Love Sex Music by Michelle A. Valentine
Love, Sex, Music
Michelle A. Valentine
Contents
Untitled
Copyright
Prologue
1. In Da Club
2. Big Break
3. Big Break
4. So Much Damn Trouble
5. Rollin’ Solo
6. Fuck
7. Moving Day
8. Bottoms Up
9. Group Meeting
10. Training Day
11. Booty Work
12. Hungry Eyes
13. Calm Your Tits
14. Hold Up
15. Back on Track
16. Waiting for Tonight
17. Drumroll, Please
18. Shake That Ass, Girl
19. Poppin’ Bottles
20. Mayday
21. He Knows
22. Common Thread
23. Bonding
24. Feeling Inspired
25. Practice Makes Perfect
26. Worth the Fight?
27. Alone Again
28. Nailed It
29. Wtf
30. Fight for Her
31. You’re Out
32. Second Strike
33. Introduction
34. Mystery Box
35. Six Months Later…
Epilogue
The End
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Michelle A. Valentine
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 by Michelle A. Valentine
All rights reserved.
E-book Edition
Cover Designer: Book Cover by Design
Cover Photograph: Sara Eirew Photographer
Editors:
Jovanna Shirley, Unforseen Editing
www.unforeseenediting.com
Editing for Indies
www.editing4indies.com
Holly Malgieri, Holly’s Red Hot Reviews
www.hollysredhotreviews.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Disclaimer:
This book is intended for an adult audience due to strong language and naughty sexual situations.
To my Valentine’s Vixens: This one’s for you.
Prologue
Lazarus
This room is a lot bigger than I remember, but then again, I could be wrong since I was probably too drunk or high to have a clear memory of the day I was fired.
Five years ago, I was on top of the world.
Five years ago, I was an idiot and let it all slip right through my goddamn fingertips.
But all that changes today. I’m determined to do whatever it takes to get back on top again.
The door opens behind me, and Peter’s secretary steps up next to me with a bottle of water. “Here you go, Mr. Rawlings. Can I get you anything else?”
“That won’t be necessary, Sharon. Laz won’t be here long.” Peter quickly cuts off the niceties, letting me know that my time in his presence is limited.
Sharon takes a couple of steps back and then darts out of the room just as fast as she appeared.
Peter leans back in his tall, imported leather chair and stares at me from across his desk. He hasn’t changed much in the past few years, but he’s definitely not the same man who would put his arm around me and call me one of his best friends. Money and a woman came between us. Peter’s star had been on the rise five years ago, leading him to this moment where he is now the head of Rawlings Records. My star, on the other hand, had quickly plummeted to hell.
He straightens his tie as he locks eyes with me. “Why are you here, Laz? The last time you paid me a visit, I told you there would be no advances on expected royalties.”
Crawling back here two years ago and begging for money after filing for bankruptcy wasn’t exactly the finest hour in my life, but I was desperate. Music is the only thing I’m good at. Finding another job after being one of the biggest names in the music industry was impossible, and I realized in order to get back on track and make a living again I had to get my shit straight. This business is the only thing I know. And that’s why, for the past two years, I have been working on staying clean and sober.
“I’m not here for that, Peter. I’ve come to ask you for a job.”
He raises an eyebrow. “A job? Are you serious? After the shit you pulled the last time I tried to hook you up?”
“That was five years ago, and I wasn’t in my right mind back then.”
“And you’re telling me that you are now?”
I lift my chin. “Yes. I’ve been clean for two years now. I’m ready this time.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“Last time, I lied. That’s what addicts do. I lied to you because I was lying to myself, telling myself that I could stop everything on my own once I was able to get back to my true passion—music.”
“How do I know history won’t repeat itself, Laz? You cost the label a lot of money by flaking out on shit. You stood up every singer from here to Egypt who wanted to work with you. You’ve been blacklisted. No star in their right mind is going to even entertain the idea of putting their music career in your hands again. Face it, Laz; you’re done as a producer and, most definitely, as a singer. Hell, even the Romeos guys won’t agree to a reunion tour because they’re worried about you screwing them. It’s over.”
“What if it’s not?” I interject. “What if there was a way I could prove to you that I still have what it takes? You know I have the best ear in the business.”
Peter blows a rush of air through his nose. “How?”
