Too Many Rock Stars: Violet's Story (Access All Areas #1) Read online

  "Razer?" I asked, wondering where he'd come from.

  "Razer?" a voice answered. A voice like a luxurious blanket. Not a skanky blanket like the one I had around me but cashmere or silk or some other fabric too rich for my blood.

  I got myself onto my feet and turned to check out my rescuer. His voice sure wasn’t familiar and neither was the rest of him.

  Long hair, long legs, leather pants, sexy insolence, and a hint of darkness that proved he was the antithesis of Razer.

  He grinned slowly like a sleek, pedigree cat. A lock of glossy black hair swung down in his face and he languidly tucked it away.

  I knew every rocker in this town. Every single one, from the kids begging for their first gigs to the stalwarts. I didn’t know this guy, though.

  He was no novice. He had that look, like he'd been around. He just hadn’t been around here.

  "What's going on?" Razer walked out of my office.

  The new guy stared at Razer with barely concealed disgust. Razer stared back, the threat of violence in his eyes.

  I sighed, knowing this would be trouble. Big alpha male face-off trouble.

  Razer sneered. "Leather pants in this weather? You must have some sweaty balls going on there."

  Okay, that checked far too many boxes on my gross-out list. The new guy didn't react, apart from a slight twitch of his lips. Then he looked at me with his soulful eyes, as though the gaucheness of Razer caused him physical pain. Soulful eyes, especially if they’re the color of a perfectly brewed coffee, are the most dangerous weapon in the rocker man-whore arsenal. Those eyes could set a girl on fire, zap her full of electrical current and leave her a burnt-out shell.

  I couldn't, wouldn't, burn in them.

  I looked away.

  The two guys moved closer to each other, chests puffed out and backs straight. They locked eyes and the stench of testosterone drowned out the beer smell.

  If I didn't stop them, man-ego would be leaking out through the cracks in the walls. Drew glanced at me. I knew what he was thinking. A fight in the storeroom would mean even more mess for him to clean up.

  "There is nothing here for either of you. This is a YOU-free zone. Both of you." I waved at them, wanting them gone.

  "Violet Mason?” the stranger asked. “I was told you’re the woman to see in this town if I want to score a gig."

  Wow, if his eyes were coffee, his smile was the whipped cream on top.

  "There's contact details on the webpage. You didn't need to come in. I don't accept demos in person." I kept it cool, avoiding his eyes.

  "This one you'll want to listen to," he said, flipping a USB stick at me. "There's footage of me playing on there too."

  I caught it and put it in my back pocket. I'd listen to it later, sometime. I had enough work to be getting on with. A pair of sexy eyes didn't mean you could jump my queue.

  "Listen, mate," said Razer, "You can't just waltz in here with your demo and expect to get a slot. There is a system. A process. I'm not even sure you'd make the kind of music that'd go over well here. Maybe you should just run along. Violet is very busy, you know."

  Razer moved beside me as though staking his claim. He stood so close, the hairs on his arm tickled on my skin. That was way too close for my liking.

  "Razer, I'm the band booker here – and you, you are the band that might never play here again if you don't watch your mouth."

  The stranger's mouth curled a little. A half-smile lifting one side of his lips in an enticingly arrogant manner.

  "Do you have a bio?" I asked him. I really just wanted to get out of the storeroom. The cold concrete was a killer on my bare feet and I was far too aware of the skimpiness of my outfit.

  "It's on the USB but I've got a paper version if you need that." He handed me a sheet of paper.

  I gave it a scan.

  "Alex? That's you?"

  He nodded. "That's my phone number and email for you to contact me."

  His words said so little but his eyes actually managed to make that sound so dirty that I blushed.

  With a brief glance at his bio, I could see he'd played some big-name clubs. I'd contact them to make sure he wasn't shitting me but this was some impressive list.

  "What are you doing, playing in a town like this?" I asked. I mean, the rock scene here was pretty darn hot but it wasn't big city hot. It wasn't “make a zillion dollars and retire wealthy” hot. If you’re into that kind of thing.

