Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Read online

  No one is laughing anymore. In fact, they all glance between each other, silently communicating about what they’ve seen and heard.

  Finally Yael breaks the silence. “Think you’d be up to testing onstage in front of an audience?”

  “Whatever, whenever,” I say at once.

  “We have a gig this Friday. Seedlings, where we met,” he adds, to remind me.

  My eyes meet his. That’s where Lori works. If she sees me perform with a band, I know it’ll be the last nail in the coffin of our relationship.

  But I can’t think of anything better to show her how fucking serious I really am.

  Yael hands me the flier, which gives all the details on the gig. “The Yael Satterlee Experiment: Featuring guest singer,” it says. I cock an eyebrow.

  “Auditions haven’t been going all that well,” he tells me with a cockeyed grin. “But we have some friends that aren’t really up for a full-time music gig. They fill in when we need them,” he said. “We’re still trying to find the right fit for us.”

  My eyes meet his. I know I’m what they’re looking for; I could hear it when we performed. It was completely natural from the start. “I’ll be there.”

  That week drags no matter what I do to pass the time. I go shopping for some new clothes, to wear in front of a band. This includes a tight pair of black jeans which fit like they were made for my body. Every chance I get, I sing every single song on that set list. I even attempt to learn them on piano, not because I think I need to but to further my own education as a songwriter. I love picking apart the notes and learning the chords. Nothing is more rewarding when, after frustrating minutes of floundering, I finally hit the right keys. I end up playing more by ear than by sheet music.

  I work at Cynzia’s part-time during the week like I had been. Everyone there thinks I’m still working for the consulting firm. Little do they know I’m working even harder trying to crush the material given to me for the next step in my audition process.

  The only thing I don’t do is call Lori. She’s not calling me either, so I know this is probably just a power play, to see which one caves first. I hate games like this. I thought she was above it.

  The more I think of how she hadn’t really supported my dreams, even before Susan died, I can’t really deny that I have been unhappy with things between us for a long, long time. Worse, she never seemed to care. Almost from the moment Susan was buried, Lori has been single-minded in our pursuit to “make it better.” We renovated the house, we upgraded our jobs, and she tried her best to get me involved in higher education.

  If that had been the life I wanted, it all would have been a dream.

  I thought about that moment in the loft in SoHo, when the guys virtually wrote my backup music to my song, fleshing it out into a living thing I could hear outside my own head. From that moment I knew that I would never be content with her dream.

  My only hope now was that she’d see how hard I had been working. Then maybe she’d know that I really do have what it takes to make this work, at least enough to give it a real shot.

  I realize of course this hard work has more to do than just getting into a band. I have something to prove, to the guys in Yael’s band, to Lori… and to myself.

  I decide to work out my act at Fritz’s. We don’t mention that kiss in her car, or her new man, when I ask Pam if I might use the small stage to hone my performance. I could have done it at home, of course, but I gravitate there because of anyone I know, she is the only one who doesn’t treat my dream to be a singer like it’s some kind of joke. And I need her voice in my ear to drown out all the naysayers who have planted their nuggets of negativity for months.

  Like I suspected, when I tell her what kind of chance I have, she wants to help. Maybe she still feels guilty about that kiss, or that she never told me about her other guy. Either way, though technically the karaoke is only utilized on the weekends, she opens the bar early to me every single day so that I can work out a stage routine while they prep for the night ahead.

  Pam makes a great groupie. Her face is so expressive when I target her from the stage that it becomes a challenge to see how far I can go. I can’t help but wonder what it might look like if I actually fucked her. I don’t know why the thought jumps in my brain, but I can’t get it out once it’s in there. And knowing that she’s off limits only makes it hotter for me. Since we both know nothing can happen, I indulge it during the performance, doing my best to make her blush as I openly seduce her from the stage, like mental foreplay.

  By Friday morning, I’m worked up in more ways than one.

