The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (33 page)

Tense silence.

We’re all waiting to hear what Julian says next.

I expect him to now tell us how he wants to change things to his taste, just like that old guy Lou Buchanan. Lance will say, not a chance, Julian will say goodbye, and that’ll be that and we’ll be back to square one.

Whir.

“How much do you need?” Julian asks.

“What, cash?” Lance asks.

Julian nods.

“Uh, a hundred and twenty grand? Maybe less if I can call in a few favors.”

“That’s it?” Julian asks, surprised.

I’m blown away. Is he kidding? I can barely count that high. He’s acting like it’s dinner and a movie. But, based on this house and his cars, I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah,” Lance says. “I know a lot of people who do good work cheap.”

Julian smiles, “Let’s say one-fifty to be safe. If you run under budget, so much the better.”

“Yeah,” Lance chuckles like he doesn’t believe this is happening any more than I do. “What kind of percentage are you talking?”

“That depends,” Julian grins.

I knew it. Strings are always attached if you look closely.

“On what?” Lance asks, sensing danger.

“On whether or not I get what I want.” Julian’s eyes swing over to me and lock on mine.

Oh. No.

I’m not for sale.

Lance follows Julian’s gaze to me. He does not look happy. He looks pre-nuclear.

I was wrong.

There was one last fuck left on the table.

Apparently, that fuck is me.

And I just upped it.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“Fuck that guy!” Lance roars as he strides up the stairs to the main level.

I shuffle after him, followed by Micah and Beaver. I’m totally confused. I think Lance was defending my honor, but I’m not entirely sure. He literally jumped out of his seat the second he realized Julian was looking at me. I mean, it’s not like Julian came out and said he wanted to sleep with me. Sure, his eyes said it in plain English, but his mouth didn’t. I don’t know why Lance is all worked up. He doesn’t even like me that much anymore.

“We never got our waters!” Beaver wheedles in a whisper. “I wanted to make a play for Colette! She’s hot!”

“Fuck the water and fuck her, Beaver!” Lance barks. “We’re outta here.” When Lance reaches the front door and shakes the handle, it won’t open. “What the fuck?” He shakes it again before examining the solid door like he’s considering kicking it down with his motorcycle boots.

“It locks electronically,” Julian says calmly as he steps purposefully up the stairs from below.

“Then fucking unlock it already.”

“It requires hand print recognition.” He says it like an arch villain who has us trapped like mice and is merely toying with us until he grows bored and decides to eat us or feed us to the sharks. “I need to actually touch it.”

“Then hurry the fuck up.”

Julian takes his sweet time strolling to the door.

Micah and Beaver are both stunned. Micah looks like he can’t believe Lance is acting this way to the uber awesome Lord Julian Whittaker. Beaver looks anxious, like he’s torn between chasing down Colette to hit on her and not angering Lance.

Julian’s hand halts a centimeter from the doorknob. He turns and smiles casually at Lance. “A word of advice.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Lance bites.

Julian closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly, completely unafraid. “You’ll never get your money, Lance. You’re too impulsive. No one wants to invest in a loose cannon like you. Perhaps one day you’ll grow up enough to realize that.”

Lance squeezes his hands into fists and the knuckles pop. Julian doesn’t look like the fighting type. Lance could easily tear him apart. Unless Julian has a bunch of thick-necked security guards waiting to pop out of trap doors and restrain him. Lance grunts, “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and realize hitting on other people’s girlfriends in front of them is a great way to get your teeth knocked out.”

Wait. What?

Julian’s casual smile turns coy. “I thought she was your assistant.”

Lance growls, “She’s my girlfriend, you fuck. So keep your eyes off her or I’ll rip them out of your god damn skull. Now open the fucking door.”

Oh. My. Goodness.

Stealth swoon.

Julian sniffs urbanely and turns the handle. “Good luck with your video.” He sounds sincere.

“Fuck you, chump,” Lance barks and grabs me by the hand, yanking me down Julian’s square stone steps like a rag doll.

I float behind him, not because I’m literally being dragged along like a doll with my feet dangling in the air, which I basically am, but because manhandling never felt so good and I may as well be skipping in the clouds.

By the time we reach Micah’s Mini Cooper, I do believe I’ve swooned all over my panties.

