Grumpalicious by Mia Faye
Chapter 2
CAYDEN
I was invited to the Legende Ball and after breaking up with Allie, I knew I had to go. It was a publicity move. I’d go and be snapped with a lot of famous people looking happy, having fun so that Allie’s allegations about my being a scumbag womanizer would fade when people saw their news feed blow up with my big smiling mug. I made sure that I was with pals, mostly musicians, rappers, and the few actors and actresses milling about, but I stayed clear of anyone who looked like a possible date.
The ironic thing was, while I was there looking like a guy just having the time of his life, I was also scoping out that next girl. She had to be cute, she had to be innocent-looking, and she had to be on the horizon because with Allie King all over the news telling the world that I was a pig who liked to sleep around. I needed to be on the arm of someone no one would even think about slandering. I was being roasted in the court of public opinion and the bad press was really denting my reputation. The trouble was, Allie was right, I was a womanizing pig, however, what she wasn’t spouting off to the world was what a vindictive bitch she was.
She had it out for me from the moment we started dating. Allie was an internet sensation. She started with beauty vlogs, then branched out to live streaming dating advice, answering comments from viewers in a dynamic, in-your-face way. She was literally sex...everything about her was sexy and alluring. I admit to lusting over the girl, I mean she was like a drive-in theater. Every musician, politician, and player in town had sampled her goods, so I figured she’d be fun. And she was fun until she started wanting us to be exclusive and started using me! My fame was bringing her the numbers she needed on her Instagram feed and YouTube channel. She was just about to clinch a deal with Netflix for a reality show, but it needed a bigger star than her, and I was the one she catfished into being that person. Simply put, that Netflix deal was the only reason why she wanted to be with me.
All those times I went to her house and there’d be some random celebrity there, I was being filmed without my knowledge. Then in bed, she’d get me so close to blasting my way through a mind-blowing orgasm and she’d play me right on the edge of ecstasy.
“So, wouldn’t it be fun,” she’d say as she rimmed my engorged cock head with her long spiky fingernail, “if we filmed a few reality show episodes together? I mean nothing serious just some goofing around in a funny publicity grab?” She’d then lick my cock head just a little and my mind blazed through a ‘just let me cum’ mantra.
I would have agreed to sell her my soul and the souls of every unborn child I never wanted to father as long as she got the fuck back up on my cock and humped me into outer space. So that’s what she did. She fucked me into oblivion and had me sign a consent to be on her show. Then she washed the floor with me, the fucking bitch. I looked like such a cunt on her reality show that I didn’t even want to date me anymore.
So, we broke up, which was a shock to no one except that I owed three more episodes which were supposed to be us working through our stuff. Fuck her, we had zero stuff...we fucked—that was us. We drank, we ate, we chilled with people, and we fucked until we passed out. She was a vagina with hair and teeth. So, my publicist thought that if I could find a sweet girl and get her to like me, we’d have an easier time getting Allie King off of my back and so there she was, sweeter than iced lemonade on a hot summer’s day.
She walked onto that stage fired up in a hot little black dress and these monstrous boots that just worked. Fire-red-haired, blue-eyed, full of southern charm, she was the picture of innocence, and then she opened her mouth and blew me away. I’d never heard such a sophisticated sound. I, as a general rule, wasn’t much of a lover of country music, but this was some weird hybrid of country and alternative rock. Not only was she sweetness and light but a damn good musician who had her finger on the pulse of music trends.
I enjoyed the view and the music and as she sang number after number my resolve to bed her solidified. I also vowed to make her my muse. This tiny morsel of sweet southern charm was going to be my defense against Allie’s piece of shit reality show. I’d film those last fucking episodes, with a little piece of sweet meat on my arm. We wouldn’t be getting back together; no I was going to war. As soon as I could get little miss Country Fried to agree I was going to end Allie King. I waited for Kevin, my assistant, as he extracted my sweet southern singer from the stage.
“So,” I said, finding my table reserved in the corner of the loud room after taking her by the arm and dragging her away from her band. “How did you start singing like that?” I slid into the booth and waived to a waiter so that I could order us some drinks.
“Um, I just opened my mouth I guess,” she said quietly, ironic.
I loved watching women tremble. It wasn’t that I liked scaring them exactly, but the mix of sexual tension and excitement always made me high.
“Right, of course. I mean, that mix, you know, vibin’ to the country groove, but throwing in a nasty hard guitar riff and those achy gravel-toned lyrics, was inspired. It’s like you married melancholy country breakup music to ‘I’ll fuck you hard on the hood of my truck.’ I love it.”
“The boys like the country stuff, I was raised on it, and I like it enough, but I’m always searching for something different. The guys are such solid musicians, so I throw my flavor in when I can.” Her smile was brighter than the sun, but it was her ebbing confidence that was the real turn-on.
“So, the fuck you on the hood bit, that’s all you?” I leaned in, just intimidating enough.
“Not intentionally, but yeah, I go with my gut, musically.” Her nerves revved a little more and I savored the moment.
“Have you ever fucked on the hood of someone's car? I’m asking for a friend.”
“Um...no!” she said plainly, just about to bolt. “I think…”
“I’m just playin’. So, you know who I am? Right?” Why I hadn’t told her straight up was another little game I liked to play. I was a king picking a peasant from the crowd, I loved the power trip.
“Yes, Cash Coltrane, you’re a music producer...but I’m thinking…” She bit her lip, and my cock was so fucked, I needed her. “I should probably tell my friends I’m with you.”
I wasn’t sure how long I was going to last without taking her to the wall. My hotel wasn’t far away, I figured I could hang on until I got into the front door of my suite, then I’d fuck her hard and fast on my bed and offer her drinks after.
