Jack Who? Marissa is a craps dealer, and in one quick second that she never wants to remember, her life turns to crap. Her best friend convinces her that the cure for a breakup is a hookup, and reluctantly, she heeds this advice. However, Jack (what was his name again?) is not the average girl's revenge fling. Women throw themselves at Jack, toss their lingerie on the stage, and scream his name. Marissa has no idea of his public identity, and while she does not initially throw herself at him, she does go on to toss aside her lingerie and ultimately scream his name. Five minutes after parting, Marissa holds no illusions about seeing him again, but does vow a new outlook on her life and herself. Five days later, they exchangea very short text. Five months later, Jack astounds her with an invitation to Los Angeles. Although Jack is now a star in her very non rock star fantasies, Marissa is concealing a huge secret that prevents her from accepting.
"TFH!" The letters gasped out. Verbal
acronyms were something she rarely
used, but hours under the scorching
sun had Marissa Duplei's skimpy shirt
plastered to her skin and the strength
sapped from even her voice.
Being in
the midst of a crowd of equally hot
bodies intensified the suffocation. Her
closest friend, Olivia, habitually voiced
text abbreviations and had no trouble
interpreting
"Too Fucking Hot'.
"You're such a vampire! When
did you stop having fun?" Olivia
complained as they wove through the
throngs of scantily clad partiers.
"We used to be on all day beach patrol."
Her friend referenced their younger
years in their Mississippi coastal towns
and their non-stop troll for guys who
could stop a girl dead in her sandy
tracks. Back then, Spring Breaks and
summer months brought vacation
flings, and temperature had never once
been a complaint.
A refreshment trailer was an oasis
just off the sand, and Olivia passed
her plastic through the tiny window.
Feeling the cool blast of air escaping in
the transaction, Marissa moved closer
as more interesting plastic was pushed
to their side along with the return of
Olivia's credit card.
Curving her fingers around the base
of the cold cup, she wiped at beads
of sweat forming near her hairline.
Idly, she wondered how the newest
Scan drugstore clearance mascara currently
coating her lashes was holding up.
Olivia closed glossy, red lips around
the straw of her super-sized hurricane
drink. Marissa had no doubt that
Liv's lipstick, as well as anything else
painting her face, was a department
store brand priced in, or near, triple
digits, assuring a worTry free day from
smearing or disappearing. Taking a
pull from her own straw, she eyed
the surrounding crowd as the cool
alcoholic slush trickled soothingly
down her throat.
"Better?" Olivia sweetly inquired.
"Much!" Marissa sighed the
assurance and shoved the cheap
sunglasses higher on her nose.
Curving
a smile, she made an effort to seem
thrilled to stroll the 'Hang Fest,' a
yearly festival of live bands, rides, and
vendors.
"Good," Olivia grinned. "Proceeding
with Phase One."
"Ugh.. This time her sigh was one of
annoyance.
Up until now, the mission had been
momentarily abandoned, not aborted,
and she mentally cursed Kel for the
thousandth and one time.
Walking in last week on her fiancé
Kel, with some tramp straddling him
had been devastating.
Worse, there
was a twisted irony of forever knowing
this faceless bitch's name due to it
being a permanent stamp above her
slim butt. The image was branded in
Marissa's brain just as permanently.
Hibernating, she had mopedin
misery around her apartment binge
eating granola bars and yogurt. Olivia
became the only person she spoke
to, wailing to her face, whining into
her calls, and texting chapters of Kel
hatred.
When she quit sending Kel's
pleading and apologetic calls straight to
voicemail, Olivia charged to the rescue
heading up 'Operation Save Rissa From
Herself
Since Olivia's answer to breakups
was hook ups, the given mission today
was to pick herself up, dust Kel off, and
get dirty with someone else.
Just thinking about a random
hook up was terrifying. When it
came to men, Marissa was out of
practice. A local casino was her place
of employment, and the sexy smiles
rehearsed in the mirror were for better
tips from blackjack players, not real
live flesh and bone players.
Olivia sent a look of encouragement
as they paused at the fence jutting
up to the stage platform. Olivia also
worked at the casino, and a backstage
pass tipped to her by a player at her
craps table had her hoping to meet and
mingle with her metal idols.
Marissa had no such aspirations.
Besides not having a laminated access
card, she couldn't care any less about
any of these bands.
"Ten o'clock, Rissa." Direction, and
not time, was the subject of her friend's
clipped, enthusiastic sentence, and as
instructed, Marissa slung her gaze to
the slight left.
A long, lanky roadie had paused
in the stage set up and was currently
honing his attention over the front
area to the two of them.
Olivia held up the badge swinging from her neck.
Nervously knowing that her own
success in passing this hallowed line
would depend on her flirting abilities,
Marissa shuffled her feet.
Putting the awful events of the
previous week behind her, she
mustered her sexiest smile and her
first 'strange' flirt in five years. After
gesturing that he would come to them,
the roadie finished the tear down of a
microphone stand.
"Score!" Olivia did a jig before
grabbing Marissa's wrist and towing
her closer to the gate.
Vaguely, her excitable friend rattled on about which
band members, from which bands,
in which order, she wanted to bang.
Mindlessly, Marissa listened as a severe
case of cold feet set in, and working
through a mild panic, she focused on
her friend instead of the area beyond
the fence.
Bending at the hip, Olivia raked
manicured fingers through her scalp
then flipped her thick mane of hair as
she straightened.
Draining her drink to the last slurp,
Marissa desperately hoped an alcohol
confidence would quickly kick in.
A few paces away, she trashed the cup
ignoring her friend's silent censor.
With the cup, refills were half-price,
and Olivia, despite blowing her money
on designer everything, was into
saving money on alcoholic anything.
