Revue (6 page)

“I’m fully clothed, you idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” he snapped

“Yeah? Well I beg to differ.”

Swirling around with difficulty, my clothes restricting my movements, I swam toward the shallow end so that I could get out. Josh, however, was a faster swimmer and positioned himself in front of me.

“I’m not an idiot, Cori. I was just playing around with you, trying to loosen you up ready for tonight.”

“I don’t need loosening up,” I bit out, as I tried to step around him.

He blocked my way and nodded in my direction. “Clearly, you do.”

“Are you for real?” I shoved him. “You just threw me in a pool when I pleaded for you not to.”

Josh grabbed my arms and pinned them by my sides before spinning me around so that my back was pressed to his chest.

“What are you doing?” I protested, struggling to free myself from his grip and failing. It was no use—he held my arms pinned with one of his.

Josh leaned backwards and floated us to the deep end, holding me tightly, as if I were being rescued from drowning. “Just stop talking and relax.”

“Relax?”

Grrr.

I was trapped.

In his arms.

In a pool.

Fucking great!

“You’re so fucking uptight,” he murmured, his soft lips caressing my ear. “Is your sweet little cunt that tight as well?”

My jaw dropped.
Oh no, he didn’t.

I struggled to free myself from his grip once again. “Let me go, you pig.”

“Just relax.” He chuckled. “And enjoy the moment.”

The heat from his breath tickled the skin on my neck, sending a thrill surging through my body, that thrill pit stopping at my nipples and pussy.
Bad thrill. Bad, bad thrill.
“I’m not enjoying the moment. How can I when I’m being restrained?”

Lies.

“You have no idea just how enjoyable being restrained by me can be.”

Ahh … I could guess. But you don’t need to know that.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in deep and then slowly exhaled, surrendering my tensed body because I had no choice.

“See? This ain’t so bad. Just chill and relax.”

“It is so bad. And I can’t relax.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re holding me prisoner. And because I don’t know where your arms have been.”

“My arms go where I go, so they’ve been where I’ve been. I can’t get rid of them. Sorry,” he said, his tone anything but apologetic.

Josh slowly swirled us around, the tiny waves of water assisting my newly formed lull.

“You’re such a smartarse,” I practically moaned, my voice now mellow, my body near relaxed.
Damn it!

“I told you I wasn’t an idiot. A smartarse? Yes. But an idiot? No.”

“I meant it rhetorically. I don’t think you’re an idiot, but I do question your choice of lifestyle.”

He stopped the swirling motion. “What? Stripping?”

“No! Not stripping. I admire that. It takes incredible bravery and confidence to do what you and the other guys do. No, I meant sleeping around … your constant participation in a fuck-a-thon.”

Josh resumed the swirling but repositioned his hands, one of them settling on my lower stomach while the other clasped my shoulder—his thumb now gently grazing the side of my breast in a soothing motion.

I liked it … but I shouldn’t.

“Stop that!” I said without much conviction.

“Stop what?”

“Sexually assaulting me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“If I wanted to sexually assault you, sweetheart, I’d do more than caress the side of your tits. Besides, I don’t sexually assault anyone. That’s not my thing.
Ever.”

“Ohh, that’s right! You can have sex with whom you want, when you want.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I scoffed. “It is a bad thing.”

“I don’t see how.”

I scoffed again, this time louder. “You’re objectifying yourself and the women you fuck.”

“How so?”

“Because you’re putting absolutely no emphasis on the act.”

“Yeah, because there is none.”

“Let me get this straight. So what you’re saying is that you’ve never liked any of the women you’ve had sex with? Never felt you could share more than just your bodily fluids?”

“Yes,” he said resolutely.

My heart pounded. Silence.
Why?

“That’s really sad, Josh,” I whispered.

“No. What’s really sad is the fact that the two of us are in this water and my cock is still in my pants.”

This time, I was able to wiggle free of his grip, planted my feet on the floor of the pool, and turned to face him. I then dipped my head back and wet my hair—God knew what it looked like. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Avoid conversation by being a sexist pig.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Want to see me be a dolphin?”

