Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) (17 page)

But the girls who had been taking up space in my head weren’t really sex objects at all, even though I probably would fuck them if given half the chance.

There was Tina, of course. I wanted to get her attention, and I was ready to make her pay for saying that we weren’t polished professionals and I had no swagger.

There is Pam, who is likely spending her waning days of summer with the hubby, Mr. Doug. Every time I think of him my mouth curves into a snarl. There was a sweet way in how she cared about me, how she pushed me to follow my dreams and encouraged me when I was down. It was so nice to have that again after losing Aunt Susan, that I could still see remnants of the Old Vanni whenever I looked into her eyes.

I like that. When I’m with her, I feel more
me
. And now she’ll always belong to someone else, which puts her off limits for me no matter how much I want her. The only thing worse would be if she got pregnant, which I expect to happen any day. That’s the way it works, right? First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes Pam with a baby carriage.

I still have my doubts that she actually loves this fucker, not in the same way she could love me. That’s the one shred of hope I have left that it’s not over between us. But I know if she ever gets pregnant, that will sever every last tie. Even if she gets her head out of her ass and realizes that it’s me she really wants, I would never break up a family. I could never be that heartless and self-serving where an innocent child is concerned.

And then there’s Sasha, the woman juggling a dozen drink orders behind the bar in front of me. I have to admit, learning she was a single mom actually added to her appeal for me. It reminds me so much of Mama, that I find myself wondering what her children look like.
Hugo and Imogen
. I remember their names, which is very unusual for me. But then again, Hugo and Imogen are two unusual names.

I like the way I feel when I’m with her, too. She reminds me that I’m still a good guy deep down, and I need to be reminded sometimes.

I tug Bobby’s sleeve and guide him over to the bar. “What do you know, Joe?” she greets with a grin when I finally wedge myself in between the patrons at the bar to stand in front of her.

“Joe?” Bobby repeats, his eyebrow arched.

“Long story,” I say. “Bobby, this is Sasha. Sasha, our bassist, Bobby Rocco.”

She reaches for a handshake. “I remember. I saw you guys play last week. You were really good.”

“Thanks,” he says with his best flirty smile, but I know he’s not interested in her. Like I said, his tastes are pretty exclusive. Even if her hint of crow’s feet didn’t put him off, finding out she had a couple of kids would send him packing.

“So what’s new around here?” I ask as I survey the scene. Another killer band wows the crowd. Tina knows what she is doing, that much is clear. What is even clearer is that we have every right to be on that stage, too. And I don’t plan to stop until we get there.

An effervescent blonde with bouncy curls and a bodacious smile squeezes herself between me and another guy at the bar. “Hey, hon,” she calls Sasha, with one of the most adorable accents I’ve ever heard. “Can I get another Manhattan and Long Island Iced tea?”

I grin down at her. She’s plastered to me, I can feel every luscious curve. “Those are some pretty Yankee drinks for a girl with such a sweet southern accent.”

She looks me up and down with sparkling blue eyes. Her smile widens. “I can handle it.”

“I bet you can. Where are you from?”

“Tennessee,” she says. It drips like brandy from her lips. “How ‘bout you?”

“Brooklyn,” I say with pride, but she shakes her head.

“Before that,” she says.

My eyebrow arches. That’s talent. Makes me wonder what else she can do. “Good ear.” She waits expectantly so I finally supply an answer to her question. “Philadelphia, born and bred.”

“The City of Brotherly Love,” she says and I nod.

“Ever been?”

She shakes her head and those curls bounce over her slender, bared shoulders. “Not yet. It’s on the list, though.”

“So how did you know I was from Philadelphia?”

She crinkles her nose. It’s adorable. “Don’t laugh, but, I took an improv class when I first came to New York.”

“Not laughing,” I say as I glance her over again. In fact, I find her fascinating. It’s not common for me to meet women nearer my own age, especially one who has no reason at all to impress the likes of me, some average Joe in a dimly lit nightclub. I hold out my hand. “Vanni.”