  "I have my reasons," he said. Then he smiled as though I was the only woman in the world and, for a split second, I forgot any resolve I had.

  "Hey, listen, she's already told you she'll listen to the demo. There's no need for you to stick around. This place is officially off-limits and you shouldn't have been let in here."

  Razer glared at Drew and poor Drew just put his head down and kept mopping. Although, to be honest, I had little sympathy for him because he'd let both of them in.

  "Well, I guess I'll see you later," said Alex. Again, the words seemed loaded with so much subtext.

  Razer grabbed Alex by the arm, pulling him out of the storeroom. Alex shrugged and went with him. At the same moment, both of them turned back to ogle me.

  God, if I had one problem in this life it was too many rock stars.

  Chapter 3 RAZER

  I CHECKED THAT CREEP was well away from the club before I left. Violet didn't need guys like him hanging around her and I sure as hell didn't want him at the club either.

  After I watched him walk away, I needed to kill some time. I’d be back at the club as soon as the place opened to get the bitter taste of that loser out of her mind. Who was he and where had he popped up from?

  I didn't like surprises. I didn't like my plans being thwarted either.

  I headed to the guitar shop. That was my place. The place where everything was happy and my heartfelt at ease. Who wouldn't feel good surrounded by guitars?

  Heat rose from the pavement in waves that went through the soles of my boots. A day like this would almost melt the rubber. Some kids on the street threw water balloons. I kept to the side of the footpath so I didn't get accidentally hit. One of those little buggers had a devilish look in his eyes and I had no intention of ending up saturated.

  Violet had some crazy prejudice about dating rockers. And I won't lie, most rockers I knew aren't good enough to be the dirt under her feet. Not that I was top-notch or anything, but I worshipped that woman. She's the sun to my star, the words to my melody, the jam to my peanut butter. All I wanted was a chance to prove myself and I'd be everything good – kind, loyal, loving. I'd make her breakfast in bed and massage her feet. I’d never wake her from her nap ever again.

  I had a plan, and that plan was to take things slow and easy, proving to Violet that I wasn’t like those other guys around the club. Eventually, she’d see my good points.

  Since the day I first met Violet, she'd been the only one for me.

  Sure, she went on with all that "get out of my office" talk but she didn't mean it. Well, maybe that bit about her hating to be woken up was true. I rubbed my head. That boot had hit hard. But she'd been coming around to the idea when that douche turned up.

  I didn’t need some stranger in tight leather pants ruining my plans.

  If I couldn’t be with Violet, I’d check out my baby. Because the one thing I loved in this world almost as much as Violet was that guitar. Maybe I loved the Les Paul more. If Violet showed some sign of returning my love, she'd make it to the number one slot for sure, but there's only so far you can get in a man's heart when you don't requite. My baby, now she requited. She requited like a bitch on heat, responding to my touch and giving back as much as I gave her. On a good day, the best of days, she was my world.

  Still, a guitar is cold comfort in the middle of the night. And I knew if I got half a chance with Violet, she'd requite too.

  They were a lot alike, my two loves. The reddish-brown of Violet’s hair almost the same color as the cherry wood. Both with curves I wante
d to run my hands over. Violet had brown eyes that flashed when she got angry. It was almost worth getting her angry to see the way her eyes gleamed. She had the kind of face you wouldn’t call pretty but more strong and fierce. I’d rather a girl who looked like Violet than some boring pretty girl any day.

  Phil's Music World. Not only full of fucking sweet axes but also air-conditioned. Just the smell of the place comforted me. Those fresh, virgin guitars and the older well-loved ones. The wood, the metal. I wandered around the shop, taking my time, not overly anxious, working my way up to my baby. The one guitar I coveted. I'd kill a man if I could make her mine.

  You couldn't walk straight in and go to her, though. There was a system, a way of working up to it.

  It's called foreplay.