A million ideas flit through my brain, but I open my mouth and voice the one that’s calling to me the most, “Let me put together a group like the Romeos again. I’ll groom them, produce their music, and make them stars. I can make this company money again. I just need a shot to prove myself.”
The hesitation in his eyes is unmistakable. I can’t give him the opportunity to say no.
“We were friends once. All I’m asking for is a chance. I know our friendship doesn’t have the best track record, and that’s my fault, but please don’t let that get in the way of our business relationship. You know I can make you money.”
He ponders my proposition quietly for a moment, and then he leans forward in his chair. “Fine, but I have some stipulations of my own.”
Relief floods me, but I leave my face emotionless. I don’t want to give away the fact that, inside, I’m losing my shit because I’ve managed to get myself back into this company. “Such as?”
“This group, for one. I don’t want a Romeos repeat. You were the leader of that group, I get it, but this label put so much money behind it that there was no way it could fail. Hell, even Michael Jackson’s last record didn’t ge
“Done,” I say with conviction. “Anything else?”
“If this group fails, you sign your royalties over to Rawlings, meaning we will owe you nothing from here on out. No more checks coming to you just because you used to be somebody. And I will personally guarantee you’ll never work in this industry again.”
I swallow hard. While his terms sound harsh, I know, being in his position, he’s taking a huge gamble on giving me this opportunity, so he’s making sure I’ll have something to lose, too.
“Understood. I’ll get right on finding some talent.” I push myself up, and Peter stands and extends his hand to me from over the desk. I firmly grasp his hand, sealing our deal. “You won’t regret this.”
His mouth pulls into a tight line. “I hope not.”
I release his hand. “I’ll be in touch.”
I turn to walk away, but just as I reach the door, Peter’s voice stops me dead in my tracks. “One more thing.”
I turn to face him, and Peter shoves his hand through his thick brown hair. The confident businessman suddenly appears uneasy.
Finally, he sighs, and his eyes meet mine. “No getting involved with the talent. We don’t need another Jenna situation.”
My back stiffens at the mention of her name. “That’s not going to happen.”
He gives me a curt nod. “Good. See that it doesn’t.”
“You’ll have your girl group. We’ll make piles of money, and that will be the end of it.” I hated crawling back here to ask Peter for help, but I had no other choice. Right now, I have to make this work. This is my last shot.
1
In Da Club
Drea
I’m not sure what in the hell Candace was thinking when she took this job—wait, scratch that. I know exactly what she was thinking when she accepted this audition at Hellcat Saloon.
Money.
The dollar signs flashed in my sister’s eyes when she learned about making phenomenal tips for shaking her ass while dancing and singing on top of a bar for a crowd of horny guys on a Friday night.
There’s barely enough room to stand in here as throngs of thirsty patrons shove into my back as they attempt to inch their way closer to the bar. I stare up at Candace as her hazel eyes sparkle and her blond hair gleams under the spotlight while she struts her stuff, showing off how skilled she is at her newly learned dance routine.
We spent the entire week going over the songs and moves so she would be ready for tonight. She had everything down perfectly. Even I had it all memorized after helping her.
I catch myself moving a bit and belting out the lyrics along with the girls performing, which is completely weird, considering I’m more of an indie music chick. Pop music isn’t my thing, but I love to sing as long as there’s a good beat.
The bass taps out the last few notes, and all the girls freeze, holding their ending poses as they allow the crowd to cheer in approval.
Lydia, the head bartender who offered my sister a trial job here, grabs a microphone and hops onto the bar. “Wow! You guys are pumped tonight! I take it you approve of the fresh meat I hired.” Lydia nods toward Candace, who steps forward, and a barrage of catcalls erupts as she does a little shimmy in her Daisy Dukes and extra-tight tank top. “How ’bout we put this girl to the test and see what she’s got? Give it up for Candace!”
I shove my index finger and thumb into my mouth and blow as hard as I can. The whistle catches the attention of the tall, tattooed man who has been in front of me all night. He turns to face me, and I nearly choke on my fingers.
He’s gorgeous.
I don’t ever throw a word like that around to describe a guy, but the word fits him to a T. The muscles in his forearms bulge beneath the intricate tattoos that cover every inch of his exposed skin. Hell, even his hands are tattooed, which fits with the slicked down dark he’s sporting. Everything about him screams bad boy and danger, which, in my book, equals nothing but trouble.
