Sexy In NYC: How To Get Lucky Part 12

Aidan walked up to him and gave him a nudge. "Dude, I'm jealous of you. That's good tongue action. Imagine what she can do to another chick. Or maybe you already know."

He rolled his eyes. "No, I don't. Not my thing."

But Aidan just snorted. "It used to be your thing. I remember a particular night in Hong Kong-"

Marco cut him off. "That was the past, this is the present. Just keep your mouth shut, all right? As a favor to me."

Allison didn't appear to be listening, busy discussing the magic of bacon with Rick, but he still didn't want to subject her to a bunch of raunchy rocker stories. He didn't want that to define her perception of him.

The look his ba.s.s player gave him was one of lurid curiosity. "So that's how it is, huh? Jesus." Aidan drained his gla.s.s of whisky. He'd moved on from the orange juice. "I never saw you as the settling down kind. When all the rest of us were stupid enough to get married, you stayed beautifully detached. I admired that about you. You were my hero, man. Now you've got that look that says your run of being single is done and over."

Marco shifted restlessly from where he was leaning on the quartz countertop. Maybe his friend was right. Maybe it was that time. Maybe Allison was that girl. "Life takes strange turns sometimes. Guy walks into a bar and the rest is history, you know?"

Aidan clapped him on the back. "Yeah. I know. I just have one word for you-prenup. Do you know how much money I've lost in two divorces? More than the GNP of small countries."

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself. Holy s.h.i.t. I just find her interesting. No big deal." He did. He wanted to pursue whatever they could pursue, with no expectations, no need to rush anything. "We live on different coasts."

With a snort, Aidan shook his head. "Because if you suggested she move in with you, she wouldn't say yes in five seconds. Dude, we're in a band. We're rich and famous."

"She's not like that." She wasn't. He didn't think. She had certainly been upfront about what she thought of him at their first two meetings. But that was only two days ago and here she was. Maybe Aidan had a point. Allison was unemployed. Out of an apartment in two weeks. It would be tempting to accept an invitation like that. Like a permanent vacation. She liked him. Would it be so unrealistic if she accepted an offer? It was both practical and appealing. He couldn't blame her, because if the roles were reversed, wouldn't he go for it?

No. He wouldn't. He didn't like being indebted to anyone. He also didn't like the concept of anyone being indebted to him. With him out of duty or feeling like they couldn't speak their mind. It was what had made dating so bizarre for him. He'd had one relationship where she had been a model, and that had worked because their circles had been similar, and she hadn't felt like she owed him anything.

"Every woman is like that. Don't take it personally."

"No, she's not," he insisted, though he wasn't even sure why. He wasn't going to ask her to move in with him. That was ridiculous. They were getting to know each other, not leaping headfirst into a relationship that was most likely doomed to failure. "Now are you done stuffing your face? We have work to do."

"Now you want to work. Interesting. Fine, let's do this. Oh, and since my house is being remodeled, I invited everyone over here tonight to hang out."

Marco narrowed his eyes at Aidan. "Everyone who? And by 'hang out' does that mean booze and drugs and s.e.x on my living room furniture? Because no, no, and no."

"No drugs or public s.e.x. But there will be alcohol, sorry. I can't help it. I wouldn't ask, but my place is covered in tarps and s.h.i.t."

"I'm going to cover you in a tarp. You didn't ask, d.i.c.k."

Aidan winked at him. "You weren't supposed to notice that. And stop being a grumpy old man. Just because you're sober doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"I am having fun! I have a houseguest, dumba.s.s, who we just spent five minutes talking about. I want some privacy, thank you very f.u.c.king much." This was his life. Lots of awesome and zero alone time. That was what he'd signed on for without realizing it. "You have to be out by midnight."

"Midnight! Get f.u.c.king real."

Marco gave him a look.

"Fine." Aidan made a jerking-off gesture and rolled his eyes.

Marco couldn't help it. He laughed. "You're such a douche."

Moving over to Allison, he bent over and tipped her head up by the chin so he could kiss him. She seemed startled, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm heading downstairs. Will you be okay by yourself for a few hours?" He did feel bad about that. Or maybe it was more that he was reluctant to leave her company because he knew they had very little time together.

"Are you kidding? I'm fine. I have a pool and an entire brunch buffet. Not to mention I have sixteen fashion magazines in my suitcase, so I'll have previewed the entire spring collection by two this afternoon."

None of which she could afford to buy. The thought came to him because it was perilously close to pity for her situation. Followed by an idiotic desire to sweep her off her feet like some busted Prince Charming with tattoos. He forced himself to stand up. "Say hi to Jimmy Choo for me."

"I'll give him your best."

Then, because she looked like a tempting treat, her lips plump, her dress gaping so he could see straight down her coverup to both her top and her bottoms, he gritted his teeth and backed up. One foot, another. Allison grinned at him. She had seen him looking down her dress. He just gave her a shrug. No regrets. No guilt. About this, anyway.

He yelled at the others and took himself off to the studio before he changed his mind and told everyone to get the h.e.l.l out of his house.