  It took me a full hour to look around the shop before approaching her. Phil, the owner, had no beef with me getting her down and playing her. He'd offered to let me have a payment plan but I didn't hold with that kind of thing. I'd save and I'd work my guts out

  It was tough at the moment, though. Things were slow at the site so the boss had given me some time off. That left me free to pester Violet but didn’t help the savings in any way.

  My baby would have to wait.

  A shudder of anticipation went through me as I reached up to her, easing my way in with a gentle touch, when the shop bell rang. Instinctively, I turned.

  Holy fuck. That poser. Alex Shithead. In my guitar shop.

  For some reason, I retreated. I didn't want to see that guy and I definitely did not want to talk to him. I'm not the kind of man to run and hide but he'd got my back up and I didn't want trouble.

  I left my baby and hid behind a shop display. I'd watch, wait for him to leave then get back to business.

  He strode through the store. That's the kind of poser he was, the kind that strode, not walked. I hoped he just wanted to get some strings or something and then leave. He'd be off my turf.

  The creep barely looked around the store, just went straight to the counter. He obviously wasn't a man who knew about foreplay.

  He stopped near my baby. Awfully close to her.

  My heart jumped up into my throat and my fists balled. Get away from her, I wanted to scream. I kept pretending to look at oboes. Fixed my gaze on them and tried to control my breathing. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. You should never take your eyes off a snake in the grass completely.

  That poser reached up. His hand hovered near my baby. He grabbed her neck, just went straight in for the grope. What an animal.

  He picked her off the wall, his filthy hands all over her. He held her like she was nothing.

  Inaction made my blood throb in my veins like fuel through a V8. I'd smash that fucker to bits.

  Except I couldn't hurt him without harming my baby. My baby was in his arms. If I threw him to the ground, she might break or get dented.

  Before I could do anything, he was at the counter, wallet out. He hadn't even played her. He'd not caressed her. He'd not known the gentle joy of her. How could you even buy a guitar without playing her first?

  That traitor, Phil, smiled and nodded. He didn't care that she was going to a bad home. A home where she'd never be loved like she needed to be loved. A home where she'd not be precious.

  The fucker just handed over cash and took her, like she was some cheap whore on a street corner. My baby should be treated better than that.

  I'm not a man who cries easily. I'm not a man who cries often but, when I saw that wanker walk out with my baby, I had to wipe a tear from my eye.

  Chapter 4 VIOLET

  THINGS WERE PRETTY quiet that night. Well, quiet in that there weren’t many people in the downstairs bar. Upstairs, in the band room, a bunch of punk chicks screamed so loud, you could hear them down here. I'd asked one of the barmaids to take over working the door for me and slipped out for a break. You had to be in the mood for that wall of sound kind of stuff and it wasn't my night for it.

  Razer hovered around me at the bar.

  “Hey Razer, come over and join us...” a girl standing at the bar called to him.

  “Maybe, later.”

  Every single person who came into the bar seemed to know Razer. It was amazing. I knew a lot of the regulars and, of course, the bands, but that was nothing compared to Razer’s popularity.

  He tried to flirt with me but Brady, the security guy on duty kept glancing in our direction. Chuck had a few spies on staff and Brady was one of them. And Chuck had made his conditions loud and clear. No dating rockers. No sex with rockers. No talking, barely, unless it was business.

  If I showed the slightest bit of interest in Razer, Brady would run back to Chuck and let him know. My skin prickled. I hated been watched.

  That meant I had to pretty much ignore Razer. Even when he told a really funny story, I looked down at my beer to hide my smile.

  After a while, Razer picked up his drink and went to join his friends. Brady stopped watching me and turned his attention to a couple of punks in the back of the bar.

  "What's with that?" Carlie asked. I didn't like the glint in her eyes.

  "Huh?"

  "You could do a lot worse than Razer. What? Are you going to be an old maid for the rest of your life? Living alone with a pack of cats?"

  Carlie had no idea about the conditions Chuck had laid down for me. No one knew about them. It wasn’t exactly something you spread around the place – that in return for your job, you had to live like a nun. I’d rather look like an old grouch than admit the truth.

