Page 25 of Filthy Rock Stars

Prince laughs. “It’s the risk,” he tells me. “Doing something explosive and risky and hot, and not even knowing your real name. But what we’re doing binds us together.”

I growl. “That is hot.”

“And you being this person… this stranger on the other end of a cell phone...” He shakes his head. “I’m not saying I have a problem with it. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I know I like our arrangement. If I told you that I was a plumber or whatever, then you’d be able to maybe find me, and doing what we’re doing would be a lot more complicated. It’s good the way it is. The compartmentalization works. But staying anonymous does make talking about my life with you a little tricky, no?”

I frown. The arrangement works for me, too, but it’s frustrating. I want more of him.

“You’d have a sexy plumber’s crack.”

Prince bumps his shoulder against mine. “I can’t believe I’m trusting a washed-up boxer.”

“Hey. Why washed up?” I deadpan. “I’m glad this works for you,” I add.

He shrugs. “Hell, I think, weirdly, you’re good for me.”

“I don’t know if this helps,” I tell him, “but I have to put myself out there all the time, and I never get nervous and overwhelmed. You know why?”

“Because you’re an enigmatic badass?”

“No, but thank you for getting my vibe.” I shoot him half a smile to show I’m joking. I’m not really that conceited, but his smirk tells me he already got it. “It’s because I know that everyone and everything is total bullshit.”

Prince laughs. “Is that so?”

“Everyone everywhere is just talking bullshit. No one knows what they’re doing. The world is a total shitshow.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Doesn’t it?” I scratch my beard. “I find it relaxing.”

“I used to care too much what other people think,” he admits. “Growing up, I didn’t connect with many people who shared my interests. It seemed like everyone else magically understood something about the world that I hadn’t figured out. They knew how to be normal, and no matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t summon an interest in the same bands and movies and teenage stuff that everyone else obsessed over.”

“Relatable,” I grunt. “Youusedto care too much what other people thought,” I add, repeating his words. “That means you got over it.”

He bites down on his smile. “I get over it a little more every day.”

I stop walking and gesture at the building in front of us. “We’re here.”

Prince tilts his head to the side. “Michelangelo’s? What is this place?”

“A pool hall.” I fix my scarf, then pull out my wallet and hand Prince a twenty. “Pay for a table, then walk to the back. There are single-stall bathrooms. Wait until the one at the end of the hall is open and wait for me there. I’ll knock three times fast.”

His eyes get wider, then wider, and he smiles like he’s getting away with something.

Yeah, that’s what I was looking for.

“Now I know something else about you,” he says. “You play pool.”

“Unfortunately, no. I have a friend who dragged me here a few times, but he quit drinking and pool went along with it.”

Prince nods. “Good enough.” He hesitates for just a moment, then bounces up on his toes and hurries into the pool hall.

I stand on the street, imagining him as he walks through the place, sizzling with nervous energy that he manages to barely contain. He must be hard strolling past the rows of pool tables, everyone eyeing the new guy.

My cock throbs. I want to make him wait because I know he’s coming apart, unraveling himself and whimpering in the bathroom for me.

Fuck, he’s so hot.

Usually, flirting feels empty. It’s so easy to fluster a fan; I don’t get any pleasure from it.

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