I hang by the pool with Gage, Micah, and Gar. Scott and Linda have gone down to the beach with Mattie. I pop the lid on a couple beers, handing one to Gage. Micah and Gar help themselves. “Zeta has been gushing about your band,” I tell Gage. “And we wouldn’t mind hearing you some time.” I nod at my boys. I’d already mentioned it to them this morning. “It’s not common knowledge yet, but we’re setting up our own label and we’re looking for new talent to sign.”
The big guy’s eyes light up. “For real?”
“Hell, yeah.” Gar chinks his bottle against Gage’s before retrieving his Fender. “Why don’t you play us one of your songs. Zeta says your original stuff rocks.”
Without breaking a sweat, Gage slides the guitar over his shoulder, tests a few strings, and starts playing. He closes his eyes as he sings, and there’s a raw, husky quality to his voice and a rustic sound to the melody as he performs for us. We grin, nodding and slapping him on the back when he’s finished, and the dude’s grin is so wide it threatens to split his face.
“You got any gigs lined up next weekend?” I ask.
He nods. “We play a regular gig every Friday night in Queens.”
“We’re coming up to the city for the VMAs that night, but we can drop by and catch your show after.”
The girls come back shortly after that, joining us by the pool. Gage goes off to call his brother and the other members of their band to tell them about Friday night, and seeing the look of pure excitement on his face makes me feel good. I remember the buzz when things first started happening for me and how it was the only thing that distracted me from missing my girl. My eyes automatically search her out, and my cock instantly perks up.
Zeta looks completely fuckable in a black and gold bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. She’s splashing about in the pool with Kayla and Lennon, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. Gar flops down on the lounger beside me, sipping his beer while he does zilch to mask the fact he’s ogling my girl with the same intensity.
I thump him in the arm. “Fuck off staring at her.”
He rubs his arm, turning to face me. “Sorry, dude. Can’t help it. She draws the eye, you know.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” I sip my soda with a grimace, my jealousy flaring at the thought of any guy eye-fucking my woman.
“Dude, that’s the least of your worries. She kinda flipped out yesterday morning when I mentioned the bunny boiler, so how’s she gonna handle the women once we get back to the city?”
“She’d handle it a whole lot better if some asshat stopped rambling about past shit that should be long dead and buried.”
“She’s gonna find out, Stone. You can’t stop that from happening. It’s not like you’ve been a fucking saint or anything close to it.”
“She’s a music journalist, Gar. She knows how the industry works, and she’s handling it fine so far.”
He shoves his sunglasses on top of his head. “So, she’s okay with you signing tits and asses? With you doing semi-naked photo shoots with supermodels? With you simulating sex with naked women in our videos? With girls throwing themselves at you even if she’s on your arm? With how the media will twist innocent situations into betrayals?”
Even though he’s telling it as it is, it pisses me off more than I can explain. “She trusts me, and I won’t let her down,” I say through gritted teeth.
He holds up his palms in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m just looking out for you, man. There will always be bitches looking to land you in trouble, always be paps looking to hang you out to dry. I’m just trying to forewarn you, so no need to get your panties in a bunch.”
I flip him the bird just as Kayla and Zeta emerge from the pool, walking our way. With her curvy figure, long legs, sun-kissed skin, and sexy tats, she’s like a walking dream. Water drips down her shoulders, trickling down the gap between her glorious tits, running over her perky nipples, and my cock is at full mast in my swim shorts.
“Fuck. Me,” Gar exclaims, eyes superglued to her chest, and I slap the back of his head. “I couldn’t hate you any more right now if I tried.”
“I will knock you the fuck out,” I growl. “I’m serious.”
“Do we have a problem, boys?” Kayla asks with a smirk, perching her baby son on one hip while she fights a smile. She so knows what’s going on.
“The only problem is this pussy here.” Gar nudges me in the ribs. “He’s worse than any girl on her period.”
I flip him the bird again. “Fuck off and find your own girl to drool over.” I open my arms for Zeta. “My girl’s taken.” She crawls into my lap, straddling my hips, and leans down to kiss me. I don’t care that she’s dripping water all over me. The way she’s claiming me is turning me the fuck on, but I know we have an audience, and I’m not giving Gar a show. Reluctantly, I break our kiss, grabbing her waist. “Love you, baby,” I say, nipping at her earlobe as I reposition her so she’s hiding the monster erection in my pants. She squirms on my lap, the little tease, grinning as she lays back against me.
“Fuck. You two are so hot together,” Kayla says, smiling in approval as she carefully places her son in his stroller, pulling up the cover to shield him from the sun.
“Don’t encourage that shit, Kayla. I’ve the worst case of blue balls this side of the Atlantic, and a live porn show will not help,” Gar grumbles.
“That’s what we get for living like monks since we moved out here,” Micah agrees, plonking himself down on the lounger the other side of Kayla. “I think it’s time we did something about that.” I’m guessing that means he’s just broken up with his latest girlfriend. I’d been wondering why Bella hadn’t come out to see him.
Gar reaches around, high-fiving him, and I roll my eyes when they both pointedly look at me.
“Just leave me and mine out of your plans, and you can do what the fuck you like.”
