Lucky Girl (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (12 page)

I had forgotten everything but him, seeing the sweet look of pleasure on his face, the way he worked to hold himself back. I knew he was waiting
for me, but he didn’t have to—just seeing him like that sent me flying. My orgasm was so sudden and intense I screamed, crying out and thrusting my hips up. Dale cried out too and I felt the exquisite, hot pulse of his cock as he came, emptying himself completely into me, the sensation almost enough to send me over again.

He groaned and finally collapsed onto me. I loved the weight of him and welcomed it, kissing him softly and pulling the sheet and the comforter back up over our
damp skin. The breeze felt good but I was shivering. Dale nuzzled my neck and my ear, his breath returning slowly to normal. His lips moved over my flesh, kissing me here and there, whispering words I could barely hear.

“Could you two shut the hell up!” Chrissy threw the door open and it banged against the wall. “Can’t you keep that little bitch quiet?”

I was too stunned to move but Dale reacted instantly, grabbing the sheet around his waist with one hand and striding to the door. I grabbed the edge of the comforter and pulled it up to my chin.

“Get out!” Dale grabbed the handle, swinging the door closed, but Chrissy was in the way.

“Fuck you.” Chrissy was ready for battle. I could tell. Even through the crack in the door—her knee was blocking the way, so Dale couldn’t close it completely. I scrambled around for clothes—t-shirt, jeans. I didn’t even bother with panties or a bra.

“Move.” Dale’s voice was calm and firm. He’d regained his control after being so surprised by her entrance. I was going to have to ask John if we could put a lock—and maybe even a chain—on our bedroom door. I found socks and tugged them on too.

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Chrissy sneered. I saw her face in the shadows. She was a very pretty girl, long dark hair and blue eyes. She had her brother’s features, only softer and more rounded. But she could make herself ugly in an instant—it was like some magic trick, a strange illusion. “Mr. Perfect. Mr. Rockstar. You wouldn’t be anything without him, you know that?”

I knew she was baiting him, just like she baited her father. I think they were both too blind to see it. John, I knew
, would never take that sort of bait. He realized, somehow, that what Chrissy needed was not the negative attention she seemed to be asking for. It went deeper than that. Dale, though—Dale’s fuse was long, but she’d been wearing him down for two weeks and the whole thing was about to explode. I could feel it crackling in the air, like electricity.

“
Dale, I have to go.” It was early yet, but a good enough excuse. I ran a hand through my hair, grabbing my purse. I was small enough to insert myself between him and the door. “I’m meeting Ben for coffee and then I have to drop off those drawings at work.”

He blinked down at me, trying to focus. I knew she’d gotten to him and she knew it too. She just wouldn’t stop.

“Go.” I pushed him back. “Go back to bed. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He took a step back from the door and I was relieved. I’d broken the spell. Whatever hold she had over him was fading, even though the words still kept
spilling from her mouth.

“Oh my God, you are so fucking pussy-whipped!” Chrissy called as I slipped out into the hall with her, closing our bedroom door behind me. It felt like I was stepping into a gladiator ring with a lion. Or maybe a dragon. Up until now, she’d ignored me, but
with Dale safe on the other side of the door, I knew she was going to try to use me to bait him.

“He doesn’t love you, you know.” She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall with a smug smile on her face. She was still in her pajamas—red silk, top and bottoms. “He just feels sorry for you.”

It was hard to believe words could hurt that much. Chrissy’s words came attached with razor blades. I tried ignoring it, starting to take a step around her, but she moved with me, blocking the way to the stairs.

“
Poor pathetic little Sara. You poor-me’d your way into free room and board and a rich rock star boyfriend. Do you really think he’s going to marry you?” She laughed. “He can’t love anyone. He can’t see anything unless it’s a mirror. That’s all you are. A great big mirror.”

“Get out of the
way.” I took a step to the left but she did too.

“
Oh Dale, you’re so
wonderful
and
famous
and
everyone loves you!”
She mocked, yelling this so Dale was sure to hear her. “He’ll never be Tyler Vincent and he knows it. All he’ll ever be is some cheap, knock-off imitation of the real thing. And that’s the only reason he keeps you around,
sweetheart
.”

