No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (31 page)

We pass under a street lamp, which momentarily lights up the car. Aaron’s face is red and his fists are clenched. “You didn’t defend me. You—”

I cut him off. “I already tried defending you once and your sister got angrier with me. You’re a grown man, Aaron Emerson. Don’t ask me to fight your battles.”

The car grows quiet again.

When we turn on my street, I say, “Look. I’m an outsider; they don’t know me. They’re worried about you. They need to see you’re happy and healthy. Maybe they need to ask questions they don’t want to ask in front of me. Go be with your band, who’s also your family. Let me know when the tension has settled.”

The SUV stops in front of my sidewalk. Aaron pulls me onto his lap so quickly that I can barely adjust my dress. His lips meet mine, and he kisses me as if his life depends on it. “Please, MK. Please stay with me.”

Stiffening in his lap, I reply, “That’s not a good idea. As I said, call me when you’ve made nice with your band.”

Waves of anger and frustration roll off of him. I don’t care. Opening the door, I ask, “How long have you been out of rehab?”

“Month. Why?” he asks.

“How long were you in?”

“Nine weeks. Why?”

“Just curious.”

He follows behind me as I walk up the stairs to my front door. Turning around, I kiss his beautiful sad face, my anger dissipating like perfume sprayed in the wind. “Go do whatever you do during the night hours, and I’m going to sleep. If you want to sleep here, like you did last night, you can. Promise you will not drink.”

“Booze will not cross these lips,” he replies with a sneer. Then, under his breath, he mutters, “Not that you care.”

Not only do I come from a long line of guilters, but my family can also play the passive-aggressive game with the best of them. Not responding, I open my front door, closing it behind me and leaving the morose boy on the front stoop. My stomach is in knots. I don’t like the warning bells blaring in my head. I wonder if Aaron is going to Alcoholics Anonymous. Should I be going to therapy to support him?

Have I bitten off more than I can chew?

By the time I slip under the covers, it’s after one a.m. I’m antsy. Aaron’s outburst gnaws at me. Grace’s behavior weighs on my heart. Generally, people like me. Rationally, I know it’s more about her relationship with her brother than me, but I still don’t like being the target of anger. And I’m worried about Aaron. He’s been so easygoing and fun. Tonight, his outburst and agitation concerned me. I don’t want to be the cause of problems in his family. I also don’t want to be in a relationship where I’m constantly trying to predict a grown man’s behavior.

I toss and turn for a while. The sheets are too hot, so I kick off the comforter. Then, I’m too cold. There’s too much light spilling in my window. Then, it’s too dark. Finally, I grab my phone, planning to text Aaron when I see that I have numerous missed calls.

I don’t recognize the number. My heart falls to my stomach as I call it back.

The person answers on the first ring. “Thank God. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for forty-five minutes,” the female voice says. “This is Grace. We can’t find Johnny.”

I exhale. “He’s not with me. Have you checked his studio?”

“Of course we have. We’re not idiots,” she says so harshly that I picture her rolling her eyes and mouthing to the others in the room what a moron I am. “Wherever he is, he walked.”

I’m quiet for a moment while I think about where Aaron would have gone. Then, it becomes clear. “I might know where he is.”

“Tell me,” she demands.

“No.” I reply, sitting up straighter on my bed. “If Aaron left without letting you know, it’s because he doesn’t want you to find him. I’ll go to him.”

“Who do you think you are, Miss Landry? I want you to know that all his money’s in a trust, and his daughter’s entitled to every penny of it. Just know you’re nothing but—”

“Let me stop you right there,” I interrupt as I climb out of bed and my hand goes to my hip as if she can see me. “I’m going to remind you of a good southern saying—
you catch more flies with honey than vinegar
. You’re worried about your brother. You want him found. Do you really think now is a great time to accuse me of being a gold digger?” I hate confrontation, but I will not be treated like I’m trash.

In a politer tone, she replies, “I’m sorry. I’m just so worried about him. Please text me when you find him and let me know he’s okay.”

“I’ll do that.” I disconnect the call and throw my phone on the bed while I replace my cotton pajamas with a pair of worn jeans, a thick sweater, and my favorite pair of fur-lined boots. I grab my Saints baseball cap for my hair.