"He's coming!" Olivia's frown
disappeared, and she thrust her hip out
as she whispered. Marissa took it as a
hint to strike a similar sexy pose.
Although, initially, he had been
several hundred feet away, recognition
came easy, and the roadie was even
hotter close up. A ponytail of straight
brown hair was elasticized at the nape
of his neck, and heated hazel eyes
perverted them both.
Without checking for access badges,
he pushed the gate open and stepped
to the side enough for them to pass
through, but not enough that they
could avoid brushing against the tee
shirt he wore.
The small talk went fast
although their pace was slow. They
strolled, one on either side of him,
answering the usual questions, name,
where they were from, and getting the
same back.
Dirk was from New York City, and
he had Olivia's undivided attention
when he spoke of one of the bands
she idolized. Resting a foot on a stoop
to one of the many trailers parked
around, he inquired with a secretive
smile,
"So you want to meet Jackal?"
"You mean it?" Olivia bounced
from one heel to another, almost
dropped the empty hurricane cup in
her excitement, and gushed,
"Oh hell yeah!"
Marissa remained silent studying
the guy's expression, and instinctively
disliked what she saw.
His smile stretched. "I know all the guys in the band. So, yeah, if you want to meet them, just hang with me."
There was no mistaking the insinuation when his eyes lingered on Olivia's cleavage, and if this was not disgusting
enough, his hand dropped for a quick
adjustment to the fly of his jeans.
Without so much as a trite excuse,
Marissa pivoted on the heels of her
Doc's but turned back when Olivia did
not follow.
"Liv!" The hiss left her lips as an
annoyed breath and was quickly
sucked in again when her friend, not in
the least perturbed, hurried over.
"T'm going to hang out," Olivia
announced, then puckered a frown.
"Aren't you?"
Olivia was wild in her ways and had
abandoned Marissa for various guys
she had to have many, many times.
However, to offer whatever favors
Some stranger wanted in exchange
for a chance to meet some idol was
reckless in a way that left Marissa
wondering if Liv had pregamed before
picking her up this afternoon. Surely,
alcohol was to blame for this irrational
behavior.
When Dirk, the jerk, butted into the
argument, Marissa lost the battle, but
not before demanding Olivia's phone.
On the pretext of making sure it
was set to take calls, she switched the
tracker on and returned it into the
pocket of Liv's designer jeans.
"Answer my texts." With a
threatening frown, she worriedly
lingered.
Liv disappeared with the roadie into
the tiny trailer while calling back a
mocking, "Yes ma'am!" just before the
door slarmmed.
The girl was mental. Had Liv really
grown overly careless and crazy after
Marissa had moved in with Kel and
quit prowling with her? Maybe she had
always been that way, and Marissa had
overlooked it..
A ball of fur colliding with one of
her ankles was an interruption to these
musings, and curious, she glanced
around in search of anyone the dog
could belong to. The next music act
was on, and a woman's voice mingled
with the pounding of the instruments
from the stage. Numerous trailers,
trucks, and buses were parked in neat
numbered spaces of what seemed to
be a private parking area.
A few large tents broke up the rows of metal and
tires.
The leash trailing behind the pup
was clear evidence that it was lost.
As a child, for a few brief months,
Marissa and her siblings had a pet Jack
Russell Terrier, affectionately dubbed
Bones' by her older brother until her
"Hey, sweetheart! Want a hit?"
There was no Olivia by her side
to rebelliously snatch the joint and
voice a flirtatious retort, yet she
moved closer intent on finding any
information on her new four-legged
friend.
Politely stretching her hand, she
took a fake drag. Humorously, she
hoped if second-hand smoke rumors
were true, then the random drug
testing threatened in the employee
manual would not suddenly be sprung
Monday at work.
"This puppy, I was wondering who
he," here Marissa paused because
she had never scoped any identifying
details not readily visible on the
canine, "or she?...might belong to?"
"Jack." The dude with a goatee let
out the hit he was holding, and her
face must not have cleared because he
elaborated, "Jack Storm."
The name briefly registered as one
olivia had earlier tossed about, and
Marissa hopefully extended the leash.
"So could I get you to-?"
Immediately, her question was
squelched with a negative shake
of three heads and a guffaw about
girly dogs. Kneeling, she scratched
the tan fur between the pup's ears in
consolation from their ridicule.
Jabbing a thumb in a general
direction, 'mutton chops' stopped
laughing long enough to give
directions.
"The bus with the blue lightning bolt down the side,
sweetheart."
Nodding her thanks, she moved off.
The terrier sprinted ahead stretching
its leash to the max, and reflexively,
her grip tightened. Three rows down,
the tip of the mentioned lightning bolt
came into view, and her steps slowed.
Her thoughts were uncertain as she
pictured knocking on the door to a rock
star's mobile crib.
The door burst open stopping her
heart for more reasons than startled
surprise. The doorjamb framed the
finest specimen of the male species she
had ever beheld.
Her eyes were drawn first to the
6 massive expanse of bare chest and the six pack just on the verge of an optical eight pack. A convulsive
swallow tightened her throat.
Fully inked sleeves tapered off between
his shoulders and collarbone barely
meeting at the throat. Denim jeans
snugly encased his legs, and the button
of the fly was open revealing the
barest tip of hair on a flat abdomen.
Reluctantly dragging her gridlocked
gaze upward, past these heavenly
sights, her look landed on his striking
features and finally stopped on deep
chocolate-brown irises.
A smile had worked well for her
thus far, and somehow she summoned
one yet received a scowl in return.
Shaggy, dark hair brushed his shoulder
when his chin directionally jerked
toward the asphalt beside where she
stood.
"What the hell are you doing with my dog?"
Chapter 1 Start
09/09/2022
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