Zip, Zero, Zilch
Page 54
And she’s mine.
Emily walks off the stage and comes toward Logan. “Let’s go talk,” she says.
I point to Peck. “I want to talk to her.”
I’m nearly shaking with need. I need her. I need to hold her, to have her touch me. I need her. Just her.
“She’s going to be at least another hour.” Emily nods toward the exit.
I follow, because they start walking without waiting for me.
We walk into a quiet room that has a star and Emily’s name on it. Logan takes Kit’s headphones off, and she stops struggling with them.
“Tell us what happened,” Emily says. She sits down. She’s sweaty too, but nothing like Peck was.
I start at the beginning and tell them everything.
Peck
We’re done. Finally. Thank God. Because after a performance like that, I always feel like my arms are going to fall off.
The crowd is going nuts, and we already did an encore. We have to be finished now. The venue management is motioning for us to call it quits, so we take a final bow and walk off the stage.
There’s another group, a small-time act, that played before we did, and their drummer has been hitting on me ever since we got here. Apparently, he started drinking as soon as their set was over, because the smell of liquor wafts across the room toward me. I wave my hand in front of my face.
I make a move to walk by him to go to our dressing room, and an arm suddenly snakes around my waist. I squeal as he jerks me against him and touches his lips to mine. The photogs that are allowed backstage go crazy taking pictures. I push back from him, and he doesn’t stop, so I slap him. The noise rings out around the room.
He jerks back like I just hurt his feelings. Then he sneers.
“What’s the m-m-matter?” he mocks. “You l-l-looked like you could use a k-k-kiss.”
I start toward him with my fist raised, because I’m going to punch him in the fucking throat. But Star gets between me and him. I reach around her, but she holds me back. “Get out of the way, Star,” I warn.
She nods toward security, but before they can get there, Fin—the tiniest out of our group of five—tugs on the guy’s sleeve. He looks down at her, his eyes filled with lascivious intent. “Hey, baby,” he croons.
He bends down like he wants to try his luck kissing her, but she balls up her fist and hits him square in the nose. He falls back, completely stunned, and lands on his back in the middle of the floor. Star steps in the center of his chest and presses the heel of her boot into his breastbone. “If you ever fucking touch one of my sisters again, I’ll chop your balls off and feed them to you.”
Our security guy loops a hand around Fin’s waist and picks her up, putting her behind him, while another scoops the drummer up off the floor.
“Get him off our tour,” Star says. “I never want to see him again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the operations manager for the tour says. He wipes his brow with a handkerchief.
Fin shakes out her hand. “That really hurt.” She winces.
“You should have let me deck him.”
“We need your hands more than we need mine.” She grins. “By the way, you can’t have all the fun.” She chucks my shoulder with hers, then looks at a spot over my shoulder and smirks. “Speaking of fun…”
Another fucking arm snakes around my middle, but this time I’m prepared. I let whoever it is spin me around, and then I throw a punch just like Emilio taught me to. The heel of my hand hits him straight in the nose and he jerks back, holding his hand to his face.
“Fuck!” he cries.
“Oh, that was awesome,” Logan says. He high-fives Emily and she’s almost bent over laughing.
“God, cupcake…”
“Sam?” I say.
He looks up. “Nice to see you too,” he says. Someone presses a towel into his hands, and he wipes his nose.
“Oh my God,” I cry. I grab his forearms and try to pull them away from his nose. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was the asshole.”
“What asshole?” Sam pulls the towel back and a thin trickle of blood runs down from his nose.
“Never mind,” I say. I pull his arms down and look into his eyes. “Are you really here?”
He nods. “I would say that the blood confirms it.”
I jump against him and wrap my arms around his neck. He puts his arms around me and holds me close, despite the fact that I just hit him in the nose. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I pull back and look into his face. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It is now,” he says, and then he kisses me.
Sam
Facing death makes you eager to prove you’re alive.
I start pulling her clothes off as soon as we get into the hotel room, before the door is even closed. I grab the tail of her shirt, which is wringing with sweat, and pull it over her head. She’s wearing a purple bra, and I stop to stare at her tits. I lick my lips and she covers them with her hand.
“No fucking way,” I tell her, and I grab her arms to pull them down.
Her cheeks are blazing red and I know she’s not comfortable naked, so I kiss her. I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. Like we’ll never get to kiss again.
And she responds the same way.
“I need a shower,” she says. She scrunches up her face. “I’m sweaty.”
“Later,” I say. I reach behind her and unhook her bra. Then I slow things down and pull the straps down her shoulders and off. The wires of her bra hold it up, and she covers it with her hands to keep it from falling off.
