My mom smiles, and Cliff motions to Annabelle. The room feels weird and awkward since I entered, and I wonder if something had happened before I got there. Whatever it was, I’m glad to move to a new location.
We make our way to the dining room, and I know I should be thinking about what we’re going to do on tour, but I keep smelling lemons and mints, and this damn girl is in my head now.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, she looks back at me, and then looks away quickly when she sees that I’m staring at her. I’ve got a perfect view of her fine ass, and I plan on looking for as long as it’s sashaying in front of me.
We sit around a large dining room table, and a spread is already waiting for us. I help myself to the bowl of soup in front of me, and I watch Annabelle through the corner of my eyes.
She all but snatches the glass of Chardonnay in front of her, and I can’t help laughing as she gulps it down like a shot.
She looks at me, embarrassed, she knows I’ve caught her, and I see Cliff give her one of those parental warning kind of looks. She raises her eyebrows at him, grabs the bottle of wine that’s chilling on the table and pours herself another glass.
“So, Dominic, I was telling Annabelle about how you were looking for a backup singer,” my mom says helpfully.
Christ. Now I need to find a way to let this poor girl down.
Annabelle chokes on her wine and slams her glass down. She’s shaking her head in refusal. Hmm, maybe this is what happened before I walked in.
“I’m not interested in handouts,” she says hotly, and then she saw my mom’s injured look. “Thanks for thinking of me, Roxie, but I’ll keep trying it on my own.”
Now I'm intrigued. Most girls would fall all over this kind of opportunity, especially singers. Maybe rock isn’t her forte?
“Rock not your thing?” I ask casually, but I can’t help the snide tone. She probably sings Christian music, or Broadway.
“Actually it is my thing,” she snaps, “but I’m still not interested.”
“You sing rock?” I sound incredulous.
“Oh, Annabelle is a rock singer,” Cliff says proudly, “She had a very promising career until she –” he stops himself, embarrassed, and takes a big mouthful of his soup.
I see Annabelle squirm in her seat, and she blushes again. I almost care, but I’m too distracted by her pink skin. Her eyes are so fucking blue, and her eyelashes are so long that I just can’t help staring at her. I try to imagine her dressed in some tight, skimpy outfit and I get hard at the thought.
Get a fucking hold of yourself, man.
I think about my mom, and that does the trick.
My phone goes off and I glance down at it under the table. It’s a text message.
U around 2nite? I’m dying 2 suck ur cock again.
I don’t recognize the number.
Who r u?
The response is almost immediate.
Khloe.
Who the fuck is Khloe?
Sorry, baby. My mind is a little hazy today.
Again, she responds immediately.
Khloe from the hotel last night.
Right! I don’t remember what she looks like, but she gave great head. I send a quick text back.
Meet me back there at 11.
I was there for a party last night, but I’ll get another room tonight just for her dick-sucking lips. I can’t remember if she’s a brown paper bag girl, but that doesn’t matter. If I need to, I’ll drink again tonight.
My mom is giving me a pointed look, and I realize I’m being rude. I stow my phone away and try to focus on the dinner.
Besides the hot little piece of ass sitting across from me, I’m bored as hell. But I know it means a lot to my mom to have me here.
What were we all talking about again?
Oh right, this girl Annabelle is a rocker, and I was fantasizing about her in some skimpy clothes.
“So, Annabelle,” I say, but she quickly cuts in.
“Annie. Call me Annie.”
Well, that’s a start.
“Where have you played?”
She seems to hesitate. “All over LA,” she says dismissively. “I did have a gig at the Cherry Tower.”
I let out a low whistle. The Cherry Tower is about as good as you can get in LA. Most people make it from there. In fact, that’s where Diesel was discovered two years ago. We were just scraping by up until then, eating tuna fish out of cans, and crashing on friends’ floors. It all changed at the Cherry Tower.
“You had a gig?”
I can’t help but notice the past tense.
She blushes again and nods.
“What happened?” I press.
She’s been avoiding my gaze, but she looks at me now, and I can tell she’s had her guard up. Her baby blue eyes are wide and raw, and I can really see her now. She has let me in, but just for a second.