deny how I crushed it. I nailed the vocals, and I could tell by every sexy girl in the front row that I have made each and every one of them fall in love with me.

By the time we head to the VIP party after the show, the crowd has doubled. It’s almost impossible to get one of the rooms for myself so that I can treat Chelsea to another magical night. She surprises me again by dragging at least two other girls with her.

The only girl who gets my number at the end is Chelsea.

By the end of the week, she’s truly part of the crew, dressing everyone so that we look like we actually belong together. She’s also been by the house a few times to overhaul my wardrobe. I finally fuck in Lori’s chair, but it’s still missing something.

I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

I finally head to Sedução that Saturday night. The joint is hopping, with more beautiful VIPs than I’ve ever seen gathered in one place. A guest band performs, so I can see just what kind of talent Ms. Nunes is seeking.

I have to admit, they’re pretty good. They have a chick for a lead singer, and she’s exotic as hell. Tall and statuesque, with dark skin and short cropped hair. She wears a white leather mini skirt and go-go boots, which gleam under the black light. Her body undulates like a snake as she sings about love, loss and heartbreak.

“Enjoying the show?”

I turn my head towards the female voice. It’s the bartender I had bribed to get close to Tina. I smile at her, thankful that she, too, wears a nametag. “Tremendously. How about you, Sasha?”

“I enjoy all the bands that come through here,” she tells me as she pours me a drink. It’s what I had ordered the last time. Clearly she’s gunning for the same kind of tips I left before.

I simply tip her with a smile. “Too bad you’re missing one of the hottest up-and-coming bands in Manhattan.”

“Yeah? Who’s that?”

My mouth hangs open as I contemplate the answer. I want to answer the question, but saying
The Yael Satterlee Experiment: Featuring Giovanni Carnevale
is a bit of a mouthful. “It’s a secret,” I tell her instead.

She grins as she leans across the bar. “Is that so?”

I nod. “I had to take a blood oath. It was pretty serious.”

She looks me over. I’m wearing that torn black shirt and my leather jeans. Chelsea has started teasing my long, straight hair so that it frames my face with tousled curls. I stopped just short of wearing sunglasses. The dimly lit club is hard enough to navigate as it is, and despite the New Vanni’s newfound arrogant-assery, even I find that to be too much of a dick move.

For now.

I trail my finger along her forearm. “But everything has its price. Under the right duress, I might be persuaded to let my tongue slip.” I run tongue around my shit-eating grin just to make my point.

“And what’s your price, hot shot?”

“A drink,” I announce.

“I’m working,” she says.

“After you get off,” I suggest. “Or before. Or during.”

She chuckles. “If this has anything to do with Tina,” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Fuck Tina.”

Her eyebrow arches. “If that’s what you’re after, hon, I should tell you I’m not the way to get it. You want her, you go get her. I’m nobody’s stepstool.”

“I get that,” I tell her, while mentally erasing Plan A from the blackboard in my brain. “I’m just coming on to a beautiful woman. No crime in that, is there?”

She eyes me carefully. “I suppose not.”

“Good,” I say as I withdraw a pen. I nab a napkin from the stack right next to her and jot down the address for our next gig. “You show up there. Drink’s on me. No Tina. No problem. What do you say?”

She glances down at the napkin. “I’d say that I’m working that night.”

“That does present a problem,” I agree. “I just hope you’re well enough to work the rest of the week. Terrible flu going around. I mean it’s the 24-hour kind, so you should be fine if you take one personal day to yourself.”

I take her hand in mine, and bend to kiss each finger. I can feel her tremble. She knows she should pull away but I know she can’t. With a smile, I flip her hand over to kiss her palm, darting my tongue in a small, discreet circle until she shudders against me. I toss a twenty on the bar to pay for my drink, then I leave without even touching it.

I don’t know if Sasha will show up until I see her face in the crowd. By then I know I have her, and I didn’t even have to sing one word. Not only did she ditch work to catch my show, she’s dressed in a short skirt and a halter top, which suggests she’s either on the hunt or wants to be hunted.

The palm trick works every time.

I give the performance of a lifetime, singing almost exclusively to her from the stage. During an INXS cover, I shed my shirt and toss it to the crowd. Sasha doesn’t lunge for it like the rest of the girls. She can’t keep her eyes off my chest.

The feeling is more than mutual. She’s got spectacular cleavage from where I’m standing, creamy tantalizing breasts that invite me to explore with my fingers and my mouth. When she bites her lip, I know she can read my thoughts. But what else was she expecting, really?

I link my thumb in my front pants pocket, drawing attention to what she’s doing to me.

Chelsea is nearby, which makes things a little awkward, but it’s not like she’s opposed to sharing. She’s young but she knows the score. That makes things easier considering the New Vanni has got a full agenda. I have less than seven weeks to book Sedução. Assuaging hurt feelings doesn’t quite make the list.

