Beck licked his full lips. “You saved me, Violet. I didn’t really want to go out, let alone to a strip club. But I haven’t seen him since I got here a few days ago, and he’s been worried about me.”
“That’s Wes.”
“Yep. I figured I’d try, but it wasn’t in me. I’ll make it up to him tomorrow.”
He drained his bourbon. “Why were you at a strip joint drinking alone?”
“I got there early. I was waiting for Wes.”
“Violet. Why were you at a strip joint drinking alone?”
“Guess.” My tongue swiped at the corner of my mouth and his gaze darted to the movement. “Take a stab.”
“Bored?”
“Very..”
His eyes narrowed at me, his head tilting. “Wild girl.”
“I was hoping.” I lifted my cup to my lips and drank.
“Hmm. Wants to live on the wild side real bad, even if it’s only for one night—tonight.”
I drained my cup and put it on the counter with a thunk. Our gazes locked, and it was as if he could see me, see right through the noise to the real me like he had that night at Pete’s. I tore my gaze away—I’d touched a hot stove. No matter how mesmerizing Beck Lanier still was, I was in no mood for true confessions, not tonight.
Oh Violet, are you ever?
I shot him a grin. “So, why is a rock and roller who just finished a highly successful world tour in Meager-fucking-South-Dakota?”
He let loose a low, dark laugh. “For the bourbon.” His warm, low voice drilled straight to my insides, filling them with liquid heat. He didn’t want true confessions either. My oh my, how the years had changed us.
I passed him the bottle, and he poured himself a tiny bit and he poured more for me, still not answering my question.
I knew why he was in Meager.
The whole world’s looking for you, Beck Lanier. That’s why you’re here. You’re on the run, hiding out under the radar for as long as you can while you lick your wounds.
It had been all over social media this past week. What a shit move by his girlfriend. What a piece of work. I still remember when I’d first heard that he and Mae were an item. I’d figured it made perfect sense. Both of them serious and successful musicians, both in the limelight, both so very attractive. They seemed really into each other, happy together.
They made a stunning contrast as a couple. Mae was vivacious and outgoing and wore brightly colored funky outfits, while Beck was more introverted and quiet and always wore dark clothing by European designers and those now famous boots of his that were made for him. He’d even appeared in a fashion magazine editorial for the shoe designer’s recent collection. What a spread that was. I’d saved the stunning photos, of course. Beck Lanier was no garage grunge rocker. He and Mae’s relationship intrigued fans, excited them.
Beck drank and passed the bottle back to me. “Let’s see, did you break up with someone?”
I poured myself more. “Aren’t you smart?”
“But you’re not bleeding over it. Over him.”
I raised my cup at him. “Bravo.”
His eyes lit up, and he pointed at me. “You were out celebrating tonight.”
“I was trying.”
“Trying. Hmm. Then something happened at the Tingle to make you charge out of there. Some jerk came onto you? Or maybe you saw someone?”
I swirled the bourbon in my cup. I needed to stop. Martinis and bourbon could get ugly later. I tightened the top back on the bottle and slid it to the side. “What made you take off with me and not go party with Wes?”
“I’d rather be anywhere with you than in a nightclub with naked women on parade and crazed men acting like they’re thirteen year old boys on a class trip.”
The wind knocked out of me, my face heated, and I let out a laugh. “You did miss out on a lot of naked women in there. But I’m sure a parade of naked babes must be a dull, boring spectacle to you after all these years of touring, huh, rockstar?”
“Pretty much.” His lips twisted.
“Here’s to honesty.” I took my final swig of the drops left in my cup. “How’s the ice pack?”
“Numbing.”
“Perfect. Is your management team going to sue me now?”
“I won’t say it was you. I’ll blame it on that bouncer. Think of it—‘Beck Lanier brawls with outlaw biker in front of strip club in South Dakota.’
“Hell, yes. Fucking hot and super macho.”
He lifted his chiseled chin at me, his fingers touching his bruises. “You did me a favor.”
My insides charged at the rough in his voice, the bright gleam in his eyes, the sly grin, and I crossed my legs, tightly. Tonight was turning out way better than I ever could have imagined earlier when I downed that first martini. Way better.
Whirlwind - ©️2021 Cat Porter
Good Eggs by Rebecca Hardiman
