Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Page 13

  She links her hands behind my neck, sliding up my body like a snake climbing a tree. This is a woman on the make. I grin. “Awesome band,” I say, referring to the group onstage.

  She doesn’t look away. Instead she shrugs and says, “Call me old fashioned, but I prefer classic rock.”

  “Yeah?”

  Her smile widens. “Yeah.”

  I hold her a little tighter. “You should come back next week, then.”

  “Is that so?” she asks and I nod. “What’s so special about next week?”

  “I hear the band scheduled to perform is really good. Good old, honest-to-goodness rock and roll.”

  She presses her breasts against my chest. “Sounds hot. Will you be there?”

  “You never know,” I tease. My arm circles her waist and I grind up against her to the beat. She licks her lips as her hands slide down my back towards my ass.

  I decide then and there she has a lot more to show me than some nineteen-year-old. I’m feeling pretty proud of myself as the dance ends. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and guide her back to the bar. “Let me buy you a drink,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “I’ve got to go. Rain check,” she offers, which reminds me of my frustrating encounter with Pam.

  Bobby catches up to me almost immediately after she leaves. “That’s fucking brilliant, man!”

  I’m puzzled as I look at him. “What?”

  “Oh, come on! You know who that is, right?” I continue to stare at him blankly. “You really don’t know?”

  I shake my head. “As far as I know, she’s just some woman who asked me to dance. Why? Who is she?”

  “Ever heard of the name Tina Nunes?”

  At first I shake my head, but then something about that last name sticks. “Wait. Doesn’t Julio Nunes run Sedução?” I ask, referring to a popular basement nightclub on the lower east side.

  “Used to,” Bobby clarified, “until he had to fork it over to his ex-model wife Tina in the divorce.”

  My eyes widen. She owns one of the most prominent music clubs in the city, where producers regularly scour for new talent, and I just invited her to watch us perform. Either I’m the luckiest asshole in the world, or Bobby is pulling my leg. “Are you shitting me?”

  “Man. When you reel in a big fish, you really reel in a big fish, don’t you? Do you know what that kind of exposure could mean?”

  I nod slowly. Of course I know what it could mean.

  Bobby grabs me by the chin and kisses me soundly on the cheek. “God, I knew that this face would be our golden ticket!” He orders another round. “You do whatever you need to do to make her happy. She could open so many doors for us.” He laughs. “Fortunately for you, she’s good looking. And you know the best thing about those rich, older chicks. No baby mama drama.”

  I gape at him. “You want me to sleep with her?” I mean, I was planning to do that anyway, but not for a cost.

  Bobby stands straighter and leans close. “No sleeping involved, amigo. I want you to fuck her and fuck her well. It’s all about relationships in this business. And she has zeroed in on you. You can’t squander that opportunity. I mean, it’s not like you’re cheating on anyone,” he points out. “You’re a single, good-looking guy. Get your kicks while you’re still young enough to get ‘em. Hell, if it were me, I’d have left with her tonight.” He winks at a cocktail waitress who squeezes past. “On to Plan B,” he says before he chases after the cute brunette balancing a heavy tray on her arm.

  That night I return to the brownstone alone. I head straight to the bedroom, where I shrug off my shirt and hang it over a chair that Lori had handpicked. I fucking hate that chair. Every time I look at it, all I can see is her straddling Tony, naked and screwing in my aunt’s old room.

  Who knows if they did? Apparently there was a lot going on between them that I didn’t know. Did they sleep together in my bed? Did they bathe together in my tub? Did he fuck her on the kitchen table like I had so many months before?

  And when the hell will I stop obsessing over every single painful detail like some heartbroken wuss? Fuck ‘em. I’m better off without both of them.

  The New Vanni would never put up with any of that shit. Hit it and quit it, that’s his game. No one has time for feelings in this uphill climb towards the top. And now one of the most influential club owners in town slithered up on my hook without my even knowing, in a textbook case of serendipity.

  Old Vanni would never barter his body for his career. Susan, who had come thisclose to becoming a nun, would never have allowed it, and she was his guiding moral compass.

  The New Vanni had no such compass. It was broken under the weight of crushing betrayal, from the two people he had trusted the most, including a “good girl” girlfriend, who had made him wait for months before he could even get in her pants.

  How long did it take Tony to get into them? The New Vanni doesn’t have to give a shit. He’s got one priority: to break into this business and make a living doing what he loves. And right now he’s got too much to do to get ready for the gig of his life to worry about what used to be or what might have been.

  I am going to make quite an impression on Tina Nunes, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone else might have to say about it.

  CHAPTER TEN:

  The next week leading up to our gig, I am a man on a mission. I drive rehearsals every bit as hard as Yael, who is equally excited about Tina catching our band. Sedução is a star-making club, which plucks acts from the underground music scene and plops them into the mainstream. It’s an express lane for success. For us to have this opportunity so early in the history of the band is a really big deal.

  And she came to me. Before she even heard me sing, or knew I was a singer, she wanted me. The New Vanni knows just what to do with that. The girls think I’m sexy? The girls want to fuck me?

  Just wait till they hear me sing.