She used that term of endearment with emphasis and I wondered how long she’d been listening at our door this morning. I was trembling inside and my body was shutting down. System overload. I knew the feeling—it used to happen when the stepbeast got like this. I was having flashbacks, sensory memories of recoiling, withdrawing into my shell as far as I could to hide from the oncoming disaster.

“Shut up!” Dale opened the door—he had jeans on, but no shirt—and strode toward her. I, of course, was in the way. I turned and pushed him back, both hands on his chest.

“Dale, no.” I glanced back at Chrissy. She was smiling. It was a truly malevolent smile.

“Always has to try to prove himself,” Chrissy went on. She sounded downright gleeful. “Because he knows he’ll never be good enough. Never as good as Daddy.”

“Chrissy, I swear to God…” Dale said through clenched teeth, hands curled into fists at his sides. He was looking past me straight at her and I felt like I was holding a tiger by the tail.

“Oh Sara, let him go. You’re going to have to let him go eventually.”

“Dale, come on, let’s go downstairs.” I tried to get him to focus on me instead of her. I tried to ignore the searing pain of her words. I just wanted to take Dale and escape. Of course, she was between us and the
escape route.

“Sara, you’re a one-trick pony.” She was right behind me now, whispering her words. But she was looking right at her brother. “He only wanted you because you chose him over Tyler. And I’m sorry, but you can only do that little stunt once. After that, you’re useless.”

I turned and pushed her. Chrissy stumbled back, surprised, catching herself from falling by steadying herself against the wall. I heard John stirring downstairs. We must have woken him. He was calling but sounded far away, “What’s going on?”

“Bitch!”
Chrissy snarled at me.

I think they both lunged at the same time. And I was in the middle. I screamed when Dale made a fist and pulled his arm back. I knew he was going to hit her—and she was smiling, triumphant. It was just what she wanted. Oh the publicity that would bring down on our heads. Greg would be furious. And Dale’s career would be over before it began.

“No!” I cried, turning to stop him, but it was too late.

His fist connected with the side of my cheek with a force that shook my teeth in my head. My ear was ringing and I couldn’t keep my balance. I tried, my hands groping the smooth hallway wall, but I fell, moaning softly, looking up to see Dale’s horrified expression, fists now at his sides. And I heard Chrissy laughing, delighted.

“Sara! Oh God, Sara,” he croaked, kneeling beside me but I was already scrambling to my feet. I felt his hand on my calf for one, brief moment, but I was fast when I needed to be. I flew down the stairs, grabbed my shoes on my way out, and I was already pulling away from the house when I saw Dale burst out the front door, calling after me.

But I was gone.

      CHAPTER ELEVEN     

I was early to
Cuppa Joes
and was glad for the time to put my head back together. I went to the bathroom first to wash my face. My eyes were red from crying. I knew Chrissy’s words weren’t the truth, not the deep, real truth—but they had enough truth in them to sting. I was a mess and I looked it. I hadn’t even showered. And I had the beginnings of a pretty good shiner under my left eye. I peed and ran a comb through my hair and put on what I hoped was enough makeup to cover any bruising. Feeling slightly better, I went back out into the coffee shop.

I picked a table in the corner, hoping to hide until Ben arrived, but when I looked up as the bell on the door rang, I saw Carrie and Wendy coming in. I didn’t wave to them but they spotted me anyway, making a beeline for my table.

“Hey, what are you doing here without your other half?” Wendy slid into the seat across from me. Carrie grabbed a chair, turning it backwards and straddling it.

“Oh I’m just meeting a friend.”

“Is that code for having an affair?”Carrie raised her eyebrows at me.

“No!” I blushed. I hadn’t told many people about Ben yet. Aimee
and Matt. Josh, at work. And John—but I’d asked him not to tell Chrissy. Why give her any more ammunition than she already had? “I’m actually meeting my… Dad.”

Wendy sat
back in her chair and Carrie did a double-take. I realized they must be thinking of the stepbeast, so I had to redirect them with an explanation. While I was telling the strange, coincidental story of Ben finding me because of the picture in the paper, the waitress came over and we all ordered—coffee for them, hot chocolate for me. Plus muffins and scones and croissants.

