At the after-awards party, celebrating their sixth and seventh Grammy awards for Song of the Year—Come Now—and Album of the Year, Keys slouched in the back of the room, nursing a Jameson and water. His head felt thick with boredom. He imagined death to be a welcome change but figured suicide to be the coward’s way out—and he was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. This feeling of inert dullness, like smothering pillows taped to his head, constantly plagued him. Nothing, absolutely nothing, excited him anymore.
He watched Trevor’s retreating form, sliding through a group of party-goers. Keys had sent him off to look for babes.
Before getting swallowed up by the crowd, Trevor turned and gave him a thumbs-up, flashing his coffee-colored eyes with a look of hope.
Keys returned the thumbs-up, sending him a look of wooden solidarity. He had absolutely no interest in participating in a threesome or a foursome.
Trevor had been a clingy little bitch tonight. Keys hoped his best friend would manage on his own.
He glanced around at the packed room. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this a great party. The room had been tastefully decorated. The food was amazing, but not amazing enough to give him a hard-on or anything—just good food. Every A-lister on the planet seemed to have turned out to celebrate the win for Marked Love. But he’d had enough, so he decided to head out early.
He sidled toward the service hallway and tromped closer to the back door. As he approached the back exit, the sounds of pots clanging, wait-staff yapping, and glassware tinkling wafted from the doorway ahead.
A petite figure backed into the hall, issuing orders to whoever stood inside. “Make sure to find Mr. Vegas and his crew first before you hand out dessert to the rest. And, you there…the champagne bearers. Make sure Mr. Vegas and his wife, Kennedy, have a filled flute in their hands before they’re handed dessert. They plan on making a toast.” Her head inclined to look at the tablet in her hands. “Okay, that’s it, everyone. Do your thing.”
Is that Zander’s assistant, Mia? Did she do all this party planning? His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her slinky, low-cut, crimson satin dress with a slit on the side that revealed one perfect leg. He cocked his head, trying to get a peek of what lay north of that fine leg. But no, the dress teased but did not reveal. Too bad. Still, his dick twitched in his pants.
She whirled around and nearly collided with Keys. “Oh! Where are you going? The festivities have barely begun.”
“That’s my cue to leave, then,” Keys said, allowing his finest seductive smile to spread across his face. He’d met Mia a few times when she and the band hung out with Zander, and she’d always interested him. If he were honest with himself, he might have a slight crush on her. But why be honest? Better to shove anything resembling a feeling into his colon. Still… His tongue traced a path across his upper lip. Maybe she wants to get down and dirty after the party is over. He proffered his arm. “Care to join me?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Puh-lease,” she said, stepping aside to let a stream of staff march past, laden with trays of fancy desserts, champagne flutes filled with bubbly, and bottles of a four-hundred-dollar per bottle French champagne for refilling the glasses.
Keys quickly snagged two full glasses.
“Hey!” Mia said, her expression hot with indignation. “Those are for the guests and the band.” Her cheeks reddened as she realized her faux pas.
A mischievous smile replaced the seductive one. One of his eyebrows arched. “You do remember who I am, don’t you? World-renowned keyboardist to Marked Love, yeah?”
“Of course, I remember who you are, Mr. Johnson. We’ve…” She hesitated, her mouth flattening into a thin line. “We’ve hung out at the same events.”
“Yes, we have.” He grinned. “And, come now…Mr. Johnson?” he said, smirking. “I prefer Big Daddy Johnson…because it is, you know, rather large.” He handed her one of the champagne flutes.
Her cheeks looked red enough to fry fish on. She put her palm out and pushed the champagne away. “I’m on the clock, sorry.” Swiftly, she scooted past him and hurried down the hall toward the party. “Nice getup, by the way,” she called over her shoulder.
Dressed in a leather jacket, a white dress shirt with a black leather tie, Levi’s, and combat boots, Keys drained his champagne glass. He wrinkled his nose at the taste and set the empty flute on a nearby table as he hustled after her. “Thank you. What’s underneath it is even more spectacular.”
“Not interested,” she said, waving her hand over her head.
“Allow me to help you, then. How about I be your little assistant?” He threw his arm around her delicate frame.
She shrugged his arm from her shoulders and lifted her gaze to his six-foot-three-inch frame. “You’re hardly little.”
“Now you’re getting with the program. Show and tell time is later, though. I’ll show if you don’t tell your boss.” His friend Zander would castrate him if he caught him hitting on Mia. The dude seemed overly protective of her. Or, maybe, he’s just cautious about me, as he should be. He chuckled, enjoying himself for the first time in what felt like forever.
“I don’t need an assistant,” she said, a scowl forming on her pretty face. “Especially not from you.” Her eyes looked like decadent caramel. They radiated kindness while being guarded all at the same time. “Can’t you see all the staff here?”
