Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 2

  There’s a long, uncomfortable pause before she clears her throat and starts again. “Your father and I…we just…”

  “Want to make sure that I’m up for it,” I say, punctuating each word with a stab at the elevator button. Everyone knows that hitting the button multiple times will bring the car faster while simultaneously diminishing my anxiety and frustration.

  “If it’s too much, we can figure something out,” she says quietly.

  “It’s not.” I step into the elevator and watch the doors close. “I won’t let you guys down again.”

  Chapter 2

  Jessica

  I skid to a halt in front of a towering figure clad in commando black with arms the size of tree trunks folded imposingly across his broad chest. He glares at me with a level of piss-ivity typically reserved for frenemies, mean old church ladies, and quite possibly an ex-girlfriend who broke his fragile teenage heart. If I wasn’t in a rush, I might delve into that look, but as it stands right now, I have no time and places to be

  I fight the urge to bend over to drag some much-needed air into my lungs because I just sprinted like an Olympic track star, dodging slot machines and table games to get here. Instead of blowing air like a trumpeter, I offer up my brightest smile and extend my hand.

  “Hi. I’m Jess. I mean, Jessica.” I furrow my brows at the mess I’m making of a simple introduction. Taking a deep breath, I try again. “Let’s start over. I’m Jessica Johnson and I’m supposed to be meeting my brother here, for the concert.”

  “You and everyone else,” the guy answers in an irritated growl. “You might wanna go back the way you came and follow the signs to the arena entrance.”

  Oh, hell no. I squint past him to the large metal door barring me from backstage before bringing my attention back to the centurion standing guard. I crane my neck back to make eye contact because he’s that tall and tap into a little attitude of my own. He and I need to come to an understanding.

  “My bro-ther,” I emphasize both syllables to make sure that he clearly understands the word, “assured me that I would have no problem getting backstage. If you’ll give him a call, I’m sure he’ll clear this whole thing up.”

  “Of course he will.” The condescension in those four words says yeah right, and the body language says over my dead body.

  We stand there in silence for a long, uncomfortable minute, me doing my damnedest to maintain a level of dignity and calm and him posturing like a battle-hardened alley cat preparing to fight.

  “If you’d just call Sin or my brother, we could bypass the whole Gandalf ‘you shall not pass‘ thing. And I could…”

  “You keep saying ‘my brother’ like I should know who he is?”

  I open my mouth but just as quickly close it. Everyone in this city knows my brother. Me, on the other hand? Not so much. I’m ten years younger than Jake, still living at home with our parents, and nowhere close to adding my seat to the throne room in the Johnson empire.

  “Oh… Sorry,” I say, almost containing the urge to pant. “My brother is Jake. Jake Johnson. You know, the guy who owns the Hotel?” Which is mostly true. The Hotel has investors like any other major casino on the Strip. The executives still answer to a board, but Jake and Connor, Jake’s business partner and best friend, still own a controlling percentage of the shares. When it’s all said and done, he may not “own it” but he’s a boss.

  Surprise cracks the facade of indifference as he nods his head and unclips the radio from his belt, talking into the two-way speaker.

  “Frost to Gumatay.” There’s a loud beep before the radio crackles.

  “Go for Gumatay.”

  “You got eyes on Jake Johnson?” The behemoth guarding the door all but snarls at the mic while his unblinking, less-than-friendly eyes stare a hole into the side of my head.

  “Yeah, I got eyes on him,” the guy on the other side of the radio responds. I can’t help but laugh at the irritation in the other man’s voice. Only my brother could inspire that degree of annoyance in people. It’s going to be a long night.

  “Send his ass this way. There’s someone out here claiming to be his sister.”

  “Copy that, boss.”

  It doesn’t take long for Jake to appear in the doorway behind the gargantuan man barring my entrance. Next to this guy with the frosty gaze and big body wearing the blacked-out uniform, obviously purchased at Security R Us, my big brother almost seems meek, and I say ‘almost’ because even in his fitted navy-blue suit, crisp white shirt, and pretty-boy good looks, he exudes a power inherited from our father’s DNA and the no-nonsense demeanor cultivated from years under our mother’s tutelage.

