Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Page 21

  I have one job to do, and I’m going to do it well.

  The headlining act tears up the stage, getting everybody on the floor to dance to his sexy pop hits. I drag Tina into the fray, holding her close as we dance. I grind against her and nuzzle her neck, making sure everyone who might be watching, including her ex, knows that she’s got herself a new boy toy who knows exactly what to do with her.

  Who brought sexy back?

  I fucking did.

  If I have any attack of conscious, it’s when I face Sasha. She doesn’t say anything, but with that look in her eye she doesn’t have to.

  I’m not going to apologize though. This is the path that presented itself to me, and I’m going to take it.

  When we return to the penthouse that night, I lead Tina up to her bedroom, where I pick her up at the threshold and carry her to the bed.

  Dawn the next day finds us locked in yet another passionate embrace. She’s insatiable, and by this time so am I. Once I allow her to touch me and please me, she shows me exactly how sexy she can be, riding my cock like a beast as she works her own body up into a fervor with a variety of toys and accessories I’ve never seen before.

  I barely want to take a break when Bertram brings us breakfast in bed. Tina’s focus turns immediately to the society pages to see how well her event went. According to the report, it was a huge success, smashing the previous year’s fundraising by at least six figures.

  Of course, the picture that they showed included both Julio’s new girl and me. The biggest question was not whether or not the new Mrs. Nunes was expecting. Instead, they all wanted to know who the young buck was on Tina Nunes’s arm, which, of course, had been her master plan.

  I can’t wait to show them.

  I snag a piece of toast as I turn to Tina. “So when can I tell my boys we’ll be playing at the club?”

  She leans back against the plush pillows and upholstered headboard. “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

  “We’re already ready,” I say but she just chuckles.

  “If you were ready, baby, you’d have been headlining that show last night.”

  My eyes narrow as I glare at her. I was afraid of this. “Are you trying to get out of our deal?”

  “No,” she says. “But what I told you from the beginning still stands. Sedução is for polished professionals. And frankly, you’re not there yet.”

  I start to climb out of bed but she holds me back by the arm. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. I’m not saying this to insult you. I’m saying this to help you. I can turn you into a star, Vanni, quicker and better than anyone else in this city. But just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean you get to circumvent the system. I’m going to expect a lot out of you. That’s just how it is.” I glare at her and say nothing. Finally she softens. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll put you on stage New Year’s Eve. If you sell me on your band, then you’ll have a regular gig here throughout the spring and into the summer. We’re talking a lot of exposure and a lot of money. But you have to kill it NYE, Vanni. Otherwise the deal is off. Got it?”

  I study her for a long moment, wondering if I can trust her. “Got it,” I finally say.

  She gives me a smile before she reaches for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who journeys down my body, teasing me with her long tongue and making my senses tingle with her long nails against my skin.

  This time I’m the one losing control, begging for sweet release. She straddles my hips, once again in control.

  I lie back against the pillow and don’t fight her one bit.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

  Every single member of my band looks at me like I’ve grown another head. Yael is the first to speak. “What do you mean you booked Sedução?”

  I shrugged. “I told you I was going to do it and I did. New Year’s Eve, buddy. What do you think about that?”

  They all share stunned looks. “I think I may have a second-hand high from whatever Felix is smoking,” Yael says at last.

  I laugh. “Either way, we have to be ready to deliver a killer set by New Year’s Eve. Good thing Fritz’s is a week beforehand.”

  Yael catches the meaning behind my pointed stare. “Okay, okay. You upheld your part of the deal, so I’ll uphold mine. Consider it my birthday gift to you,” he adds.

  “Thank you,” I say, and that’s that. We turn our attention to the show we have that night.

  I’ve internalized a lot of the lessons I’ve learned so far from Frankie and Tina, even Sasha, so that when I perform I draw even the most stoic members of the audience to the stage, just to be a part of the experience. I become a character, it seems harmless enough. None of it is real, and that’s what I’m slowly learning.

  After the show is over, Bobby sidles up to me, a friendly arm around my shoulder. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking or drinking or taking, but keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. That show was flawless. Do you know how many girls I have invited to our special party already? Just guess.”

  I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m going to make an early night of it.”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about? We’re talking primo pieces of ass, man. Willing to do anything we want.”

  I just shrug. “Guess I’m not in the mood to party. It’s been a pretty eventful week.”

  Bobby studies me for a minute before he relents. “Fine. More for me.”

  “Exactly,” I smile.

  I leave the venue early, and Tina’s hired car is waiting for me the minute I walk out the front doors. Several people are standing out front of the venue, who spot the fancy car I disappear into with interest. That’ll show them who’s a star, I think to myself with a smile as I pop open a split of ever-present champagne.

  I don’t really make the conscious decision to move into Tina’s posh mansion, it just sort of happens over the next week. When I’m not rehearsing with the band, I’m at Sedução on her arm, keeping up appearances for the equally ever-present press. By then, Julio and his young model wife have announced that they are expecting, so the paparazzi circles the club to see how the scorned woman might take the news.