When I exit the stage, I worm my way through the excited crowd, mostly female, all of whom want to congratulate me for my killer set. I really don’t have to head to the bar if I don’t want to; several girls have purchased drinks for me, from bottles of water to bottles of beer, which they try to hand to me as I pass by. I wave them away with a smile, making a beeline for the bar anyway. I don’t look around for Sasha. Instead I flirt with the girls who surround me. They giggle and blush as they try to wedge themselves even closer to me. I indulge them happily. It is one of the perks of New Vanni’s new life, I can’t lie.

I scan the crowd, where I spot Sasha easily. She stands near a tall table near the stage. She’s trying her best not to look my direction. My face cracks apart in a self-satisfied smile before I turn to the bartender. “What’s she drinking?” I ask, pointing towards Sasha.

The bartender grins at me before he fills another glass and hands it to me. I toss some bills on the bar before I disengage from the girls crowding me to make my way towards Sasha. “Give me a minute, ladies,” I say.

Bobby, my ever-present wingman, wrangles them with the lure of the VIP after-party experience, which allows me a smooth escape.

Sasha doesn’t even look at me when I approach from behind and set the drink on her table. “Sasha,” I greet warmly. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Bullshit,” she chuckles.

“Okay, I was hopeful,” I confess with a grin of my own. “So what’d you think?”

She nods. “It was good. You all have a really great sound. And you have a hot look.”

My eyes meet hers. “Hot enough for Sedução?”

She laughs again. “So that’s the reason you invited me,” she says. “I was wondering.”

“Part of it,” I shamelessly admit as I glance down her shirt. Up close the view is breathtaking.

She glances towards the bar. “It isn’t because you’re lacking female companionship, that’s for sure.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I get by with a little help from my friends.” I stand a little closer. “Would you like to be my friend, Sasha?”

She shudders. I try not to gloat. “You’re really cute,” she says. “But I’m not exactly the kind of girl who chases after rock stars. If that was what I was after, I wouldn’t need to leave Sedução.”

I trail a finger along her neckline, stopping just short of the silky, creamy skin of her breast. “Interesting choice of shirt for someone who isn’t out to fuck a rock star.”

Her eyes never leave mine. “You’re assuming I wore it for you. Maybe, just maybe, I wore it for me.”

I have to laugh. I like this girl already. “Touché ,” I acknowledge. I look around the crowd. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her eyebrow arches. “And go where?”

I lean forward, almost till our noses touch. “It’s a surprise.”

And indeed she is surprised the minute we walk into the dimly lit dining room at Cynzia’s. She laughs as I pull her to one of the booths. “Hey, Santino!” I holler from the counter. “House special, extra large, extra cheese, extra fast.”

“You’ll get it when you get it, Joe,” Santino grumbles.

Sasha grins at me. “Joe?”

I shrug it off. “He hasn’t gotten that right since I started working for him six years ago.”

“You work here?”

“Used to,” I admit. “Might again if things don’t turn around soon.”

“Tell that to someone who didn’t see that crowd tonight.”

“It’s good,” I concede. “But it’s not where I want to be. Not by a long shot.”

“Hey, Vanni,” Alicia says as she stops by our table to pour a couple of glasses of water. Her eyes are still so hopeful as she looks at me, like one day I’m going to whisk her right out of that tiny dining room and off into the sunset like some adolescent fairy tale. “Did you want some wine?”

I look at Sasha, who nods. “Just a couple of glasses of house wine,” I tell Alicia, who nods and exits the table.

I turn back to Sasha. “So let me guess,” she says. “You want to be at Sedução.”

“To start,” I reply. “I want to perform every big venue from Madison Square Garden to the Hollywood Bowl. I want to sing the National Anthem at Yankee fucking Stadium and have my own show during half-time at the Super Bowl.”

Her brown eyes are thoughtful. “Small town boy with big dreams?”

“Anything wrong with that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” she says. “Dreamers change the world.”

“Is that what you want to do?” I ask. It occurs to me suddenly that I’m interested in the answer. It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve actually
talked
to a woman.

She takes a deep breath. “That’s a loaded question.”

I sit back in the booth. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

She eyes me carefully before she admits, “Well, I do.”

I sit up straighter now. “Husband?” I ask. It hadn’t even occurred to me.

She shakes her head. “Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. And I mean it.

She shrugs. “Shit happens, what can I say? Anyway, he gets to go have a party and I get to raise a couple of kids. Seems fair.” She tips a glass to her lips and takes a long drink without looking at me.

In the space of a second, the Old Vanni erupts from my core and I feel like a giant shit. “You certainly shouldn’t have skipped a shift for me.”

She laughs. “I didn’t,” she confesses with an embarrassed grin. “I had the night off anyway. I was lying because I just didn’t want to spend it in another bar. I already work at two.”

I eye her thoughtfully. She’s a pretty girl, with brown hair and dark eyes. Only she isn’t really a ‘girl’ at all. Now that we’re in a restaurant instead of a bar, I can see the faint lines around the corner of her eyes. She’s not some young groupie like the girls at the club. It hits me suddenly that she had been absolutely sincere before. She isn’t wearing hot clothes for me at all. She is taking a break from laundry and cleaning and runny noses, and needs to feel like a sexy woman for
herself
.

