‘Okay, okay. I get it.’ She quickly piled her hair up on top of her head, letting loose strands fall untidily over her shoulders. Then she grabbed the beer from Kenny’s hand and took a long swig herself. ‘I get it. We need security.’
‘Full time with you, kiddo. The amount of crap you give them to work with.’ He grabbed her round the waist and pulled her against him, taking the bottle from her and finishing off what was left inside before he kissed her quickly, and for a split second she was so close to responding, because the brief taste of beer on his lips, the feel of him against her, it was nice, it was safe. It was familiar, and she needed familiar right now. Anything else just didn’t feel right at the minute. But it had just been a quick, friendly kiss. That was all. Nothing more. They weren’t going back there. It was a complication she’d said goodbye to.
‘Hey, guys. Great party!’
India pulled away from Kenny, keeping an arm around his waist as she smiled at Mark Cassidy, the insanely good-looking front man of hugely popular rock band Black Rock Diamond, as he leant against the porch railings, arms folded, a wide smile on his handsome face.
‘Hey, Mark,’ India smiled, leaning into Kenny as he slid his arm around her shoulders.
‘Hey, gorgeous. How’re things going here then? Oh, and you guys, that video you shot for us – red fucking hot! I’ll get a copy sent over to you, you have to see it! For a forty-something mom of two, India, you sure as hell turn me on more than any freakin’ porn star ever could. That body, girl!’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, you ageing rock star.’ She winked at him and he mouthed something dirty at her that made her throw her head back and laugh. ‘And you don’t want to let Stevie hear you saying shit like that. Where is Stevie anyway? She not coming tonight?’
Stevie was Mark’s extremely beautiful and exceptionally talented Swedish-born wife. A roadie with the band, she was also a pretty-much-in-demand photographer in her own right, having done more than a couple of shoots with India recently. She was a real-life rock chick in the true sense of the word, and India loved hanging out with her when she was in town.
‘She’s over in the U.K., with Luke. She’s got a photography assignment over there with a bunch of guys who’re reforming for a handful of gigs. She’s taken Luke with her so he can spend a couple of days with his dad.’
‘Is Johnny here?’
Mark looked behind him, down onto the beach where the band’s lead guitarist Johnny Jackson – a dead-ringer for the Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl – was chatting away to a group of Kenny and India’s biker friends.
‘Yeah, he’s here. So’s Jack, somewhere. I’m guessing he’ll be hanging around all the hot women. You know Jack.’
The group’s bassist, Jack Warner, was a Scottish-born rocker with a love of the ladies, and every other rock star perk that came his way. Divorced and in no hurry to settle down again, despite hurtling towards his mid-forties, he loved the life being in a rock band could give him, and he lived that life to the full.
‘Look, India… I heard about what happened over in Vegas, so, what’s going down with that?’ Mark asked, accepting a beer from Kenny.
India shrugged, letting go of Kenny and reaching over to the table beside him to grab herself a fresh beer from the cool box.
‘Me and Dominic, we’re over. Although, to be fair, we’d hardly had a chance to get anything started in the first place.’
‘I’m taking it that’s why this place is surrounded by all this security then? Every reporter within sniffing distance wants the story, right?’
India nodded. ‘Yep. You got it.’
‘Dominic MacDonald is Michael Walsh’s kid, huh? Shit!’
‘You’re telling me,’ India sighed, ripping the top off the beer bottle and taking a drink. ‘Oh, Jesus, I don’t believe this.’
‘What?’ Kenny asked, turning round to look inside the house. ‘Christ! Who the fuck let him in?’
‘I can deal with it,’ India said, taking another swig of beer. Not that she needed the Dutch courage, but it wouldn’t hurt.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No. I said I can deal with it, Kenny.’ She squeezed his hand as she walked past him, back into the house, turning round to smile at him. ‘It’ll be fine. Really.’