“What?” I couldn’t help but laugh. His out-of-nowhere and completely ridiculous question had me forgetting what we were discussing … but only for a few seconds. “I know what you’re doing, Josh.”

“What? Avoiding conversation without being a sexist pig?”

Smartarse.
“Yeah, that.”

He waggled his eyebrows before submerging himself. I peered down, wondering what he was doing and where he was going. He swam up against my legs and tickled my feet. I screamed and kicked at him under the water. He then changed direction and sprung up, breaking the surface and sounding an
e-ee-e-ee
dolphin noise before splashing down and submerging once again. My body wracked with uncontrollable laughter. It was the most stupid thing I’d ever seen a grown man do.

Still giggling when he came up for air, I watched as a childlike grin plastered his face. “So, how’d I do? Best dolphin impression you’ve seen, right?”

“No! Definitely not.”

“You think you can do better?”

My laughing stopped and I shook my head. “No.”

“Ahh, that’s right, you impersonate a chicken much better.
Bok bok
!” he taunted, falling onto his back and performing a backstroke to the end of the pool. He tapped the edge and turned, making his way back toward me, all the while continuing to
bok
like a chicken.

It pissed me off. Why? I had no idea.

“You have an unfair advantage. I’m fully clothed. You’re not.”

“Easy. Take you’re clothes off, sweetheart. We’re both adults here.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and narrowed my eyes. “Nice try.”

“Bok bok,” he taunted further.

“Fine! I’ll do it. Fully clothed. And if my impersonation is better, will you stop propositioning me for sex?”

“Yes.”

His confident answer surprised me. “Really?”

“Sure, because yours won’t be better.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“You can’t judge. That’s not fair.”

Josh stopped backstroking and stood, whistling and flagging down Lucas—who just happened to walk past at that moment. “Dimps, need your help with something.”

I rolled my eyes at Josh’s tactics, not to mention Lucas’s nickname. Granted, it was fitting—Lucas did have the most adorable dimples.

“What’s up?” he asked, as he rested his arms on top of the metal pool fence, his short blond hair catching the sunlight.

I gave him a docile wave and smile and he tilted his head, curiously.

“Oh, hey Cori. Forget to pack your bathing suit, eh?”

“Ha ha, very funny. No, I didn’t. Josh, here … ” I voiced with as much sarcasm as I could, “decided I wouldn’t need one before he threw me in the water.”

Josh clicked his fingers to get Lucas’s attention. “Focus. I need you to judge the best dolphin impersonation.”

“Riiight,” Lucas drawled, looking from Josh to me, me to Josh.

“This shit is serious, man. There’s a lot riding on it.”

Lucas shot me a confused look, so I nodded sarcastically at him, my eyes wide and my mouth pursed. “He’s not kidding.”

“Okaaay, let’s see them then.”

Groaning, I asked myself what the fuck I was doing. This entire scenario was absurd. Then again, if it meant getting Josh off my case, I’d be the best damn dolphin there ever was.
You just wait, Man-whore, Flipper will want my dolphin babies.

“You first,” I politely said, waving my hand at the pool’s surface.

He fired me a shit-eating grin. “With pleasure, sweetheart.”

Ugh!

I watched yet again as Josh sunk, swam around, and then pushed off the bottom, springing out of the water with a high-pitched ‘
ee ee’
. And, like before, it was hilarious and made me laugh.
Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Josh resurfaced, and pulled his body out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool.

“Not bad,” Lucas said with a nod.

“Thanks, man.”

“Nah, I mean it. Great dolphin. Gonna be tough to beat.”

I groaned.

Lucas grinned in my direction, the grin full of amused anticipation. “So what ya got for us, Cori?”

“Get that stupid look off your face. And for the record, I hate you both right now.”

Lucas raised his hands above his head in a show of defence. “Hey! Leave me out of it. I’m just the judge.”

“Whatever,” I grouched, directing my not-so-impressed scowl at Josh. He just lifted his chin and waved.
Cocky prick.

