Page 4 of Lick

“Kicking Moe’s ass at pinball.”

Moe rolls his eyes. At thirty-five, he’s the oldest and often slips into the father role of the band, which I’m sure is the reason the fucker shaves his head—to hide the greys we’ve given him.

“I don’t give a fuck about pinball. Now, poker on the other hand, I’d take you for all you’ve got,” Moe huffs.

Before TJ can respond, Tash, our manager, and Dave, the stagehand, walk in. Dave checks his watch. “You guys are on in five. Does anyone need anything, or are you good?”

“Some water would be great, Dave,” TJ says. Dave gives him a thumbs-up and heads out to grab some.

Tash saunters over, swinging her hips, which are showcased in the tight-as-fuck short skirt she’s wearing. She looks us all over, licking her lips when her gaze lands on me. “You guys are gonna kill it out there.”

“Don’t we always?” Jacko laughs, making her frown. I watch her expression even out and shake my head. What my father was thinking putting her in as band manager is beyond me. Apparently, she has some connections, but I have my doubts. If she’s connected to any record execs, it’s from work she’s done on her knees under their desks. But what the president says, goes.

“Alright, let’s go.” I get up from the sofa and move to walk past Tash, who reaches out and trails her fingers across my arm.

“I can’t wait to see you out there, Lick.”

I shrug her off and don’t reply. Give the girl an inch, and she’ll deep throat it, and I don’t mix business with pleasure.

“What are the rest of us, chopped liver?” Moe complains.

“Trust me, you ain’t missing out. A girl like that’s a dime a dozen.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

3

Emma

“The band is about to come on. Let’s head on up and see what all the fuss is about.”

“What are they called again?”

“Flush.”

I look at her and frown. “As in flush the toilet?”

She laughs. “As in ‘Royal Flush’. That’s what they’re technically called, but everyone calls them Flush.”

“Okay then. I suppose every name sounds stupid until it doesn’t.”

“The Beatles,” she points out.

“Daft Punk.”

“Coldplay. I mean, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“Limp Bizkit.” I grin as she chokes on her drink.

“And that’s why I like women. Never had to worry about a limp biscuit in my life.” She winks as she snags us a table a couple is vacating in the centre of the room.

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” I tease as I sit down and yank my dress down my thighs. I sip my beer, shaking my head at Stacey’s slippery nipple. That sounds so wrong, even in my head.

“You really should have had one of these. They’re delicious.”

“I’m a lightweight. Unlike you, I don’t have a hot partner ready to see me home safely and tuck me in.”

“Well, maybe tonight will change that.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, but I chuckle and shake my head, used to her antics. Stacey thinks that because she’s all loved up, everyone should be. She doesn’t realize how much I crave the solitude of being alone or how I’m still recovering from the last time I was ‘loved up.’