Page 94 of Final Serenade

“I’ll see you at home,” he whispered, kissing me on my forehead, then marching over to the door.

“Okay.” I bit my lip and I moved to the side to make sure no one saw me. My body still burned with ache.

“I’ll take care of you later.” A smirk tilted his lips and I felt it between my thighs, the thirst for release.

Frank called ithome. The place where I thought I was only a guest. The idea gave me chills.

When he stepped out, I locked the door and fell against the wall. My mind was adrift and I needed a few minutes to calm down. Returning to the studio looking like I’d just been mouth-fucked wasn’t a good idea. Although Ihadbeen mouth-fucked and I liked it, and my sex couldn’t wait until tonight.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I slipped my hand under the thin fabric of my panties and found my pulsing clit.

You’re nuts, woman, my inner voice said.You’re masturbating in someone’s place of business with a bunch of teenagers in the next room.

I shook my head and sent the righteous thoughts to the back of my brain.I need it. I need to finish the job.My hand worked fast and I imagined Frank. I imagined he was the one stroking my clit and I imagined he was the one shoving his fingers inside me. My climax was close. Then it rolled through me, wave after wave, curling my toes. I was undone. Absolutely, irrevocably undone.

“I’m going to punish you for this so bad, Frank.” I said through my strained moan as I came on my hand.

Chapter Fourteen

Inglewood hadn’t seen a gridlock hell like the one that filled its streets this afternoon in ages. The first Hall Affinity show night caused a mile-long traffic backup and it took us almost two hours to get to the venue.

Frank needed to be alone on the day of the show, which I understood. Billy and Janet had flown in from Arizona last week and the house seemed crowded. Every morning, I’d woken up to the rattle of Brooklyn’s voice in the living room. Sometimes Dante’s. He’d been a frequent guest and I knew that at some point, I needed to tell Frank about what’d happened between us, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not with the shows approaching.

Frank’s anxiety was infectious. It plagued every corner, every crack, and every crevice inside the house. But I felt his dread in my veins too. He wasn’t nervous because he hadn’t performed in a long time. He was nervous because he hadn’t performed the way he was going to perform tonight. With restraint and caution. No jumping, no running, no lifting anything. Yet he still needed to make sure he delivered. His fans had expectations that needed to be met.

For someone whose entire career had been built on busting moves and doing insane acrobatics on stage, this was a challenge. Deep down, I knew people would be ecstatic no matter what Frank did, but he wasn’t the kind of performer who half-assed it. He gave it his all. One hundred and fifty percent. Because anything less would be cheating the fans. Would be cheating the people who’d put him on that pedestal of perfection he’d been on for nearly two decades.

A car came to pick me and my brother up from Burbank around three. Ashton was hoping to catch the soundcheck, but we didn’t make it on time.

The freeway was bumper-to-bumper maddening. The streets of Inglewood were even worse. A honking limbo of cars of all makes and colors, the shimmer of their roofs spread out as far as the eye could see. We circled the venue for endless minutes until Brooklyn finally called security and instructed them to let us pass. Mouth agape, Ashton stared at the organized chaos that surrounded the building as we rolled through the armada of busses and trucks. People were running around, their faces screwed up in concentration, and the parking lot was like one big traffic jam.

Dressed to impress, Brooklyn was waiting for us outside. Her bright red blazer swam into my line of vision as the car approached the loading dock.

The back of the building reminded me of a beehive. Forklifts roared. People scurried. Walkie-talkies droned.

“You’re right on time.” The woman gave me a once-over and handed us our passes. “They just finished the soundcheck. He has a couple of minutes.”

Brooklyn knew about the nature of my relationship with Frank. I didn’t know how exactly she felt about it, but even if she didn’t like me, she hid her feelings well. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t sure she had any feelings. It was impossible to say what she was thinking. It was also impossible to say what she looked like without three layers of makeup.

What I knew was that the woman was indispensable. Frank needed her like he needed water.

We followed her through the maze of hallways filled with crew and security. The upstairs area was packed, and Ashton dove into the middle of it. He knew that if anyone asked about his pass, it was a gift from a radio station.

Giddy, I snapped a photo of my brother in front of the standing Hall Affinity banner and texted it to my partner.

Levi had a mezzanine ticket and he’d brought Shayne Mason. She was my replacement for all three nights, and although I almost hated him for picking her, I knew it was for the best. It would be wrong to review the set of the band whose singer I’d been sleeping with. Although Frank was a bad influence and my morals were pretty much in the gutter when it came to unhinged sex, I still managed to retain some level of professionalism, and my integrity told me to sit this one out.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” I told Ashton, surveying the crowd inside the lounge. “Wait here.”

He wore the T-shirt Frank had signed for him and looked all grown up. Now I just needed to make sure he didn’t flunk his SATs on the second try. Lately, I’d been wondering if I actually was a bad sister. Instead of pushing my little brother to do better, I dragged him to a show on a school night.

Brooklyn had left and I had to find the way to the dressing room on my own. The twists and turns of the backstage hallways reminded me of a maze. The air almost crackled with electricity. Be it the rock ’n’ roll elite or working crew members, their anticipation was palpable. My heart hammered and my heels clicked on the hard floor as I rushed through the brightly lit curve of the walkway in search of the dressing room. It wasn’t difficult to spot. Roman guarded the door. His emotionless face hardly moved when our gazes met, but he let me in without question.

Inside, Frank sat in front of the large bulb-studded vanity mirror. Brooklyn stood next to him with her iPad. Corey took the spot next to Billy on the couch. Janet and Frank’s private doctor stood in the corner with them, talking quietly. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but my stomach tightened, nonetheless. I wasn’t certain if it was because of the fact that Frank needed to have a medical professional on standby here tonight or the concerned look on Janet’s face.

Mrs. Wallace was sugary and eccentric. A product of the wild ’70s with its early beat of true rock ’n’ roll, she dressed and looked the part. Minimum makeup, flowy dress. She still wore her silver-colored hair loose and long and gave really cheesy pet names to everyone she came across. Including me.

We hadn’t gotten to spend too much time together, but I liked her, and my sixth sense told me the feeling was mutual. She’d called me “child.”

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