"Mandy didn't have her baby, did she?" Allison asked Jamie as a greeting when she answered the phone call, Jamie's pic popping up on her screen. "Because I will be so p.i.s.sed that I'm not there."

"No, she didn't have the baby, nor are there any signs of labor. I'm just calling to make sure that you're okay and that you're not, like, pa.s.sed out in a heroin haze or something."

Popping a blueberry into her mouth, Allison laughed and adjusted her sungla.s.ses as she lounged poolside. "So you think twenty-four hours with a rockstar and I'll be suddenly shooting up for no apparent reason other than when in Rome?"

"No, of course not. But that's just what I'm picturing. Like an opium den in the nineteenth century." Jamie sounded breathless, like she was running to catch the subway.

"You have a very active imagination. It's California, not Shanghai's underbelly. I'm sitting next to the pool gradually damaging my skin despite using ma.s.sive amounts of sunscreen. I'm eating blueberries and cheese and I have already had three mimosas today. Marco is playing with the band downstairs."

"They're playing in the house and you're out by the pool? Are you insane? You should be down there! It's like a Personal Jesus unplugged concert just for you. I'm going to pa.s.s out, this is the best thing to ever happen to me."

G.o.d, she loved Jamie. Allison burst out laughing. "You're not even here, sweetie. But if you want, I will haul my a.s.s out of this chair and go down there and take pictures. I doubt they'll let me record anything."

"Why wouldn't he let you record it? You're sleeping with him. Wait, you are sleeping with him, right? Was it good? I mean, duh, of course it was good. But how good?"

"That's a lot of questions. Let's address them one by one." Allison tossed her latest issue of Vogue onto the table next to her. "Yes, I did sleep with him. And by sleep, I mean got no sleep, because we were engaged in carnal delights half the night and again this morning. And I think in general you can a.s.sume that a lot of famous people probably suck in bed because they don't have to work hard to please anyone. They can be selfish and just like to stick it in without any foreplay. But I am happy to note that Marco does not fit into that category." She glanced behind her, like he was suddenly going to appear out from behind a palm tree. It also occurred to her that maybe the house had cameras. But cameras didn't have sound, did they? "He was amazing, seriously. I haven't come this much since I bought my first vibrator and watched seven Ryan Reynolds movies back to back."

Jamie laughed. "Wow. Then this could be cla.s.sified as epic s.e.x."

"Definitely epic. Oh, and as for why I can't record him, that's just business. He wouldn't want an unedited amateur video of new material to get leaked online."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Of course I wouldn't. But he doesn't know that. He'd be an idiot to trust the chick he picked up a bar and fly to LA, and he's no idiot, given that he built a career out of nothing." She admired that. He'd had no advantages in his early life yet he'd made something out of himself. He'd believed in his talent and he had been dogged.

She rolled her eyes at herself. Jesus. She sounded like she was doing an interview on Behind the Music.

"Is his house huge?"

"No, but his d.i.c.k is." Okay, so maybe that was oversharing, but when Jamie had first been dating Jonathon she had conveyed all the gory details to Allison, which was TMI because Allison had gone to high school with Jonathon, who was Caroline's brother. It had been almost like it was her own brother. So she figured Jamie deserved a little payback, and honestly, she wouldn't be human if she didn't want to brag a least a little. Mentioning his thick c.o.c.k seemed more appropriate than mentioning his thick wallet. It was her own logic, and she was rolling with it.

"Of course it is. All rock stars probably have big d.i.c.ks."

Jamie's logic seemed more flawed than hers, and that was no mean feat. "Why would you say that?"

"They're used to showing off and have confidence. I mean, guys with small p.e.n.i.ses are probably timid."

"You're forgetting about Napoleon and Hitler." Allison sipped her mimosa.

"That's height, not p.e.n.i.s size. Does anyone know if Hitler had a big s.c.h.l.o.n.g?"

"This conversation has taken a wrong turn. I don't want to picture Hitler's junk when I'm relaxing. But if there is any justice in the world, it was an inch big and he had ED before the invention of prescription pills designed to solve that issue."

"So how do we segue out of Hitler?" Jamie asked.

"Beats me. Maybe we pause." Allison paused. "Then you ask me something totally unrelated."

"Did you find your lottery ticket?"

Oh my G.o.d. That was better than Hitler, because, well, Hitler and genocide were horrifying. But this subject wasn't going to propel her back into relaxation. "Yes, of course I did, because that is totally possible. I found it last night and I just figured I would mess with you and not say anything. Or actually, better thought-my cat puked it up and the numbers are still legible, so we're good."

"You don't have a cat. Do you?"

Allison laughed. "No! And I don't have a lottery ticket either. It's lost. Gone. Never to be seen again." Sometimes she thought it was a legitimate miracle that Jamie hadn't been murdered and dismembered. She was gullible, and that hadn't changed in the almost nine years Allison had known her.

"I was trying to be positive."

"Save your mojo for something that isn't a lost cause."

There was a pause, and suddenly Allison knew where Jamie's head was going. "No. Not that."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Because I know you, Suzy Sunshine, firm believer in love with a capital L. I'm not going to see Marco after tomorrow. Accept that."

"How do you know?"