Taking in a deep breath, I lowered myself under the water and pushed off from the wall, swimming to a spot I thought was perfect for my propulsion. I felt the bottom of the pool with my hand and positioned my feet, stubbing my toe in the process. It hurt …
like hell
. What it also did was turn my dolphin impersonation into one of a gurgling, crying, this-dolphin-just-got-bitch-slapped-by-a-seal disaster. It was so bad that I knew I’d fucked it up before breaking the water’s surface. I knew this because I’d felt anything but graceful in my attempt. My toe was throbbing immensely, I was choking on the water I gurgled on, and when I did finally breathe in air, both Lucas and Josh were laughing hysterically.

“Sorry, Cori. But that was the worst dolphin impersonation I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not funny,” I sulked, rubbing my closed eyes while blindly trying to reach my foot with my free hand. “I stubbed my toe.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Josh murmured into my ear, his close proximity shocking me because I’d thought he was still sitting on the edge of the pool. “You lose.”

My eyes shot open. “That’s not fair. I want a replay.”

“Nope. I win.”

“What’d ya win?” Lucas asked.

Staring me straight in the eye, Josh answered resolutely, “Cori is gonna fuck me.”

“I am NOT!” I objected, shoving him in the chest and turning toward Lucas. “He’s lying. I’m not”

“Uh-oh. That’s my cue to leave.” Lucas spun on his heel and headed back to his room. “Sorry, Cori,” he called out, “but you suck as a dolphin.”

“Screw you,” I called back. “You suck as a judge.”

“Don’t be angry with Dimps.” The weight of his arm casually rested on my shoulder. “A bet is a bet.”

I turned to face him. “Whatever. You can proposition me all you want, Josh Adams, because I. Will. Not. Have. Sex. With. You.”

A sinister smile crept in at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, you will.”

Josh wouldn’t accept that his penis was not going to make friends with my vagina. I’d even gone so far as to explain why, as if I were talking to a fourth grade student: “You see, Josh … sometimes penises and vaginas don’t get along. And that’s okay. Not all genitalia have to be friends. They can be civil and keep to themselves, as they should in a professional relationship like ours.”

He’d replied with, “My penis is
very
friendly, though. He’s friendly with every vagina he meets. He doesn’t want yours feeling left out or discriminated against.”

At that point, I knew I was wasting my time. It was also the point at which Brad and Noah simultaneously pool-bombed us, prompting me to exit the water, head back to my room and get out of my soaking—and more than likely—ruined clothes.

I’d since showered and made myself presentable in a pair of aqua Chucks, skinny jeans and a black silk blouse, and was heading out of my hotel room when I collided into a strong, hard chest—that chest belonging to Brad.

“Shit, sorry. We really must stop doing this,” I apologised.

He furrowed his brow for a second then smiled. “No, we mustn’t. I’m enjoying the feel of our bodies attempting to become one.”

I playfully punched him in the arm. “They’re not attempting that, Brad.”

“Don’t believe it, not for a second.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a show of light-hearted stubbornness.

I rolled my eyes at him and changed the subject. “So where are you headed?”

“Dinner and pre-rehearsal. You?”

“I was just about to grab a bite to eat in town and maybe do some late-night shopping before heading to tonight’s venue.”

“Nah, don’t do that. Come to dinner with me and the rest of the guys instead, then hang around and snap some pics of the pre-rehearsal.”

Taking photos prior to the show sounded great; the shots would be in good contrast to the bells and whistles of the live performance, but I didn’t want to encroach on their pre-show ritual this early in the tour. “Thanks, but you guys have your
thing
. I don’t want to get in the way. Maybe I’ll just pop by to snap some quick shots before the show starts.”

He linked his arm with mine and walked us toward the front of the motel. “You’re a part of our
thing
. It’s your job to document our
thing.
And anyway, I have this move I want to try on—”

“No way,” I interrupted, stopping in my tracks. “No freakin’ way!”

“Aw … come on, I—”

“Is my brother trying to get into your pants?”

I turned my head to find Noah approaching us, his blond wayward hair stylishly messy. “If so,” he continued, “then ‘no way’ is the perfect answer. My pants are much nicer than his.”

