Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Read online

  It honestly makes her even sexier.

  Knowing she works two jobs to support her kids reminds me instantly of Mama. I can see the same strain in her shoulders and around her neck. She’s carrying the world on her shoulders, and here I was, about to use her as some trampoline into Sedução. God, I can be such an asshole sometimes. I immediately switch gears as I lean forward on my forearms. “How many kids do you have?”

  “Two,” she says as she reaches for a breadstick. “A five-year-old boy named Hugo and a three-year-old girl named Imogen.” Off my look she screws her face into a wry smile. “My ex and I were pretentious hipsters, as you can tell.”

  I laugh. “No, I dig it. I’m partial to people with unusual names, particularly children.”

  “Nice to know, Joe,” she says with a smirk that instantly makes me like her more.

  I chuckle. “So when does the carriage turn back into a pumpkin?”

  She glances at her watch. “About an hour. You better work fast.”

  I can’t stop my smile if I wanted to. She could have been anywhere in the city tonight, and she’s with me, eating pizza and drinking wine. That counts as progress in my book. “I already did.”

  The arrival of our pizza interrupts our conversation. I dive right in, suddenly ravenous. She digs into her own piece and murmurs her approval. Alicia fills both of our glasses with more wine as Sasha and I sit in comfortable silence.

  She finally places what crust is left of her slice onto her plate and folds her hands on top of each other on the table. “That was good. The wine is top-notch. The company is interesting.”

  “So glad you think so.”

  “Where is this heading, Vanni? Do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to book you?”

  I wipe my hands on my napkin. “Is it too much to ask for both?”

  She chuckles again. It’s a nice, lilting sound. “Yes,” she finally answers, definitively but with a smile. I just look at her and wait. “My life is complicated enough already. I don’t need to add some crazy rock star to the mix. I’m just looking for friends, now. Nothing more. And really, there’s nothing I can do for you at Sedução. Tina picks every single band. She keeps everything very hands-on.”

  “Fair enough,” I nod. “But you did say you worked at two clubs, did you not?” She purses her lips. I reel her in. “You know my band has something special, Sasha. We just need a chance.” I take her hand in mine. “Be a friend?”

  She hesitates a long moment before she finally says, “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” Another glance at her watch. “I really should go.”

  I nod and stand, and she follows as I lead her towards the entrance. We step outside and I hail her a cab to take her back home to Queens. I open my arms for a hug, and she doesn’t deny me. I close my arms around her soft body and squeeze her tight, just for a second, just so she can feel how much I’ve enjoyed our time together.

  Most of my female interactions these days have been one-night-stands. Fun but usually forgettable, especially since there have been so many.

  I realize then that New Vanni could use a friend, and Sasha is easy to like.

  That night when I head to bed, I don’t even look at the chair.

  The next week we work hard on our gig the following weekend. Each and every week we grow more cohesive, and act more and more like a band. I perfect my stage persona, with a little help from Chelsea, my favorite shop girl. Since she works in a vintage store, they get a lot of clothes in every week that she gets to prowl through to find the right look for me.

  She doesn’t ask me about Sasha, which I like. With her being so young, I was worried she’d get a little too attached, like Alicia at Cynzia’s. But it doesn’t seem to bother her to let me go on my way when all my needs are met. I wonder sometimes about the life she’s living. I figure with her being in college, especially around so many of her uninhibited friends, she’s got an active social life all of her own.

  I don’t begrudge her at all. You’re only nineteen once, might as well enjoy it.

  By that following Friday night, we hit the stage like cannon fire. We’re on a list with five other bands, and we land somewhere around the ten o’clock hour. The crowds are good, the groupies are smoking hot, but Sasha is nowhere to be found.

  Neither is Chelsea, which is unusual. I’m left oddly out of sorts. Part of that is probably because it’s our first performance where we don’t host an after-party, but most of the groupies are new and don’t really expect one. Plus, it’s a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. I could already see which girl would be willing to do which naughty sex act just by the way they sidle up to me at the bar. Thanks to my peculiar funk, I’m just not in the mood, no matter how sexy they are.