Chapter 24

CHASTITY

“That guy doesn’t know shit,” Lance spits as Micah drives us down from the Hollywood Hills. He’s been ranting non stop since we got in the car. This time, he sits in the back seat beside me. “I’m gonna raise that fucking money myself.”

“How?” I ask.

“We’re gonna hustle for it. Starting tonight.”

“Hustle?” Isn’t that what hookers do?

“Yup. Surprise rave. And I know just the place.” Lance frantically dials his phone. “Hale, buddy! What up man?” Lance listens. “Awesome. Hell yeah, I did.” Listening. “Totally. Hey, I need a solid, bro … Is that warehouse of yours free tonight? The one on Industrial Street in the Toy District? … Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah. Of course you’re invited. You need me to set you up with a date?” Lance smiles at me. He better not mean me. “Well fuck, Hale! Why didn’t you tell me you met someone! Bring her! I totally wanna meet her. I’ll make sure she has a good time. Awesome. See you tonight, bro!” Lance ends the call full of excitement. “Micah, you think we can get my gear over to Hale’s warehouse and wired up before midnight?”

“Yup. Just get me enough manpower to move the PAs out of storage, and I’ll have it bumping by then.”

“Sweet. Beaver, can you send out a blast to our insider list? Tell them to put the word out. I want that place packed. Anybody and everybody. Pull people off the streets if you have to.”

“On it,” Beaver says, thumbing away on his iPhone.

Lance looks at me. “I need smoking hot go-go dancers. I know a bunch, but this is short notice. You think you and your friend Lark could do it if I can’t get anyone else to come out?”

“Um…” What happened to that protective side at Julian’s and him calling me his girlfriend? Now Lance is offering me up like a piece of meat to whoever might need me. Maybe we should’ve stayed at Julian’s to hear him out.

Am I being pouty?

I don’t know. But the last half hour has been haywire and the crazy look in Lance’s eyes is freaking me out. It’s like I’m not even here. He has a way of doing that. Just like Mom. He’s controlling like her too. Am I making a huge mistake? The thought is nauseating in the extreme.

WHIR!!!!

Lance grins, “Don’t worry, Pink. You’ll be up on stage next to me. Any guy tries to grab you and I’ll kick him in the face. You’ll just be eye candy. It’s good for dick morale.”

I wince. “Dick morale?” Is that any way to treat your girlfriend? As dick bait?

“He’s right,” Beaver says, barely looking up from his phone. “Dicks need tits or they don’t show.”

I wrinkle my nose at Lance, “You want me to be your penis cheerleader?” Last time I checked, that’s never in the girlfriend’s job description. Maybe I should’ve read Lance’s Terms of Service before I signed up for this. “I don’t know, Lance…”

Lance laughs, “Only for tonight. After that, you can be my private penis teaser.”

I grimace. “Penis teaser?”

“You need a penis teaser?” Beaver chuckles, “You having trouble getting it up for your lady?” He spins in the front seat and winks at me before his eyes drop to my breasts. “If he is, I’m always locked and loaded.”

I wait for his tongue to do the waggle-waggle.

Beaver laughs a second later, and sure enough, his tongue
waggle-waggles
.

The maturity level in this car is down to nothing. I fold my arms across my breasts.

“Eyes up, Beaver,” Lance warns. “Don’t make me tear your eyeballs out.”

Beaver rolls his eyes and faces forward. “Pfft, I don’t care about Chaz. She’s not my type.”

He’s turning his nose up at me? Whatever.

Lance snorts, “Beaver, you are high, man. Chastity is everybody’s type.”

Everybody’s type? Am I the town pump now? Does anyone else feel like the levels of thoughtless self centered machismo and testosterone in this car have reached critical?

Lance nudges Micah, “Right, man?”

“Girlfriend,” Micah deadpans, eyes on the road.

At least Micah is on my side. Or just staying out of it.

“Who is this Lark chick?” Beaver asks. “Is she a friend of yours, Chaz?”

“Yeah,” I grimace sarcastically, “but you’re not her type.” I hope he likes how it feels.

Beaver goes, “Whatever.”

Guess not.

Lance chuckles. “Don’t even go there, Beaver. Lark will chew you up and spit you out.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Beaver titters.

Why does it feel like Lance is having an entirely separate conversation from the one I’m having?

And why do I suddenly feel like a stepping stone for Lance to get what he wants and little else? Oh yeah. Because he seems to have forgotten I exist unless I can somehow advance his career.

