Starstruck (23 page)

A few hours into the evening, all bellies full, his parents
packed up their wares and said their goodbyes. Running a restaurant seven days
a week was hard work and didn’t leave much time for socializing.

Jesse gave away bar duty around eleven, passing it to one of
his willing road crew so he could join Sam by the pool.

He found her chatting with the remaining band members, Drew,
Ronan and Jackson. Vince had already passed out on the lawn. He’d not long ago
been through a messy divorce and drowning his sorrows was becoming too much of
a habit.

Jesse quietly moved closer and caught the tailend of a story
the boys were telling Sam of being on the road and what they’d gotten up to in
the band’s younger, rebellious years.

He stood beside her, pleased at how easily she fit in with
his closest friends. “Hey! What do ya think you boys are doin’ with
my
woman? Come on now, you’ve had ’er for ages. It’s time to give her back.”

He was merry—tipsy by his standard—but not full drunk. He
dropped onto the lounge chair next to Sam and wrapped her shawl around her
shoulders, covering her bare skin against the chill of the night air.

“We were only thinkin’ of borrowing her, Jess, but now we’re
keepin’ her.” Jack laughed when Jesse swung at him.

Sam snorted as she stood and wrapped her shawl more tightly
around her. “I’ll leave you boys to fight over me while I take a bathroom
break. Oh and don’t start another story without me, okay?” She pecked Jesse on
the lips and quickly stepped along the wide pathway that led to the house.

“So I hope you’ve been playin’ nice with my lady?” he said
once Sam was well out of earshot.

“You lucky little
fuck
! Man, that accent’s gonna give
me a hard-on, dude,” Jack said, crude as ever.

“Yeah and those eyes… Shit, man, nice. How’re you guys
gettin’ any sleep?” Ronan added, glassy-eyed, a stupid-ass smirk on his face.

Drew, the most politically minded of the bunch, was the last
to throw in his two cents, choosing to approach the topic more wisely since,
for all intents and purposes, Jesse was still their boss. “I’ll tell ya, chief,
that chick has a wicked sense of humor. She knows more drummer jokes than all
of us put together. Fuck, I’ve got enough material to roast Ricky for years!”

* * * * *

Sam tried the bathrooms downstairs, but all three were
occupied. About to burst, she raced upstairs to Jesse’s bedroom.

When she was satisfied her makeup wasn’t running down her
face and her hair was still in place, she left the bathroom to find a man
sitting on the edge of Jesse’s bed. She remembered being introduced to him as a
member of the band’s road crew, but his name escaped her.

“Hey, gorgeous. I’ve been waitin’ to get you alone all
night.” He lunged off the bed and slammed her hard against the wall. His tongue
raped her mouth. His hands shackled her wrists and smashed them high above her
head. He pinned her with his hard body, grinding his erection into her hip.

With his slimy touch came a vision. He had been on the road
with Jerico during their last three tours and often fed off the groupies that
plagued the band. He’d even fucked Becky Sampson many times over the past
twelve months. It was their dirty little secret. Jesse didn’t have a clue. And
since Becky hadn’t been around for a while, this dude was looking for the same
rush. Sex with his regulars just wasn’t cutting it since the high of bedding
someone forbidden.

Sam couldn’t believe her predicament. One minute she was
fixing her hair, thinking she was safe as could be, and the next some guy was
dry humping her, almost suffocating her with his slobbering mouth.

His thighs were pressed too hard against her to get a good
knee to his groin. He was strong and the music downstairs was loud. No one
would hear her if she screamed. That left her only one option. She bit down
hard on his bottom lip.

“What the fuck!
You bitch!
” He spat in her face, red
spittle landing on her chest. He stepped away, wiping the blood that dribbled
from his chin, and then slapped her cheek—hard. Blood rushed to the point of
impact, bound to leave the imprint of his hand on her skin.

“You bastard!” she screamed, bunching the hem of her dress
to her hips. She raised her knee to her chest and kicked him square in the nuts
with the thick heel of her shoe—just like all those times she’d kicked a stack
of wooden planks at her old dojo—minus the heels.