  I catch a cab into town, where I meet up with the guys at Yael’s loft. Everyone is in great spirits, though I’m pretty sure that both Felix and Bobby are chemically enhanced. Yael is a straight-edge vegan, so I know his head is clear.

  When Bobby offers me a drink, and Felix offers me a puff, I turn them down. I want my mind just as clear when I take that stage.

  We get to Seedlings at ten before ten that night. We go onstage at midnight, but Yael wants to see how the crowd is reacting to the other bands in the lineup. It’s essentially a local music night. Seedlings is great about cultivating raw, untapped talent, giving them a place to play so they can turn into polished performers, hence the name. It’s where amateurs like me pay their dues.

  Getting there so early doesn’t really help my nerves. I feel like a stallion locked up in the starting gate. I really want a drink to steady my nerves, but I know better. I head to the bar to order a bottle of water instead. “Hey, Micah,” I say to the familiar bartender.

  “Vanni,” he says with a smile. “What brings you to the city?”

  I’m with the band. “I thought I’d check out the new music,” I say. “Is Lori here? I haven’t seen her.”

  “She’s around here someplace. Check the parking lot. She’s been taking her breaks out there lately.”

  I nod, take my bottle of water and head out to the private parking lot for the staff and talent out back. I spot her car easily. For some reason it makes me think of sitting in Pam’s car, particularly the night I stole a kiss that wasn’t mine to take. She was right to pull away. Things are so complicated, and I’m not really free. I do owe Lori something for all she has done for me since Susan died. So what if she hasn’t called me since she left? We mattered to each other for all this time, there has to be something left.

  I start to take one step towards it and then decide I better not. Instead of telling her, yet again, what this dream means to me, I’d rather show her. I honestly can’t wait to see her surprised face when I take the stage. I’m glad she’s getting her break out of the way early. Now I know she won’t miss it.

  But just as I turn back to the bar I realize that the obscured car on the other side of hers is rocking.

  My brow creases as I snake my way through the cramped parking lot towards the red compact car Lori purchased to get her back and forth to Brooklyn. The closer I get, the more detail I can make out about the car parked right next to it. The black sports car is brand new, with dealer tags still on the back, and it has a large figure sitting in the driver’s seat, which I can barely make out through the foggy windows.

  Everything sets off warning bells. Is this some big, rich muscle-head dude jacking off while watching my girl listen to music? Weirder things have happened in New York. Maybe she was nice to him in the club and he followed her out to the car. I’ll fucking kill him if he even thinks about touching her.

  Of course, the closer I get, the more I can see that it’s not just one person sitting in the driver’s seat, it’s two. The couple is clearly fucking, with the smaller of the two, presumably the female, riding the person sitting in the driver’s seat.

  That’s not the most shocking discovery I make. As I round Lori’s car, I spot the familiar parking permit hanging from the rearview mirror, one specifically made for McKinley, Donnelly and Roth. It sways back and forth with their zesty lovemaking, no doubt a quickie before she has to ru
sh back inside to finish her shift.

  I hear the woman’s screams, which sound so goddamned familiar it cracks my heart before I can make out the detail through the fogged glass. My good-girl Lori, who had always pushed me away whenever I tried to cop a feel or steal a kiss anywhere near her job, now calls out the name of another man. “Fuck me, Tony!”

  I stumble backwards, backing right into another car. I can’t look away, even if I want to. My girl straddles my best friend, giving him the fucking of a lifetime right in the parking lot where she works like some common whore.

  I gulp hard as my water bottle drops to the asphalt. I’m rooted to the spot as the details in the car become clearer. I’m unable to tear my eyes away as he grabs one of her tits and makes her cry out even more. I feel like I’m having some demented out of body experience.

  I want to wrench the door open and pull them both out by the pubic hair, but I can’t move. I stay there until they are finished. I watch them kiss deep, and I know immediately it’s not just sex. There’s true intimacy there.

  There’s familiarity.

