Groupie/Rock Star Bundle (3 page)

My ears were still ringing as we stepped
backstage. “Well?” Iris asked with a big smile.

“What?” I joked.

She just laughed and shook her head. “Come
on.”

The backstage area was just as noisy as the
other parts of the club, and just as crowded. But Iris navigated
the environment with ease and wound us through the maze right to
the band in back. Alana went immediately to Iain, but Iris had
other plans for me. She herded me straight toward
Giovanni.

“Vanni!” she called to him, who
seemed to loom even larger in the middle of the crowded room. He
turned to see who was speaking, and his face lit up when he
realized it was Iris. He swept her up into a huge bear
hug.

“What did you think?” he asked, as though he
really valued her opinion.

“It was great. I don’t even think the
headliners will finish before Jasper comes straight to find
you.”

“Thanks,” he said sincerely with a kiss on her
cheek. She turned to me, which turned his gaze on me
again.

This time it wasn’t as a performer, it was just
as another person – a man meeting a woman. It made the experience
strangely more intimate than when he was crooning a little too
sincerely how he wanted to make love to me (and every other girl in
the front row.) Now that he was just a person again the warmth of
his smile easily met his eyes. “This is Andy Foster, the writer I
was telling you about.”

He smiled even brighter. “Andy, from
Tennessee,” he said as he took my outstretched hand in both of his.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Geez, Iris, what have you been telling these
people?” I joked nervously. I didn’t know what to do with the
butterflies in my stomach as he held onto my hand. Though well past
the adolescent “crush” years, I felt flustered and inept as I stood
there with this man whose amazing naked chest was at eye
level.

“All good but obviously not nearly enough,” he
assured as he pulled me into a side hug. He kept me there as he
talked business with Iris. “You think he liked it?”

I glanced at Iris for the response. From the
moment that Vanni hit the stage I had forgotten all about Jasper
and would never have thought to look. But she would
have.

“All aces, baby,” she said with a smile. She
grabbed my arm and pulled me away. “Come on; time to meet the rest
of the band.”

I was a tad irritated by the intrusion. I knew
the other members of the band both from her press release and his
onstage introductions. I was much more interested in what might
have happened in the crook of Giovanni’s arm, especially since he
didn’t seem to mind the bird’s eye view straight down my
shirt.

But I dutifully followed. If anyone knew how to
present people, and when to withdraw people, for optimum effect, it
was Iris. With a glance over my shoulder I could see his thoughtful
eyes follow us as we went over to the other side of the
room.

Maybe she really did have a plan.

I met Yael Satterlee, the guitarist for the
band who went more Goth than I ever could have during the 1990s.
His skin was pale, his eyes were rimmed black and his dark, stark
hair fell down around his shoulders. I already knew that he had
emigrated from Israel with his mother when he was only two, and he
had spent the majority of his youth studying music at places like
Juilliard. Classical gave way to commercially driven rock,
especially when he fell in love with classic bands like KISS, Judas
Priest and Iron Maiden.

Felix was obviously the virtual clown of the
bunch. He kept everyone laughing as he brought a West Coast
easygoing nature from his time spent surfing in California. He was
also the youngest, just a year older than me, and had golden blond,
tan youth to make him stand out behind his drum set.

Iain was slender and decidedly
British, but with long dark tresses and the same propensity for
eyeliner as Yael and Giovanni. He was also very affectionate, he
loved to hug and call everyone darling, especially Alana, who stood
happily within his embrace. Iris and I gave them some privacy as we
went over to the bar.

“What did you think?”

My eyes found Giovanni, who was flirting
heavily with a woman with red hair and a tight shirt. “Pretty
magical,” I admitted. “You were right. They’re about to hit
big.”

She followed my line of vision. “It’s going to
be very big. And Vanni is the main reason why, aside from the
music. He’s going to make America fall in love with him, one
groupie at a time.”

I hid a small smile. One down. Only a billion
or so left to go. Give or take.

“I’ve got to go find Jasper. Will you be okay
here by yourself?”

I nodded. I was country but I wasn’t a hick.
“I’m fine. Go do what you need to do.”

She gave my arm a quick squeeze and
then vanished through the crowd – a woman on a mission.

I was still smiling when the bartender slid a
beer my way. Before I could dig any money out of my wallet a strong
hand cut across my chest to lay a few bills on the bar. “It’s on
me.”

I turned right into the glistening, still-naked
chest of Giovanni. My eyes shot up to his, and he hovered over my
5’5 frame with lanky grace.

“Thanks,” I offered as I hid behind
the long neck bottle.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” I wondered aloud.

He leaned down toward me and
whispered in my ear, “Great scenery during the show.”

I caught his lopsided grin and then glanced
down at my expanse of cleavage. From the suppressed laughter I knew
I must have blushed at least two shades of red. “I didn’t think you
noticed,” I replied as I looked away.

“I notice everything,” he assured me.
“Especially when it’s put there for me to notice.”

I wanted to deny it but I couldn’t. Every girl
knows what she’s doing when she slips into a cleavage bearing
shirt. “You know what they say,” I quipped. “Play the hand you’re
dealt.”

He just laughed. “That wasn’t a complaint. I
quite enjoyed the view. I wanted to see more but it was a bit like
looking into the sun during an eclipse.” He leaned on the bar. “Be
careful how you wield that weapon.”

I tipped my beer toward his chest, which was
now dangerously close to my own. “Ditto.”

This made him laugh even more. “I guess we’re
even then.”

“Not really,” I answered.

His eyebrow rose. “No?”

I took another sip of liquid courage. “To be
even I’d have to take my shirt off.”

