Running Game(152)

“I see,” he answered with a suspicious but supportive nod. “I’m not going to push you on that. I just…I can’t imagine what it’s gotta be like.”

“What do you mean?” I asked sincerely.

“I mean, I remember mostly what it was like, growing up,” he told me. “But to have most of my life completely gone? I can’t think of how hard that’s gotta be.”

“It’s not as difficult as you might think,” I shrugged. “It just took some getting used to. Luckily, I had help. Like with Old Greg. He didn’t have to take me in like that, but he was a total lifesaver. I don’t know how I would have coped on the streets.”

“How did you wind up in Riverton?” He asked, tilting his head.

“I was just hitchhiking…I think Old Greg was the one to find me. It’s hard to be certain.”

“Old Greg?”

“Yeah…”

I pressed harder in my head, focusing on the memory. My nose got that slight smell of copper that told me I was on the verge of remembering.

“That’s right…” I smiled. “It’s kind of in pieces…but yeah, Old Greg picked me up on the side of the highway and he brought me back to his bar. It must have been late at night…the place was closed when we got there. I don’t remember much else.”

“You weren’t scared?”

“No, that’s the funny thing,” I recalled. “I trusted him. Without even questioning him, really. Something about that old guy just told me that he wasn’t trouble. Maybe I saw something good and pure in his eyes.”

“Do you think you knew him before?” Trent asked, wondering about the connection.

“Nah. I wasn’t anywhere near home when he found me… He was just some lonely old codger who took pity on some stupid wayward kid in the middle of the night.”

Trent didn’t seem too convinced, but he didn’t try to pry.

“Anyway, my head’s starting to hurt…I think this little trip down Memory Lane is kind of taxing me. How about we talk about something else?”

Concern flickered across his face, but he swiftly brushed it aside. I appreciated that – that he cared, and that he cared enough to not try and force me to open up.

“Of course,” Trent smiled, pulling me into his embrace. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

My hand brushed against the bulge of his cock, and I grinned wickedly up at him.

“I can think of a few things to fill the time…”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled.

“That’s right,” I whispered, unzipping him. I could already sense heat emanating from the growing bulge, and I lowered my face as I withdrew his thick, mighty weapon…





19





Trent





We settled into a fun routine over the following few weeks as our band tour finally wound down.

Working on material while Angel slept.

Chatting, eating together during downtime.

Practicing with the band.

Rocking out onstage.

Briefly appearing at the after-parties.

Finally, taking Angel in my bed.

It was the perfect routine. Out on the road, doing what I love, and coming back to the bus with the girl I had slowly turned into my own, private sex fiend.

She might have been a virgin, but she was making up for lost time. Angel loved fucking everywhere she could, burning through my extensive repertoire of sex positions, and just flat out reveling in our contact together.

Which didn’t bother me one bit.

Besides being physically a challenge in the bedroom, she still contested me mentally. She was always trying to pry into my head and figure me out.

For someone who had been stuck in the sticks for as long as she had, Angel had ideas – big ideas...

To my total surprise, she was fun to brainstorm with. I’d sit in the room and write poetry – pretty much the closest you can get to a song when you lack the instrumentals – and I let her read some of it sometimes.

Angel made solid suggestions, and helped me tighten up some of the lyrics. I’d sing a few parts, here and there, and she’d recommend different tones or help guide me a little in the delivery. The girl was a natural.

Sometimes we listened to recorded jam sessions together when a song was coming along. I played a few studio session snippets, singing some of my lyrics over them.

And the feedback she gave?

Golden.

It was fresh… Almost naive. A new take on the sound.

Where did this fucking girl come from?

Of course, I knew that. I’d plucked her out of that place, thinking she was a challenging, hot piece of ass that I couldn’t bear to part with.

Turns out I’d found myself a diamond in the rough. Angel was proving herself incredibly useful in ways I hadn’t even remotely considered.