Before I leave, I pick up my phone and take a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet along with my credit card, and driver’s license.

The walk to Eddy’s is a familiar one. I’ve probably made it about thousand times. This time, it’s different. I’m jittery and scared that Aaron will not be there. Then, I have no idea where he could be.

A drunk couple stumbles past me, singing the LSU fight song. I laugh. That could have been Bella, Tripp, and I eight years ago. There’s a house decorated in Mardi Gras colors having a party. Some of my neighbors keep their decorations up all year. No one really cares. Christmas lights are offensive in November. Mardi Gras masks, beads and feathers . . . hmm . . . just part of the charm.

Usually, I walk slowly so I can peer in the windows of the homes which line the streets and watch the festivities but tonight, I’m a girl on a mission.

The air is crisp and cool. When Michael and I were dating, he called this football weather. The name has stuck. I’m sure in Baton Rouge there’s a game being played tomorrow. I wouldn’t have missed it last year or even last month. Now, football is the furthest thing from my mind. I need to make sure Aaron is okay.

A lost college kid passes me. He’s looking for the party. I point him in the right direction.
Yup. That definitely could’ve been Tripp or me.

As I come up to the cross street where Eddy’s Bar is located, I know I’ve found Aaron. There’s a commotion outside of Eddy’s. Even late on weekend nights, Eddy’s doesn’t draw a crowd. Girls dressed in tiny skirts and even smaller tops have never been peering through the glass window before.

Stopping across the street, I pause, wondering just what Aaron has gotten himself into. He must be standing on the small stage by the door because I can see his back and the neck of the guitar over the girls’ heads. Gold painted letters spelling Eddy’s are on the door next to the window. It catches me as odd. It’s like Eddy’s owns Aaron.

The crowd gathered outside dances and sways to his music. The sound is muffled but even from outside and across the street, I recognize his voice.

Resigned that it’s not going to be pretty getting inside, I start pushing my way through the crowd of girls, trying to get to the door handle. Someone grabs the back of my sweater and yanks. “Get in line like the rest of us, honey.”

Tumbling backwards, I catch my footing. Ignoring her and not to be deterred, I see an opening between two girls who are dancing. I duck down, put my head forward, and muscle my way again. This time, Aaron begins playing a song that is apparently a fan favorite, which distracts the crowd enough that I’m able to turn the doorknob and get inside.

Eddy sees me and motions to the large man who helped me earlier tonight. Someone grabs my hair and tries to yank me back outside while the crowd begins screaming things like “Bitch, get in line.” As I’m being tugged backwards, the man steps in and pries the girl’s fingers out of my locks. Fortunately, I’m hard-headed, but damn, that hurt.

He shuts the door on the angry crowd. “You all right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Thanks,” I reply, rubbing my scalp.

He points to the back wall of the packed, tiny bar. “Go stand back there. You’ll be safer.”

Nodding, I make way to where he indicated.

Aaron stands on the tiny stage, which is just big enough for him, a stool, and his guitar case. His foot taps, keeping time with the music as his hand moves up and down the neck of the instrument. He looks like my fallen angel again, sitting on his couch writing music, but now he has a crowd to appreciate his talent, although I’m not sure he realizes they’re there. He seems lost in his own world.

I text Grace.

Me:
I found him. He’s fine.

Grace:
Where is he?

I don’t reply. The music has consumed him, and I know he’s happy. He’s in his element. Why not let him be?

As he keeps playing, I realize I was wrong. He’s not my fallen angel. No. Johnny Knite is a rock god. His guitar is alive, as if it’s a second person on stage. He commands it to make sounds I’ve never heard before and his voice matches the pitch with perfection. The words he’s singing are lost to me as I focus on his fingers and how they’re able to move with such precision a surgeon would be jealous.

“Wow. Who would’ve thought Johnny Knite would be playing in Eddy’s?”

I look to my left and Doctor Jared is standing next to me. He looks sober and not suicidal. I hug his side. “You okay?”

“Better.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders.

Together, we join the crowd, swaying to the beat.

I’m not sure how long he plays. Once again, time is something invented by man and doesn’t apply to rock gods, but when he takes his final bow, I’m drunk on him.