She chuckles, a warm, deep sound. “Seriously? That’s your name?”

I shrug with a grin. “Short for Giovanni.” I lean closer. “It’s Italian.”

She eyes me playfully. She’s wise to my game. Her whiskey-dripped voice pours over my senses as she closes a soft hand around mine. “Iris.”

I pull her even closer and bend down to say closer to her ear, “Nice to meet you, Iris.” I refer to my friend, who is scoping out a young hottie at the end of the bar. “This is my friend, Bobby.” They shake hands, but he’s no more interested in her than Sasha, who arrives with her drinks. “So are you here for a hot date? If so, he’s a shit for not buying these overpriced cocktails for you. I say you should drop him entirely and join us.”

Again she chuckles. “It’s a hot date with an old friend.” She points at a table, where another woman sits by a flickering flameless candle. She’s a Rubenesque beauty with dark brown hair highlighted with funky blonde chunks, all swept up tight in a neat ponytail. With her black-framed glasses and minimal makeup, she looks like a hot, smart nerd. Even from twenty-five feet away, I can see there is much more than meets the eye.

“Invite her,” I say. “Two of you. Two of us. We’re evenly matched. It’s kismet.”

“Well, normally I’d love to but she’s only in town for a short time.” She looks me up and down again. “It’s been fun and you’re real cute, but I have to get back to my friend.”

“Let me carry your drinks at least,” I say. I’m not ready to give up yet. I’m Giovanni Carnevale, for crissakes. Seducing more than one woman at a time is sort of my thing now.

I don’t even give her a chance to decline. I take the drinks from the bar and make a beeline for the sexy friend at the table, nodding to Bobby to follow along.

Before I can reach the table, however, I hear another female voice behind me. It’s not a southern accent. It’s spiced with sensual Portuguese. “Mr. Carnevale.”

I know it’s Tina before I even turn around. “Tina,” the blonde says, which surprises me further. How does this country girl know one of the most influential people in Manhattan?

“Iris,” she says as they share a half-hug and a side-kiss. “They’re taking care of you, I trust?”

“It’s been lovely, thank you.”

“Least I can do,” Tina purrs with a smile, and I realize that Iris didn’t have to pay for her drinks. She’s a guest, which makes her even more interesting to me.

“Andy will get you a copy of her review by the time she heads back to Tennessee tomorrow. I’m sure it’s going to be quite favorable.”

“Good to hear,” Tina says before she turns to Bobby and me. “And how about you boys? Enjoying Sedução?”

Bobby nods his head. He may not be into older ladies, and who can blame him, when he’s barely twenty-three himself? But he knows the kind of power Tina wields in this town, and like he said when we first saw Tina, she’s hot. “It’s an amazing club, Ms. Nunes,” he says. “Maybe one day we’ll even have the honor of playing here.”

Tina slides her dark gaze from his face to mine, where she shamelessly inspects the “new” look head to toe. “Maybe,” she finally says.

I think my heart stops beating for a minute as I stare down at her. Iris uses this opportunity to take her drinks from my hand and slip away to her friend at the table ten feet from where we’re standing, but I’ve already forgotten all about them. When Tina turns back towards the bar, I change direction to follow her.

She wants me to take what I want? She’s about to get exactly what she asked for.

Bobby follows as well, but I nod my head in the direction of the young hottie in the skin-tight red dress showing more T&A than a beer commercial. “I got this,” I tell him.

He’s uncertain for a moment but finally relents. I step behind Tina at the bar. Since she’s only five-foot-eight, (over six feet if you count her stiletto heels,) I can shadow her almost entirely with my lanky frame. I know she can feel my body heat as we stand a breath apart.

I take a silky lock of her hair in between my forefinger and my thumb as she motions to Sasha, who places a bottle of expensive champagne and two flutes on the bar in front of her.

Without even looking my direction, Tina walks away, leaving her drink order behind. I glance at Sasha, who looks down at the champagne in front of me before nodding off to the dark corner where Tina strides.