His blue eyes bore into me, and then one corner of his mouth lifts into a ridiculously sexy grin as he scans me from head to toe. “Are you always that good at blowing things you put in your mouth?”
Heat creeps up my neck and then spills into my cheeks, no doubt causing a fierce blush as I do my best to ignore such a crude come-on line.
The smile on his face widens. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Not interested.”
He raises his brow as if that were the first time someone’s ever turned him down and then laughs. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not. Now, if you don’t mind, could you please turn back around so I can watch my sister?”
“Sister, huh? Which one is she?”
Technically, she’s my stepsister, but I don’t feel the need to clarify that fact for him.
I nod up at Candace making her way over to the center of the bar. “That one.”
His eyes flit over to the bar and then return to me. He tilts his head as if to examine me. “You two look nothing alike.”
I glance down at the black tights and Chucks I’m wearing and then adjust the hood covering my head, moving it out of my line of sight.
Okay, he’s got me there. My sister and I are opposite in every way, even down to our hair color—her blond versus my brunette. My outfit doesn’t exactly scream, Hey, look at me, like Candace’s does, but I wasn’t a bit concerned about my appearance when I rushed from my job at the Taco Hut. I’m here to support my sister. Screw this guy for trying to make me feel bad for not being hot and sassy like most of the other women in this bar.
I could punch him, but based on the fact that he has nearly a foot on my five-foot-five frame, I doubt I’d do much damage. I’d probably break my hand.
I open my mouth to lay into this asshole, to tell him that he’s rude as hell, but I’m cut off by the sound of my sister’s voice booming through the speakers.
Putting Hottie McHotterson in his place will have to wait.
“What’s up, everyone? I’m Candace, the newest Hellcat, and I want you all to sing along with me if you know this one.”
The beat to Britney Spears’s “Toxic” blasts across the speakers, and I hold my breath as I fix my eyes on Candace. She struts around, and I watch like a proud parent as she brings the mic up to her lips and belts out the lyrics. I sing along as loud as I can to encourage her, and I smile when I glance around, seeing all eyes glued on her.
I must be annoying Hottie McHotterson because he keeps shifting around to stare at me, but I try to pretend his devilishly sexy ass doesn’t exist.
Candace tosses her hair like she’s making a music video and then dances her way over toward me. She has the men mesmerized, and I can’t say I blame them. She looks fierce in her shorts and black Hellcats tank.
She towers over me, and we sing in sync. Both of us are smiling because we know she’s nailing her audition right now, which is fantastic news. We desperately need the money. Living on our own is tougher than we thought, but for the past couple of years, we’ve managed to get by even though neither of us possesses any real employable skills. Any decent jobs require a degree or, at the very least, some technical training. Candace did manage to land a daytime receptionist job at a car dealership, though. I, on the other hand, spend my days making tacos in a fast-food joint.
Candace turned twenty-one last week, and she had the bright idea that we should live off our looks and singing abilities by getting a job here since we were both old enough to work in a bar. When it came to actually auditioning, though, I chickened out.
Being extremely introverted puts a damper on a lot of things. The fear of failure always stops me dead in my tracks and prevents me from pursuing anything that requires putting myself out there to be judged. It’s the main reason singing for a living is merely a pipe dream for me. At this rate, the be
Candace winks at me before she heads back to the center of the bar as the speakers pound out the last few beats of the song. She throws one arm up as she pulls the mic to her mouth with the other and sings the last note. The crowd goes nuts, and it vibrates my eardrums.
“Give it up for Candace, our newest Hellcat!” Lydia calls out. “Make sure you fellas tip her well.”
Candace giggles as she steps toward the edge of the bar. A couple of men extend their hands to help her down, and as soon as her feet land on the floor, money is being thrust at her from every direction as she heads my way.
“Drea!” Candace squeals as she rushes into my arms. “Oh, my God. That was so much fun!”
“You killed it out there,” I say into her ear as the music for the next act thumps all around us. “No way Lydia can deny how awesome your performance was.”
She pulls back, and her hazel eyes glow with excitement. “This is the answer to our prayers. No more ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches for us.”
We laugh and go into another bout of celebrating as we hug again. Wrapped in Candace’s arms, I notice, over her shoulder, that Mr. Tattoo is openly watching us. The moment our eyes connect, he smiles that cocky smile. He’s really starting to get under my skin.