Page 25 of The Fire Walker
Jessie
Lyingon the hard hotel bed, the only thing I could think about was Dee fuckingCosgrove.
Dee had this thing about him that went with the wordfucking, and it was exactly how itsounded.
He was just a nice, sweet guy. Total opposite of the whole rock star manwhore stereotype. Still, my thoughts went to that place. You know, the one where he had me up against the wall, hands in all the right places, saying incredibly dirty things to me? Yeah, thatone.
My cell started ringing and vibrating across the bedside table. I glanced over with a groan at the late hour and saw the name on the screen, and to my surprise, my heart skipped abeat.
It wasDee.
We’d exchanged numbers last night at the gig. It had only been an hour since he left me at my door, and I wondered what his game was. I took a deep breath and picked up the phone, trying to squash down my dirtythoughts.
“You know I’m only two floors down,” I said and instantly regretted it. I couldn’t see him right now because I’d ask him to do me against thewall.
“I know, but I’m old-fashioned likethat.”
“Likewhat?”
“If I showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you’d think I was only there for onething.”
“Oh.” I squeezed my legs together and was glad he was on the phone and not on the edge of mybed.
“You weren’t sleeping, wereyou?”
“No.” How could I sleep when I was thinking about him all goddamnednight?
I heard him chuckle, and my facereddened.
“What do you want?” It came outdefensive.
“I just wanted to talk,” he replied slowly. “I like talking toyou.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “It’s just guys usually want to talk to me for onereason.”
“Sex?” He asked so outright it almost made me choke. “It’s okay, Jessie. I don’t just want to talk aboutsex.”
What more could he possibly want to know? I mean, I hadn’t known him for very long, and some things would always remain buried. Who didn’t have complicated, scarring relationships these days? I had someone who’d hurt me beyond repair, and he probably did, too. It was just the way thingswent.
“Then what do you want to talk about?” I askedquietly.
“Anything. I don’tcare.”
He was into me. Of course, I knew since it was in everything he did, and every word he spoke was laced with sex. My body wanted it, but my mind wasapprehensive.
After all his wicked and sweet words, he hadn’t tried it on once. He said previously that he was old-fashioned, and he hadn’t presumed that our date would end with a quick fuck on my hotel bed. How was he nottaken?
“You want to talk about anything?” I asked. “That’s a wide range oftopics.”
“I know. I just want to hear your voice.” And then he said things likethat.
“How did you start playing guitar?” I asked, ignoring his blatantcomment.
“Well,” he replied slowly, “I went to a public high school. We didn’t have any sports teams or anything like that. We were lucky to have a music program, and even then, kids had to pay to take lessons. I conned my parents into letting me learn guitar. One, because chicks dig guys with guitars…” I let out a laugh at his lame joke. “And two, because I wanted to get out ofclass.”
“Really?” He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d skip out onanything.
“Honestly?”