  Jake’s presence commands respect or, at the very least, attention because he’s that guy. A boss, a prince of Las Vegas with a golden coronet securely fixed to his head. So, I’m not at all surprised when the bodyguard, who’s been standing between me and the backstage like Cerberus patrolling the gates of Hades, steps aside for Jake.

  “Six, Jess. I distinctly remember asking you to be here no later than six,” Jake snaps, glancing down at the watch on his wrist before our eyes meet. His vexed glare is hot enough to scorch earth, but in the clenched jaw and pinched lips I see past the anger to the worry…no, fear. He’s terrified. Two months ago, his girlfriend, Sinclair James, the lead singer of the megaband Sin City, was shot onstage during a concert at this hotel—his hotel. Tonight is the band’s first concert after the incident.

  God help us. It’s hours before Sin City hits the stage and Jake is already losing his shit. It’s clear in the muscle ticking in his jaw as he grinds his teeth and the flared nostrils barely moving with his inhales.

  “I’m sorry. I had a test and then Mom wanted…” At the mention of our mother, Jake shuts down and the words wither on my tongue, sliding down my throat with the useless apology I immediately wanted to offer.

  My mom and Jake? Their relationship is complicated during the best of times, but inject Sinclair James into the mix and it morphs into a level of toxicity that can obliterate any and everything in its path, including me, my dad, Sin, and anyone else who lacks the common sense to run for cover.

  Our mother is hard and often unyielding. She has a very clear picture of our family, contrary to how the rest of us feel. We are African American but with prudence. Our culture, our food, our language, all subject to change depending on the audience and situation.

  We come from good stock, read ‘good’ as the rich , but we are not obnoxious. We don’t flaunt our wealth by spending wildly. That behavior belongs to the nouveau riche and our family is well established; at least by Vegas standards we are. We are a pillar of our community, strong, unmovable, an example for how it should be done.

  Even as children we attended the weekly Jack and Jill of America meetings to develop a sense of civic duty and leadership. Which sounded awesome until I realized that somehow, either Jake or I ended up in every ad and promo picture. That somehow we won every competition and had a prominent seat on every committee. My mom didn’t give a damn about the skills we were learning. It was about the optics.

  That’s when it hit me, she was different from other moms. Don’t get me wrong; deep down she’s a good person. She loves her husband, us kids, and her community. She has a heart of gold, but it’s buried under a pile of shitty concerns like money and pedigree and connections. All the things she didn’t have but wanted so desperately growing up. All issues that, in the grand scheme of life, don’t matter, but she’s so stubborn. And Jake? He’s even more mulish.

  The two of them have posted up on opposite sides of the proverbial line in the sand. One misstep and my family might not ever recover from the fallout. So, I zip my lip and loop my arm through his as we walk past the colossus still giving me the stink eye the entire way down the long corridor that leads to the green room.

  “How is Sin doing?” I ask.

&nbs
p; At just the mention of her name, his shoulders visibly tighten, and a sardonic half smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You know Sin. She’s chill. Super fucking peachy keen. It’s like nothing happened. Like the crazy stalker motherfucker who followed her for years and damn near killed her was no more than a bump in the road.” Jake runs a shaking hand over the well-cultivated waves of his hair, squeezing his eyes closed.

  “Sin’ll be okay. You and Connor have closed any gaps in security, and if the Titan at the door is any indication of the guys protecting her, no one is getting close to her.”

  “Backstage is the easy part but when she’s up there…” He takes what I think is supposed to be a calming breath, but it stalls in his lungs, coming out in a jagged exhale. He looks at me with helpless, frustrated eyes.

  “God, she’s so vulnerable, so exposed. A sitting target for anyone taking aim, and it’s like she doesn’t see it.”