  I polish this new persona all week long, both with the guys and at home. I’m liberated to be that guy I never would have dreamed to be otherwise. I’m not a playa. I’m not a womanizer. My aunt raised me to be a good boy and an even better man.

  But on stage I could be anybody, that’s the beauty of it. From song to song, it’s a role to play. And if seducing the ladies sells tickets, then where’s the harm in that?

  Now that I have plenty of time without a “real” job, I focus on my physique. I’ve always had energy that I had to burn off, so exercise has always come easy to me. Only now I know I’m sculpting myself into a product to sell. I start doing incline sit-ups, as many as I can stand. I chip away further at my precious nest egg and turn one of the upstairs bedrooms, Mama’s old room, into a gym courtesy of a weight bench, free weights and a line of mirrors against once wall. I also install a stereo system so that I can internalize these songs till I till I know them backwards and forwards.

  Bigger and better, that’s my plan.

  I know I can’t work miracles in a week, but it gives me something to fill the time now that I’m single. I get to Manhattan early every day so I can jog in the park. That’s the exercise I like best. Central Park is one of my favorite places in the city. You get to see something new every day. It’s never mundane or boring or predictable. I download all the songs from our set and listen to them, in order, as I mentally prepare each and every performance where I can own each song as if it is mine.

  And, late at night when I can’t sleep–or face that big platform bed alone–I work on my own stuff. I even write a song for Tina, about the sexy older woman I know can teach me a thing or two. I know we won’t be able to perform it now, but I’ve always dreamed bigger than the now anyway.

  By Saturday I’m amped up like a prizefighter.

  I arrive at the venue before anyone else. I scope the crowd, to see how they respond to the opening bands. We don’t headline, not yet, and the only way we ever will is if I learn how to play these crowds just like a fiddle. The girls will be easy. They’re all buzzing thanks to a busy ba
r churning out gallons of colorful, fruity drinks. But I want to get the guys too, and I know the best way to do that is by the music. I watch how the frontmen lead their bands, taking mental notes on what I can add with our own set.

  When it’s our turn to perform, I’m ready to strike. I hit that stage with a newfound aggression. I stalk that tiny space, boldly interacting with the crowd right in the front row. Fortunately for me, this includes the cute little salesgirl and several of her equally sexy friends. Since I already know her, and I know how she reacts to me, she’s an easy target. The New Vanni sinks his seductive claws into her and won’t let go throughout the set.

  I have to have some outlet for the energy, considering I don’t see Tina anywhere.

  I don’t drop the persona, though. The flood lights keep me blinded to the rest of the crowd just beyond the edge of the stage. I shake my ass for all of them. You never know who’s out there in the audience. I’m not just performing for this crowd, I’m selling us for future gigs and I know it.

  I seduce very girl in the front row, as if I have any intention of getting them all into bed. They’re putty in my hands, figuratively speaking. In fact, it’s working so well the men scatter from the stage, intimidated or turned off by my seductive onslaught.

  I surprise Yael when I turn the spotlight on him during one of the guitar solos. I know he’s not about the fame or attention. He just wants to play. But he’s so kickass he deserves the attention whether he wants it or not. “On lead guitar, ladies and gentlemen, the one, the only, Yael Satterlee!”

  What few men there are down front throw up the horns while Yael loses himself in his solo. It draws more men to the stage to listen to the band. I smile to myself how well it’s all working. Sometimes it’s just too easy.

  When we finally take our bow, the crowd is clamoring for more. While the guys load out their equipment, I head straight for the bar. I’m mobbed almost immediately by a horde of girls, all of whom want to buy me a drink.

  Since I’m a gentleman, I let them.

  My eyes still scan the dimly lit bar for any sign of Tina. Surely if she sees how well we did and how well the audience responded, she’ll book us for her club in a heartbeat. That’s what this week has been about, and I have absolutely no doubt that’s exactly how it will go.

  Only she’s not there. I’m surrounded by sexy, beautiful women, but none of them happen to own the biggest underground clubs in the city. The realization of this is like a pinprick in my overfilled balloon. As successful as the gig has been, I feel like I have failed to do what I set out to do–namely launch our new band into the stratosphere with one kickass performance.

  Did I really think it would be that easy?

  Apparently the New Vanni did.

  “Hey,” I hear a female voice say right next to me. I turn to see the nineteen-year-old sales clerk, hooked arm and arm with a tall blonde. “You were great up there! And you looked so hot.”

  I smile for her. I had used her shamelessly throughout the set so I figure I can’t blow her off now, even though I know better than to be interested. She’s way too young. “I followed all your advice,” I say with a smirk I’ve come to perfect, as I hold up my chipped, black nails to prove my point.

  She laughs. “This is my bestie, Jena,” she says as she introduces her friend.

  “We loved the show,” the blonde tells me, her blue eyes sparkling with similar interest. “You’re really good.”

  “Our Vanni is great at everything,” Bobby says as he comes up behind the girls. He recognizes the salesgirl, so he has made a beeline for us the second he gets his equipment put away. “Would you both like to join us for an exclusive after-party at the hotel down the street?”