“And he moved here?” Wendy shook her head, incredulous.

“Well, he was already moving here,” I explained.

“Makes it even weirder,” Carrie said through a mouth full of blueberry muffin. “Did you tell Aimee?”

I nodded, blowing across the top of my hot chocolate. It lived up to its name and was always too hot to drink right away. I wondered if Aimee had told them
her
big news, but my question was answered by Carrie’s next statement.

“That poor girl is never going to make it to the end of her pregnancy. My mother is going to be the death of her.” Carrie had succeeded in eating the entire top of her muffin and was now peeling the paper off the sides.

“What do you mean?”

“The minute Aimee told the family she was pregnant, my mom started watching what she eats like a hawk. She’s such a fatphobe.”

“Homophobe too,” Wendy interjected, sipping her coffee, a croissant in her other hand.

“But she’s pregnant,” I interjected. “You’
re supposed to get fat when you’re pregnant!”

“You should hear my mom.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “
’You don’t want to use this as an excuse to eat junk, dear.’
I keep telling her to knock it off but every time I turn around it’s all, ‘
No ice cream for you, we don’t want any fat babies in this family!’”

“Are you kidding me?”
I put down my hot chocolate and decided to work on my scone.

“Just because we’re all long and lean she thinks the whole world should be that way.”
Carrie put the entire bottom of the muffin into her mouth. When she chewed, she looked like a chipmunk.

“Poor Aimee.” I made a mental note to call her.
Our senior year had been the perfect storm of disaster. I had to drop out because of my pregnancy, and then Aimee had gone into treatment for her eating disorder. I was so grateful they let her come when I went to the hospital or I wouldn’t have had anyone there with me at all. I knew Aimee was sensitive about her weight—she probably always would be—and it sounded like her new mother-in-law was pushing all her buttons.

“”Okay, done.” Carrie gulped the rest of her coffee. “Are you sure you brought the shot records, Wen?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Wendy rolled her eyes, still nibbling on her croissant.

“Shot records?” I asked, finally able to sip my hot chocolate.

“We got a puppy.” Carrie grinned. “It’s our moving in together present to ourselves.”

“You’re moving in together?” I exclaimed. That was huge—Carrie’s mother didn’t know she was gay and Wendy’s parents—well they didn’t care if she was much of anything.

“We’re ‘roommates,’” Wendy said, making air quotes with her fingers.

“Come on, I don’t want to leave him in the car too long.” Carrie was practically bouncing in her chair.

“I’m not done!” Wendy protested.

“What kind of puppy?” I asked.

“Boxer.” Wendy slung her purse forward and opened the top flap. “Here’s a picture.”

“Awwww!” Of course he was adorable. “What a darling little puppy!”

“He’s going to be dead little puppy if we leave him much longer.” Carrie snapped her fingers. “Let’s go!”

“
She’s the one who insisted we stop,” Wendy said to me, rolling her eyes. “Now she’s in a big hurry.”

“Oh, there’s my dad.” It still felt a little strange referring to Ben as “my dad.” I called him Ben when we were together—if I called him anything. I tried not to let it come up.

“That’s your dad?” Carrie raised her pierced eyebrow. The pink streaks were back in her hair again. “Niiiiice. If I swung the other way…”

“Oh shut up.” Wendy put her croissant down, gulping the rest of her coffee. “Let’s give Sara and her dad some privacy.”

“About time!” Carrie waggled her fingers at me and I waved back as they left, passing Ben on the way.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from me. He was wearing a suit, ready for work.

“Yes.” I watched them walk past the front window and disappear around the corner. “From high school.”

“Whoa, what happened to your eye?” Ben frowned, reaching over to touch my cheek. I winced—it hurt. He looked at his thumb where he’d touched the bruise. “Makeup?”

“Oh.” I covered my cheek. I’d forgotten. “I… stupid, I was on a stool in the kitchen and I slipped. Hit it on the edge of a cupboard.”

“Hm.” He nodded, still frowning.