“The only person I have eyes for is you, sweet thing.” He snagged another flute of champagne, lifted the crystal glass to his mouth, and took a couple of sips. Then, he placed the half-filled flute on a waiter’s tray as the guy sped past. Champagne. Ugh. Give me a whiskey and water any day.
Her eyes traced an arc. “Oh, come on, Mr., um, Keys. How do you get so many women with that ridiculous line?”
“I don’t. You’re the first woman I’ve ever used it on,” he said. His eyebrows stitched together as he realized it was true. He did only have eyes for Mia. Usually, his gaze roamed like a restless beast, even when the night’s entertainment had already been acquired.
“I’m not that stupid,” she said, giving him a small shove.
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” he said.
Mia bristled. “I’ve had my moments of stupidity, and I don’t care to repeat them. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to my boss.” She lifted her head and scanned the crowd.
“I can easily pick you up, you know.” Keys placed his hands on her waist. Man, she feels toned, petite, and heavenly. “That way, you’ll be able to see better.” He grinned.
Her muscles grew rigid beneath his palms. She peeled his fingers from her waistline. “Keep your whoring hands off of my body. I’ll bet I could get whatever disease you contracted from your last conquest.” She kept scanning the crowd, visibly reacting when Zander came into view.
“I’ll escort you…you know, like a bodyguard. This crowd looks vicious,” Keys said, grabbing her hand.
“Stop touching me!” She jerked her hand away, pushed through the crowd, and disappeared, leaving him standing there with the most rigid and unrelenting hard-on he’d had in months.
He lifted his hand to stroke his jaw, covered with two-days’ growth. Mia intrigued him. Women usually fawned all over him, granting him wishes he never even asked for. They’d usually do anything to fuck the famous Keys Johnson. But, not her. And, I’ll bet she thinks giving me the cold shoulder puts me off. It doesn’t. I want to bang her long and hard…once I snag her, of course. I’ll do it.
He shoved through the crowd to catch up with her. “Hey, sweetie, will you be in Cancun next week?”
With her back to him, she lifted her middle finger.
“Is that an invitation?” he said, that same grin still plastered on his face.
She whirled so fast to face him, he crashed into her.
Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, he said, “That’s more like it. Which room will you be in so I can sneak in when the sun goes down?”
She let out an exasperated groan and shoved him backward. “The room you’ll never be able to find. I don’t want to go to Cancun, but I’m being forced to go. Please, stop. I don’t know what your game is or why you’re playing it with me, but stop.” Her eyes moistened like she might cry.
His heart stopped beating for a second. “Oh, come on. Don’t cry. I’m sorry to have upset you. I like you, Mia. Did you ever think to consider that maybe this isn’t a game?” he said, wondering if it were true.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she lifted her fingertips to her eyes to dab away the tears. “Go away, Keys,” she said. “The last thing I need is an empty hookup.”
This time, when she pivoted and scurried away, he didn’t chase her. Same here. That’s the last thing I need, too.
Standing there, surrounded by party-goers, he placed his palm over his mouth and smoothed it over his lips and chin. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone moving in his direction. He turned his head. Trevor. He sighed. At least he isn’t towing along the night’s random fuck buddies. “Hey,” he said, once Trevor stood before him.
“I haven’t found anyone,” Trevor said with a frown.
“Good, because I don’t want just anyone,” Keys said, letting his gaze drift toward Mia, who stood across the room talking to Zander near a stage at the front of the room.
Trevor’s eyes followed Keys’ gaze. “What are you looking at Mia for?”
“I just am,” Keys said, his attention snapping to Trevor.
“You’re not interested in her, are you?” Trevor said, flashing another one of his looks of indecipherable emotion at hm.
“What if I am? Let’s go.” Keys draped his arm over Trevor’s shoulders and began guiding him in the opposite direction.
“I don’t want to go. I want to find someone we can have sex with.” Trevor’s lips formed a pout.
“Not happening, dude.” Keys smiled to himself. “Not with me, anyway. Feel free to score on your own, though.”
“I told you—it’s not as fun if you’re not there,” Trevor said.
Dante’s voice came from the stage. “Can I have your attention, everyone? Keys. Trevor. Get up here.”
Keys kept walking.
“We need to go onstage with Dante,” Trevor said, glancing over his shoulder.
Keys’ grip on Trevor’s shoulders tightened. “I don’t want to go on stage and listen to another one of our fearless leader’s discourses on how amazing we are and how thankful we are, blah blah, ad nauseam, blah.”
“Keys!” Dante called again. “Can someone please steer our keyboardist toward the stage? I think he’s had too much to drink to follow directions.”
Several people laughed.
“This way, mate,” a well-known actor said, placing his burly arms on Keys’ shoulders and spinning him and Trevor around.
Making a snap decision to not start a fight tonight, Keys’ lips tightened. He wriggled free of the actor’s grasp, released Trevor, and strode toward the stage. I’d better cool it. I can endure one more of Dante’s fucking speeches. Because this time next week, I’ll have scored big time. I plan on making Mia mine. Cancun, here I come.