It was a brazen thing for someone like me to
say. Not that I didn’t know how to flirt, or even be sexy, it was
just never something I’d say to a half-naked man I didn’t even
know.

But if he could play havoc with my
senses by being on sex overload, I could return at least some of
the favor.

His eyes deepened as he leaned toward me. “You
have a point. Maybe we should go somewhere and rectify this
grievous injustice.”

This was where I should have handed him my
hotel key, but I wasn’t that far out of Tennessee. I cocked my own
eyebrow. “Or you could just put your shirt on.”

He tipped me a mock salute. “Well
played.” He made no move to put a shirt on, mind you, and if I
wasn’t imagining things he actually scooted a little closer to me.
I could barely see past those incredible eyes that were doing
wonderfully sexy things to me without having to leave the room at
all.

I cleared my throat. “Besides which shouldn’t
you hang around to see what Jasper Carrington has to
say?”

He gave me a sexy smirk only Bruce Willis
before him could master. “Iris tells me I should always leave them
wanting more. What’s more attractive than a star you can’t quite
catch?”

Indeed.

He motioned to the gyrating crowd in the center
of the bar. “Care to dance?”

“I don’t really…” my standard
protest began but he grabbed my hand in his and was already leading
me through the crowd onto the tiny dance floor. It was so crowded
and so tiny that we ended up plastered together, as if the
glistening sweat from his earlier performance bound us together
like some sort of sensual adhesive.

I didn’t even really know how to dance, he led
the motions from the moment his arms locked around my waist, with
his fingertips pressed into the soft, generous curves of my
backside. He ground against me in time to the music, a primal
thundering beat that pulsated between the sexually charged lyrics.
His eyes were locked in mine and I was glad he holding me up when
he started to sing directly into my ear, because I nearly melted to
the floor. His breath was warm against my neck, and I felt his open
mouth against my skin. In that moment the world disappeared in a
flash and I knew one inescapable truth.

I had just been hit by lightning – and his name
was Giovanni Carnevale.

With a knowing smile he slid his palm over the
curve of my ass and planted a kiss on the tip of my upturned nose.
Then with a wink he disappeared in the throng of people leaving me
thunderstruck and frustrated with no viable means of immediate
relief.

“Always leave them wanting more,”
his words drifted around in my foggy subconscious. The only thing
that kept me from chasing after him was the knowledge that was what
he expected me to do. So instead I sought out Alana, who stood at
the bar snuggled in the arm of Iain. While we made small talk I
kept an eye on Giovanni at the other end of the bar, as he chatted
up Iris and Jasper.

He completely missed my defiant
avoidance.

Alana recognized the look on my face. She
nudged Iain to go join Vanni and Iris while they talked business
with Jasper, and then grabbed me by the hand and led me to a nearby
table. “So what did you think of the band?”

“Great performance,” I said. “Do they have
original material or do they just do covers?”

“Covers for the moment, but they’re
writing like crazy. They have almost enough for a first album,
that’s why this night was so important.” She nodded her head to the
other band members who had joined Giovanni, Iris and
Jasper.

As important as the meeting was all I could
think about was Vanni’s full lips as he sang naughty lyrics next to
my ear, his hot breath dancing along the delicate and sensitive
skin of my neck. There was no denying how potent he was, which was
how Iris knew he was destined to be a star.

“I saw you dancing with Vanni,”
Alana brought up as casually as one could.

My eyes met hers. I sensed something important
was coming. “It was nothing. Just a dance.”

She laughed. “There is no such thing with
Vanni,” she answered. “He’s very attractive,” she conceded as she
glanced over to where he stood. “But he’s… limited.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’s nearly thirty. He’s never been
married. Never even been close. His relationships generally fizzle
out after about a year or so, and even before then he’s always
sneaking over in the next yard to find out if the grass really is
greener.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I appreciate the
warning but I’m not looking to fall in love with a rock
star.”

“Good,” she said with emphasis. “Rock stars
make lousy boyfriends.”

I tipped my drink to her. “You should
know.”

“It’s not my first rodeo,” she smiled. “You
just have to know how to separate the image from the man. One is
very easy to love – almost too easy. He’s sexy. He’s romantic. He
says all the right things to keep you on the line as long as it is
advantageous for him to do so. That makes it all too easy for the
other guy to break your heart when he can’t live up to the
hype.”

I nodded. I knew what she meant. Sounded like
rock stars were just like any other guy, only with more
opportunities. But she really didn’t have to worry. I had no
intentions whatsoever of becoming some starry-eyed groupie chasing
all over the country to make Giovanni Carnevale fall in love with
me.

At that moment his eyes met mine
from across the room and I felt my heart drop somewhere below my
knees.

No, I didn’t need him to love me.
But a night with some budding superstar would make a nice story to
share with my grandkids someday. With an evil smile I thought to
myself, “But not tonight.” I signaled the bartender and paid my
tab.

Mr. Carnevale wasn’t the only person who could
leave them wanting more.

Hours later, a little after three in the
morning, I was rewarded for my strategic maneuver. I received a
text from a New York number that invited me personally to the next
gig for Dreaming in Blue. The text ended with, “Shirts optional.
V.”

I couldn’t stop smiling as I drifted off to
sleep, where I dreamed of Central Park, Times Square and a tall,
beautiful Italian with dark eyes and long, wavy hair.

New York City, December 2007

~Andy~

There was a chill in the air, that crisp breeze
that filters between the tall buildings right before the snow
falls. It was Christmastime in New York City, and I was there, as
planned, to hang out with Iris, Alana and the band for both the
holiday season and Giovanni’s birthday.