"Beckwith told me I was going to be single," she said, knowing that his predictions would hold weight with Jamie. "After all, I did win money, like he said I would." He had just failed to mention she would lose it again. Also, now that she thought about it, he had been right, and while she chose not to believe him, what if he did have some kind of psychic ability? It was one thing to be single by choice, it was another to be told you were condemned to being alone.

"That's not what he said exactly. And maybe the money just took over the reading. He couldn't focus on anything else."

"Or maybe this is just meant to be fun. Not everything has to be about Happily Ever After. Just Happily h.o.r.n.y Held At Bay."

"That's not a thing."

"It's a thing if I say it's a thing." Allison stood up and went over to the pool and dipped her foot in. She was getting hot. "Aren't you at work, by the way?"

"It's six o'clock here, so no. I left half an hour ago. Do you think Marco will write a song about you?"

"No. No, I don't. I joked about it then felt like a douche. It was misplaced sarcasm, and I'm never bringing it up ever again." Now that Jamie had inserted reality into her fantasy three times, Allison decided it was time to get off this phone call. Jamie didn't have a malicious bone in her body, but she wasn't exactly contributing to Allison's confidence at the moment. "I should go. Marco just came outside." Which was a lie, but she didn't want to think about the concept of love and relationships. Her post-lottery plan was a vow to stop being envious, stop craving things she couldn't have. To just live in the moment, enjoy her life.

"Oh my G.o.d, okay," Jamie said, like the idea of Marco appearing was alarming in some way. "Tell him I said hi! Not that he remembers who I am. Does he remember who I am?"

Allison laughed. "I'm sure he does. Now go home to your very attentive boyfriend and have s.e.x, but do not, I repeat, do not mention Marco to Jonathon or he's going to get jealous. Trust me on this."

"Oh, he wouldn't. I mean, why? I love Jonathon. I think he's s.e.xy and a very good man and he is so awesome in bed."

"None of which matters if you're sounding breathless over Marco. Rock stars threaten guys' masculinity. Just trust me."

"I'm not breathless! It's just exciting. You're in LA. I mean, how crazy is that?"

A lot of crazy. "I love you and I will see you tomorrow when Jonathon picks me up at the airport." Allison crossed her fingers.

"Jonathon is picking you up at the airport?"

"Could he? That would be awesome." She couldn't afford a thirty-five-dollar cab ride.

"I'm sure it won't be a problem. Just text your flight information."

"Okay, thanks." She didn't even know her flight information. Presumably Marco had arranged all of that, and she figured she'd just be on a commercial flight in coach with everyone else. Which was fine, because she was just glad she'd gotten this break. "Bye."

After hanging up, she tossed her phone on her chair and dove into the pool.

This was a nice life. Too bad it wasn't hers.

Marco studied the drink in Aidan's friend Pete's hand. The ice cubes were shifting, the amber color of the liquid swirling, and it seemed unnaturally loud, grabbing his attention and not letting it go. The noise of Aidan's party had receded, and all there was for a second or two was Marco and that whisky, staring each other down. He could taste it in his mouth, could feel the burn as it slid down his throat. It would spread out over his limbs like a woman's hand feathering over his flesh, and he would sigh, and let go of this tension that was tight and angry in his shoulders, his jaw, his thighs.

Forcing himself to look up at Pete, he concentrated on what the guy was saying.

"So, it should be a great opportunity."

Marco nodded. "Sure." He had no idea what the guy was talking about. He was miserable. He wanted every last person in his house to get the h.e.l.l out and go home. Well. Every last person save one. He just wanted to be alone with Allison, and there were twenty-five people milling around, smoking on his patio and swimming in his pool and lounging on his couches. They were drinking and laughing and he found all of them annoying.

Another night he wouldn't have minded. But his time with Allison was limited, and he was standing here talking to Pete, and Allison was over by the hot tub laughing at something Gold Daddy, a well-known producer, was saying. The guy was good looking, probably about Allison's age. Did she think he was hot? Interesting?

The fact that Marco was even thinking such a ridiculous and juvenile thought was embarra.s.sing. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Allison was his and every other guy there could f.u.c.k off.

"Your woman is different," Pete said, puffing on an electronic cigarette. "Not the usual groupie."

"Huh?" Marco forced himself to focus on Pete yet again. He kept s.p.a.cing out on the guy. "My woman?"

"Yeah, I see her over there with G Daddy. You can't keep your eyes off her. Flavor of the month or something more?"

"Neither." Marco took a sip of his water. "And she's not a groupie." There was nothing wrong with women who enjoyed following the band. h.e.l.l, they'd kept him company on many a lonely night. But that just wasn't and would never be Allison.

"Either way, maybe you should just go over there. I won't be offended. I'm sixty-five years old and I still fall in love about every other week. It's just the way we're wired."

That had never been Marco.

Nor was he stupid enough to fall in love with Allison.

But he was willing to jump on the chance to go over there. "Hey, thanks, Pete. I'll catch up with you later, all right?"

"Sure, no problem." Pete drained his whisky, and his red, bulbous nose twitched. Years of being the road as a rhythm guitarist had taken its toll on Pete's skin. He had broken blood vessels and deep bags under his watery eyes.