“I know my reputation probably is sitting here right now instead of me, so let’s just bang this out before you run off to your friends. Allie King was a PR move. I don’t love her, and I hardly know her. They say all press is good press, but I’m thinking I’m tipping the bad press side of the teeter-totter a little too hard these days. The reality show went off the rails and, trust me, it was all editing. They were squeezing us for ratings.” It was only a tiny lie, I’m sure there was much worse stuff on the cutting room floor than what actually made it into the show. “I’m really a teddy bear, but my publicist thinks being dickhead will get my clients more traction. The jury's out on that for me, but you never know. I like your voice and I want to hear more of it, but it’s too loud in here to talk. My hotel is across the street. Will you join me there for a drink?” I made sure to sound cool and casual like I had no plans to seduce her that night or any other.
“Um...I’m not sure.” She gave me a smirky smile.
“Of course, let me rephrase that, hotel lobby. Would you like to go to the hotel lobby bar with me and have a little talk?” I put on my game face and she took the bait.
I mean, we’d walk through the lobby sure, on our way to my room.
“I just need to tell my friends where I’ll be. Will you give me a minute? They’re over at that table over there.” She nodded to a throng of people sitting at Asher and Ophelia Davis’ private table.
“You know Asher and Ophelia?” I couldn’t help but be a little surprised.
“Yeah, they got me the gig. I need to spend a little time with them as I’ve come all this way. Can I meet you later?”
Oh, she was bold, you didn’t tell a record mogul who was, at that moment, the most successful record producer in North America that you wanted to meet them later. I laughed. “How later are we talking? I do need to get my beauty rest and this offer has got a time clock on it,” I said, threatening a little, by the change in her expression, she understood.
“Right. Twenty minutes? Do you think my offer will blow up by then?” She was volleying; sexy.
“It might. I’m at the Chateau Reve, just come to the lobby bar and see if I’m there, if I am, we’ll have a chat, if not, nice knowing you.” I was playing hard ball, but again...I liked the chase. Seeing people stress out was fun and I had so few amusements those days with Allie out trying to fuck my career instead of me.
She laughed at my audacity. “Okay,” she said, almost rolling her eyes but she restrained herself. “I’ll get over there as soon as I can.” And with that, she stood up, then turned to me. “I am excited about talking to you, it’s just I can’t be rude to my friends. I hope you understand.”
Um well, you don’t really blow off a record producer with my level of fame, but I gave her points for being brave enough to try.
“See you soon,” I winked and threw her a bone.
I liked the girl. I waited a few minutes and wrapped up business at Legende, which was starting to become packed with people, noise, and soon the paparazzi. I’d taken enough pictures, so I ducked out the back door, darted across traffic, and landed at the hotel bar with a Scotch on the rocks. Just about thirty minutes later, the sexy singer, whose name I didn’t ask, walked in wearing a long black coat to compliment her micro-mini dress and ridiculous boots. I raised my arm to alert her to my location and she B-lined.
“You made it,” I stood up to pull out a chair for her.
“I’d be an idiot not to be here.” A smile spread across her face. “Besides, my friends practically kicked me out of the club. I’m Genevieve, by the way.” She reached over and offered me her hand.
“Cayden, but everyone calls me Cash.” I took her hand.
“Right, I still know who you are,” she said nervously as she sat in the chair I had pulled out for her.
“Good, and you have your friend’s support, fantastic. I don’t like messing with anyone’s ‘girls.’ They can be a scary lot if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do, and they are. I’m here with their blessings, and a lot of fierce warnings to call if things get intense. All of them are on speed dial ready for a rescue, so no funny business, Mr. Coltrane.” She playfully glared and it solidified my need to take that woman home; she had something special.
“Oh okay, so we’re gonna play it like that?” I teased her.
“Pretty much,” she said as the waiter I had hailed came over.
She ordered a glass of wine and we got to it.
“Are you from DC?” I needed to know her locale because I was a New Yorker, and I wasn’t going to commute for her.
“I currently live near Houston Texas. Leah flew me out with my roommate for the Legende Ball; we come every year. Well, I mean last year was my first time attending, but our ‘girl posse’ does an annual get-together and stays at their house and just chill for a few days.”
“Are you staying with Ophelia and Asher now?”
“Yeah, I’m expected back before midnight or everything becomes pumpkins and mice. It might get a little messy.”
“Midnight is in thirty minutes; we might be T-minus messy already. Why don’t you call them and tell your friends you’re staying the night with me?” The move was bold, I admit, but it had worked in the past.
She laughed and shook her head. “I think I have some wiggle room on the midnight hour as long as I check-in. So, let’s talk.”
“Well, I like your voice, obviously. You have a cool vibe; you did some interesting stuff to not-so-interesting music and I might be able to make you a star. I have to be real though, I’m not sure. I need you to come to New York and lay down some tracks, then meet with our PR people, produce something we can sell, and see what we’re working with. You’ve made it to level one in the ‘let’s sign a record deal game.’ What’s your vision for the future, musically?”
“Well, I like to play with genres and my band is old school country, but they’ve been good about letting me tinker around, so I want to dive into soul and gospel, but still with edge and a little heartbreak. People are struggling, I want to address that but get some spirit in there too. I’m looking to partner with the Houston Gospel Choir and do some harmonizing with some of their soloists and just sort of take this all up a notch.” As soon as she started talking about music she became impassioned, just what I wanted to see as a record producer, but more, her enthusiasm had me desperate for her in the worst way.
“That all sounds interesting, but I won’t be signing your band, just you. They are background music at best.” I had to jump in and cut her ties. I had guitarists and keyboardists clamoring for studio work, and she wasn’t a band, she was a brand all to her own.