  “She sees it, Jake.” I stand on tiptoes, bringing our eyes level. “It’s just that the risk isn’t worth giving up on her dream.”

  “I can’t lose her again, Jess. Not when I just got her back. I…” His voice cracks with emotion and he averts his eyes, focusing on the ground. A knuckle swipes across the tip of his nose a couple of times before he looks at me again.

  “It’s all good,” he says, nodding his head. That line is way more for his benefit than it’s mine but I’m down for whatever he needs to do to convince himself. “You know Sin is…good. We are…” good. He doesn’t say it again, but he doesn’t have to. The self–pep talk worked more than anything I said.

  A wide smile spreads across his face and the effect is transformative. He’s immediately lighter and happier. “We are fucking magic.” Gah. He’s so whipped.

  “I don’t even want to know what constitutes magic for you.”

  “It’s when Sin gets on…”

  “Ewww…” I stick fingers in my ears and hum over the rest of that statement because, ewww, he’s my brother.

  Jake laughs, hooking an arm around my neck, pulling me into a half hug as he musses my curls.

  “God, it feels good to laugh. I needed that,” he says as we once again start walking toward the dressing room.

  “You’re welcome,” I flippantly toss out, returning his smile. A couple of steps bring us to the gold metal door with the words Sin City written on the placard. Jake reaches out to turn the knob but stops before pushing it open. He looks at me with hazel eyes that are an exact replica of the ones I see when I look in the mirror. The humor lighting their depths fades into something somber when he says, “Real talk, though, Jess. Thanks. You know me and how I get.”

  “Yeah. I do. You’ve always been a worrier. What did Grandma used to say?”

  “You worry so much you could chew a problem into leather,” we both say together and laugh.

  “She was right, though, Jake. This thing with Sin, you can’t strategize and outthink it. She’s not giving up singing and performing. You do know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So, you have to make peace with it. I don’t know how you’re going to do that, but you have to figure it out, and quick, because if you’ve been coming at Sin the way you came at me…”

  He doesn’t say anything, but the guilty look on his face is answer enough. He’s been a mini tyrant walking around like someone pissed in his Wheaties.

  “All right, Jess, you made your point. This is me.” Jake tugs on the lapels of his jacket and straightens his tie, smoothing his features into a pleasant mask. “Doing better.”

  “Good. Let’s get in there already.” I make a move to walk through the door but his strong grasp on the doorknob keeps it closed.

  “Sin is getting ready for a concert, not a slumber party, Jess. This isn’t the time for kiki-ing and braiding hair.” So much for turning the corner. Jake’s voice is once again terse with worry and stress.

  I get it. Jake just got Sin back after four years apart and the world’s messiest breakup. I don’t think he ever thought they would happen again, and now that they have, he almost lost her again to that goddamn loon who shot up her concert and he’s driving everyone, including Sin, crazy.

  He’s made it his personal mission to protect Sin, and he thinks he can accomplish this by controlling every little detail of her life, his life, and the other members of the band’s lives.

  I love my brother, but he doesn’t know the first thing about security, especially for a band the size of Sin City. The only thing he does successfully is get in the way. This is why Sin recruited me to be here tonight. The mission is to keep Jake from pissing people off with his sarcastic mouth and demanding attitude.

  Nothing new there. I’ve been running interference for Jake my entire life.

  “I’m not twelve years old anymore, Jake. I don’t do slumber parties.” I roll my eyes.

  “Slumber party, cockblock. Six over here. Half a dozen over there.” He shrugs his broad shoulders, fighting to suppress a smile.

  I follow him through the door and damn near get barreled over. Muscular arms wrap around my waist to keep me from falling and the first thing I notice is the hair. Long, shiny beautiful hair that smells like apples.

  “Sorry about that. You okay?” comes an appealingly rich voice from over my head. My eyes move over the arms clasped around my waist up a sweaty tanned chest to the source of that voice.

  Startled, I blink a couple of times to clear my vision, but each time my eyes open he’s still there.

