Page 9 of Behind the Lyrics
This blondie, whatever her name was, I forgot, nuzzled my neck, scraping her teeth across the skin. “Viktor Farrow,” she whispered. “You don’t know how many times I dreamed of this when I was a little girl.”
I frowned.What?The way she’d said it made me feel old. Whatever stirrings of desire I had promptly died out. I pushed her off my lap.
“Hey.” She stumbled backward. “What did I say?”
“Run along, Tonya, Tanya, or whatever the fuck your name is. You’restilla little girl.” What had I been thinking? She wasn’t interested inme. She was starstruck by the rocker she’d idolized since she was young, which, by looking at her, wasn’t that long ago.
Something in that made me tired. I wasn’t old, thirty-five was still considered one’s prime, yet I’d spent too many nights in the arms of nameless women who’d only wanted in my pants for the glory of saying they’d shagged Viktor Farrow, the Angry God.
Being turned down by Angela pissed me off, of course, yet there was a challenge in it, too. She very obviously didn’t care about my rock-star status. As a matter of fact, she’d made it clear she couldn’t care less.
I loved a good fight. Over the years, I’d only overcome one, and that had been with the help of rehab and a good psychologist.
Energy and excitement poured through me, and I texted Andy.
Me:Get me the address for Angela Morales.
Andy:Huh?
Me:…
Andy:The DJ girl???
Me:Yes.
Andy:Why?
Me:I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to do.
He didn’t respond for a couple of minutes, so I crammed a couple of weird tortilla things into my mouth. I think Americans called them pinwheels or something. Cream cheese and some sort of meat burst with a smoky flavor.Quite good.
Andy:Okay, it’s 5986 Stryker Boulevard, Apt 273. Can I at least ask why you need it?
Me:You may.
Andy:Sigh. Just don’t do anything that’ll result in negative publicity. We’re trying to rebuild your career—not sabotage it.
I didn’t bother answering him. I’d got what I needed and headed to my room for a change of clothes.I wonder what a little angel would find attractive. Perhaps I’ll trade in my black attire for something a little more…colorful.
Tonight, she and I were going to finish our conversation, and I’d take on the challenge named Angela Morales. I’d gladly get her into my bed, and once she was out of my system, I’d drop her like a hot rock, giving the sexy devil a little dose of payback.
Chapter 11
Angela Morales
Bang-bang-bang.
I startled, sloshing bubbles and water over the side of the tub. “Who the hell would be coming by at”—I glanced at the phone—“ten o’clock.” Pushing the pause button on the music, I frowned. “Can’t even enjoy my bath in peace. This day sucks.”
Yanking the stopper, I shot to my feet, grabbed the soft, navy-blue robe hanging on its hook, threw it on, and tied the belt. After a quick swipe of the phone, I stowed it in a pocket of the robe.
Bang-bang.
“One minute, please,” I yelled from the hallway, giving my hair a quick twist into a messy bun.I didn’t even get a chance to wash it.
Marky, lying on a scattered newspaper on the coffee table, licked his butt, as if he either couldn’t hear the person on the other side about to knock down the door or he didn’t care.
Smashing my nose against the solid barrier, I peered through the peephole.
