SailtotheMoon (10 page)

Now tears drowned out the apprehension. In Jimmy’s opinion,
music that lasted was the only kind worth making, but it took effort, practice
and a long apprenticeship to create.

Jimmy smiled, that carefree happy smile Zazz remembered from
his childhood, saved for when he’d achieved something, even something as small
as making an edible meal for them both. When he was sober, that was. Zazz could
still remember the terror of his father’s addiction and the way he turned into
a different person when he was stoned, or high, or drunk. Or all three.

“My son did good.” He slid the glasses up his nose and faced
the press, the epitome of the elder statesman. “I play sometimes, but I screwed
up my career. I got beat up, and they destroyed my mouth. It didn’t matter,
because I’d already earned a name for unreliability. Nobody would have me
anyhow.”

“Are you still on drugs?” someone yelled. Typical of the
media not to ask him about his music, but the scandalous side of his life.

“Only the ones my doctor gives me.” True enough. No point
telling them one of the drugs was methadone. Jimmy had never succeeded in
kicking that one completely, claimed his system was so used to opiates, it had
to have something. “But the life left me like this.” He lifted the glasses
again, stared out, let them take pictures. “You know how old I am?”

Silence.

“I’m sixty-four.”

Gasps echoed around the room.

“Take all the pictures you like. This is what drugs do to
you.” Jimmy looked eighty, his face wrinkled, sunken cheeks, heavy shadows
under his eyes. His fingers, although unaffected by arthritis, were bony,
brown-spotted with age. He had a cane by his side. “Not forgetting the drink,”
he added with a twinkle, although nobody laughed. “I can’t play too good
anymore.”

“Do you think the drugs made you?” someone asked.

Jimmy laughed in derision. “The drugs wrecked me. If I
hadn’t been chasing after the next hit, I might have concentrated more on my
music. As it was, I could have stayed in New York or Chicago or LA and made a
good living, despite the downturn in the market. I could have got a lot more
done. I’d have had more jobs if I hadn’t been hunting dealers and spending the
money I didn’t have on junk to shoot into my arm, or my leg, or my dick. Anywhere
I could find a vein I could use.”

He chuckled and Zazz gave an inward groan. The old man was
off again, spouting the stories. He’d never get him out of this place, and he
badly wanted to get Laura out of here and into a warm bed. God, tonight he was
tired, felt every part of that performance as if he’d done it twice. Singing onstage
energized him, made him feel like superman. Offstage, he either collapsed or
couldn’t relax, too hyped up to sleep.

Shit, that was it. That was why his father couldn’t stop with
the drugs. After gigs Jimmy had spent hour after hour talking to Zazz, usually
in a slurred voice. The road to sobriety had been neither straight nor easy,
and Zazz half suspected that his father’s failing health was the only reason it
had stuck this time. Jimmy couldn’t get out of the house to score.

“I get an incredible feeling onstage. If I ever lost that,
I’d want it back. I imagine drugs might do that,” Zazz said. He’d had days when
he’d despaired of coming up with a good lyric, when he thought he’d lost it
completely, when “it”, his talent or his creativity or some shit, lay just out
of reach, and if he found the key it would come back to him.

All his life Zazz wondered why Jimmy had taken drugs when he
had such a great talent. When performing was the only high Zazz needed.

“You
imagine
?” somebody asked. “Are you serious about
not drinking or taking drugs?”

Zazz opened his mouth to reply, then at the last moment, he
saw the trap. Confess to that and people would fall over themselves to prove
him wrong, not least the hangers-on and the media. They loved seeing idols
fall. Now, coming to the end of a successful tour, with a new album in the
offing, would be a great time to sell more copies about him. So he narrowed his
eyes, stared them out and smiled. “You guess,” Zazz said, going for the
enigmatic. “I’ve never entered rehab, that’s for sure.”

And he refused to say any more. But when he glanced at
Laura, he caught her staring at him, and he cursed. The one person he’d have to
be straight with, if he wanted more than this with her. Not that he was sure of
that, but he respected her enough to tell her the truth. He turned his smile
into a genuine one, for her, then turned back to the media with a straight
face.

“So this is your girlfriend?”