  Who in the world? It takes less than a second for my brain to come back online. He’s Daniel Xu, the drummer for Sin City and a notorious ladies’ man.

  Chapter 3

  Jessica

  My tongue sweeps over my suddenly dry lips and I clear my equally dry throat. “Ah…yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, I’m good.”

  Instead of helping me to stand, Daniel tightens his hold, pulling me closer, which sends an excited heat racing through my body.

  “Daniel Xu, foxy lady. And you are?”

  “My sister.” Jake snaps.

  “Sister?” He blinks, laughing brown eyes glancing up at Jake before looking back at me. “Is that what you like to be called? I have to admit, I expected something a little more formal.”

  He could call me Aunt Suzie. I seriously wouldn’t care provided that his hands stay planted on my hips, and those twinkling brown eyes continue to look at me with a double spiral of interest and attraction.

  “You done, asshole?” Jake asks, his voice taking on an icy edge that has sent more than a few guys scattering. “Get your hands off my sister.”

  I should pull away, right?

  Put some space between me and this man before Jake goes ballistic, but the full lips that pull up on one side in a sexy smirk and the unsettling gaze that’s trained completely on mine, oblivious to my brother, give me pause.

  The smirk grows into a full smile, and I find my lips parting to return it.

  “Mmm…how do you get better and better every time?” A tousled redhead purrs from behind us, pulling on the hem of a gold sequined miniskirt that just barely covers her butt cheeks. Long, gaudy nails trail up her torso to straighten the top and wrangle her ample breasts. A dark purple bruise of a hickey stands out on her pale neck, and a telltale flush tints her porcelain skin a postcoital pink.

  Her eyes narrow as she approaches us. The golden-brown color icing over with the calculating gleam of a hopeful gold digger still scrambling for her place.

  Her presence pulls me out of my self-induced stupor.

  I’m not here to fawn over cute boys with pretty smiles and nice chests. I’m here to hang with Sin and maybe, more importantly, to keep my brother from driving everyone in the general vicinity of crazy before the concert starts.

  In an awkward move, I disentangle my limbs from his and find my feet. By the time the redhe
ad reaches us I’m standing on my own, personal space fully established. An arm length of distance separating me from the would-be mistake, and what do you know, all those etiquette classes I was forced to take actually paid off because I don’t miss a step as I fall into polite indifference.

  “Krista.” Daniel loops a lazy arm around the woman beside us. “Let me introduce you to my new friend, Sister,” he says with a straight face, but I can’t hold my composure.

  Laughing, I stick out my hand toward the woman. “Actually the name is Jessica. Jessica Johnson.”

  She looks at my hand like it personally offended her God and country by applying the crappy makeup on her face and picking the cheap outfit that up close is made of thin material and missing multiple sequins.

  After an awkward moment where she doesn’t take my hand, I lower it.

  “My name is Krista-l with an L on the end,” she says, running coffin-shaped nails up his arm.

  “Same thing.” Daniel shrugs, not even turning his head to acknowledge her. His laughing gaze instead meeting mine with a wink.

  “Jessica Johnson. It suits you better than Sister.”

  “I know, right?”

  He makes a big show of taking his hand up and over his head and lowering it palm up in front of me. The air stirs in front of my face and a strong odor hits my nose.

  I know that smell.

  Oh God. I know that smell. That’s lady juice.

  “Don’t leave me hanging here, Jessie.” He laughs but the bright smile dims around the edges of his full lips when he sees my expression.

  The warm fuzzies that took up residence in the pit of my belly turn cold and heavy as the fog of initial attraction starts to clear and I put the obvious pieces together.

  Daniel was obviously ‘entertaining’ this woman in the bathroom. So that buzz of attraction wasn’t because of me or because he thought I was special or pretty. Quite the contrary. I was simply the next available woman he ran into.

  I take a couple of steps back and squash the sparks that once again start to fly when our eyes meet across the space.