Rock Me Slower (Licks of Leather #3) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,66
over again.
Maybe I truly wasn’t a friends-with-benefits kind of girl.
Maybe this uncomfortable distance between us was a good thing.
Or maybe I was simply losing my fucking mind.
Saturday morning at breakfast, Quinn leaned back in his chair and skimmed a slow gaze over all of us sitting around the table.
“Oh, hell,” Burk groused. “What are you up to now?”
I’d quickly learned that our agent, while an amazing businessman, was a crafty son of a bitch. His feigned look of innocence, followed by a mischievous smile, only reinforced that opinion.
“Nothing…yet.”
“Yet is the operative word,” Darren drawled. “Out with it.”
“How long before you’re comfortable enough with the new songs you’ve been working on to perform them?”
“Perform for who?” Ross asked suspiciously.
“Denton is a big college town. The University of North Texas is here. I thought it might be fun to put on an impromptu concert.”
The prospect sounded fun and at the same time more than a little frightening. I didn’t know if Licks of Leather and Phoenix shared a mutual fan base. I’d be devastated if I was booed off stage by anxious fans wanting to hear Licks songs instead of mine.
“Not only will it give you guys the chance of doing a dry run prior to the tour,” Quinn continued, “but we can get a bead on how well your new songs will be received by the masses.”
“You’re going to get permission from the college to—”
“No,” Quinn cut Burk off. “There are tons of bars in town. I’m sure one or two will meet our needs. You guys feel like getting out tonight? We can tour a few places and see what they’re like.”
His suggestion won unanimous approval.
“Finally. I’ve got someplace to wear my boots.” Syd grinned.
“If you leave the house in those ridiculous cutoff jeans and that torn-up hat, you’re liable to get your ass kicked,” Ross scoffed.
“Don’t be hatin’. I’m a fitted beast in my western wear.”
“Yeah, fitted for a straitjacket,” Ozzy quipped.
“Thanks to your inspiration the last time we were here, Syd, I’m wearing my new boots and pink cowgirl hat,” Sofia announced excitedly.
“I’m a trendsetter,” the bass player preened.
“Come on, guys, it’s time for you and Syd’s trendsetting asses to get into the studio,” Quinn barked over the insults being hurled through the air. “When you’re done practicing today, give me a timeframe for the new tunes and we’ll find a place you can premiere them.”
“We’re damn close for a reveal, don’t you think, Mia?” Duke asked as we all stood and headed for the front door.
“Definitely.” I nodded. “We just need to work on the chorus of ‘Ordinary Fool,’ and I think we’ll be good.”
“It’s not my fault your powerful voice drowns out my backup vocals,” Mick teased as we stepped off the porch and made our way across the drive.
“You’re a big boy,” I said with a sassy grin. “Take your thong off and belt out those lyrics.”
“But I like my thong,” Mick volleyed with a crooked grin.
The grass glistening in the morning dew, the sun warming my skin, and the clean, country breeze flowing through my hair filled me with inspiration. I couldn’t wait to get into the studio, sling my guitar over my shoulder, and bare my soul to music.
Two hours later, my inspiration had dried up and I had lost all but a thread of patience with Mick. He still wasn’t bringing the forceful vocals I wanted…I needed.
“Okay. Let’s take it from the top, one more time.”
While our instruments pounded out the intro, I stepped in close to the microphone and started to sing.
Listen up.
Can you hear me?
I’ve got a tale for you.
’Bout a girl who gave her heart away to a boy she barely knew.
She was lightning.
He was thunder.
And they stormed from dark till dawn.
Then she woke alone to the stench of guilt and another lover gone.
Reaching the dreaded chorus, I hit Mick with a demanding glare, imploring him to shout it out, and gave a fierce nod. Strumming the chords leading into the refrain, I watched him pull in a deep breath and press his mouth against the mic before we cried out in tandem…
There’s nothing special about being used.
It happens all the time.
Take a number. Get in line.
You’re just an ordinary fool.
When his rough, masculine voice reverberated in my ears, I forgot all about my solo riff and let out a long, loud war whoop. Duke threw his head back and laughed. Mick stood, flashed a triumphant grin, and bowed dramatically over his snare and tom drums.