Emily walks off the stage and comes toward Logan. “Let’s go talk,” she says.
I point to Peck. “I want to talk to her.”
I’m nearly shaking with need. I need her. I need to hold her, to have her touch me. I need her. Just her.
“She’s going to be at least another hour.” Emily nods toward the exit.
I follow, because they start walking without waiting for me.
We walk into a quiet room that has a star and Emily’s name on it. Logan takes Kit’s headphones off, and she stops struggling with them.
“Tell us what happened,” Emily says. She sits down. She’s sweaty too, but nothing like Peck was.
I start at the beginning and tell them everything.
Peck
We’re done. Finally. Thank God. Because after a performance like that, I always feel like my arms are going to fall off.
The crowd is going nuts, and we already did an encore. We have to be finished now. The venue management is motioning for us to call it quits, so we take a final bow and walk off the stage.
There’s another group, a small-time act, that played before we did, and their drummer has been hitting on me ever since we got here. Apparently, he started drinking as soon as their set was over, because the smell of liquor wafts across the room toward me. I wave my hand in front of my face.
I make a move to walk by him to go to our dressing room, and an arm suddenly snakes around my waist. I squeal as he jerks me against him and touches his lips to mine. The photogs that are allowed backstage go crazy taking pictures. I push back from him, and he doesn’t stop, so I slap him. The noise rings out around the room.
He jerks back like I just hurt his feelings. Then he sneers.
“What’s the m-m-matter?” he mocks. “You l-l-looked like you could use a k-k-kiss.”
I start toward him with my fist raised, because I’m going to punch him in the fucking throat. But Star gets between me and him. I reach around her, but she holds me back. “Get out of the way, Star,” I warn.
She nods toward security, but before they can get there, Fin—the tiniest out of our group of five—tugs on the guy’s sleeve. He looks down at her, his eyes filled with lascivious intent. “Hey, baby,” he croons.
He bends down like he wants to try his luck kissing her, but she balls up her fist and hits him square in the nose. He falls back, completely stunned, and lands on his back in the middle of the floor. Star steps in the center of his chest and presses the heel of her boot into his breastbone. “If you ever fucking touch one of my sisters again, I’ll chop your balls off and feed them to you.”
Our security guy loops a hand around Fin’s waist and picks her up, putting her behind him, while another scoops the drummer up off the floor.
“Get him off our tour,” Star says. “I never want to see him again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the operations manager for the tour says. He wipes his brow with a handkerchief.
Fin shakes out her hand. “That really hurt.” She winces.
“You should have let me deck him.”
“We need your hands more than we need mine.” She grins. “By the way, you can’t have all the fun.” She chucks my shoulder with hers, then looks at a spot over my shoulder and smirks. “Speaking of fun…”
Another fucking arm snakes around my middle, but this time I’m prepared. I let whoever it is spin me around, and then I throw a punch just like Emilio taught me to. The heel of my hand hits him straight in the nose and he jerks back, holding his hand to his face.
“Fuck!” he cries.
“Oh, that was awesome,” Logan says. He high-fives Emily and she’s almost bent over laughing.
“God, cupcake…”
“Sam?” I say.
He looks up. “Nice to see you too,” he says. Someone presses a towel into his hands, and he wipes his nose.
“Oh my God,” I cry. I grab his forearms and try to pull them away from his nose. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was the asshole.”
“What asshole?” Sam pulls the towel back and a thin trickle of blood runs down from his nose.
“Never mind,” I say. I pull his arms down and look into his eyes. “Are you really here?”
He nods. “I would say that the blood confirms it.”
I jump against him and wrap my arms around his neck. He puts his arms around me and holds me close, despite the fact that I just hit him in the nose. “I can’t believe you’re here.” I pull back and look into his face. “Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It is now,” he says, and then he kisses me.
Sam
Facing death makes you eager to prove you’re alive.
I start pulling her clothes off as soon as we get into the hotel room, before the door is even closed. I grab the tail of her shirt, which is wringing with sweat, and pull it over her head. She’s wearing a purple bra, and I stop to stare at her tits. I lick my lips and she covers them with her hand.
“No fucking way,” I tell her, and I grab her arms to pull them down.
Her cheeks are blazing red and I know she’s not comfortable naked, so I kiss her. I kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. Like we’ll never get to kiss again.
And she responds the same way.
“I need a shower,” she says. She scrunches up her face. “I’m sweaty.”
“Later,” I say. I reach behind her and unhook her bra. Then I slow things down and pull the straps down her shoulders and off. The wires of her bra hold it up, and she covers it with her hands to keep it from falling off.
