Sexy Lies and Rock & RollBy: Sawyer Bennett
Boom… Boom… Boom…
My eyes slowly peel open and immediately squint back shut against the harsh morning light. I can’t tell if the loud, banging-type sound is inside my head or not, but if the way my tongue is glued to the top of my mouth is any indication, I’m going to guess I’m hungover.
Not a shocker. I had a killer party last night to celebrate the finish of my second album, Core Deviance, and I was hitting the Jack pretty hard to blow off all the steam and stress that comes from the recording process. I didn’t drink so much, however, that I don’t know why there’s a naked, soft body pressed up against me. I open my eyes again and swivel my head to the right, take in the sleeping redhead beside me. Yeah… totally remember fucking her last night… twice.
Boom… Boom… Boom…
Now that right there… that’s the sound of someone beating on my bedroom door, and is most definitely not the pounding headache I first suspected. In fact, my head actually feels pretty good. There isn’t any telltale queasiness that would indicate I over-imbibed last night.
“Evan,” Tyler Hannity calls out from the other side of the door. Boom… Boom… Boom… “You awake in there?”
“Yeah, just a minute,” I call back with a froggy voice and push the woman away from me, which isn’t all that easy as she’s complete dead weight as she sleeps. I put a hand to her shoulder and give her a slight shake.
She moans and opens her eyes to stare at me blearily. “Wazzup?”
“You gotta go,” I tell her bluntly, and then roll in the opposite direction away from her. Right across the expanse of my king mattress and onto the floor where my jeans lay. I pull them on, buttoning the fly as I round the bed toward the door. When I look back over at her one more time, see her eyes closed again, I yell, “Hey… you gotta go. Get your ass up and get out.”
Her head pops up from the pillow and she glares at me, so she’s not as “sleepy” as she was putting on. “Seriously… you’re just kicking me out after what we shared last night?”
I snag my t-shirt hanging off the end of the bed and pull it over my head. It hides the roll of my eyes and when my head pops through, I say, “We fucked. We both got off. Couple of orgasms is all we shared. Now get up and get dressed. I can have someone drive you home if you need.”
I know that sounds harsh, but it’s necessary. I’ve been stung one too many times by women who only wanted my fame and fortune. I was taken advantage of a few times before I wised the fuck up.
Now, I pretty much just party hard, fuck nameless women, and then kick them out in the morning. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
It’s not the life I’d envisioned for myself, but I guess fame changes things. Sure, it’s the cliché of what everyone thinks a rock star does, but it’s really not what I wanted. Pathetic thing is, though, this life is not conducive to serious relationships.
It hasn’t worked.
The redhead curses something at me, but I don’t pay attention. I reach out and pull my bedroom door open.
Tyler stands there, a somber expression on his face. His blond hair is a mess, sticking up all over the place, and I’m guessing he must have passed out on a couch or in one of the spare bedrooms last night. His eyes flick to the redhead and stay pinned on her a minute. I turn my head to look over my shoulder and see her prancing around naked while she collects her clothes, tits swaying back and forth as she bends over and retrieves shit off the floor.
I turn back to look at Tyler with a slight grin, as I know he’s probably thinking… “lucky fucker.” Instead, his eyes come back to me, his expression not changing. He’s my manager and closest friend in the world, and he looks like someone just died.
“Oh, fuck… did someone die?” I ask, my heart immediately sinking down into my stomach. My thoughts first go to Midge, because, let’s face it—she’s the most important person in my life, even more so than my own parents.
Tyler gives a quick shake of his head, but my immediate relief is quashed when he says in a low voice, “The police are here to see you.”