It honestly makes her even sexier.

Knowing she works two jobs to support her kids reminds me instantly of Mama. I can see the same strain in her shoulders and around her neck. She’s carrying the world on her shoulders, and here I was, about to use her as some trampoline into Sedução. God, I can be such an asshole sometimes. I immediately switch gears as I lean forward on my forearms. “How many kids do you have?”

“Two,” she says as she reaches for a breadstick. “A five-year-old boy named Hugo and a three-year-old girl named Imogen.” Off my look she screws her face into a wry smile. “My ex and I were pretentious hipsters, as you can tell.”

I laugh. “No, I dig it. I’m partial to people with unusual names, particularly children.”

“Nice to know, Joe,” she says with a smirk that instantly makes me like her more.

I chuckle. “So when does the carriage turn back into a pumpkin?”

She glances at her watch. “About an hour. You better work fast.”

I can’t stop my smile if I wanted to. She could have been anywhere in the city tonight, and she’s with me, eating pizza and drinking wine. That counts as progress in my book. “I already did.”

The arrival of our pizza interrupts our conversation. I dive right in, suddenly ravenous. She digs into her own piece and murmurs her approval. Alicia fills both of our glasses with more wine as Sasha and I sit in comfortable silence.

She finally places what crust is left of her slice onto her plate and folds her hands on top of each other on the table. “That was good. The wine is top-notch. The company is interesting.”

“So glad you think so.”

“Where is this heading, Vanni? Do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to book you?”

I wipe my hands on my napkin. “Is it too much to ask for both?”

She chuckles again. It’s a nice, lilting sound. “Yes,” she finally answers, definitively but with a smile. I just look at her and wait. “My life is complicated enough already. I don’t need to add some crazy rock star to the mix. I’m just looking for friends, now. Nothing more. And really, there’s nothing I can do for you at Sedução. Tina picks every single band. She keeps everything very hands-on.”

“Fair enough,” I nod. “But you did say you worked at two clubs, did you not?” She purses her lips. I reel her in. “You know my band has something special, Sasha. We just need a chance.” I take her hand in mine. “Be a friend?”

She hesitates a long moment before she finally says, “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” Another glance at her watch. “I really should go.”

I nod and stand, and she follows as I lead her towards the entrance. We step outside and I hail her a cab to take her back home to Queens. I open my arms for a hug, and she doesn’t deny me. I close my arms around her soft body and squeeze her tight, just for a second, just so she can feel how much I’ve enjoyed our time together.

Most of my female interactions these days have been one-night-stands. Fun but usually forgettable, especially since there have been so many.

I realize then that New Vanni could use a friend, and Sasha is easy to like.

That night when I head to bed, I don’t even look at the chair.

The next week we work hard on our gig the following weekend. Each and every week we grow more cohesive, and act more and more like a band. I perfect my stage persona, with a little help from Chelsea, my favorite shop girl. Since she works in a vintage store, they get a lot of clothes in every week that she gets to prowl through to find the right look for me.

She doesn’t ask me about Sasha, which I like. With her being so young, I was worried she’d get a little too attached, like Alicia at Cynzia’s. But it doesn’t seem to bother her to let me go on my way when all my needs are met. I wonder sometimes about the life she’s living. I figure with her being in college, especially around so many of her uninhibited friends, she’s got an active social life all of her own.

I don’t begrudge her at all. You’re only nineteen once, might as well enjoy it.

By that following Friday night, we hit the stage like cannon fire. We’re on a list with five other bands, and we land somewhere around the ten o’clock hour. The crowds are good, the groupies are smoking hot, but Sasha is nowhere to be found.

Neither is Chelsea, which is unusual. I’m left oddly out of sorts. Part of that is probably because it’s our first performance where we don’t host an after-party, but most of the groupies are new and don’t really expect one. Plus, it’s a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. I could already see which girl would be willing to do which naughty sex act just by the way they sidle up to me at the bar. Thanks to my peculiar funk, I’m just not in the mood, no matter how sexy they are.

After the band loads out, I turn to Bobby. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s head to Sedução.”

Bobby toasts me with his full glass of beer, which he chugs and drains, all in one gulp.

We make it to Sedução just before midnight. They have a full roster as well, although their bands are obviously more well-known than the ones that played with us. It stands to reason, since Tina only books the best talent, usually on the cusp of nationwide exposure and success.

That’s why it’s more important than ever for me to secure us a place there.

I spot Sasha right away, but she’s too busy tending bar to notice. I don’t say anything to Bobby. When it comes to women, he has one primary goal: get them into bed. He has a very short list of turn-offs, but one of which is mama drama. “They take half your money, want half your time and, let’s face it. Their bodies never go back to the way they used to be. Get ‘em young, while they’re still down for anything and aren’t carrying a lot of extra baggage.”

For most of the summer, that was just what we had done. The girls who paraded through our various hotel suites all fit the criteria. They wanted a night with a sexy rock star, and we wanted lots of sex with a variety of partners, no strings attached. It’d been mutually fulfilling up until now.