Stripped (15 page)

The cool air outside came as comfort, actually cooling Emily down for the first time that night.  The first thing she saw was the tour bus.  The long black bus.  There were faint hints of light trying to find their way out of the tinted windows and the closed blinds.

Was that where Gunnar went?

On the bus, with the rest of his band.  With the drugs.  With the women.

Emily began to wonder if she had given Gunnar all he wanted.  The thought of him touching another woman started to make her angry.  A wild night with a rockstar was any woman’s dream.  Emily had been lucky enough to have it, but she wasn’t done yet.  It wasn’t as much emotional as it was physical.  She had yet to touch Gunnar.  She had yet to feel him inside her.

But he was on the bus.

The night was over.

Down Silent would travel to the next show.  Another crowd to rock, another night for Gunnar to bear his soul on the stage.  Emily understood why he didn’t want the interview, but it bothered her that Ann’s career hung in the balance of a man who was so sexy, so sexually charged, and yet so troubled and potentially violent.

Emily looked at her wrists, under the pale light raining down from a streetlight.  They were red, they were swore.  When she touched her wrists they invoked erotic memories, leaving Emily gripping her wrist, wanting the pain in order to live the memories. 

Emily decided she didn’t want her best friend to worry about her.  She phoned a cab and within an hour, she opened the door to the apartment.  The faint smell of Ann’s strong perfume gave the impression of home, something Emily embraced but regretted at the same time.  Her anger came back and this time - maybe the first time ever - it didn’t change into sadness.  Her hands were in fists just thinking about Gunnar and his reaction.

Did it really matter he was a rockstar?  Did it really matter he was rich?  Did it really matter he could speak and do things people dreamed of?

Emily forced her mind to say
No!
but a debate almost began.  Thankfully it was cut short when Ann opened her bedroom door, rushing from her bedroom wearing a black bra and a black pair of panties.  She was so tiny and perky, so comfortable in her tight little body.

“Em?” she cried out.

Ann turned on the kitchen light.

“It’s just me,” Emily said.  “Why aren’t you wearing clothes?”

“I always sleep like this.  Gosh, you just scared the hell out of me.  I thought someone broke in.”

“So you greet them in a thong?”

“Maybe it would scare them away.”  Ann smiled and put a hand to her hip.  “Speaking of breaking and entering... how was your night?”

“Bryce Gunnar is an asshole,” Emily said.  “Find a better story.”

“Wait.  What?”

Emily tried walking by Ann but she shot her arm out, stopping Emily.

“Nothing,” Emily said.  “It was a crazy night, that’s all.”

“Did you fuck him?”  Ann was excited, like a horny schoolgirl, desperate to hear a fantasy come true.

“No, I didn’t.”  It wasn’t a lie.  Of all the things Gunnar did to her sexually, opening her mind and body, he didn’t fuck her.

Why?

“You didn’t fuck him?  Then what happened?”

Emily knew she could just put it all to rest, but sadly it excited her to have something Ann wanted so bad. Plus, she was still pissed at Gunnar.  She held up her wrists and watched Ann’s reaction.

“What did he do to you?” she asked.  “Did he tie you up?”

“Nope.”

“He did something though.  He’s into that stuff?  Oh, wow.  He could hang me from the ceiling...”

“He had a special back room,” Emily said.  “Inside the dressing room there’s another room for his... needs...”

“That’s like the ultimate sex thing,” Ann said.  “Could you imagine... being there with him?”  Ann looked at Emily.  The wheels were turning, trying to find a story.  “The lead singer of Down Silent, the sexy and seductive Gunnar, takes his groupies into a private room for private treatment.”

Private.

The word hit Emily like a brick. 

Everything was private with Gunnar, wasn’t it?  Right down to the sex.  The rest of the band had no problems indulging in front of one another.  From booze to drugs to women.  But not Gunnar.  Everything had to be secluded.  Hidden.

Emily opened her mouth and another word hit her.

Groupies.

It was the first time she thought about it.

Had she been the first person in that room?  Had she been the first person handcuffed and pleasured?  A vivid image came to Emily, one of a skinny, big breasted groupie handcuffed to the bed with Gunnar kneeling over her mouth. 

Was that just part of the show for Gunnar?  The grand finale... taking a woman into his private room and tasting her, then forcing the woman to taste him.

Was any of it really special?

Emily reminded herself that Gunnar had given her a nickname. 

Ex.

But he could do that with anyone. 

“Em, are you okay?” Ann asked.  “You look upset.”

“I’m tired,” Emily said.  “And don’t call me Em.  Seriously.”

