Looking Back From L.A. (2 page)

Taking her nipple between my teeth, I grinned at the groan that escaped from her. It was those noises, the ones which escaped unbidden, that made these hookups
so
worth it. I pulled her panties down her legs and entered her with two fingers, feeling how wet she was for me.

“Fuck me Gage, fuck me hard.” The dirty words coming out of her pretty little mouth put me off my stroke for a moment, but I managed to get past it. Withdrawing my fingers, I grabbed a condom from my wallet, rolled it on, and got myself ready. “Wait,” she was going to make me lose my boner if she kept talking. Sitting back, resting my bare ass against the back of my calves, I watched as she turned herself over. My dick twitched as she brought herself up onto her hands and knees, giving me full access to pound into her from behind.

Once I collapsed onto the bed, she cuddled up to me, wrapping an arm tight round my waist. Trying not jostle the bed too much, I checked my watch. It was almost six pm, time to head over to the venue to get ready for the show.

“Uh, hey. Sweetheart. I have to go.” I sat up, extracting myself from her grip.

“Oh, okay.” She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, gathering her clothes. I noted the Pocket’s tee she wore; it didn’t surprise me as I’d met her at the venue waiting for us to finish our sound check. “Can I meet you after the show?”
Ah shit.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, we’re headin’ straight outta town after the gig.” We weren’t, but she needn’t know that. Over the last couple of months, since it was announced I’d be playing Uriel in
Wings,
the chicks I picked up were becoming more and more clingy. Something I wasn’t enjoying about being linked to what was expected to be a huge movie franchise. I was almost glad I didn’t get the part of Michael which I’d originally auditioned for; no, that pleasure went to Jack Hixton, an up and coming ‘pretty boy’ from New York who was the current teenage girl’s wet dream. Nina, my agent was pissed that he’d been picked over me, but I was cool with the whole thing. Admittedly, he was also getting the attention of the ‘older lady’ and was basking in it. I couldn’t stand the guy, but what he did in his own time was up to him.

Once the girl— Michelle. . . Michaela... something along those lines anyway, had left. I pulled my clothes on and made my way to the venue, waiting to have my ass chewed out by everyone for being late, again.

“Dude. Keep your time with the skanks you pick up until
after
the show.” Becky snapped as I walked in, a fresh, steaming coffee in my hand.

“I’m not that late.”

“I don’t give a shit how late you think you aren’t. If this carries on you-” I interrupted her.

“What, I’m out?” I looked over at my band mates, not one of them stood up for me. “Thanks guys.” Feeling my anger rising, I turned on my heel and made my way to the green room backstage to try and calm down.

“Hey, Weston.” Eli had followed me.

“Oh, they send you to kick me out?” I couldn’t stop myself from raising my voice.

“No. Chill out will you.” He sat on the old couch next to me. “Look, there’s no way they’ll cut you, but you need to stop with the random hookups man. You’re starting to let them get in the way of the band, and that’s not cool.” He looked me in the eye, and I started to feel a little guilty. “Plus, you’re a total dick to those girls. Just cool it yeah?”

“Okay man, I get it. I’ll slow my roll.” I stuck to my word. I stopped checking out the girls at the shows, and went to bed every night alone. While it might have been a lonely existence, it did wonders to heal the breaches I hadn’t realized existed between me and the rest of the band.

Then we arrived in Houston.

Three Years Later…
:

Thud... thud... thud.
 Callaghan threw a pillow at me to stop me wearing the plush carpet down with all my pacing.

"Dude, chill." His voice was relaxed, which seemed to irritate me even more than the stress I was under.

"Did I tell you to ‘chill’ when you were stressing about Karina?" No answer was the reply. "Yeah, I didn't think so." I carried on pacing, my bare feet making audible sounds on the floor, my agent Nina Gold kept herself to herself as she sat in the corner of the room fielding emails. The woman never stopped working, but I appreciated her all the more for it. I’d never told her, but I looked up to her like an aunt, and couldn’t ever imagine not having her on my side.

Hearing Callaghan sigh to himself made it hard not to turn and snap at him. I never got impatient with him on
his
wedding day, not that there was enough time for anyone to react to the news.

To calm myself down while we waited for the other guys to turn up, I turned my thoughts to Charlotte. I couldn't believe how my life changed because Callaghan needed the bathroom that night in Texas. If he hadn't drunk so much in the SUV, we would have gone on to another bar, and my life wouldn't be where it was now.

"Here he is, the happiest man on the planet... today anyway." Drew and the rest of the band, minus Diamond, walked in. "Huh... you don't look very happy."

"He's nervous." Callaghan grinned. If he didn't shut the fuck up, I was going to knock him flat on his ass; and I was seriously beginning to regret picking him over Drew as my best man.

"Yeah, that's natural; I remember you throwing up." I laughed at the sudden lack of speech my so called best friend possessed. "Numerous times." Naturally, I couldn’t help but think back to Matt’s wedding day that had been sprung upon us all. He spent most of his time before the ceremony in the bathroom. Drew threw his arm around my shoulder. "Dude, it's all gonna be okay. It's not like she's not gonna show. After all, you know where she lives and can hunt her down." He and Matt laughed, due to the fact that Charlie and I had been living together for almost eighteen months.

