No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) (32 page)

“Happy to see me?” I quip.

“Playing music makes me want to fuck your brains out. Come take care of this.” He strokes his dick up and down, and my eyelids flutter.

“I can probably help you out.”

Crawling on the bed, I straddle his waist. He reaches up and takes a handful of both of my breasts. “These are fucking gorgeous. Your tits were made for my hands.”

I tip my chin. “I try.”

He gives my butt a slap. “Sassy.”

“So I’ve been told.” Reaching behind me, I grasp his cock and he lets out a moan. “I’ve also been told I have amazing hands.”

Arching backwards, I pump his dick with both hands. My head drops back, and my long hair brushes along my behind.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Hop on.” He tries to pick my hips up, but I shift my weight forward. “I’m so fucking horny, I can’t think. While I was playing, I kept imagining you on your knees sucking my dick as I strummed my guitar. Perma-boner.”

“Not ready to fuck you yet. I want to tease you.” I scoot onto the mattress and kneel next to his muscular thighs. As my mouth draws closer to lick him, my eyes drift to his nightstand.

And I see it . . .

Sitting back on my heels, I ask, “What is that?” as I point.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning up on his elbows and glancing over his shoulder. “I just haven’t thrown it away yet.” He grabs for me, but I slap his hands away.

“Nothing.” My voice rises. I look at Aaron with large, round eyes. “That’s not nothing. It may have been nothing at one point in your life, but now, it’s something.”

I lunge for the bedside table, but he grabs my arm. “Stop it, MK,” he growls. “It’s none of your business.”

Wrenching my arm out of his grasp, I scoot off the bed. “It is too my business. Let’s be clear, Aaron. I’m not stupid. I know exactly what that is, and I know you just got out of rehab and that shit shouldn’t be chopped up into fine lines on your bedside table.”

“It’s just coke. It’s not a big deal.” He stands up also as his now flaccid dick falls against his leg. “You’re acting like my mother or Grace.”

“Fuck you,” I reply as I walk over to the powder. I don’t know what to do with it.

I tried coke a couple of times in college. Experimental stuff. I didn’t like it and I didn’t use it enough to know how to pick it up except through a rolled up dollar bill and into my nose. I’m sure I look like an idiot staring at it. Then, I get an idea. Walking over to my pile of clothes, I grab a furry boot.

“What’re you doing?” he asks as I carry the lone shoe past him.

“I’m flushing your shit.” I push the fine white substance into the leg of my boot.

Once I’m sure I have it all, I turn around and stand before him. “Did you use any of this?” I hold the evidence in my smelly boot under his nose.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, cutting his eyes as he drops to the bed.

“Fucking liar,” I yell as I march into the bathroom, open the toilet lid, and turn my shoe over, hitting the sole for good measure. It looks like snow drifting from an odd-shaped cloud as it dusts the top of the water. Once I’m pretty sure the boot is as empty as it’s getting, I flush the toilet.

Aaron doesn’t stop me or protest. My blood is boiling.

I march back into the bedroom and over to my pile of clothes. As I pick up my jeans, he asks is a defeated voice. “Where are you going?”

I spin around. My bangs fall in my eyes, and I seriously would cut them to my scalp right now if I had a pair of scissors. “I’m going home. I’m furious, and I need to get away from you.”

“Don’t you understand that’s why I bought it?” he pleads.

“I don’t care why you bought it. There’s no excuse.”

“I bought it because I was angry at you.” In this moment, he reminds me of my oldest niece. She breaks a toy and then says she did it because Bethany won’t let her watch TV. It drives me crazy, but she’s four. He’s thirty-fucking-eight.

“What?” I ask, throwing my jeans to the ground. “You’re seriously not telling me that because I didn’t follow you out of the restaurant when you threw your temper tantrum, you went out and scored coke?”

He rises and walks to where I’m standing. Both hands grasp my shoulders. His hair dusts his chin as he stares down at me. With a controlled, tight voice, he says, “Don’t you fucking understand you’re the one who keeps me sober?”

My forehead crinkles.

“I fucking told you,” he yells. “You make the music stop.”

My head turns to the side as thoughts race through my brain like
Are you crazy?
and
I can’t even take care of myself
—
how in the hell do I make the music stop
? Instead of giving voice to those, I reply, “Aaron, are you saying if I don’t give you constant attention you’re going to use drugs?”

