Doll Face(48)
“I'm an Aussie,” Lola says, dropping her shirt back into place. She smiles with those full lips of hers, the red-pink of her lipstick bright against her white teeth. “We're made of tough shit. If you guys want to party, I say let's go for it. I'm not sure if I could stand another night in.”
“Fucking awesome,” Turner says, pulling his cell from his pocket and swallowing hard. Nobody else might notice the gesture, but I do. It's not going to be the same without Naomi. It'll never be the same without her. Jesus, please wake the fuck up, Sleeping Beauty. “I'll call Jesse and see if he wants to come. Trey's too fucked up, so let's not even mention this shit to him right now.” Turner dials and nibbles at one of his lip rings. “We could even invite Josh,” he says, his grin getting a little more real, a little more Turner Motherfucking Campbell. “Oh, but that's right,” he snaps his fingers, “he's not of age yet.” Turner chuckles while he waits for Jesse to answer.
“If it's okay with you guys, I want to invite Kash and Wren to come out with us. They're not doing too well right now.” Dax bends down and scrapes his smoke against the cement before dropping it back into a plastic baggy and tucking it into his back pocket. “While you guys have been chilling in your mansion,” Dax bites the word off the tip of his tongue and rises to his feet, sharing a steely gray eyed glare with Turner, “we've been cooped up in a hotel, surrounded on all sides by fans, no manager to wipe our asses.” The word manager slithers from his lips like a curse as he moves away and Sydney's eyes follow the movement.
“Shit,” she whispers, and I don't disagree, watching Dax's back and wondering if I should extend my shepherding of wisdom outwards, into Amatory Riot. They might feel broken, but they're just getting started. All of this pain and angst and heartbreak, it'll only make the rock 'n' roll more real. If they can get through this, we'll have some serious competition on our hands.
I reach down and take Lola's fingers in mine, squeezing them and scooting close enough that the fine hairs on our upper arms brush. She shivers and my grip tightens.
“Thanks for this,” she tells me, turning and pushing herself into me. My hands come around her waist, gentle at first, but pressing harder when her breasts squish into me. Our lips meet and I slide my tongue into her mouth, tasting her heat and smelling a sweet citrusy perfume on her clothes. The last couple of days, we've been sleeping in the same bed together, visiting Lydia, sitting by the pool, but we were both too busy trying to process everything that's happened. It didn't feel like we were really together. Right now, right here, in this moment it does.
“No, thank you for putting up with all this shit, for visiting my daughter with me. To be honest with you, she scares me a little. If only because I don't know how to handle her. And every time we go over there, every time that she doesn't call me Dad, I feel like insides are going to spill out my belly button.” Lola slides her hands up either side of my face as I stare into her shades and wish I could tear them away from her eyes and toss them into the street. Fucking sunglasses.
“Don't be scared of her, Ronnie. And don't thank me for being there. It's the least I could do. When you're ready, when you've embraced the idea of being a father, body and soul, and you've forgiven yourself for all the things you've done, that's when she'll call you by name. Until then, just be patient.” Lola kisses me and my heart soars. Well, okay, that's not the only part of me flying a flag if you catch my drift. Lola slides her hands down my cheeks, over the tattoos on my throat, my arms, and then cups my junk, right there in front of Sydney and Turner who both wrinkle their noses in disgust. “And keep hold of this. You're gonna need it later. If I don't get laid sometime soon, my fucking head's going to explode.” She leans up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Better yours does first, if ya catch my drift.”
We manage to convince Dax to come with us back to the mansion with promises from Wren and Kash to get a ride from their security detail over here. Seems like as good a meeting place as any, and we've got a few hours before the club opens. Fine by me. Lola and I have other ways of entertaining ourselves until it's time to head out. Or at least, we did until I walked in here and found Paulette Washington sitting in my living room with Milo Terrabotti.
I pause in the doorway and clear my throat, drawing his attention up and over to me. Milo hurriedly sets down his tea or coffee or whatever the fuck it is before coming over to me, dressed in his best suit and tie, hair perfect, the black bags under his eyes covered up with makeup.
“Mr. McGuire,” he says with a smile as he takes my arm and guides me into the living room, towards the sofa where Miss Washington sits. She doesn't bother to stand up, lifting up a hand for me to shake. I do – briefly – and drop it like it's poisonous. When I glance over my shoulder, I see that I'm the only one in here. Lola told me she was going to go tart herself up which I guess means she's going to dress for the occasion. The phrase puts a smile on my face that Paulette mistakes for something else when I turn back to her, beaming up at me like I've already said yes to whatever crazy idea it is that she's come up with.