  I watch as she slides off of his lap into the passenger seat, where she puts on any clothes that were discarded. Almost simultaneously, they both exit the car and turn back towards the club, where they spot me at the same time.

  I will give it to Lori. She actually has the decency to look guilty. “Vanni,” she says, but it tapers out with her breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “Watching the show,” I grit between clenched teeth. “Wanna tell me what the goddamned fuck is going on here?”

  Tony doesn’t look ashamed. He tips his chin and rounds the car so that he can stand between us, as if I would pose a threat to a woman. “Listen, Vanni. We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

  “How did you want me to find out?” I snap. “Did you rent some fucking billboard in Time Square?”

  “This isn’t what it looks like, man,” he says, holding up a hand.

  “Funny because it looks like you were fucking my girl. Or was she just fucking my best friend?”

  He sighs, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he says something much worse. “I love her.”

  “What the fuck?!” I explode.

  “It happened a few months ago,” she confesses softly.

  “Before my aunt Susan died? Or after?” I glare at Tony. I remember how he had been such a mensch and driven her home Christmas Eve. “Maybe during?”

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen, bro.”

  “What did you mean to happen, ‘bro?’”

  “It’s just been so difficult,” she tries to explain. “I was under so much pressure–”

  I can’t even let her finish. “You’ve been under pressure?! Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “This is part of the problem, Vanni,” Tony says. I turn on him with pure venom. “You can’t see past your own selfish nose anymore. It’s all about what you want, what you think you deserve. Look, I’m sorry your aunt died, but shit happens, man. We just have to do the best we can to get through it.”

  “All you want to do is play,” she spits at me. “Who gets to be the adult now that Susan is gone?”

  I cross the feet between us, coming nose to nose with Tony, who won’t let me anywhere near Lori. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’ve hurt her enough.”

  “Hurt her?” I repeat, incredulous. “How the fuck did I hurt her? I just wanted to fucking sing. It’s not the end of the goddamn world, for crissakes.” I can’t stop the obscenities, even if I wanted to. But I think finding out your best buddy is screwing your old lady is the best reason to curse if there ever was one.

  “It’s a dead-end road and you know it. You really think people are going to pay money to see some part-time pizza cook sing?”

  My fist clenches so tight that my short nails carve into the palms of my hands. I want to punch him so bad I can taste it. I want to crack his head onto the concrete like an egg. I want to knee him right in his balls, which are probably still sticky with my girlfriend’s cum. Tony doesn’t even flinch. He’s waiting for it. I realize then that he’s been waiting for it.

  I shake my head with a snarl I can’t contain. “Fuck you,” I tell him. I look at her. “And fuck you. You both deserve each other.”

  I spin on my heel and stalk back to the bar. I can still see them in my mind’s eye, fucking in that front seat, her shirt over her tits, her skirt likely over her ass as she rides him. His hands cupping and squeezing her ass as he pumps himself into her, like he owns her. Like she’s his.

  And it’s been going on for months.

  I head straight for the bar and order a shot of whiskey. Bobby idles up next to me. “So the man does party after all,” he says as he motions to the bartender for another round. “Maybe I was wrong about you, Carnevale. Maybe you will fit in just fine.”

  After the bartender brings the shots, Bobby lifts his glass to me. “To a great show.”

  I spot Lori off in the corner, clocking back in for her late shift as a cocktail waitress. Her skirt is short, and her top is a button-down shirt that she has tied at the waist. Yet all I can see now is her naked body straddling his.

  Bobby’s gaze follows mine. “She’s cute,” he says.

  “She’s a whore,” I spit.

  “Aren’t they all?” he wonders as he orders yet another round. “Don’t let ‘em get you down, man. There’s always another one willing to take their place.” My eyes meet his. “In fact, I’d wager that you’ll probably get at least five drinks and ten phone numbers after we perform tonight. And groupie sex is fucking crazy. They’ll do anything you want. Do you know how much anal I’ve gotten just from being in a band? It’s unreal,” he says with a satisfied chuckle.