He rests his guitar on the never-used stool, then he turns around and grabs a beat up old case. The crowd is mad for him. The man who helped me earlier works diligently to encourage Johnny’s fans to go home. Eddy turns on the rarely used overhead lights, making me squint.

While the crowd is dissipating, I make my way to the stage, pushing screaming girls out of the way whom Aaron seems oblivious to.

As I step up on the stage, I say, “You took my breath away.”

His head whips around and for a moment, he looks startled. Then, he exhales and smiles the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. “That’s my goal.” He places his guitar in the case and slams it closed with two clicks. “How long have you been here?”

“No idea. But I enjoyed every second.” I pause for a beat. “Is it safe for you to be playing in bars like this?”

About five feet from me are girls crowding around the platform. Loudly, one of them yells, “How come she gets on-stage?”

The very large man, whose skin is the same pigment as night, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and he looks like he might eat the groupie for breakfast. He ignores her and says, “Show’s over. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

Aaron shakes his head and smirks. “That’s Zed. He’s a huge fan of your blog.”

“You sent it to him also?”

Zed, who I had no idea was listening, replies, “I tried your crab cakes. They were tasty.”

Aaron pulls me to his chest in such a tight squeeze I wonder how I can breathe.

“You gave Grace quite a scare,” I say as I look into his haunting blue eyes, which are a gorgeous shade of navy tonight.

He grabs his guitar case. “Fuck ’er. Let’s go home.”

Aaron pulls out his phone and texts someone. I’m assuming it’s Seamus to pick us up.

“I’m going to walk through the crowd. You stay here with Zed,” Aaron instructs. He gives Zed a pointed look, and Zed nods.

Aaron jumps off the stage and into the crowd of about thirty people. He takes selfies and signs napkins or whatever the girls can find. There are even boys who try to get his attention. I watch, in awe of him. His smile is huge, and even though he’s being pulled in different directions, he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Do you live in New Orleans?” I ask Zed, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of Aaron.

“I go wherever he goes,” he replies, gesturing towards Aaron who is taking a selfie with a girl who’s showing her tits to the camera. She has nice breasts. Bethany would be jealous.

“How come I haven’t seen you before tonight?” I ask.

He cuts his eyes away from Aaron just for a second before he responds, “Lurking in the shadows. He didn’t want you frightened off.”

“Hmmm . . .”

Zed checks his phone. “Time to go. Wait in the SUV.” I do what he says, but as I reach the front door to Eddy’s Bar I hear a roar of protest from the crowd. I smile. He’s coming home with me.

Suzanne Long
@JohnnyKniteIsMine

OMG!
RealJohnnyKnite
is singing live RIGHT NOW in a club, but I can’t find out where. Message me!

Suzanne Long
@JohnnyKniteIsMine

RealJohnnyKnite
is singing for free. Someone has to know where the club is. I’ve checked all the major places.

“Stop it, Aaron,” I scold as his hands make their way up my sweater. We’re in the back seat of a black SUV. I glance nervously toward the windshield. “I don’t want Seamus or Zed to see.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he whispers in my hair as he begins kissing my neck. “I love the way you smell.” His lips move toward my shoulder, and his hand grabs my breast through my bra. “And I love the way you feel.”

I make one more plea. “We’ll be home soon. You can have all of this awesomeness there.”

“Think of this as foreplay.” He tweaks my nipple, and I gasp.

The car stops, and the lights inside come on as Zed opens Aaron’s door. Desperately, I try to smooth my clothes just in case someone or someones are up and waiting for us. Fortunately, the house is quiet.

Zed and Aaron are having a conversation, so I quickly make my way to Aaron’s bedroom before he gets any ideas about us having sex in the living room for his sister and whomever else is here to witness.

Stepping inside his bedroom, I shut the door behind me and immediately strip off my clothes, leaving nothing on. Then, I go to the bathroom and use his toothbrush to make sure my breath is fresh. As I’m rinsing my mouth, his bedroom door shuts.

After one last appearance check, I open the door and do my best catwalk-stroll towards the bed. He’s also completely naked and lying in a very suggestive pose on top of his white comforter. One hand is behind his head, and the other holds his large, hard cock at the base.