He smirks. “When you put it that way it sounds ridiculous.”

I shake my head. “I’m not kidding. This isn’t a joke. I can’t be your seven-day-a-week sober companion.”

“But you are,” he says, pulling my stiff body against him. “You don’t mean to be, but when I’m with you, I can think. I can write music, and my head isn’t filled with noise. You make it okay to be sober.”

I look up into his glassy eyes. “Aaron, that’s a huge responsibility to place on my shoulders. I’m just me. I don’t know what it means to be with someone who’s an addict.” My heart bleeds. I wish I had the power to fix him, but I don’t. What my psychology classes taught me is that he’s got to want to be sober on his own.

His smile is so sweet I’m sure girls’ hearts shatter around the world. “All I need is for you to just be you.”

Stepping out of his embrace, I cross the room, throwing up my hands in frustration. “But look what happened. Your sister questioned you, I didn’t follow you, and coke winds up on your bedside table. Do you understand that it’s called life? Sisters piss off brothers. You and I will have fights. You have to want to stay sober on your own. I can’t do it for you or use my magic pussy to cast some sort of spell which makes you not want to use.”

He smirks. “Love it when you talk dirty.”

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, I hurl it at him. He catches it and looks at me with confusion wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

I scream and stomp my foot. “This is fucking serious.”

His head drops. “Okay. I get it. This was an issue. I probably need to contact a counselor.”

“Damn right you do.”

He looks up with a smile. “You know, if you moved in with me then the problem would be solved.”

“The last thing I’m going to do is move in with you. You’re crazy.” I shake my head and start looking for an escape route. This’s the second time he’s brought it up. No. Not until he can stand on his own two sober feet.

He walks over to where I’m standing and lifts my chin. His features are relaxed, and the twinkle is in his eyes. “What’s so wrong with me? I mean, I can’t stay in New Orleans forever. Once the album is done, there’s promotion and touring and everything that goes with it. You’ll have to come along then.”

I have no idea what time it is, but it’s either very late at night or almost morning. I’m worn out. There was coke on his bedside table, I’m the key to his sobriety, and now he wants to talk about our living arrangements. How fast can a pink ’57 Caddy go? Because I need one to get me away from this situation.

“Have you heard of timing?” I ask him.

Now, it’s his turn to ask, “What?”

“Like maybe the best time to discuss me living with you isn’t after I find coke in your room.”

He smiles, and it reaches his eyes. I’ve come to know this look. It means playful Aaron is back. “What would be a better time? I could get alcohol poisoning again. Or better yet, jail was fun. We could discuss it during visiting hours.” His finger goes to his chin as his eyes move towards the ceiling. “I know.” His face lights up. “We could have a serious discussion about you living with me while I handcuff you to the bed, and the only way to earn your release is for you to agree.”

I know he’s teasing, but his humor is lost on me at the moment. Taking off my lucky necklace Bella gave me, I slip it over his head. It rests just above his pecs. He stares at it, and then his head tilts in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“It’s my good luck charm. I think you need it more than me. When I wear it, it makes me feel like I’m never alone and I have direction. As long as you have it on, I might not be with you, but my heart always will be.”

He picks it up and gives it a kiss. Leaning forward, I place my lips where his were. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it until you ask for it back.”

I go into his closet and find the softest T-shirt that I can. It’s a Def Leppard concert shirt that has been washed probably a thousand times.

“Remember, MK. I like you sleeping naked.” He’s lying on the bed holding his cock again when I emerge.

“Fuck you,” I reply as I crawl under the duvet leaving the T-shirt discarded at the foot of the mattress.

“I never got that blow job,” he reminds me, as if I’m heading to the store and he’s pointing out that we need milk. He crawls to me, pulling me against him and slips under the duvet.

“Fuck you.” I snuggle against his side, and my head rests on his heart.

“We could have a quickie.” His voice is getting softer, and his heartbeat is slowing.

“Fuck you,” I mumble.

“Good night, sweetheart. Love you,” he says as we both drift off to sleep.

Rock Magazine
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Confirmed
RealJohnnyKnite
played the guitar and sang for the first time since exiting rehab. Sources say his voice sounded great.