  After the band loads out, I turn to Bobby. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s head to Sedução.”

  Bobby toasts me with his full glass of beer, which he chugs and drains, all in one gulp.

  We make it to Sedução just before midnight. They have a full roster as well, although their bands are obviously more well-known than the ones that played with us. It stands to reason, since Tina only books the best talent, usually on the cusp of nationwide exposure and success.

  That’s why it’s more important than ever for me to secure us a place there.

  I spot Sasha right away, but she’s too busy tending bar to notice. I don’t say anything to Bobby. When it comes to women, he has one primary goal: get them into bed. He has a very short list of turn-offs, but one of which is mama drama. “They take half your money, want half your time and, let’s face it. Their bodies never go back to the way they used to be. Get ‘em young, while they’re still down for anything and aren’t carrying a lot of extra baggage.”

  For most of the summer, that was just what we had done. The girls who paraded through our various hotel suites all fit the criteria. They wanted a night with a sexy rock star, and we wanted lots of sex with a variety of partners, no strings attached. It’d been mutually fulfilling up until now.

  But the girls who had been taking up space in my head weren’t really sex objects at all, even though I probably would fuck them if given half the chance.

  There was Tina, of course. I wanted to get her attention, and I was ready to make her pay for saying that we weren’t polished professionals and I had no swagger.

  There is Pam, who is likely spending her waning days of summer with the hubby, Mr. Doug. Every time I think of him my mouth curves into a snarl. There was a sweet way in how she cared about me, how she pushed me to follow my dreams and encouraged me when I was down. It was so nice to have that again after losing Aunt Susan, that I could still see remnants of the Old Vanni whenever I looked into her eyes.

  I like that. When I’m with her, I feel more me. And now she’ll always belong to someone else, which puts her off limits for me no matter how much I want her. The only thing worse would be if she got pregnant, which I expect to happen any day. That’s the way it works, right? First comes love, then comes marriage. Then comes Pam with a baby carriage.

  I still have my doubts that she actually loves this fucker, not in the same way she could love me. That’s the one shred of hope I have left that it’s not over between us. But I know if she ever gets pregnant, that will sever every last tie. Even if she gets her head out of her ass and realizes that it’s me she really wants, I would never break up a family. I could never be that heartless and self-serving where an innocent child is concerned.

  And then there’s Sasha, the woman juggling a dozen drink orders behind the bar in front of me. I have to admit, learning she was a single mom actually added to her appeal for me. It reminds me so much of Mama, that I find myself wondering what her children look like. Hugo and Imogen. I remember their names, which is very unusual for me. But then again, Hugo and Imogen are two unusual names.

  I like the way I feel when I’m with her, too. She reminds me that I’m still a good guy deep down, and I need to be reminded sometimes.

  I tug Bobby’s sl
eeve and guide him over to the bar. “What do you know, Joe?” she greets with a grin when I finally wedge myself in between the patrons at the bar to stand in front of her.

  “Joe?” Bobby repeats, his eyebrow arched.

  “Long story,” I say. “Bobby, this is Sasha. Sasha, our bassist, Bobby Rocco.”

  She reaches for a handshake. “I remember. I saw you guys play last week. You were really good.”

  “Thanks,” he says with his best flirty smile, but I know he’s not interested in her. Like I said, his tastes are pretty exclusive. Even if her hint of crow’s feet didn’t put him off, finding out she had a couple of kids would send him packing.

  “So what’s new around here?” I ask as I survey the scene. Another killer band wows the crowd. Tina knows what she is doing, that much is clear. What is even clearer is that we have every right to be on that stage, too. And I don’t plan to stop until we get there.

  An effervescent blonde with bouncy curls and a bodacious smile squeezes herself between me and another guy at the bar. “Hey, hon,” she calls Sasha, with one of the most adorable accents I’ve ever heard. “Can I get another Manhattan and Long Island Iced tea?”

