Rock Me Slower (Licks of Leather #3) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,82
groused. “Not again.”
Mia followed me to the sliding glass door and onto the back deck. Everyone was outside, standing at the split-rail fence, watching Syd. The crazy fucker had donned his infamous western wear—a pair of cutoff jean shorts that accentuated his thin, pasty, hairy legs, a flannel shirt with the sleeves missing, and a partially destroyed straw cowboy hat—as he chased the poor, skittish mare around the paddock.
“What the hell is he doing?” Mia gaped.
“Playing a fool, as always.”
“Syd,” Sofia screeched. “I’m not kidding. I will come over this fence and kick your skinny ass.”
“Bring it.” The bass player laughed. “You can help me catch this beast so I can ride it.”
“You’re not riding my horse, you crazy fuck,” Sofia countered as she started to climb the fence.
“Whoa,” Burk barked, grabbing the back waistband of her jeans. “What the hell… No. You are not going in there with him.”
“Then stop standing there laughing and do something.”
“All right. All right,” Burk appeased before browbeating Syd until he tossed his shitty hat down and left the paddock.
“I can’t get laid. I can’t play with the horse…can’t have any fun. What the hell is there to do around here, for fuck’s sake?”
“Work,” Quinn growled with a laugh.
“Ozzy and Mia are still inside sleeping or doing the nasty again.” Syd stuck out his bottom lip like a pouting toddler.
“Oh, waaaah,” Ross drawled. “It’s not our fault you can’t find a woman and have to revert to chasing horse pussy…you sick fuck.”
“No, we’re not. We’re right here, and we’re even dressed.” Mia laughed, causing all heads to swivel our way.
“There you are,” Quinn smiled. “Morning. Glad you joined us.”
“I’m glad Syd’s not tormenting that poor horse,” Sofia grumbled.
“Let’s head back to the house, gang. I need to talk to you about the free concert in Denton.”
“Did you get all the details ironed out?” Burk asked as they started our way.
“Sort of,” he replied cryptically.
“Let’s get some coffee,” I murmured to Mia as I ushered her back inside the lodge. “I think we’re going to need it.”
By the time Quinn finished explaining that the bar owner, Todd, had been spreading the word on campus that we’d be performing this Saturday night at his club—three short days from now—all eyes, filled with worry, turned to Mia. I suddenly wished she was drinking something stronger than coffee.
“Why is everyone looking at me?” she asked.
“Because we’re not sure you’re ready to perform so soon after Nigel’s death,” I explained.
Mia dragged a shocked stare over everyone at the table. “I’m touched that you are all worried about me. But yes. I’m more than ready to hit the stage. Besides, Nigel said he’d be watching over me if he could. I’m good with that.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mia
I swiped another coat of gloss on my lips, then fluffed my hair and double-checked my makeup at the lighted mirror inside the dressing room. Todd had gone above and beyond when it came to indulging his headliners. The room, decorated in an avant-garde bohemian style, was private, clean, and spacious. It was far nicer than the space other venues offered for me to primp prior to performing.
Like bottle rockets on the Fourth of July, excitement was sizzling, pinging, and exploding inside me. I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous about performing the new tune, opening for Licks, or the fact that Ozzy would be watching my every move from the wings. All were so angst inducing I could barely sit still.
I’d spent the last two days weighing what Nigel had said in his note, while Ozzy endlessly pampered me. So many times, I’d nearly broken down and told him that I was still madly in love with him. But I always bit the words back, afraid of driving that ugly wedge between us again. Finally, I decided that when our tour ended, I’d hike up my big-girl panties and tell him the truth.
A sudden tap on my dressing room door made me jump. “Yes?”
“Thirty minutes, Mia,” Mick called through the door. “We need to start warming up.”
“Be right there.”
Standing, I reached inside my bra and plumped my boobs until they were all but spilling from the scoop neck of my red and black cotton tank. I gave one last look in the mirror, skimming a glance over the spiked leather belt, slung low on my hips, and the black, leg-hugging, shredded distressed skinny jeans, and sucked in a deep breath.
“Well, I look like a bad-ass bitchin’ rock queen. Let’s hope the college kids think