We’re in the city, so the lot is hotter than average. These two are scorching.
But the face I can’t shake from my head isn’t just hot, it’s different—heart-shaped with wide-set whiskey eyes, smooth caramel skin, full red lips. Lucky’s heat is more than skin deep. It comes from inside and radiates for miles, like a nuclear reactor ready to blow.
No matter how much I want to focus on the blonde’s fingers, dancing over the zipper of my jeans, or the redhead’s tongue in my ear, all I can think about is that girl.
I’m not going to fuck her—partly because we have to work together and partly because she’s just a kid—but I can’t help fucking with her.
From my drummer Jamie’s Bose speaker across the room, Eddie Van Halen launches into a guitar riff that has me about an inch from coming. Grim, my bassist, cranks the volume, then starts on air guitar, like any of us could touch the great Eddie.
Grim is the oldest of us by far, probably pushing forty. Years of hard living show in lines around his eyes and deep creases across his forehead. Living large the last few years has tacked a beer gut onto the package. But none of that has slowed him down. His long blond hair is thinner on top than when I first met him six years ago, but he’s still a chick magnet…as evidenced by the three twenty-something girls who are instantly on their feet, dancing with him. I crack a smile when he drains his beer, then grabs one of them by the ass.
Truth is, Grim is the reason I’m here. His real name is Jim Grimsby and he and some guys he was playing random gigs with came into the diner I was washing dishes in when I’d first left home. He looked badass and the waitress I was fucking at the time told me he was a local legend, mostly for raising hell. I was seventeen, on the run, sleeping in my broken-down car, and had exactly nothing to lose, so I figured what the hell. Walked right up to their table, told him I played kickass guitar wrote shit too. Told him he needed me in his band. Turns out, he was getting ready to dump the others anyway. Asked what I had for original stuff. Took me back to his place and we jammed a little in his garage. I moved in with him, his girlfriend, and their kid the next week. We stole Jamie from a rival band because he’s an animal on the drums, got fucked up every night and played our asses off, got some bar gigs, and that was the start of Roadkill.
The blonde at my side gets up and starts dancing, all hips and hands. The redhead stands and slinks over, pressing up against the blonde and grinding to the pounding rhythm.
Jamie whistles appreciatively at them from across the room, then staggers over and drops his mile-tall frame onto the couch next to me. He rubs a hand over his shaved head and slumps into the cushions, so totally baked his eyes are barely slits. “Dude, you gonna tap that?” he asks with a nod at the girls. “Because, fuuuuck…” He drawls the word out as his head lolls back onto the couch and he closes his bloodshot eyes.
I watch through my buzz as they dance together, and they’re keeping my interest, but just barely. Until they start making out. “Yeah, I’m gonna tap that.”
He leans forward and does one of the lines off the coffee table in front of me.
“I was saving that,” I say, shoving him. “Pacing myself.”
He shrugs and slumps back into the cushions. “Snooze, lose.” When the redhead starts unbuttoning the blonde’s shirt, a lazy grin splits his face and he holds up his fist for a bump. “Fuck, man, I love fucking New York.”
I bump him and he watches for another minute, then hauls all six and a half feet of himself up and starts grinding against the backside of one of the girls that Grim left behind. She spins, ready to be pissed, but when she sees who it is, she smiles suggestively and starts dancing with him.
I turn my attention back to the show in front of me as, little by little, the clothes start coming off. The girls’ hands and mouths are all over each other as they dance for me, and it’s pretty fucking hot. When they’re down to thongs, they come for me. I let them drag me off the couch. The guys catcall behind us as they pull me through the bedroom door of the honeymoon suite we booked for the weekend. Grim and Jamie’s rooms are adjoining.
The whole thing goes on for an hour or so, and I lose track of who’s doing what to who. When they’re done with me, they both pass out on the bed. I untwist myself and I yank on my jeans, because I need a fucking smoke. I find my pack on the dresser and stagger onto the balcony.