didn’t know what he did after a show. She’d seen the others come home drunk lots of times. But she was always asleep by the time Slater got home.
“What I do after hours is nobody’s business.”
“Actually, everything you do is the band’s business,” she said, unwilling to let him intimidate her. They didn’t have to take her advice, but they’d asked for it. She believed in it, and she wouldn’t back down. “Everything you do reflects back on the band. I’m going to be inviting reviewers to your shows. You think they won’t notice when you falter up there? When your voice gets hoarse? They’re
looking
for ways to criticize you. Why give them anything that’s within your power to control?”
She got up, figuring they ought to have some time alone. “Like I said, these are just my suggestions. Do what you like. I’ll stick to my end whether you use them or reject them. Think about it, and get back to me. I’m ready to move on the press kit when you are.”
—
Slater opened the door to the sound of laughter at nine in the morning.
What the hell?
After another mostly sleepless night, he needed to fall into bed, but curiosity got the better of him, so he followed the sounds into the kitchen.
“Oh, come on, just give me a chance,” he heard Emmie say, voice bubbling with humor. And then everyone started talking over each other.
“He’s gonna look like a girl.”
“Shut up.”
“Would you let her work?”
Slater found his bandmates sitting around the kitchen table. The plates with leftover scrambled eggs and toast crusts, the glasses of orange juice, and mugs of coffee let him know they’d just finished eating together.
Emmie stood behind Pete, who had a towel draped around his shoulders, his hair wet and long.
“Dude, you’re home late,” Cooper said.
“Did you go home with that redhead?” Ben asked. “She was smoking hot.” Tiana, his girlfriend, cuffed the back of his head. “What? I went home with you
.
”
He caught Emmie’s gaze, wondering if she’d made the same assumption about what he’d done last night and if she judged him for it. But she seemed completely unfazed. Squirting some gel into her hands, she rubbed them together and then dragged them slowly through Pete’s hair, starting at the top and sliding down to the ends. The gentle slide down the long, wet strands set Slater’s body humming.
Interesting. Not long ago some chick had done that same move on his body with cinnamon-flavored lotion, but it hadn’t evoked anything like his response just then. Yeah, he’d gotten hard. But he hadn’t felt . . . seduced. Gooseflesh hadn’t popped out on his skin.
Maybe because that woman had been frantic to please him, where Emmie seemed so quiet inside. Peaceful. And she moved like she had all the time in the world, like she loved the feel of the hair in her hands.
An electrical current traveled down his spine, igniting a flame in his dick.
“What’re you doing?” he said.
Everyone shot him a look, but what the hell? Why was Emmie making love to Pete’s hair? Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she didn’t stop working her hands through it.
“She’s fixing my hair.”
“He’s always wanted it straight.” Derek tried not to smile, but then when the other guys burst out laughing, he joined in. “He wants to be a pretty boy like you.”
“No, I don’t. I just hate having pubic hair on my head. Emmie’s gonna fix it.”
“I’ll show you what it looks like straight, but honestly, your hair is so kinky, I don’t think you’re going to like it. It’s never going to look sleek and polished like you imagine.” She picked up the blow dryer and a round brush, and started blowing out a section.
The room went quiet as they watched, waited. She concentrated on the job. Her pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and then her teeth bit down into the soft flesh of her lower one. When her head tilted to one side, her long hair spilled over her
“What I do after hours is nobody’s business.”
“Actually, everything you do is the band’s business,” she said, unwilling to let him intimidate her. They didn’t have to take her advice, but they’d asked for it. She believed in it, and she wouldn’t back down. “Everything you do reflects back on the band. I’m going to be inviting reviewers to your shows. You think they won’t notice when you falter up there? When your voice gets hoarse? They’re
looking
for ways to criticize you. Why give them anything that’s within your power to control?”
She got up, figuring they ought to have some time alone. “Like I said, these are just my suggestions. Do what you like. I’ll stick to my end whether you use them or reject them. Think about it, and get back to me. I’m ready to move on the press kit when you are.”
—
Slater opened the door to the sound of laughter at nine in the morning.
What the hell?
After another mostly sleepless night, he needed to fall into bed, but curiosity got the better of him, so he followed the sounds into the kitchen.
“Oh, come on, just give me a chance,” he heard Emmie say, voice bubbling with humor. And then everyone started talking over each other.
“He’s gonna look like a girl.”
“Shut up.”
“Would you let her work?”
Slater found his bandmates sitting around the kitchen table. The plates with leftover scrambled eggs and toast crusts, the glasses of orange juice, and mugs of coffee let him know they’d just finished eating together.
Emmie stood behind Pete, who had a towel draped around his shoulders, his hair wet and long.
“Dude, you’re home late,” Cooper said.
“Did you go home with that redhead?” Ben asked. “She was smoking hot.” Tiana, his girlfriend, cuffed the back of his head. “What? I went home with you
.
”
He caught Emmie’s gaze, wondering if she’d made the same assumption about what he’d done last night and if she judged him for it. But she seemed completely unfazed. Squirting some gel into her hands, she rubbed them together and then dragged them slowly through Pete’s hair, starting at the top and sliding down to the ends. The gentle slide down the long, wet strands set Slater’s body humming.
Interesting. Not long ago some chick had done that same move on his body with cinnamon-flavored lotion, but it hadn’t evoked anything like his response just then. Yeah, he’d gotten hard. But he hadn’t felt . . . seduced. Gooseflesh hadn’t popped out on his skin.
Maybe because that woman had been frantic to please him, where Emmie seemed so quiet inside. Peaceful. And she moved like she had all the time in the world, like she loved the feel of the hair in her hands.
An electrical current traveled down his spine, igniting a flame in his dick.
“What’re you doing?” he said.
Everyone shot him a look, but what the hell? Why was Emmie making love to Pete’s hair? Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she didn’t stop working her hands through it.
“She’s fixing my hair.”
“He’s always wanted it straight.” Derek tried not to smile, but then when the other guys burst out laughing, he joined in. “He wants to be a pretty boy like you.”
“No, I don’t. I just hate having pubic hair on my head. Emmie’s gonna fix it.”
“I’ll show you what it looks like straight, but honestly, your hair is so kinky, I don’t think you’re going to like it. It’s never going to look sleek and polished like you imagine.” She picked up the blow dryer and a round brush, and started blowing out a section.
The room went quiet as they watched, waited. She concentrated on the job. Her pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and then her teeth bit down into the soft flesh of her lower one. When her head tilted to one side, her long hair spilled over her
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