How many times had I heard my mother give excuses like that? I’d learned from the master.

“So how is the new place?” I asked, changing the subject. His company had moved him up from Florida—they even packed it all!—but his house hadn’t been ready so they set him up in an apartment temporarily. Now he was finally moving into his permanent house.

“Great,” he replied, finally smiling. “You’ll have to come by and see for yourself. Bring the boyfriend.”

“I’d like that.” It had been weeks and it still seemed surreal. Sometimes I forgot that the man sitting across from me was my biological father. Dale was still wary, but he knew I was talking to Ben, that we met for coffee at least once a week.
Ben knew Dale was suspicious and he had gone, without any prompting, and had a DNA blood test done. It was very expensive, but he hadn’t asked for a dime.

When I triumphantly told Dale that, he said, “I hope he isn’t going to try to show you fake test results. Maybe we should do another one?”

When Ben agreed to have his blood drawn again for a separate test, Dale said, “I hope he’s not long gone before these results come back.”

I could never win!

And I knew Dale was avoiding spending any time with Ben, refusing to get to know him. I was ready to lock them both in a room until they stopped the nonsense. Well, until Dale did. Ben had gone out of his way to be friendly and inclusive. It just made Dale look even more ridiculous.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I tore off the triangle at end of my scone, dunking it into my hot chocolate before putting it into my mouth.

“I have a proposition for you.” He cleared his throat, reaching under the table for
his briefcase. I watched as he opened it, taking out a manila folder. He set it on the table and slid it over toward me.

“What’s that?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to. I’d swallowed my scone but it felt like it was still stuck in my throat. A little voice in my head whispered,
“Dale was right all along,”
but I tried to ignore it.

“Do you know
much about the computers? The internet?”

“The what?”
I shook my head, still looking at the folder on the table.

“Well, there’s this new thing… I guess it’s not really a thing and it’s not actually that new. It’s like a place, except it isn’t real.” Ben laughed nervously. “I’m not explaining it well. Listen, I build computers. That’s what I do. You can do a lot of things with computers and some day they’re going to be an integral part of our lives. They’re going to be like TVs. Everyone will have one.”

“You think so?” I frowned. Just this year the library had put computers in. They had card catalogs still, but you could also look books up on their computers. I hadn’t used them much. It felt too science fiction to me.

“One of the things people can do with computers is talk to each other.”

“Like on the phone?”

“No. You’re typing to each other, not talking,” Ben explained. “But the thing about it is that you can talk to anyone, from anywhe
re. You can be here in New Jersey and they can be in Bangladesh.”

“Weird. Why would I want to talk to a stranger?”

“Well, say there’s something going on in the news or entertainment. Something interesting. People could talk about it together.”

“You mean type about it?” I snorted. “I type with two fingers.”

“I know it sounds weird.” Ben flushed. “But it’s coming. And I have a friend—well, it’s a business associate, really. He’s come up with an idea that’s going to connect people like that. So we can all talk to each other.”

“Well you have to have a computer first,” I reminded him. The last time I’d seen a computer, outside of the library, was as a freshman in high school. They offered Computers 101 and we wrote code in something called Basic.
All I remembered was I got a C in it and had written a program that asked your name, your age, your gender and your favorite candy bar.

“It’s new,” Ben agreed. “But we’re going to double, maybe even triple, our investment money.”

“Our investment money?” I glanced at the folder again. “But I don’t have any…”

Dale was right. Dale was right all along.

“I know you said you were worried about Dale and the money he’s spending,” Ben said. “Look, Sara, I want you to have a comfortable future. I don’t want you to have to struggle and paint designs on t-shirts for the rest of your life.”

That wasn’t exactly accurate, but I decided not to quibble about what I did at the print shop.

“The music business is tough. I mean, when I was a kid, there were tons of bands and music artists making records. But only a handful of them are still around. What happens to them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Most of them go broke.” He leaned back in his chair, briefcase balanced in his lap. “Because they spent all their money on booze and dope. They started rolling in the money and thought the money fountain would go on forever. But eventually the money fountain stops.”

“So you… what? Want money?” I could barely get that last word out.