I gave him a suggestive smile and winked, hoping he’d take the cue to dismiss the other girls. He grinned back. But there was a twinkle in his dark brown eyes that made me wonder what was going through his mind. "I’d like to hear it. Come inside." He gestured to the green room behind him. "I’ll be there after I handle this."
Tiffany and Amanda watched me, their jaws nearly on the floor. I flashed a smile at the twins, returning the smugness they’d given me. Then I went inside.
It was called a "green room", but a quick scan revealed there wasn’t a single green item in the space except for a fake potted tree that was as tall as me. The walls were a lush crimson, while the hardwood floor was covered with a soft Persian carpet. There was a full-length mirror at the back next to a bathroom, a comfortable-looking tan leather couch to the side, and various food and drinks on a rolling cart next to the armrest. I’d been expecting instruments, clothes, makeup, and drug paraphernalia scattered about the space, but this resembled a classy hotel room.
Given how the bar had looked, this room was completely out of place. I guess they really pampered their performers.
I started feeling excited—almost giddy—at the thought of the Siren. I’d be tapping that soon. It’d been a while since I last got laid. And I was eager to break the dry spell.
Examining myself in the mirror, I heard footsteps then the door closing.
I pivoted on the balls of my feet, enthusiastic. "So glad you got rid of those—" I saw the Siren enter with each of the twins at his side. His hands were at the small of their backs, guiding them inside. My neck jerked. "Uh, what’s going on?"
He smiled at me. "Line up. I want a good look at each of you."
"Huh?" Confusion swept over me. Did I miss something?
"You heard him," Tiffany chimed as she lined up on my left, while Amanda stood to my right, leaving me sandwiched between them.
The rock god stood in front of us, assessing. I could feel his gaze gliding over my profile. He casually shifted his attention between me and Tiffany, then me and Amanda. A nauseous feeling swirled in my belly. Was he seriously comparing us? No way . . . He chose me from the crowd to meet him backstage while these girls were just groupies . . .
A nervous sweat began to break out on my skin. A million thoughts and concerns raced through my mind. Equally anxious and offended, I found myself becoming self-conscious. How could I possibly stack up to the Barbie twins? They’d probably had enough work done to buy some plastic surgeon a summer house in the Hamptons. All I had was a torn-up dress and some scented body wash.
"Relax," the rock god purred darkly to me. "You’re squirming." His voice flowed over me, filling me with a restless energy that only stoked my irritation.
When I saw the knowing smile on his face, an awful thought hit me. I wasn’t the only one he chose. The twins had probably been told to come "backstage in twenty minutes" just like I had, so he could have the privilege of comparing us and choosing the best.
I’d been played.
My face burned. A wave of disgust and embarrassment washed over me for being made an unwitting participant in this perverse beauty contest. I was way too old to fall for this shit, but I’d wanted so badly to believe I was special. I’d called myself a "self-respecting girl deciding to hook up," but from where I was standing right now, the "self-respecting" part seemed like a lie.
Gah! I always fall for jerks. I needed to return to Jen and apologize for lying to her and bolting. If I walked away now, I could at least salvage what was left of my dignity.
I threw my hands up. "Alright, f**k this. I’m leav—"
"You." He pointed at Tiffany. "And you," he said, pointing at Amanda. "Leave." He gestured to the door. He turned his gaze to me and pointed a daunting finger in my direction. "You. Stay."
I halted mid-step, speechless.
"Wait, we’ll do anything you want!" Tiffany and Amanda both pleaded in unison. "Both of us. Use us. We’ll let you stick it anywhere! Please!"
"You’re not what I want." He was speaking to the twins but his eyes never left mine.
"But, I only had one strike!" Tiffany pleaded.
"And you’re out. Leave." His authoritative tone left no further room for argument.
As Tiffany and Amanda left the green room and turned the corner, I could hear Amanda yelling at her twin for ruining their chances at getting laid by the hottest man in the history of rock 'n' roll. The door closed.
With their departure, that just left me. And him. Alone.
Chapter Three
HOT-HEADED
We stared at each other for a moment.
"You’re an ass and your music sucks," I shot at him before turning to leave.
"Wait a second." He caught me by the arm, his hold gentle but firm. "I know you’re upset. But listen, I was just messing with you," he said with a smile.
The skin to skin contact sent electricity up my arm and scorched a few of my brain cells. Shaking my head, I pulled away from his grip. "Messing with me?" I asked. I folded my arms across my chest and stepped back to put some distance between us. "So, do you do this after every show? Ask multiple girls to come backstage, line them up, and check out their tits and asses to see which one you’d want to take into the green room and bang? I guess you either f**k them or you just f**k with them instead."
He smiled nonchalantly. "I only asked you to come backstage. I didn’t ask those other girls. They showed up on their own." Turning to pick up a towel hanging over a nearby chair, he began drying his hair with it. "But yes, I was f**king with you. I thought it’d be fun to see your reaction. And it was."
Ugh, the nerve of this guy. Even though I was pissed off, I didn’t really suspect he was lying; in fact, it made a lot of sense. The tightness in my forehead relaxed slightly. I wasn’t as angry as I was before, but still, it was a pretty dick thing to do for a joke. "Are you serious? Why would you do that?"
He finished drying his hair and gracefully draped the towel across the back of his neck. He looked irritatingly self-assured and lethally sexy. "You caught my attention when I saw you fighting your way to the front during the show. You’re bold," he said, grinning, "and I like that. I wanted to push your buttons."
It was a compliment and an admission of ass**lery all rolled into one.
I smiled wryly, secretly pleased by the compliment. "Well, congrats, you succeeded. You do know that still makes you a jerk, right? Doesn’t matter how hot you are."