“Look, I’m so-”

“Call me Ex,” Emily said.  “That’s what Gunnar did.  He called me Ex.”

“Ex?  Wow, that’s kind of hot.  Look at you... a Down Silent girl.”

“No,” Emily yelled.  “No.  I’m not a Down Silent girl.  I’m a Gunnar girl.”

She pushed past Ann and went to her bedroom.  Ann didn’t follow and that was fine with Emily.  As her head crashed to her pillow, something else came to her.

I’m a Gunnar girl...

No.

I was a Gunnar girl.

13.

Emily woke before nine, growling at the neon numbers on her clock.  She didn’t want to be up this early.  Her head hurt, ironically from a night of not drinking.  Gunnar crashed into her mind, as expected, but it came with nothing but the feeling of anger.  Going to bed calling herself a
Gunnar girl
now felt stupid.  She wasn’t some teenager, hanging onto written lyrics, staring at a poster, wishing some rockstar would appear and take her away.

She was her own woman, not perfect, but neither was Gunnar.  That much had become very clear the night before.  Sexually, he may have been perfect.  But emotionally...

A knock at Emily’s door took her thoughts away.

“Ann?”

“Are you awake?” Ann asked.

“Obviously...”

The door opened a crack.  “Can I come in?”

“Sure.  What’s wrong?”

“What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” Emily said, not really caring how clear of a lie it was.

“That’s shit,” Ann said.  “Come on.  I need something for this interview.  You saw him.  You were near him.”

“I mentioned you,” Emily said.

Ann’s eyes went wide.  “What did he say?”

“He doesn’t do interviews.”

Ann rolled her eyes.  She looked forward and avoided eye contact with Emily. 

Something was up.

Something big.

Emily could read Ann. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.”

“You’re acting strange.”

“No.”

“Yes.  Show me your hands.”

Ann looked shocked.  “My hands?  Why my hands?”

“Just do it,” Emily growled.  “It’s nine in the morning and I’ve had no fucking sleep.”

“Okay.  Fine.  Here...”  Ann turned her body, her face guilty.  She put her hands forward.  Her left hand, open, was empty.  Her right hand...

“A fucking recorder?” Emily asked.  The anger swelled.  “I’m not some fucking stranger.  Damn, Ann.”

“It’s not on,” Ann said.  “I swear.  Here, take the tape even.”

Ann’s hand shook as she presented the tape to Emily.  Emily took it and sighed.  She understood that Ann was just trying to do her job.  Ann needed the interview to get the story to launch her career.  But that would be the same as Emily saying she needed the next bestselling romance novel to launch her career.  Maybe it would happen, maybe it wouldn’t.  Emily didn’t ask Ann to write books so it wasn’t fair to trick Emily into talking.

“You can record people in secrecy,” Emily said, “I don’t care.  But you can’t do it to me.”

“I wasn’t trying to tape you,” Ann said.  “Okay?”

“Then why did you ask me about last night?  What do you really want to know.”

“The truth?”

Emily nodded. 

Ann stood up and handed the tape recorder to Emily. 

“I thought you might stand a chance,” Ann said.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a black limo outside our building.  Gunnar is in the back.  Waiting for you.”

Ann walked to the door and Emily scrambled from the bed.  The sheets stuck to her body and as she twisted and turned, she ran out of bed and fell to the floor in a heap.  She kicked and managed to get to her feet, reaching for Ann but missing.  Finding balance against the doorway, Emily called for Ann.

“Annie Crossfire, get back here,” she cried out.

Ann stopped, shaking her head.  She looked over her shoulder.  “He’s waiting for you...
Ex
.
..”

Emily winced at the nickname Gunnar gave her after sexually liberating her the night before. 

Today Emily didn’t feel like Ex.  Not even close. 

“What does he want?” Emily asked.

“How do I know?  I saw the limo and I had to check.  He rolled down the window enough so I could see his eyes...”  Ann paused, her face turning dreamy.  “... and then he told me he needed to speak to my friend.  And to make sure my tape recorder belonged to you now.”

“Why?”

“Instead of asking questions that I can’t answer, why don’t you go out there?”

It wasn’t the most logical thing Emily heard since opening her eyes.  She turned, planning on stopping in the bathroom to at least check her hair. 

“Oh, Em?”

Emily stopped a few inches in the bathroom.  “Yes?”

“He said don’t disobey him.  That there’s plenty more to experience.”  She winked.

Hearing it from Ann didn’t have the same effect as if Gunnar said it, but Emily could hear it.  She could hear his voice.  The way he talked.  The tone.  The command.