“I’m Jimmy’s social worker,” Laura said, before he could
stop her. Shit, fuck and derision. It got worse and worse. Now the press would
come baying to her door. If they could find her, and Zazz had no intention of
them doing that.

“You’re holding hands with Zazz. Is that for courage?”

Zazz ignored the question but lifted Laura’s hand to his
mouth and kissed her knuckles, pausing to nibble. He smiled when she couldn’t
suppress the heat that came to her eyes. “Maybe. It goes both ways.”

He needed a distraction. He glanced at Riku, who immediately
came up to join them. In his red-and-gold ensemble he’d worn onstage, he looked
almost Samurai. Tall and commanding, almost inhuman with his heavy visual kei
makeup and costume.

“Jimmy A’s one of my idols,” Riku said. “He did amazing
things with timescales, opened the door to us and other bands like us.” He
stood behind Jimmy’s chair like a bodyguard. Zazz’s gratitude went out to him,
especially when Riku decided to elaborate on the way Jimmy A had helped modern
musicians, whatever they did, stretch their creative muscles. He didn’t follow
half of what Riku said, but it sounded good.

“Many people love the music my father made,” Zazz said at
the next pause.

“You don’t look like him,” somebody yelled.

He gave them a sideways look, sardonic, back to the cynical,
angular Zazz. “Some people say Prince Harry doesn’t look anything like his
father,” he said. “It’s not mandatory.” He flashed another grin at them. “Oh
sure, I know that much. Do you? My aunt and uncle have brown eyes and they have
two blue-eyed children. No cheating.” He made that up. He didn’t have an uncle
or an aunt, to his knowledge, but it sounded good and it could happen.

“He’s my son, all right. Jesus, I could have children all
over America, but this is the one I managed to keep.” Or who managed to keep
him. The issue was moot.

“We did okay,” Zazz said now. “But you can see my father
isn’t in the best of health. I want him left alone. There is no more story
here. Jimmy Asaro bore me, brought me home to England, got cleaned up for my
sake. I went to school, loved music, learned it. Went to London to find work,
worked in pubs and clubs, joined a few moderately successful bands, joined
Murder City Ravens. There you go.”

But he knew it was useless. Even with the bait he’d thrown
them, that Jimmy had cleaned up for him, which was totally untrue, they’d hunt
Jimmy down and pester him to death. Could be literally. Jimmy loved attention,
as long as he thought it was on his own terms. If the press hounds came around,
he’d humor them, and some, tell them all his secrets. And he did have secrets.

Somehow, he got Jimmy out of there and in a quiet room with
Laura to look after him while he grabbed Chick and dragged him into the nearest
dressing room. “Is there a way to keep my father out of the headlines?”

Chick met his stare. “There are ways. He can go into hiding,
but I wouldn’t recommend that. He could go about his life and let things die
down. They will. That’s what I’d go with.”

Zazz sighed. “You’re right, I guess.”

Chick frowned and pursed his lips. His beard virtually
bristled as he considered the situation. “Your dad is gonna be in the news, and
I can’t do much about it. People will find out where he is. What if I arrange a
few structured interviews for you and your father? With reasonable magazines
and publications, nothing too sleazy. They can come up here, or we can bring
your father to London, give him all the attention he needs.”

“He’s frail, but yeah, that could work.” Zazz hated the
media circus, but for his father, he’d do it. “Then they can discuss the issue
up their own arses.”

“Appropriate for some of them. I have to deal with these
guys all the time, because you’re so picky about who you’ll talk to.” Chick
held up a hand when Zazz opened his mouth to protest. “Your privilege. But
trust me to make sure you get the best I can find.”

“Not for a week or two, hey? I want to check out a few homes
for him. He’s refused up ’til now, but I want to be ready when he does agree. I
thought I’d do a few tours.”

Chick nodded. “It makes sense.”

About to leave, Zazz remembered something else. “I’m staying
with Laura here, so I don’t need a hotel room.”

“Yeah, Riku wants to stay. Beverley’s booked him at the
Midland, in case they track you guys to the Buckingham. He’s promised to dress
like every other sap if he goes out.”

“His opinion of what every sap looks like and mine are a bit
different,” Zazz said. “But I have to stay, to sort out this shit with my dad.”