I grab the bottle with one hand and the glasses in the other as I push through the crowd to follow behind.

I disappear down the mirrored hallway, with plush velvet seating next to the bathrooms and “employees only” doors. I head down another corridor, passing two big guards dressed all in black, who stand on either side, hands clasped and faces stoic. One glance to the champagne in my hand and they nod me through.

I walk all the way to the end of the corridor until I reach a door made of black glass. I tuck the bottle in between my bicep and my side to open it and walk inside.

The room is even more dimly lit than the bar. I can hear the music thunder through the walls, which are made of mirror and glass. There’s plenty of plush seating and another bar, although this one isn’t tended by an employee.

Tina stands behind the leather bar, putting ice in a silver ice bucket. I don’t say a word as I nestle the champagne bottle in the ice. I set the glasses down. “So is this where I audition?”

She offers a smile. “In a manner of speaking.” She walks around the bar and heads straight towards the white circular seating in the middle of the room that surrounds a smaller stage. With a click of the remote control, a sexy house beat fills the cozy space and multi-colored lights flicker off of the reflective glass on every wall and on the ceiling.

She crosses one bare leg over the other and her short white skirt slides up her lusciously tanned skin. I set the bucket next to her, cross over her and sit on her other side. “So what song would you like me to sing?” I ask as I lean closer to her.

“You still don’t get it,” she chuckles. “This isn’t about singing. This is about image,” she says as she trails a finger down my chiseled chest. It makes all those upside down sit-ups worth the trouble.

My voice is soft as I drill my gaze right into hers. “And do you like what you see?”

Her finger trails all the way down my chest and across my stomach, stopping just short of the bulge in my pants. “I’d say you have a great deal of potential. That’s what I saw that first night. Otherwise I never would have asked you to dance.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “You didn’t even know I was in a band.”

“It’s so cute that you don’t think so,” she says. She leans back against the cushion, propped against one arm, her chin resting in her hands as she looks down her reclining, sexy body at me. “Do you honestly think I’d waste my time on you simply because you’re cute? Schnauzers are cute. I’m a business woman, and making money is never far from my mind.”

I lean across her to take the champagne out of the bottle and pop the cork. I pour her a glass and then I pour myself one. “So how are we going to make a lot of money?” I ask, plain and direct.

She sips her champagne. “You’ve got a good look. Really retro and nostalgic. Kind of like the reincarnation of Jim Morrison or Michael Hutchence. You just need to work on your sex appeal.”

I can’t stop the laughter even if I want to. “Apparently you’ve never seen the crowd of girls I pull in after every show.”

“Keyword: girls,” she says as she sits up. “I cater to the strictly VIP set, Mr. Carnevale. Celebrities. Debutantes. Socialites. We’re talking Manhattan royalty. Rich and powerful people, especially the women. They have caviar tastes and platinum standards, so they like their men to be self-assured and masculine. Emotionally you’re still a boy chasing your dick around.”

My eyes narrow on her as I swallow the bubbly, expensive liquid in a loud gulp. This bitch has a lot of nerve. “Is that a fact?”

“Don’t pout, Vanni. It’s not attractive.” She kills one drink and holds the glass up for more. I hesitate only a moment before I fill it. “Like I said, you have potential. And I have no problem signing your band to perform in my club.
Once
you’re ready,” she adds when my eyes widen.

I set my glass and the bottle on the floor. “So is this where I take what I want and fuck you in your secret party room?”

“I don’t fuck in my bar,” she tells me as she drains another glass. “I’ve actually got a business proposition for you.” My eyebrow arches and she continues. “Sedução is hosting a special event next Friday. Dreadfully boring thing, to benefit by my ex-husband’s foundation for the under-privileged. And I, as the charitable ex-wife, will be all smiles as I greet all the two-faced backstabbers who have chosen to give their allegiance to my cheating ex-husband instead of me in the wake of my well-publicized divorce.”