He hit the floor like a wet bag of cement, his eyes rolling
back in his head as he landed with a dull thud. He lay still as if sleeping.

She pressed the toe of her shoe against his hip and shoved.
He didn’t stir. She knelt beside him and checked his pulse. She’d wanted to
hurt him, not kill him. When she found his heartbeat rapid but steady, she
finally exhaled.

Standing and smoothing her dress, she spoke softly to the
unconscious lump on the floor. “Did you enjoy your greeting from ‘down under’,
you slimy bastard? The next woman you touch that way might just rip them off.
Thank your lucky stars you caught me on a good day.”

She marched back downstairs and entered the poolroom, going
straight to the bar for a cocktail. No one appeared to notice. Huddled in their
small clingy groups, most of the people in the room were strangers to her.

Rick, however, did a double take as he changed CDs on the
stereo. His gaze fell to her inflamed cheek as she touched it. She’d forgotten
to check her face. She brought her hand down and a small amount of blood coated
her fingers.

He ran across the room, leaping everything in his path to
get to her. “Sam! What the hell happened? Your face!”

Cupping her jaw in his palm, he timidly traced his
fingertips over the welt. His brow furrowed in a deep scowl as he dropped his
hand. “Someone
hit you
? Who?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Tell
me right now. Who did this, Sam?”

She ignored him and rattled the ice in the shaker, mixing a
pina colada royal. She filled a martini glass and downed the drink whole before
pouring another. When she finally glanced up, she was hit with his thick wall
of concern.

“It’s okay, Ricky, really. He’s in much worse shape than me.
I doubt he’ll be walking straight for at least a week or two.” She downed
another glass of the delicious cocktail and rubbed her warm cheek.

He gently swept his thumb across the bridge of her nose,
wiping off another drop of blood. His eyes blazed. “You’re bleeding. He’s a
dead man.”

“I think he’s still out cold upstairs…and don’t worry, it’s
not my blood.” She poured her third glass, but his cold glare demanded more
details. “Look, one of your roadies thought it was a good idea to try to molest
me when I came out of the bathroom so I showed him my thoughts on the subject.”

She chuckled. The mixture of white and coconut rum had gone
straight to her head, but she downed another half-glass anyway. “I hope he’s
not planning on having kids.” She hiccupped. “Or riding a bicycle anytime
soon.”

She paused to think about what she’d said, then glanced over
her left shoulder and laughed her head off. Maybe it was part shock and part
pina colada…or maybe it was the ghost of her grandmother at the bar and the
replay they shared of the crumpled roadie on the upstairs floor. Her nan was
laughing just as hard as Sam.

Rick wasn’t amused, not that she expected him to be. He
turned and zoomed to the back deck and, with his thumb and index finger between
his lips, whistled a short signal.

She leaned across the bar to gain a better view through the
enormous picture window. All four heads—a row of wide, panicked eyes—spun
toward the sound as if a fire alarm had gone off. Clumsily, eight long legs
scrambled to stand, the guys most likely not expecting the whistled wolf call
in Jesse’s own house. They raced the short distance to the French doors,
joining Rick as he ushered them through the room full of people.

All five sets of eyes rested on Sam, still laughing at the
bar.

* * * * *

Jesse stared at her cheek and heated rage immediately filled
him. He asked for details, but she didn’t stop laughing long enough to give
them.

When he asked if she was hysterical, her knees gave and she
nearly dropped to the floor in a fit, tears rolling down her face.

“Jesse! Move your ass!” Rick called from the foyer.

Jesse chanced one last worried gaze at Sam’s face before
joining his friends, leaping the stairs to his room. He stopped short in the
doorway. Travis, one of their younger roadies, was sprawled across the bedroom
floor, mouth and chin bloodied, out cold.

“Why is there a big hole in his pants?” Jesse questioned no
one in particular, tilting his head, squinting at the torn material near the
zipper of Travis’ cargo pants.

“I’m guessing that’s where Sam kicked him.” Rick wore a
huge, proud dimpled grin.

“Fuck me. What did she
do
to him?” Ronan prodded
Travis with his foot.

“Remind me to never piss her off, bro.” Rick slapped Jesse’s
back with a hearty laugh.

