Page 19 of Little Monster
“You have any tattoos?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just one.” I push my coat away from my left wrist, where I’ve got a violin and a few notes. I got it when I waseighteen, but it hurt so bad that I haven’t wanted to get another one. “How many do you have?”
He looks at me—or I think he does, but his shades obscure his eyes—then down at his hand. His tendons strain under his skin when he flexes his fingers. “No idea.” A smile flashes across his mouth. “Maybe you could count ’em for me.”
Heat curls in my stomach and between my legs, and I tear my gaze away from him to stare out the window.
Stop, I tell myself.Do not get turned on by him.
He laughs under his breath, and the light finally turns green.
Michael’s house is surprisingly modest—for a bassist in a super famous rock band. It’s in Valley Village, northwest of Downtown Los Angeles. Dex pulls into the driveway, where a glossy white Mercedes is parked. The white Cape Cod–style house has a two-car garage and a small well-maintained yard. I step out of the Range Rover and try not to get fingerprints on the shiny black door as I push it closed.
Sebastian, Dex, and Lucas are already heading around the corner and up to the front door, but Michael hangs back to walk with me.
“My wife’s name is Jordan,” he says as we head toward the front door, which is now standing open. A golden retriever waits in the doorway, and as soon as Michael steps up onto the porch, the dog bounds outside to greet him. “Hey, girl.” He gives her scratches, and then she turns to me for more attention. “That’s Nala. She’s friendly.”
“I can tell.” I reach down and scratch her behind the ear, and she spins in excited circles and covers my hands withkisses. A big smile stretches across my face as I give her a little doggy massage down her spine. “I love dogs.”
“You and Jordan will get along, then. She runs a big rescue.”
My head snaps up. “Really?”
I’m not sure why that surprises me; maybe I assumed the wife of a rock star would spend most of her time lying by the pool or getting her nails done. It makes me realize with a start how judgmental I’ve been of them all from the beginning, and I feel a bit ashamed.
“Yeah, she’d love to tell you about it. Come on in. I’ll introduce you.”
We step through the door, and my gaze sweeps across the foyer. The hardwood floors are a pale blond, and a big quarter-turn staircase stands in front of us, leading up to the second story.
Nala bumps my legs as she runs past me and down a hallway, where voices are carrying from.
The guys left all their shoes on a rug beside the door, so I take my old boots off and set them next to the expensive Nikes they all wear.
Michael hangs his shoulder bag in the closet, and then he leads me through the foyer. To our left is a formal dining room with modern furniture, where a big picture of Michael and Jordan on their wedding day hangs over the table.
We head down the hallway, which opens up into the kitchen and living room. Everything is cool grays and whites, and the space is impeccably clean.
Sebastian has already tossed himself onto the big gray couch, and Lucas sits in a plush chair, a petite dark-haired woman—who I assume is Alisha—sitting on his lap.
A blond woman stands in the kitchen, leaning against the marble island countertop, engaged in conversation with Dex. When we walk in and she turns toward us, her eyes go wide.
“Jordan, Nora. Nora played strings on ‘Ghost,’” Michael explains to her.
“Of course, welcome!” She holds out her arms and pulls me in for a hug. Her hair is soft against my cheek, and she smells like lavender. “Mike told me how talented you are. It’s great to meet you. Alisha! Nora’s here.”
The woman in the living room looks over, and her dark eyes light up when she sees me. She pulls out of Lucas’s embrace and stands up, slapping his hand away when he reaches out to grab the waistband of her tight black shorts.
“Hey!” She pulls me into a hug, and she’s so short that I have to bend down a bit. “Sorry you’ve had to deal with these guys on your own. They’re a pain.”
“Aw, Alisha, you’re gonna hurt my feelings,” Sebastian whines from the living room.
Alisha tosses her waist-length braids over her shoulder and tips her head. “All you’ve got is feelings. Toughen up.”
Sebastian pretends she shot him in the heart and falls back onto the couch with a thump.
I quickly scan Alisha’s and Jordan’s outfits and feel majorly self-conscious. Alisha’s wearing short shorts that show off her gleaming brown legs and a baggy Lakers tee with thin layered necklaces and gold earrings. Beside her, Jordan’s long legs look amazing in a pair of tight black jeans with a tiny black tank tucked into them. She has a single silver necklace around her throat and a chunky diamond ring on her left hand.
And then there’s me: basic jeans, a tee and jacket I picked up from Target, and my mousy-brown hair pulled back in a braid.