  I grin down at her. She’s plastered to me, I can feel every luscious curve. “Those are some pretty Yankee drinks for a girl with such a sweet southern accent.”

  She looks me up and down with sparkling blue eyes. Her smile widens. “I can handle it.”

  “I bet you can. Where are you from?”

  “Tennessee,” she says. It drips like brandy from her lips. “How ‘bout you?”

  “Brooklyn,” I say with pride, but she shakes her head.

  “Before that,” she says.

  My eyebrow arches. That’s talent. Makes me wonder what else she can do. “Good ear.” She waits expectantly so I finally supply an answer to her question. “Philadelphia, born and bred.”

  “The City of Brotherly Love,” she says and I nod.

  “Ever been?”

  She shakes her head and those curls bounce over her slender, bared shoulders. “Not yet. It’s on the list, though.”

  “So how did you know I was from Philadelphia?”

  She crinkles her nose. It’s adorable. “Don’t laugh, but, I took an improv class when I first came to New York.”

  “Not laughing,” I say as I glance her over again. In fact, I find her fascinating. It’s not common for me to meet women nearer my own age, especially one who has no reason at all to impress the likes of me, some average Joe in a dimly lit nightclub. I hold out my hand. “Vanni.”

  She chuckles, a warm, deep sound. “Seriously? That’s your name?”

  I shrug with a grin. “Short for Giovanni.” I lean closer. “It’s Italian.”

  She eyes me playfully. She’s wise to my game. Her whiskey-dripped voice pours over my senses as she closes a soft hand around mine. “Iris.”

  I pull her even closer and bend down to say closer to her ear, “Nice to meet you, Iris.” I refer to my friend, who is scoping out a young hottie at the end of the bar. “This is my friend, Bobby.” They shake hands, but he’s no more interested in her than Sasha, who arrives with her drinks. “So are you here for a hot date? If so, he’s a shit for not buying these overpriced cocktails for you. I say you should drop him entirely and join us.”

  Again she chuckles. “It’s a hot date with an old friend.” She points at a table, where another woman sits by a flickering flameless candle. She’s a Rubenesque beauty with dark brown hair highlighted with funky blonde chunks, all swept up tight in a neat ponytail. With her black-framed glasses and minimal makeup, she looks like a hot, smart nerd. Even from twenty-five feet away, I can see there is much more than meets the eye.

  “Invite her,” I say. “Two of you. Two of us. We’re evenly matched. It’s kismet.”

  “Well, normally I’d love to but she’s only in town for a short time.” She looks me up and down again. “It’s been fun and you’re real cute, but I have to get back to my friend.”

  “Let me carry your drinks at least,” I say. I’m not ready to give up yet. I’m Giovanni Carnevale, for crissakes. Seducing more than one woman at a time is sort of my thing now.

  I don’t even give her a chance to decline. I take the drinks from the bar and make a beeline for the sexy friend at the table, nodding to Bobby to follow along.

  Before I can reach the table, however, I hear another female voice behind me. It’s not a southern accent. It’s spiced with sensual Portuguese. “Mr. Carnevale.”

  I know it’s Tina before I even turn around. “Tina,” the blonde says, which surprises me further. How does this country girl know one of the most influential people in Manhattan?

  “Iris,” she says as they share a half-hug and a side-kiss. “They’re taking care of you, I trust?”

  “It’s been lovely, thank you.”

  “Least I can do,” Tina purrs with a smile, and I realize that Iris didn’t have to pay for her drinks. She’s a guest, which makes her even more interesting to me.

  “Andy will get you a copy of her review by the time she heads back to Tennessee tomorrow. I’m sure it’s going to be quite favorable.”

  “Good to hear,” Tina says before she turns to Bobby and me. “And how about you boys? Enjoying Sedução?”

  Bobby nods his head. He may not be into older ladies, and who can blame him, when he’s barely twenty-three himself? But he knows the kind of power Tina wields in this town, and like he said when we first saw Tina, she’s hot. “It’s an amazing club, Ms. Nunes,” he says. “Maybe one day we’ll even have the honor of playing here.”