“Be in London on Friday for the sound check,” Chick warned
him. “I’ll cover for you until then. There’s a few TV appearances, but Jace and
the others can cover those. They’ll want you, so be ready for some shit like
that when you arrive. Are you arriving alone?”

Zazz met his gaze. “I don’t want to be, but I haven’t
persuaded her yet.”

“Will you come with me to London?” Zazz asked almost as soon
as the hotel room door had closed behind them. “I’ve asked you before, but I
need an answer.”

Laura stood stock still in the middle of the thickly
carpeted floor, aware both of the luxury and the fact that she didn’t belong
there. “I didn’t think you were serious. Why would you want that?”

He shook his head. “Don’t be obtuse, Laura. You know we have
more than sex going for us. I want you as long as I can have you.”

If she did this, she wanted a few things straight between
them. “When do you have to leave the country?”

“Not for at least a couple of weeks after the London dates,”
he said. “I can probably stretch it to three. Chick wants to set up some
interviews with me and my dad. Thinks they’ll leave him alone after that. I
don’t want to do them alone.”

Still prickly from this evening’s attention, Laura folded
her arms, clasping her forearms tight until she realized her body language was
giving her away. “It’s not something I really considered.” They’d gotten
together, he’d asked her, then he’d been a shit, then he’d apologized—ah shit,
she didn’t know if she was coming or going. But she did have holiday time due.
The job gave her six weeks a year, and she’d only taken two weeks so far. She’d
saved the rest for family time and for a two-week break somewhere hot. Greece
or Spain, maybe. That still sounded good, but who was she kidding, she’d give
it up for Zazz. “I have to go into work next week to arrange it. It’s short
notice, but my boss might let me go.”

“If not, you can get a deadly disease.” He meant fake being
sick. She didn’t know if she wanted to do that. Her boss would most certainly
suspect. If she went in next week, she could probably swing the time off.
Except that would mean— “We’d take Jimmy? I don’t think he’s well enough to
travel.”

Zazz sighed. “I think he can. Chick says he’ll lay it all
on. First-class flight, luxury cars, five-star hotels.” He grinned. “The old reprobate
will love it.”

Laura shrugged at the fait accompli. “You’ve thought of
everything.”

“Not quite.” His voice heated, and he stepped close to take
her in his arms. “I never thought you’d have this effect on me.” He gazed down
into her face, no barriers that she could recognize shielding his desire for
her. “I’ve known you for two years. I knew we had similar tastes in music, that
we shared a few issues. Truthfully, there are women for the taking, and I’ve
taken them. I’m no saint, Laura. But you—you’re something different.” He
touched her chin, easing her into a sweet kiss. Almost loving. Tenderly, he
stroked her mouth with his tongue, caressing rather than overpowering, sweetly
sexy.

This time they took their clothes off slowly, as they got in
the way of each other’s bodies. They took the time to lay them over chairs,
instead of dumping them on the floor. Almost domesticated, until she saw his
expression, and the barely banked passion in his eyes. Getting naked with Zazz,
while always exciting, came easier and she felt less embarrassed at displaying
her distinctly ordinary body to him. He liked it, so that was enough.

“Come to bed.” He led her to the large bed that dominated
the luxury room, and swept back the covers, the crisp, white sheets yawning invitingly.
He helped her in before joining her, then held out his arms so she could
snuggle into him. They shared a kiss, long and luscious. “No shower for us
tonight, sweetheart. We’ll use that tub.” The bathroom boasted a large, white
tub with central taps, an overhead shower and bubbles.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He rose over her, smiling. “This is good. I’m beginning to
see why the guys have found someone permanent to share their lives. There’s a
challenge, isn’t there?”

She reminded herself he was only speaking hypothetically.
Not about her in particular. She couldn’t afford to let that go, because if she
did, she might not recover when he left. “What’s that?”

“To make this deeper, harder, better. To play.” He bent to
kiss her neck and nibble down her throat to her breasts. “We’ve hardly
started.” He kissed one nipple, then the other, leaning up to critically
examine his handiwork. When he blew on them, her nipples crinkled into hard
points and she gasped. “Food sex? Maybe I’ll dress you in one of my stage
outfits, take you kinky. Backward?” He laughed darkly. “And you’re a virgin in
one place. Trust me?”

Swallowing, she realized what he meant. No, not entirely,
she had to admit. But she forced a smile. “Is it good?”