  As young as she is, the salesgirl doesn’t miss a beat. Her smile widens and she nods her head, grasping her equally enthusiastic friend’s hand in hers. “We’d love it!”

  “Great,” Bobby beams. He hands her a card from the hotel, with the room number written on the back. “We have to finish up here, but you both can head on over. The party is already in progress.”

  He takes my arm and withdraws me from their circle. He has other girls to parade me around in front of, to make a similar offer with similar cards.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “You, my good man, are going to celebrate your success in style. I already have a buddy of mine over there setting things up. By the time we get there, you’ll have your pick of VIP guests who are just dying to show you how much they appreciated your performance.”

  I scowl immediately. “Not everyone will be there. Tina is M.I.A.”

  He shrugs it off. “There will be other nights. It’s not like we’re going to get worse, you know what I mean?”

  I shrug. I suppose he’s right.

  We meet up with Yael, who is as beside himself as a stoic Emo like him could be. We’ve booked more gigs, including a couple more performances right here in this club. “It’s not headlining yet,” he says. “But we’re on our way.”

  It’s a small victory, much smaller than the target for which I was aiming, but I’ll take it.

  I decide to accompany Bobby and the rest of the guys to the party at the hotel.

  We’ve rented a suite, all part of the cost of doing business. There’s enough booze and “party favors” around that everyone is in high spirits, no pun intended. Felix immediately joins the group of weed enthusiasts on the balcony, to get high as they marvel at the lights of the city and contemplate the wonder of the cosmos.

  There are some guys present, who immediately corner Yael to discuss things like guitars and music theory.

  Bobby steers me over to the bevy of beautiful girls–arguably the most beautiful from the crowd at the club–all of whom eye me like a rib eye steak about to be thrown on the grill.

  Bobby has no qualms about doing just that. “Here’s the man of the hour, ladies,” he says with that cheesy, shit-eating grin.

  Immediately the salesgirl appears at my side, with her blonde friend flanking me on the other. Everyone wants to get me a drink, and graciously I accept. Within a half-hour I’m raging drunk, but so is everyone else in the hotel suite, except maybe Yael and his music nerd posse.

  As the booze slows down my brain, the more hedonistic New Vanni takes over. There are more girls present than can possibly fill my arms, but each one of them tries to have a go at it, as much as my predatory little salesgirl will allow. She may be young, but she knows what she wants. I kind of dig that about her.

  And God, she’s cute. Short dark hair, that tapers down to her slender neck. She’s petite, but the short skirt she’s wearing makes her tanned legs appear even longer, especially tucked one under the other as she pastes herself to my side.

  With her more revealing club wear, I can see now that she sports some ink on her chest, a dragonfly with wings right across the tops of her breast, its body dipping low between. Her nose is pierced, as is her tongue, which sends electricity right down to my groin. She wears chains and leather, suggesting that she isn’t as vanilla as most nineteen-year-olds I’ve met, which, admittedly, aren’t many. Even when I was nineteen, I had my eye on older women, thanks to the sexy cougar who took my virginity when I was a teen. I figured older women knew a thing or two more than the silly girls who went to my high school.

  But this girl has a few secrets of her own, I can tell by the familiar way she cozies up to her friend, who has me equally pinned on the other side.

  I have to wonder. Have they been in my web? Or am I in theirs?

  This is a new experience for me, and I can’t say it’s necessarily unpleasant. I’ve worked myself up for a week straight to seduce Tina Nunes, with nowhere to spend this energy except my pseudo-gym at the house. The promise of these two soft, curvy girls at my side is a lot more enticing than 100 extra sit-ups. We’re talking two women at once. Isn’t that every guy’s fantasy deep down?

  I watch Bobby interact with a couple of girls who want to know all about the bass. Actual
ly they don’t give a shit about the bass; they just want to get closer to the hot musician in the band. With a smile on his face, he closes an arm around either of them, practically pulling both into his lap. He sends me a victorious smile and a wink before he starts making out with the both of them right in the middle of the party. Their hands immediately roam over his body. They don’t care they’re in a room full of people. They’re going to go after what they want… and what they want is the unfulfilled promise of sex we subconsciously (or, in my case, purposefully) made when we played.

  Still, as fun as it is, I haven’t crossed the line yet. There’s still time to head any potential problems off at the pass.

  I pull the salesgirl close. “You should probably get home, girl. Isn’t it past your curfew?”

  She captures a lock of my hair in her fingers. “Do you want me to go?”

  That’s a loaded question. No, in fact. I do not want her to go. But I know she should. I know that’s what Aunt Susan would tell the both of us, after she whipped us raw with her yardstick.

  Aunt Susan’s not here, I remind myself. Mama’s not here. Tony and Lori aren’t here. And truthfully, the Old Vanni who needed all of them to tell him how to be a good boy isn’t here either.

  I shake my head slowly as I snake a hand around her neck to cup the back of her head and draw her closer. Her lips cover mine like she’s been waiting to kiss me for a week.

  Maybe she has. The thought stokes the fire within. Maybe Tina Nunes found some other boy toy to play with, but this girl has probably been thinking of me every single night this week, unable to resist the chance to get closer to me… so that I can give her the night of her dreams.