All five of them fell into hysterics. Jesse pictured petite,
good-natured Sam beating the shit out of this fit young dude. But even though
he couldn’t help laughing along with his friends, he fumed beneath the surface.

The little prick had attacked his woman and must have hit
her pretty hard to leave such a mark on her cheek. That thought extinguished
his laughter altogether.

“Right. Get him downstairs and out the door. This little
fucker just lost more than his job. He’ll
never
crew in this country
again. I’ll make damn sure of it,” he spat.

Jackson and Rick picked Travis up by his hands and feet and
carried him to the bedroom door.

Rick swayed the limp body as they passed through, banging
Travis’ head on the wooden frame. “Oops. Did I do that? My bad. I’m so clumsy
lately, aren’t I, Jack?”

Amused interest twitched the bouncer’s lips as they
descended the stairs. He laughed aloud and held the front door open for them to
pass through.

“Would you like some help, Mr. Maurello?” he asked in a deep
baritone. He wasn’t as big a giant as Roger, but he could have easily passed
for the English chauffeur’s younger brother. He smiled down at Jesse, awaiting
instructions.

“Yes, Jimmy, thank you. Would you mind escorting this lump
of shit to the main gate and see that he gets
over
it?” Jesse suggested,
returning a sly grin.

“Yes sir. Be my pleasure.” Jimmy easily picked Travis up and
tossed him over his shoulder. “Won’t be long, boss.”

He strolled down the long driveway to the gate entrance,
whistling a merry tune. Travis’ head swayed to and fro, hitting the big man’s
back with each lazy stride.

Jesse went back inside to check on Sam, the band not far
behind. He found her alone at a table on the deck, her shawl wrapped tightly
around her shoulders. Some guests were getting ready to leave while others
seemed too tanked to care where they were—huddled in front of the warm fire
spinning drunkard bullshit to each other.

He knelt in front of her, checking her all over. “Are you
all right? How badly are you hurt?” He touched her cheek, pushing hair from her
face so he could get a better look.

“I’m fine, really.” She kissed him softly. “Nothing a cool
cloth and some mouthwash won’t fix.”

Securely surrounded by the band of men, she told them
exactly what had happened and answered their questions. The party mood had
died, all things considered.

Guests steadily thinned, the night drawing to an end. The
boys followed suit, dragging Vince along with them to catch taxis home. Rick
was the last to remain and, when Sam mentioned she wasn’t yet ready for bed, he
accepted Jesse’s invitation to spend the night in his usual guest room
downstairs.

They decided to continue the evening in a quieter fashion.
Settled down with cups of hot chocolate in front of the living room fire, Jesse
lifted his guitar from the stand in the corner and played softly as they
chatted.

“I was planning on unveiling a new song tonight, but after
Travis…well… Anyway, Rick and I decided to add it as a bonus track on the new
album.” He glanced at Rick.

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.” Sam smiled brightly and wiggled her
cute butt into the cushion of the couch.

Rick jumped up. “Hang on. I’ll get the bongos. They in the
music room, Jess?”

“Yeah, top shelf near the door.”

Tweaking the tune of his guitar, he fought an onslaught of
nerves. He’d sung to Sam before, of course. Shit, he’d sung to
millions
of people, but this time was different.
This
song was inspired by her.
It was
for
her and he wanted her to like it more than anything.

Rick returned and positioned himself on the floor beside
Jesse’s armchair in front of the fireplace. Jesse strummed as Rick tapped
softly, keeping a slow, steady beat.

Jesse concentrated on his fingers as they danced across the
strings. It wasn’t going to be easy to sing this song and control the emotion
that would surely rob him of his voice. He figured it might be easier if he
didn’t look her in the eyes and finally settled on closing them completely as
the first verse leaked slowly from his throat.

You flew into my world

And it was plain to see

That you were no ordinary girl

That you were meant for me

Those big green eyes had me

From the moment that we met

God answered my prayer that snow-felled night

And I’ll be forever in his debt

Are you the one I’m searching for?

Have you ever dreamed of me?

Could I be the man you need?

Could I be your destiny?