Page 3 of Under the Ink

While waiting, he started tapping out the beat to “After I’m Gone,” one of the new songs on their latest album. And they were getting ready to support said album on their newPunish Thistour.

Although Sage wouldn’t have said it to Jimmy out loud, that was what he was waiting for: the tour. Everything else before that was simple distraction. Sage had been visiting his family in nearby Chipeta Springs, but Jimmy was from Winchester—where Sage had come of age—and wanted to party one night while Sage was in Colorado.

Almost reluctantly, he’d agreed. The hesitation was minimal, though, because Sage had become a party animal. And he loved being back in Winchester, because he always secretly hoped to run into Olivia, the girl who’d shredded his heart in high school. He would have relished seeing her reaction to who he’d become.

Jesus H. Christ. He needed to let that shit go…but it was proving difficult.

It was much easier to forget when he was distracted—but his friend was dropping the ball in that regard.

Just as Sage had moved from tapping the table to running his fingers through his sandy blond hair, preparing to send Jimmy a text message, the guy stormed through the front door. “Party’s finally here, man!”

Sage stood and took in the sight. There stood Jimmy, looking like a young Alice Cooper with long dark hair and high cheekbones, grinning from ear to ear, his arms around two young women. All that and he still managed to hold onto the bags of booze.

Oneof the gals looked to be Sage’s type—dark hair, thin with large breasts, and a couple of visible tattoos. Since graduating high school, he’d tried not to analyze why he loved these kinds of women, but he imagined it was because they were the opposite of the girl who’d broken his heart. Olivia had been pale and blonde, with light ethereal makeup. She’d been waif-like, thin, and fragile-looking.

But her veins had been like ice.

Today, Sage wanted the opposite—dark and dirty. Metal as fuck. Hot as hell. And with no fucking strings attached.

As he perused the menu, he determined that the other woman with Jimmy was probably in her thirties, closer to Jimmy’s age. She had an airy laugh that never stopped, as if she had a comedian in her head telling one joke after another.

She asked, “Do you like my outfit? Is it worthy?”

The last thing Sage wanted to do was engage with this woman when he had another more appealing one smiling shyly at him—the way she kept glancing down flirtatiously but then looking back up was tantalizing. And then when she ran her tongue along her top lip?Fuck.Sage’s dick could almost feel her mouth.

But, for some reason, the gal Jimmy had picked for himself needed Sage’s approval. Inhereyes, he could glimpse something he’d felt like he’d needed as a kid—acceptance, approval.

His cock could wait two seconds for him to say something nice to make her feel better.

In all honesty, her outfit looked like it was stolen from an eighties-themed thrift store. But no one would have ever accused him of being an officer in the fashion police anyway. “I give it a thumbs up.”

Jimmy’s date jumped up and down, clapping her hands, obviously thrilled with his verdict. Nothing wrong with keeping the fans happy.

“This is Amber,” Jimmy said, nudging the dark-haired girl forward. “She’s been dying to meet you.”

“Hi, Amber.”

“Just so’s you know, Sage is a good guy. What I love about him is he’s not like a lot of other rock stars. He’s not so full of himself that you have to lay down a red carpet or call himyour highness. He’s—”

“Dude. I’ll hire you to write my biography in a few years but, in the meantime, shut the hell up.”

Jimmy cackled, setting one bag on the table. “No problem. Me ‘n Kyra are goin’ to my bedroom—so stay the fuck out.”

Laughing, the woman said, “Let’s go, baby.”

If he and Sage hadn’t done this sort of thing many times before, it might have felt awkward. But horny fans didn’t seem to give two shits about fucking in public or even talking about it—so why should he?

The other two crossed the apartment and slammed the bedroom door, but Kyra, the laughing blonde woman, was so loud, it was like she was still standing in the kitchen.

“You got anything to drink?” the girl named Amber asked.

Her high-pitched voice gave Sage pause—because it emphasized something he’d already been wondering. “Maybe. Don’t take this wrong, Amber, but how old are you?”

“Why? Are you a cop? You gonna card me?”

Sage almost laughed—but it didn’t seem that funny. Ever since he’d becomeUncle Sageto Mickey’s daughter Mia and his sister’s child, he’d paid lots more attention to the age of the women hehung outwith. He didn’t care if these sixteen-year-old girls felt like they were mature. Now that he was twenty-eight, he insisted they at least be eighteen.

And he’d never done it before, but hewouldcard her if he had to.

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