“If we do it, yes, it will be, because everything’s good.
But I prefer to play, rather than go all the way. You up for that?”

“Tonight?”

“No. We’re both too tired. For tonight, let’s just do it.”

She wanted to say “make love” but she couldn’t. However, as
he nipped and suckled, rousing her slowly but with a certainty that compared to
the sun rising in the morning, she decided that before he went back to the
States, she’d tell him she loved him.

She wouldn’t be the first woman to tell him, she’d bet. Not
the fans, who screamed at him, but women who’d slept with him. He was too good
in bed for them not to. He circled her navel with his tongue and she moaned her
encouragement, together with his name, in case he’d forgotten it.

He made sounds of satisfaction, as if he were tasting
something particularly delicious before he took her clit between his teeth,
nipped, and then drew it into his mouth. Laura fought not to pull away, an
instinctive reaction until her nerves grew. Making a sound like a growl in her
throat, she dug her fingers into his hair, palming his skull, easily
discernible under the short strands. If he didn’t have such a beautifully
shaped head, he’d never get away with such a severe style.

Moving between her legs, he urged her to lift her knees,
opening her to anything he wanted to do. And he wanted to do plenty. He kissed,
suckled and nipped her clit into hypersensitivity, working her into a state of
needy wanting until he pushed his fingers into her—two, she thought—working
them deep. Yes, two. No, three.

When he fluted them, opening her even more, she cried out
and despite her best intentions, arched her back in instinctive response. “Oh
God! Fuck!”

Chuckling, he continued his work, the sound vibrating
against her clit, blending with the movements of fingers and tongue like one of
the band’s intricate melodies. Harmonizing with himself now, he continued for a
while, building her up to her screaming point.

Then he changed completely. He thrust his fingers deep in a
motion that shocked her to the core. Then he sucked hard, holding her clit
captive in his mouth to tease until she stiffened, and her pussy throbbed in
release.

He didn’t come up the bed until he’d lapped every bit of her
arousal, sweeping the flat of his tongue along her crease until he’d absorbed
every drop.

She had a condom in hand by the time he came back to her,
the small plastic package clenched in her fist, ready for him. She let him
sheath himself, because he was quicker than she, and she wanted him inside her
now.

His blue eyes wild, he drove straight in. She arched up to
him, her shoulders hard against the bed, her feet flat on the mattress, almost
lifting him up.

Only his strength held them together and he stared at her,
hair sticking damply to his forehead and around his ears, mouth partly opened,
reddened with passion. Hooking her arm around his neck, she dragged him close
for a kiss. To taste herself on him, something she’d never enjoyed before. The
flavor enhanced the experience, the deep, relentless thrusts, his breath hot on
her face, the sight of his beautiful body.

Everything drove her to impossible levels before she
screamed his name and surrendered.

“Two is good,” he said, sounding infuriatingly in control,
but she saw his eyes and knew better. He never stopped, working them both hard
now, so much that his sweat dripped onto her. Normally she’d have pushed the
man away, but not this man. She clutched his firm, round buttocks and urged him
on. His turn now.

But not, it appeared, until he’d driven her to madness one
more time.

Harder and harder, relentless in his deep, driving strokes
until he moved, slightly, and sent her off again, like lighting the fuse on a
firework. Her breath caught, came in short gasps as if she’d run a marathon,
but she clamped her pussy tight, using her internal muscles, and that did it.

He dropped his chin and growled her name, coming down for a
lush kiss as he throbbed deep inside her.

They lay there, getting their breath and senses back until
he found enough strength to roll over. She went with him, ignoring the state of
their slick bodies. He threw back the covers. “Come on. If we don’t get into
that tub, this bed won’t be in any state to sleep in.”

He was right. Together they poured the bath. Zazz took care
of the taps while Laura found the bubbly stuff to pour in it, ignoring his laughing
protests. “I’ll smell like foo-foo. You want me girly?”

“We’ll smell like each other.” She sniffed one armpit and
winced in mock response, even though they’d showered at the venue. “Better than
this.”

Sitting on the side of the bath, he splayed his legs,
shamelessly displaying his cock and balls. Even in repose it was a meaty treat
and it tempted her to take it, taste it once more. Maybe he saw the intention
on her face, because he swung around. He dipped one leg in the bath and slid in
with a movement that would have looked clumsy if she’d done it. Zazz did it
with the grace of a dancer.