"Not helping." I clenched my teeth. What was it about my friends and their innate ability to make me feel worse? It was clear they were trying to relieve the situation, but it was having the opposite effect. Walking across the hotel room, I opened the window of the hotel and lit a cigarette, ensuring my smoke drifted outside. Usually, when I felt nervous about anything, I would wrap my arms around Charlotte and immediately feel better, but as she was the cause of my nerves this time, I doubted thinking about her would help this time.

Closing my eyes, I couldn’t help but cast my mind back over our entire relationship.

We had been in Houston for almost three hours before any of us decided to go and find a decent bar, maybe one that had live music. A night off for us was rare, so we decided to make the most of it before hauling our asses on stage the following evening, and we’d already had a drink in a couple of dive bars full of hicks and rednecks. We all needed a good night out, just us, having a good time without stressing about who was watching.

After trying out a couple of bars that didn’t quite live up to our expectations, we decided to keep walking and looking for somewhere else. We walked along the busy street, but Callaghan began to whine like a baby that he needed to pee. After almost being arrested for public indecency, he decided against finding the nearest side street. The first bar we came to, he dragged us inside.

It was quiet, but kinda cozy so we decided to have a few drinks before moving on. Matt headed straight to the bathroom, dancing like the overgrown four year old that he was often described as by the fans while Drew and me made a beeline for the bar; the rest of our group grabbed a booth. Naturally, we noticed the group of ladies on the other side of the bar, but tonight was about us as a group of friends making the most of precious spare time, so we left them to their own thing. Plus, it was almost my birthday, so I was determined to have a great time, despite the guys ribbing me about getting old. Twenty seven wasn’t that old, so I kept telling myself.

The guys were on form, and as Becky and Diamond had declined in joining us, we were having full on 'guy time'. It was gross, lewd, and not for the faint hearted, but that was the way we had always had been and always would be when we were together. We were nearing the end of the tour run, so it was time to have some fun before our immune systems collapsed as they always did once were able to spend a day doing nothing.

Eventually my own bladder couldn't hold anymore whiskey, so to the many jeers of attempting to avoid putting my hand in my pocket and flipping them the finger, I headed to the bathroom. Whistling tunelessly, I read the text my dad had sent me, laughing at his lame joke. I was impressed by my ability to not only walk upright, but also in a straight line while not looking where I was going, until I crashed into something solid. Assuming I had veered into the wall, I looked up from my phone and realized I had actually knocked someone over, and they were sprawled on the floor; it was one of the chicks who’d been in the bar when we'd arrived. Helping her up, apologizing like crazy; she tried to claim it was her fault in that British accent that my dick definitely noticed.

I even flirted with Charlotte - as she introduced herself - as we shook hands; she was beautiful, how could I not? It was only when we caught her friends watching us that I left her to go and relieve myself. I couldn't stop thinking about her well rounded ass which looked good enough to bite; in those tight jeans that left just enough to the imagination. I hoped I hadn't bruised it; I’d give anything to be able to check it out. Maybe I could use my ‘famous Southern charm’ that the fans loved and get her into my bed for the night.

Grinning to myself at the thought, I finished up and left the bathroom. As I walked along the corridor, I found what could only be Charlotte's cell phone on the floor. Holding it in my hand for a few seconds, I debated taking note of her number. Fuck it; I slid my finger across the screen, thankful there wasn’t a code needed to unlock it. Smiling wryly at my own face looking up at me from the phone’s background, I entered my own number and pressed call. Now I had her number; I wasn’t sure if I’d ever use it, and I wasn’t usually one for keeping girls’ numbers, but who knows when I would next be in the UK. It wasn’t often I went back to a girl twice, but I could make an exception for a hot Brit. I walked out into the bar, and straight over to her. She was talking to the Kiwi chick that had the balls to introduce herself to us all, not long after we’d arrived. As much as I loved strong women, she was a bit too much, even for me. I played nice, but made it clear I wasn’t interested, deflating her bubble a little.

Charlotte had her back to me, but her friends could see me approaching, not letting on I was approaching. I tapped her on the shoulder making her jump, worried she was going to fall out of her chair when she saw me. Making sure my fingertips made contact with hers; I handed her phone over and couldn't help passing a comment about her ass and that I wouldn't mind checking it out for bruises. With a grin on my face, I walked away to the sound of violent whispers behind me.

Up until that evening, I’d always been seen as a bit of a ‘player’, but after meeting Charlotte in that bar, I never had random hook-ups again. While I hadn’t picked up many girls during the tag end of the tour, I did fall ‘off the wagon’ on occasion, but after meeting her, it all stopped. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but it happened all the same. They say Brits are fascinated with anything American, but the opposite is true also; meeting Charlotte— especially the way we did, proved that of me at least.