  She’s all smiles on my arm, wishing her ex and his new missus all the best for their upcoming blessed event.

  “My baby has always been Sedução,” she tells them.

  When we’re at the house, we’re in her bed. And in her tub. And on her dining room table. And in front of her fireplace in the living room.

  “Has Bertram ever caught you?” I ask as she straddles my lap, gyrating against me with loud moans.

  “He knows better,” she grins, then moans even louder for emphasis.

  I capture her breast in my palm as I reach for another kiss. “Or maybe he’s watching,” I suggest with a lascivious grin.

  We both agree that only makes it that much better.

  Frankie works her magic on refining my style, with more trips to the spa and more shopping excursions to keep up with my new jet-set life as Tina’s arm candy. I don’t bother taking any of my old vintage clothing to Tina’s. Everything I want or need, including a fully furnished home gym, is housed within that 24,000-square foot property a stone’s throw from Central Park.

  The car takes me to and from SoHo to rehearse with the guys, but by November, Tina suggests that we start rehearsing at Sedução itself during the daylight hours. Frankie begins to infiltrate the group one at a time to refine their style as well, which doesn’t go over too well with Yael. He doesn’t care about image or clothes, he just wants to play music. I practically have to beg him to get with the program. “This is our big break,” I keep reminding him. “If this is what it takes to play this stage, isn’t it worth it?”

  He’d always relent with a beleaguered sigh. He knows I’m right, he’s just not happy about it. Tina had already met with everyone and laid out her plans to give us a steady gig at the club. The money was impossible to turn down, even if it meant we were all being pulled, however unwillingly, through Frankie
’s wringer of trend-friendly style machine.

  The only real blight on this shining new development? Sasha. She has no use for any of us outside of polite exchanges when she is needed at the bar. I sense that she’s angry about my hooking up with her boss, which I find a little ironic, considering she’s the one who figuratively put me on Tina’s hook in the first place.

  I finally corner her the week before Thanksgiving, when I have some down time. Since Tina’s family is primarily in Portugal, she has no real need for a traditional holiday. She decides to take the down-time and fly overseas, and since I’m just the boy-toy de jour, it’s not really expected of me to go with her.

  The band still comes in every day to rehearse, since it has the sound system and lighting equipment to help us develop a legitimate show. Arturo and Yael hit it off immediately, and Yael is open to many of his suggestions as a fellow musician. They’re constantly bouncing ideas off of each other to make the New Year’s Eve show as epic as it can be.

  This gives me even more free time, so I saunter over to the bar for a bottle of water. “Hey, Joe,” she greets with that same reserved smile she’s worn since the gala, when I showed up on Tina’s arm.

  “Hey,” I say in response as I climb on one of the tall barstools. “The usual, barkeep.”

  She is the picture of politeness as she digs a bottle of water from the refrigerator below the bar. She opens it and hands it to me before she turns back to her tasks.

  “So do I have to wave an actual white flag or will a napkin do?”

  She turns back to face me. “You don’t owe me anything, Vanni. I know how this stuff works. I’m a big girl.”

  “Then why is it every time you look at me I think I need to grab a scarlet letter for my chest? G for gigolo? M for manhore? A for asshole? Which is it?”

  “You seem to have a good grasp on what you’re doing. You tell me.”

  “How about F for friend?”

  Her eyebrow lifts. “I’m surprised that’s the f-word you chose.”

  “You seem to have a good grasp on what you want,” I shoot back. “You tell me.”

  “We already talked about this, Vanni. And it’s sure as shit gotten more complicated since we had that conversation.”

  “So… what? You’re mad at me for hooking up with Tina?”

  “I don’t give a shit about what you do with Tina. I guess I just figured you had a little more integrity than this.” My spine draws up tight, so she leans in. “You really have something great, Vanni. I’ve said that from the beginning. You didn’t need to sell yourself out like this to break in.”

  “Says someone who hasn’t ever tried to break in.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she concedes. “And if you can still look at yourself in the mirror every day, then more power to you. You certainly don’t need my permission to live your life the way you want to. Just…,” she hesitates only a second, “just be careful. That line you shouldn’t cross is awfully hard to see sometimes.”

  “All the more reason to have a friend,” I say. “Someone who can tell me where that line is.”

  “You’re a big boy, hon. You don’t need me for that. In fact, you don’t need me for anything.” She sighs, as if frustrated with herself. “I dunno. I guess I was kinda hoping there was a good ol’ Brooklyn boy in there still. But the further you get from Bensonhurst, the more Joe disappears.”

  “Sasha,” I say as she tries to turn away. She slowly turns back. There’s hope in her eyes, however small. I stick out my hand. “My name is Joe-vanni Carnevale, the incredible shrinking nice guy. Nice to meet you.”

  She puts her hand in mine and I close my fingers around it tight. “I appreciate the gesture. But like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”

  I just shrug. “What can I say? The holidays are coming up and orphans like me can’t really afford to throw away friends.”

  I can see that softens her immediately. Score one for painful honesty. “Come on now. You’re part of a brotherhood.”