Glancing down, I spied his pants. He was right. They were nice: fashionably ripped denim that screamed sexy. Noah’s entire look was clean-cut but with an edge of scruff. Come to think of it, he actually looked and sounded more like Brad than Brad did.

Unlinking my arm, I took a step back and pointed suspiciously at both of them. “Hang on a minute. Who’s who?”

“Surfer,” Noah said, performing a fake surfing maneuverer.

“Wait! Isn’t Brad surfer?”

He stopped his faux display. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“But you’re Noah.”

“Nope, he is.” Brad pointed to his brother.

I turned my head, looking from one to the other and feeling as if I were at a tennis match. I settled on the real Noah. “I thought you were Brad.”

He smirked. “I know.”

Brad’s expression was one of amused recognition. “Dude, that’s not cool.”

I narrowed my gaze. “You two have done this before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Noah laughed. “Come on, you’d do it too.”

Inwardly scoffing, I agreed. I probably would. “Ugh! How do I tell you both apart?”

“You can’t.” Noah relinked his arm with mine and encouraged me to keep walking.

I freed myself from his hold but kept his pace. “Bullshit! There’s got to be a way.”

“The only difference is the size of our cocks,” Brad explained, stepping up to my free side. “Mine’s much bigger.” He ran his hand through his hair then draped his arm over my shoulder.

I pushed it off and stopped. My time as the meat in a wholesome, male-revue-hottie sandwich was done. “Right! Both of you stop that, and keep your hands to yourself. Next one to touch me without permission gets a foot to the balls.”

“I’d do as she says,” Josh said, stopping by the three of us. “That foot of hers is lethal. My balls are still bruised.”

Good! They deserve to be.

Standing there with my hands on my hips, gazing from one guy to the other, I realised I was in a position most girls would kill to be in. All three of them were incredibly hot, available, and persistently flirting with me, so why was I frustrated and threatening violence?
Because none of them are genuine, Cori. It’s just a game, one they no doubt play often.

It was such a shame. I liked games, but they were normally of the board and electronic variety. Still, I had to decide whether I was going to let their boisterous ways stress and annoy me for the entire three-month tour, or whether to remove the proverbial stick I seemed to have currently up my arse and just go with it. I chose the latter; after all, they seemed harmless … with the exception of Josh. I was still a little wary of him, especially after what Matt had said.

Relaxing my defensive posture, I smiled and sighed. “Come on then, show me what moves you’ve all got.”

***

Baz the bus driver—
yep, that’s his name
—drove all of us to the venue, which was a mere five minutes away. Lenny, Patsy and the rest of the crew set up for the performance while the guys and I ate dinner in the bistro next door. It was a strange scenario at first, because when I took my seat at the table, I noticed nearly every single pair of female eyes in the room looking in our general direction. Actually, they weren’t looking—more like bugging.

“Does this happen everywhere you go?” I asked, picking up my menu.

Matt looked up and tilted his head. “Does what happen?”

I gestured to the eye-bugging women in the room with an inconspicuous sweep of my hand. “The staring.”

He performed a quick scan, shrugged and returned his attention to the menu.  “Pretty much.”

Lucas, on the other hand, utilised the staring eyes and playfully winked and waved at a couple of teenyboppers across the room. They giggled and blushed like idiots.

“Dude!” Brad scolded, hitting him across the head. “Those two still believe in the Easter bunny.”

Lucas frowned. “I was just being friendly.”

Turning in his seat, Matt glanced toward the young girls and sighed. “Dimps, try not to excite the teenagers, okay? We don’t need bad publicity. Bugs incites enough of that as it is.”
Bugs? Who the hell is Bugs?

“They don’t look like teenagers,” Lucas moped.

“Oh, young Padawan, much to learn have you.” Noah patted him on the head. “But those three …” He nodded toward a table of women not too far away, “ … those three are fair game.”

“Bugs, it’s your shout,” Brad said, leaning back on his chair.

Josh pushed his chair back and stood. “Corinne, what will it be?”

“Ahh, just a water with lemon, please.”

He screwed up his face. “Try again, but this time add alcohol.”

