Page 114 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“Cripes, Jame.”

“What? Come on, he walks like he has one.” She lifted her hips a little, angling her pelvis. “Elephant, right? Oh, is he cut?”

“Jesus.”

“What? Euro dudes aren’t always. I’m not into that kind of trunk. I mean, if they know how to use it, you get over it. I did with bartender boy. But I’m sure as fuck not sucking him.”

And we were back. Thank God.

I laughed. “He’s cut and packing.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Jamie leaned forward. “George—”

“We have a time crunch, Miss DuCaine.”

“Don’t DuCaine me, man. I need food. Like real food and coffee. Feed me, George.”

I bit back a laugh. Jamie made anything sound inappropriate, even food. Especially food.

“I’ll see what I can do.” George’s voice was flat with resignation.

It was far easier to find somewhere than to listen to Jamie complain about it for the next hour. And it took nearly all of that to fight our way into the city. Morning traffic and Jamie’s specific requests pushed us a little too close to the interview time for my liking. I preferred to be there at least half an hour early to make sure we were inside and settled.

George pulled over and ran across the street to a little delicatessen as Jamie drummed her fingers on the window. “Dude, I’m going to eat this headrest in a minute.”

“Then maybe you’d shut up.”

“I hear your belly growling just as much as mine. And it will help your hangover.”

I tapped the bottle of water I had. “I’m good.”

“You need grease. The only good thing about being up this early is that we can actually have breakfast items.”

I rolled my eyes, but five minutes later, George was back with a white sack of something delicious. Jamie dug in and handed me two things.

“Um, I can’t eat all this.”

“You can, and you will. You’re post-fucking and drinking. You need all the meat.”

I wrinkled my nose, but the bacon-laden egg sandwich and hash browns did smell awesome. Jamie salted hers liberally because she was an animal. But we were munching happily as George slid into the parking garage of the radio station.

I wasn’t going to own up to the fact that I did feel much better after the greas

e.

As George parked, we tidied up, making sure there was nothing in our teeth. I guzzled down the orange juice, then popped gum in my mouth and winced a little at the OJ aftertaste. The calories were out of control, but I’d burn them off tonight at the show.

Jamie got out and met George at the trunk to take her acoustic from him. I slid out and was surprised to see my acoustic as well. It had been awhile since I’d held it. Between touring and my impromptu trip to Logan’s, there hadn’t been a lot of jam time for me lately. I was always singing, but with so many musicians in our band, they didn’t really need my guitar work.

My palm itched to take it from George. The handle had the perfect grooves from years in my hand.

“I can bring them in.”

“That’s okay. We’ll take care of it. Might as well look like rockstars, right?”

He frowned. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

George had been my bodyguard even before the music. My parents had been overprotective, and our family certainly hadn’t been hurting for money. “We’ll be fine.”

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