Rock Magazine
@RockMagazine

RealJohnnyKnite
played for about three hours in a small bar in NOLA. Said to be impromptu. Hoping this is his comeback.

Not a particle of air is trapped between us. Aaron’s body is draped across me. His head is next to mine, sharing one pillow. Shallow puffs of air tickle my ear as I lie here contemplating my life. I’ve always been more impulsive than other members of my family. Bethany is a doctor who performs God’s work in the poorest of the poor neighborhoods. I have a lifestyle blog. Bethany married Ben, who was literally the boy next door. I’m dating a rock star. We couldn’t be more different. I wonder what she would think if she could see me now on this early Saturday morning, naked and entangled in one of the sexist men on the planet’s arms. Would she be jealous or mortified?

It’s amazing how things change. When the month began, I was single, working in a dead-end job, and staring at my bank account, wondering if I was brave enough to make NoPinkCaddy into a full-time job. The month isn’t even half over, and I’m in love with a rock star and am determined to make my site my career.

I smile in spite of myself. Aaron has issues, some of them rather enormous, I don’t care. I’ve fallen so hard for this man. He’s my person. Even though he makes me feel like I’ve been hit by a train sometimes.

Watching him play last night was a religious experience. He was so beautiful—lost in his world, strumming his guitar and singing as if his life depended on it. In some ways, it had. He didn’t use. He went to Eddy’s and played music instead. I guess that’s good, but he still bought it.

This will be the rest of my life. The threat of him using again will always be real. Last night was a lot to digest, and I’m thankful that he’s working today and all day tomorrow so I have some time to process it.

I don’t bother thinking about moving in with him. It’s too much, and this is too early in the morning to think about such serious things after not getting much sleep.

Somehow I manage to untangle myself without waking him. Rolling over, I stare at my fallen angel rock god. So beautiful. Majestic enough that the great sculptors of history would have begged him to be their model. But a darkness lurks under that gorgeous face. His soul is a tortured one, and if I’m honest with myself, I wonder if our lives will ever be easy.

Stepping into his bathroom, I shut the door behind me. There’s a bit of white powder left on the toilet seat. My hand swipes over it ensuring every spec is gone. I flush the toilet twice—just to be safe. Next, I use his toothbrush to rid my mouth of morning breath.

I slide on the clothes that I wore to the bar last night. My goal is to sneak out of the house before anyone is awake, especially Grace.

Opening Aaron’s bedroom door, I slip through and pull it quietly to. I tiptoe down the hall and past all the closed doors that I’ve never opened. Then, as I enter into the kitchen, I see a girl with a beautiful shade of blond hair sitting at the counter.

The smell of coffee makes my mouth water. “Hi,” I say as I walk to the pot. So much for me sneaking out.

She spins around on the barstool, and I recognize her immediately. It’s Jude. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you guys.”

Fortunately, there’s a mug near the coffee pot so I don’t have to rummage through cabinets. “No. I didn’t know anyone was awake. I was just about to head home. How was your flight?”

I feel like my mom just caught me shacking up with my boyfriend. Ugh! This isn’t how I would’ve liked to have officially met Jude.

She giggles. God, she’s beautiful. Hair the same color as her dad’s with high cheekbones and full lips, the shade of pink Azaleas. “Flying in my dad’s plane is never bad.”

I smile and take a sip of my coffee. “I bet so. Thanks for making a pot.”

“Dad doesn’t drink it. It’s more for me and Aunt Grace.”

I walk around the island and sit down next to her. She has a fashion magazine open to an article about the latest trends in nail color. “I’m MK, by the way.” I reach out my hand. I met her at the restaurant, but I still feel the need to introduce myself.

She blushes a little. “I know. I wanted Dad to invite you and your friend to our table, but he got the funny look he gets sometimes and told me no.”

It’s too early to speculate why he didn’t include Bella and me.

“So your dad said you attend Vanderbilt?” I ask, taking a sip of coffee.

“I do. I’m a freshman.”

“What’s your major?”

“Undecided. I think I want to be an equine veterinarian, but that’s a lot of schooling. Not sure I’m ready to commit that much time.” She takes a sip of her coffee which is so filled with cream it looks more like melted vanilla ice cream. “Can I ask you a question?”