  Tina slides her dark gaze from his face to mine, where she shamelessly inspects the “new” look head to toe. “Maybe,” she finally says.

  I think my heart stops beating for a minute as I stare down at her. Iris uses this opportunity to take her drinks from my hand and slip away to her friend at the table ten feet from where we’re standing, but I’ve already forgotten all about them. When Tina turns back towards the bar, I change direction to follow her.

  She wants me to take what I want? She’s about to get exactly what she asked for.

  Bobby follows as well, but I nod my head in the direction of the young hottie in the skin-tight red dress showing more T&A than a beer commercial. “I got this,” I tell him.

  He’s uncertain for a moment but finally relents. I step behind Tina at the bar. Since she’s only five-foot-eight, (over six feet if you count her stiletto heels,) I can shadow her almost entirely with my lanky frame. I know she can feel my body heat as we stand a breath apart.

  I take a silky lock of her hair in between my forefinger and my thumb as she motions to Sasha, who places a bottle of expensive champagne and two flutes on the bar in front of her.

  Without even looking my direction, Tina walks away, leaving her drink order behind. I glance at Sasha, who looks down at the champagne in front of me before nodding off to the dark corner where Tina strides.

  I grab the bottle with one hand and the glasses in the other as I push through the crowd to follow behind.

  I disappear down the mirrored hallway, with plush velvet seating next to the bathrooms and “employees only” doors. I head down another corridor, passing two big guards dressed all in black, who stand on either side, hands clasped and faces stoic. One glance to the champagne in my hand and they nod me through.

  I walk all the way to the end of the corridor until I reach a door made of black glass. I tuck the bottle in between my bicep and my side to open it and walk inside.

  The room is even more dimly lit than the bar. I can hear the music thunder through the walls, which are made of mirror and glass. There’s plenty of plush seating and another bar, although this one isn’t tended by an employee.

  Tina stands behind the leather bar, putting ice in a silver ice bucket. I don’t say a word as I nestle the champagne bottle in the ice. I set the glasses down. “So is this where I audition?”

  She offers a smile. “In a manner of
speaking.” She walks around the bar and heads straight towards the white circular seating in the middle of the room that surrounds a smaller stage. With a click of the remote control, a sexy house beat fills the cozy space and multi-colored lights flicker off of the reflective glass on every wall and on the ceiling.

  She crosses one bare leg over the other and her short white skirt slides up her lusciously tanned skin. I set the bucket next to her, cross over her and sit on her other side. “So what song would you like me to sing?” I ask as I lean closer to her.

  “You still don’t get it,” she chuckles. “This isn’t about singing. This is about image,” she says as she trails a finger down my chiseled chest. It makes all those upside down sit-ups worth the trouble.

  My voice is soft as I drill my gaze right into hers. “And do you like what you see?”

  Her finger trails all the way down my chest and across my stomach, stopping just short of the bulge in my pants. “I’d say you have a great deal of potential. That’s what I saw that first night. Otherwise I never would have asked you to dance.”

  It’s my turn to chuckle. “You didn’t even know I was in a band.”

  “It’s so cute that you don’t think so,” she says. She leans back against the cushion, propped against one arm, her chin resting in her hands as she looks down her reclining, sexy body at me. “Do you honestly think I’d waste my time on you simply because you’re cute? Schnauzers are cute. I’m a business woman, and making money is never far from my mind.”

  I lean across her to take the champagne out of the bottle and pop the cork. I pour her a glass and then I pour myself one. “So how are we going to make a lot of money?” I ask, plain and direct.

  She sips her champagne. “You’ve got a good look. Really retro and nostalgic. Kind of like the reincarnation of Jim Morrison or Michael Hutchence. You just need to work on your sex appeal.”

  I can’t stop the laughter even if I want to. “Apparently you’ve never seen the crowd of girls I pull in after every show.”