  "You know, life could be a lot worse,” I said. “Hell, cats can be house-trained but guitarists, not so much. Anyway, he's only hanging around so he gets more gigs booked. That much is certain."

  Carlie poured a customer a beer then came back to me.

  "Think about it, Violet. Does he need to do that? You can pretty much ensure good numbers when they play here. From a business point of view, he doesn't need to peddle his man-meat to get a spot on the roster. You just want to tell yourself that's the case so you don't have to face up to facts."

  Before I could refute her crazy claims, a couple of businessmen came to the bar. They did that sometimes, the corporate types. And they always seemed like complete tools, standing at the bar in their suits looking a bit shell-shocked. Maybe they'd wandered in by accident. Carlie would make short work of them. They'd order one drink to save face, drink it down fast then leave.

  The shorter one's gaze darted around the black, cave-like bar until it settled on a couple making out by the Galaga machine. He gave them the once over then must've realized where the guy's fingers were and his head spun back for a second look. He nudged his friend but the friend stared straight ahead, as though afraid to look too much.

  Christos, the resident barfly, moved up beside them, a joint in his hand and stood a little too close for comfort. He ranted at them about something. More than likely about sticking it to the man or the evils of corporations. Normally he slurred enough that you could only pick out every second or third word. He poked the taller one in the chest.

  The guy just kept staring ahead, then jolted as Jackson moved into his line of sight.

  Jackson had a lot of anger in him. Anger on the verge of boiling over at any moment. The kind of anger that would see him knife a guy then walk away with a smile on his face.

  He focused that anger on the suits until they twitched and scratched. Then he slowly grinned. Jackson's grin was a powerful scary thing.

  Right on cue, the suits gulped down their drinks and left.

  Carlie looked at me and laughed, shaking her head.

  "Why do they even bother? They freak out when they come in here but seriously, those kinds of guys are the biggest jerks after a few drinks. One idiot the other night, too stubborn to leave even though I gave him all the signals, ended up making a complete dick of himself. You know young Gina who comes in here? Really shy girl? He had her bailed up against the wall. Jackson grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dra
gged him out. I gave him a good, swift kick while I was at it."

  Carlie laughed again. At least she was off the topic of my love life and I was happy to keep it like that. I didn't need the hassle.

  Although she couldn't really say much about my lack of romance. I'd never seen her with a guy since she'd started working at the club – and that was nearly three years ago.

  Carlie was one of the hottest chicks I'd ever met. Her hair always looked messily perfect and she had a perfect body. She had words tattooed along her collarbones that meant nothing to me. She said they were the lyrics to her favorite song but it wasn't a song I'd ever heard. And, trust me, I've heard a lot of damn songs. I'd even Googled the words but nothing came up.

  Maybe she was lesbian? It’s not like that had ever come up in conversation but then I’d never seen her with a chick either. No one at all, so she could stop with the crazy old cat lady comments.

  "What's with you anyway?” Carlie leaned back on the bar. “Most of the chicks who come in here would kill to be in your position. You can't be totally oblivious to that."

  "Oblivious is a comfortable place to be."

  Carlie cracked her gum. "You think you're too good for him?"

  “He’s not that into me. In case you haven’t noticed, he flirts with every chick around. If I took his flirting seriously, I’d end up looking like a fool.”

  “Really?” Carlie cocked an eyebrow. “Because he seems serious when it comes to you.”

  I laughed. “Only because I keep knocking him back. If I’d slept with him way back, he’d have lost interest by now. Much better to keep things friend-zoned.”

  Carlie grinned.

  "Still, you'd get some sex. Don't you ever wonder what he'd be like in the sack?" She glanced up and her face reddened. "Oh shit."

  I didn't need to turn around to know Razer stood behind me. And he’d heard her speculating on his sexual prowess. He moved closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.

  "Not so close, dude."

  He just laughed. He ordered another drink then sat himself down on the stool beside me.