Envying his suppleness, Laura climbed in more conventionally
and turned so her back lay on his chest. Warm and hard, and all male. She could
feel his nipples against her back, and she squirmed to enjoy the sensation. “In
a bath with a rock star. How decadent.”

He kissed her shoulder. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re in
the bath with James.” The name she’d yelled at the height of passion, the one
that had driven him to give her more. “Call me what you like. As long as you
let me into that gorgeous body and scream it when I’m fucking you, I’m good.”

“Zazz in public, though, right?”

“It doesn’t matter now they know. It was bound to come out.”

She tilted her head so she could see his face. “Was it? I
know why you let him give those interviews tonight.”

“Do you?”

“Because he wanted it. You’re proud of him. At least, you’re
proud of his musical achievements.”

He grimaced. “Yeah. That. Not proud of everything he did
though. Sometimes I’d come home to find him gone and I wouldn’t see him for
days. But he provided somewhere to sleep and, usually, enough to eat. He never
abandoned me, even though there’s no evidence I’m actually his son.”

“You share his talent.”

“Nature or nurture?” He kissed her. “It doesn’t matter. I am
what I am, and he helped to make me. Whatever I am.”

That reminded her of something she wanted to ask him,
something deeply personal. “You implied that you don’t take drugs or drink in
the interview.”

“I don’t take illegal drugs, for sure. The thought of it
repels me. And I only drink a little because I like it sometimes. Champagne for
celebration, wine with a meal, the occasional beer. That’s all. I can go weeks
without a drink and not miss it. I can’t go weeks without writing. That’s my
real addiction.”

“It’s a good one.” She nestled close as he lifted the
oversize bath sponge and dripped it over her, clearing the bubbles from the
upper slopes of her breasts. “I thought you were telling the truth.”

“Why?”

“I’m not absolutely sure, but I’m guessing I know your body
language better than most.”

He growled and palmed her breasts. “Oh yeah.” Playing
languidly with her, smoothing his hands over her water-slicked skin, he talked
to her. Told her his secrets. “That was one reason Murder City Ravens gave me a
trial. The band had nearly fallen apart with drug addiction and drink. Jace
liked the bottle too much, but he took anything else he could find as well.
Matt took everything, and since he sang, didn’t do anything else, he had more
time to get high. Don’t get me wrong, Matt had—has—an amazing voice, but for
him it wasn’t enough. I write. It keeps me out of trouble. But when they
decided to carry on, Riku already knew them, and he introduced me. Neither of
us has much time for artificial highs, but Riku has tried a lot of stuff. He’s
one of those people who can try the heavy stuff and walk away unscathed. I’m
not interested. Does that make sense?”

“For you, perfectly.”

Silence fell for a while as she stretched up for a kiss.
When they broke away, breath coming shorter now, he asked her, “What about you?
Are you into anything?”

Wow. From the expression in his eyes, she knew it didn’t
matter to him. Not right now. She could do what she wanted, and he’d stay.
Double wow. “No. I never had the opportunity. Child of the suburbs, went to an
unremarkable school, unremarkable university, but I had to work hard to keep up.
I didn’t socialize much, stayed at home and studied. I’m not a natural
academic. I never came into contact with the wild crowd.”

“Hmmm. Nothing unremarkable about you if you ask me.” He
touched his lips to hers. “I learned that during our emails. Two years, don’t
forget that. So do I get to meet your parents?”

She sat up, water spraying over the floor with her sudden
movement. “What did you say?”

“I’m your boyfriend. Don’t you want to take me home to meet
your folks?” He gave her no clues whether he meant it. She decided to take him
at his word.

“I—I usually go to their house for Sunday lunch,” she
confessed. “You know, roast meat and two veg, apple pie for afters. Mum called
me to see if I was coming.”

“Do they know about me?”

She stared at him, aware all over again of who he was and
who she was. “No, but they will tomorrow. They have the local radio station on
all the time, and they’re bound to talk about the concert and Jimmy. I have a
brother and a sister, and one of them will see it online. My sister spends far
too much time on the social networks and the gossip sites.”