My eyebrows rose. “Should you all be drinking before a show?” I glanced from one guy to the other.

Matt winked. “One won’t hurt.” He looked at Josh. “The usual.”

Josh lifted his chin in acknowledgement and made his way to the bar.

“Bugs?” I asked, smiling curiously.

“Yeah,” Brad said, chomping his teeth. “After the bunny. They have the same teeth.”

I laughed. Excellent!

“Right,” I said, still giggling and directing my question to Matt and Noah. “Let me get this straight. We have Bugs, Dimps and Surfer, so what are your nicknames?”

“I’m Chief, and Noah is Slick.”

I tapped my lip with the tip of my finger. “Chief makes sense. But Slick?”

“Yeah, he has a fetish for baby oil.”

“It’s not a fetish,” Noah explained, unperturbed, while leaning back in his chair. “It’s an appreciation.”

I face-palmed and lost it, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Each and every one of them was quite the contradiction: manly, buff, testosterone-fuelled, yet baby oil-loving dancers. They were a chalk and cheese sandwich, a hot ice cream … a freakin’ oxymoron. It was so funny. It did, however, make them all the more charming.

Stemming my laughter, I took in a deep breath, picked up my menu, and scanned the contents, settling on salmon with steamed rice and veg just as Josh placed a drink in front of me.

“Thank you. What is it?” I asked, picking up the glass and sniffing the contents.

“A drink.”

I huffed. “I can see that. What’s in it?”

“Liquid!”

Rolling my eyes, I sipped the straw, squinting when the bitter taste registered. “Shit, that’s strong.”

“It’s just a gin tonic, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” I coughed, “Did you forget the tonic?”

Josh laughed. “Such a pussy.”

“Hey, Cori, that should be your nickname,” Noah suggested.

“Pussy. It suits her, doesn’t it? I like it already,” Josh added.

“You like bruised balls,” Brad warned him.

Matt glared at them all. “You guys right? Bit of respect, please?”

Josh’s stare held mine as he brought the rim of his glass to his lips, his eyebrow lifting, a smirk on his lips. “Depends who’s bruising them.”

I matched his challenging expression. “Keep it up, Bugs, and you’ll get your wish. But be warned—something tells me your idea of bruising is different to mine, so you may want to rethink that.”

Noah drummed the table loudly with his hands. “Score! I think Bugs has met his match.”

“That’s it,” Dimps declared, a proud smile plastering his face. “Cori’s nickname can be Elmer. Elmer Fudd.”

Oh fuck. No. Really? I preferred Pussy.

***

We ate our dinner and headed for the performance room. The guys weren’t due to be on stage for another two hours, which was plenty of time for a quick rehearsal. Sitting on the floor in front of the stage, I was experimenting with camera angles and happily snapping pics of them conversing while practising their routine. The perspective from my position was fantastic—camaraderie, passion and determination visible in the way they perfected each aspect of their performance. Despite cracking the odd joke about tea-bagging brides-to-be, one thing was abundantly clear—they all took the choreography seriously, especially Dimps. Every time he mucked up a dance sequence, he kicked a chair and chastised himself harshly.

Seeing him so passionate yet incredibly self-deprecating opened my eyes as to just how vulnerable these men really were. A lot was riding on
them
, not just their appearance.

“Dimps! Go for a quick jog around the establishment and get some fresh air. You’re not going to achieve anything when you’re this fired up,” Josh advised.

I looked up, surprised to see him standing by my side. He must’ve jumped down from the stage while I was checking the frames I’d shot.

Taking a seat on the ground next to me, he lowered his voice and leaned in. “The kid is too hard on himself. The dancing will get easier the more he does it.”

“Some people aren’t naturally talented in the coordination department, like you are, you know.” I raised my camera to my face again and snapped a few shots.

“No, they’re not, Dimps definitely being one of them. But he’ll get it. Just like Slick did.”

Pausing, I turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Slick couldn’t dance?”

“Nope. Had as much rhythm as a plank of wood.” Josh gestured toward Noah, an impressed smile on his face. “Now look at him!”