I want to go home.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“Do you want the JBLs?” Micah asks, referring to the gigantic PA speakers stacked in the storage garage beside a bunch of other big PA speakers crammed together.

“Yeah,” Lance nods. “And the Sennheisers.”

“You got it,” Micah says.

Four guys whose names I think are Clay, Mitch, Adrian, and Jack help Micah load the speakers onto furniture dollies and wheel them to the freight elevator at the end of the hall so they can take them to the big white delivery truck waiting at a loading dock two floors down.

When the guys are gone, Lance stares at the remaining PA speakers and DJ gear, thinking.

And ignoring me like he has been since Clay, Mitch and blah blah blah showed up. That’s when I became completely invisible to Lance. It’s like he forgot I was here. I can’t decide if he’s doing it on purpose or just focused on the task at hand.

Does it matter?

I suddenly don’t exist to the man I love.

I try not to let it get to me.

Whir.

“Is there anything I can do?” I offer. Despite how much I feel like Lance went from seeing me as his prize possession to his meat trophy in the span of seconds, I still want to be useful. I’m sure he’s just stressing out about money or whatever. At least that’s what I tell myself so I don’t hate him. “Earth to Lance? Anybody home?”

He turns to me, blinking. For a second, he reminds me of Beaver, which is indescribably disappointing because it means either Lance has suddenly become repulsive to me or I haven’t given Beaver enough credit. Neither makes me feel better. “Sorry,” Lance mutters. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“I was asking if I could help.”

“You are helping.” He turns to face me full on and squeezes both my arms affectionately. “Just having you here with me means more than I can put into words, Chastity. After Julian’s thing today, I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams. But you’re my glue, Pink.”

“Glue?” I nearly laugh, but hold it back because I see he means it.

“Sorry. I can’t think of anything that sounds less stupid. You know what I mean, right?” The earnest look in his eyes says it all.

“Yeah, of course,” I say dismissively.

I was wrong about Lance.

He’s not using me.

He’s needing me.

Secret swoon.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“
I can’t believe how many people showed up!
” I holler in Lance’s ear. The bass rumbles the old warehouse. Hundreds of people fill the floor and gyrate under the colored lights. Only in LA could you get this many people to show up out of nowhere for a surprise rave. “
This place is packed!
”

“
For real!
” Lance hollers back, grinning at me, twisting knobs on his DJ turntables while he bounces to the beat and holds his DJ headphones to one ear.

Equally impressive were the thirty-odd people who showed up earlier at Lance’s office after we left the storage warehouse. They all came out to help. Lance knew all of them on a first name basis. Like a general marshaling his troops before battle, Lance organized them into a well-oiled machine in no time.

But none of that was quite as impressive as the way Lance is commanding the attention of his audience. Not only is the crowd hypnotized by his music, but the eyes of every woman (and quite a few of the men) are fixated on his incredibly sexy body and incredible stage presence. Mine are too.

A light sheen of sweat glistens on Lance’s tan skin. He’s shirtless, wearing only low-riding red sweats that reveal the waist band of white boxers. Dark letters on the boxers’ waistband read
DJUI
(which I think is a pun that means DJing Under the Influence) and white letters stitched to the thigh of his sweats read
OOEE! SURE THING
like an invitation to rip his sweats off and see what’s underneath. Matching white drawstrings dangle at his waist like symbolic penises, dancing against his obvious bulge as his hips keep time with the music.

It takes everything I have not to stare like a statue. Which is a problem, because I’m supposed to be go-go dancing. At one point, I actually did tug on his sweats. Lance merely grinned his devil’s grin, daring me to finish what I started. Since there’s a huge crowd of people less than ten feet away, I opted to ogle his body instead.

Am I horny?

Let’s just say I’m glad I have this fringe belt on over the micro shorts I’m wearing because my arousal left a mark.

Geez, Lance is BBQ sex on a stick.

Too bad I have to share him with this crowded warehouse full of screaming fans all night. The good news is they’re having a blast and they’re spending money, which was the whole point of tonight. Many of them wear brand new TH3 PH4NTüM shirts of various designs which were purchased from the merchandise tables in the lobby. Another hot seller are the glowsticks of every shape you can think of, and TH3 PH4NTüM pacifiers with the silver mask and blinking eyes. Both girls and guys sport the pacifiers in their mouths.