  I chuckle. “A brotherhood, right. Yael is going upstate to be with his folks, Felix is flying to California to be with his family and I’m pretty sure there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet at some strip joint with Bobby’s name all over it.”

  She echoes my laughter. “Why didn’t you just go to Portugal with Tina?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that kind of relationship. You know that.”

  “Yeah,” she sighs. “I guess I do.” She looks me over thoughtfully for a long moment before she finally says, “If you can stand a hectic afternoon with screaming kids and rabid sports fans, I suppose I could scrounge up a turkey leg or something for you.”

  My expression brightens at once. I was thinking I’d be locked up all alone in my old Brooklyn brownstone with all the ghosts that linger there. It’s my first Thanksgiving without my Aunt Susan. Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to it. I had even contemplated spending some time at Fritz’s, but I know if I see Pam with Doug I’d probably drown myself in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

  Even Lori has someone. Last I heard she had moved in with Tony in the city.

  It makes Sasha’s offer even more tempting. This is more than just some casual hookup. She is offering family. “Yeah?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she decides with a nod.

  The next week I head into Queens to spend the day with Sasha and her family. Since her divorce, she’s been living with her folks in a cramped but homey house in a regular neighborhood where kids still played ball in the streets. I bring a bottle of wine and tiramisu from Cynzia’s. Sasha’s mom, Kate, greets me warmly. “So nice to meet you, Joe,” she says and Sasha throws up her hands behind her in a mock apology.

  I don’t really mind. I don’t get to be Joe much anymore, so it’s a welcome change. If I’m going to be around a wholesome, all-American family, it’s probably best. Giovanni was a rock star, with all the debauchery that entails.

  Joe is someone who could still assimilate into polite society.

  “This is my husband, Carl,” she says as she introduces the big, burly guy wearing a football jersey.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say as I grasp his hand in a self-assured grip.

  “Come on in,” he says, leading me towards the crowded living room where a large TV blares one of the games being played that day. I navigate around scattered toys on the brown shag rug, to take a seat on the well-worn sofa.

  A Park Avenue penthouse, it ain’t. But that’s why I kinda dig it, especially for Thanksgiving.

  I hear the kids before I see them. “Mom, Imogen won’t stop copying me!” says a boy.

  “Mom, Imogen won’t stop copying me,” mimics a young girl who tries her very best to form every word.

  “You both behave. We have company.”

  I turn to see Sasha corral her children into the room. Five-year-old Hugo wears a jersey similar to his granddad, and three-year-old Imogen’s hair sprouts off either side of her head in adorable, lopsided pigtails.

  “Guys, say hi to Joe.”

  They both stand in front of me, polite and well-mannered now that a stranger is present. “Hi, Joe,” they say in unison.

  I shake Hugo’s hand, which gives him a chance to introduce himself like a proper gentleman. I then turn to Imogen, whose hand I lift up to my lips for a kiss. She giggles and runs back to her mother, peeking out at me from behind one of Sasha’s pant legs. Sasha just shakes her head at me. I just smile.

  While Kate and Sasha work on dinner, the kids stay with Carl and me in the living room. Imogen scoots closer and closer to me, watching me with big blue eyes. Finally she climbs up onto the sofa next to me and takes a lock of my hair in her hands. “You have long hair like a girl,” she announces. I have to suppress my smile. “It’s even longer than Mommy’s.”

  “Did you ever hear of the fable of Samson, from the Bible?” I say. Her eyes widen as she nods. “He had long hair. It was the source of all of his strength.”

  She fingers my hair as she considers that
. “And what powers does your hair have?”

  I lean forward and whisper, “I sing.”

  Her mouth falls open. “I sing too,” she says.

  I narrow my eyes skeptically. “Prove it.” She blushes and shakes her head. I bend closer, as if whispering a secret. “I bet if you hold on to my hair you can do it. Wanna try?”

  A smile spreads across her face as she nods. I pick a song from an old animated kid’s movie, which, of course, she knows. She holds onto my hair as she joins in, softly at first and then with more gusto.

  By the time we’re done, Carl and Hugo clap for us, as do Sasha and her mother from the doorway to the dining room.

  It’s enough to win over the tiny tot. Eventually she plasters herself to my side, not saying much as she plays with one of her dolls and hums the song we sang under her breath. Hugo sits with Carl, and mimics him every time he hollers at the game on TV. We only break away for dinner, which is a huge feast with ham and turkey, potatoes and stuffing, four different vegetables, three kinds of salads and two types of bread. I glance down at Sasha with a smile. “I’m going to have to run around Central Park three times to work off this meal.”

  “You can afford it,” Kate says. “You’re too skinny, Joe!”

  As soon as we’re seated, Kate instructs everyone to join hands and say grace. I simply bow my head. I haven’t prayed since Susan died. What left was there to pray for? Who was left to pray for me?

  But I can’t stop thinking of my beloved prozia, especially as I watch the loving family around the table. Sasha fusses over her kids, making sure that they’re eating properly and minding their manners. She’s such a doting mother it adds another layer of depth. I soften to her immediately.