  By the time we get on the stage, I’m buzzing pretty good. I’m also pretty pissed. When we launch into our rock act, I have no problem getting into the character of a bad boy. I make sure Lori’s watching as I swivel my hips towards the crowd of girls down front. I run my hand down my body, towards the bulge in my tight pants. I’m no porn star by far, but I’ve never had any complaints. The screaming girls in the front row certainly don’t have any.

  We perform our set of about five songs. When I step off stage, there are a group of girls waiting for me, some holding out drinks to me. I smile as I take them one by one, chugging them all down like a champ, and feeling a little less pain as I do so. The ego-stroking doesn’t hurt, either.

  “Oh my God! You’re awesome!”

  “You should totally be famous.”

  “If you’re not busy tonight, maybe you could head uptown with my friend and me. I know this great club!”

  They’re so forward and direct it kind of takes my breath away. I feel hands on my body, even sliding down towards my ass, and dangerously near my crotch.

  I herd them towards the bar, where I order a round for all of my new fans. This endears me to them even more. It’s a pricy bar tab, but I figure I’m not saving for a future anymore. Bobby joins me, with an armful of girls himself. “To a great show,” he toasts, and all our new fans agree.

  I glare at Lori as she focuses on her work, but she’s all thumbs as she tries to serve drinks. She can’t keep her eyes off of me and the crowd I’ve attracted.

  That’s right, I think to myself. See what you threw away for something ordinary, you stupid bitch.

  I put an arm around the two girls flanking me on either side. They’re cute… I think. By now I’m fairly drunk, so details are beyond me. All I know is they’re warm and willing and pressing up against me, their hands drifting lower to cup my ass shamelessly.

  I use all my functioning brainpower to will Lori to look our direction as I plant an open-mouthed kiss on one of them. She’s a redhead with full, pouty lips. “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Madison,” she says.

  I look down at her hands, searching for that tale-tell X that would let me know if she is underage.
There’s no X. There are also no rings. “I’m pretty drunk. I think I need someone to take me home and put me to bed.” She cuddles up against me with a wide smile. “You wanna get out of here, Madison?” I say in a low voice, near her ear.

  She nods and I grab her hand in mine, pulling her through the crowd towards the entrance. We push past Lori, whose face screws up in a scowl. She’s got a lot of nerve to be pissed. Fuck her. I can’t believe I ever spent as much time as I did with her, trying to become some corporate clone to make her happy.

  That’s over. I swear right then and there I’ll never sacrifice myself to make anyone happy again. They can accept me as is, or they can find the door.

  I hail a cab and then pull Madison inside with me. She practically climbs right into my lap, laying a kiss right on my parted lips. I let my hand roam down her back and over the sweet curve of her ass. I cup her face in one hand as I part her lips with my tongue.

  There’s no call for romance here. She’s not someone I may marry someday. She’s a girl who clearly knows the score. She wants to fuck a singer, and right at that moment, I want to fuck a groupie. We’re just two consenting adults. Who gives a shit what the world might have to say about it?

  I’m still partially drunk when we reach the house in Bensonhurst. I pull out a bottle of booze from the kitchen cupboard before I take her upstairs to my old room. Lori had changed it into a sitting room, where she used to like to escape to read on a futon bed we got from a second-hand store. This was her space when she lived in this house, and a fitting place for the exorcism I knew needed to be performed.

  I collapse onto the futon, and Madison follows me down. She’s as hot for me as I am for her. Correction, she’s hotter for me than I am for her, which means I’m the boss. She’s eager and enthusiastic, so much so that she slides down my body all the way to my lap, where she unfastens my jeans.

  I guzzle more booze as she takes me into her warm, wet mouth. God, the sensations are fucking fantastic. Her tongue swirls around my hardening shaft like a snake. I wind my hand into her curly red hair, pushing her down, forcing her to take more. “You like that, don’t you, girl?” I murmur. It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone who likes it.