Grumpalicious by Mia Faye

Chapter 4

CAYDEN

She was hella talented. I could say that for her. As she squirmed away from our conversation, she sat at the piano and played this piece that would just rip your heart out. Added to her solid piano playing were astounding, lusty as fuck vocals and I was stiff as a board. Our pizza came, but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt her. I’d sign her no matter what, there was no doubt in my mind. I shouldn’t have been pressuring her, but I needed a cover. I wanted someone to be a good girl to erase my bad-boy reputation. She didn’t have to sleep with me, it could be completely contractual, but I wanted her to fuck her in the worst way. I settled for just sitting there and listening to her sing. When she finished she looked at me, calling a truce.

“That was...delightful. Here, have some salad and pizza before it gets cold and gelatinous,” I teased as she seemed to respond better when I was playful.

“Ew, does pizza get gelatinous?” She kicked off her shoes, grabbed a plate with a personal pizza on it, sat back in the chair, and just went to town; the poor woman was very hungry. “Oh my god, this pizza is better than sex. We should just sit here and eat this all night long,” she said with a mouthful. Fuck, she was sexy!

“I’d rather eat you…”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “So, are you really a scumbag? Or is this all an act?”

“I’m not a scumbag exactly but I like a lot of sex. I also like a little flavor in my life, so sex with one person seems just too restricting.” I started to give my whole spiel about humans and how one person would never be enough for a caveman so why was monogamy such a thing, when she jumped my jam.

“Okay, and Allie King just couldn’t deal with all of the extras? Did she know you when you started dating? Or were you trying to clean up your act for her too?” Damn, she could just say it, like she had nothing to lose.

“No, she knew what she was getting into; eight billion dollars, even with a prenup she’d be rich beyond her wildest dreams.” That gold digger.

“Record producing really brings in eight billion dollars?”

“No, but investments, real estate, and creating cutting-edge recording equipment does. I know how to align myself with the right people. The Sound Hog, that little dongle you put on an iPhone that turns it into a mini recording studio? That little piece of metal mastery is worth about one billion of my dollars. The software we developed for it turns your laptop into a sound mixer and has the capacity to cancel ambient noise and amp vocals. It hasn’t come onto the market yet in the United States but it’s the rage in China where Yu Tai Fang created it. Pretty soon, YouTubers, Tik Tokers, and home recording artists will be able to produce almost studio quality stuff with just a few gadgets and an iPhone all at a nice little price point. It’s gonna be gold. I simply dropped a few mil on him and we’ve made bank so far. See that’s what I do. I don’t just break stars, but I launch gadgets, back cosmetic lines, and one day I plan to own islands and an entire coastline of resort hotels. They don’t call me Cash for nothing, I’ve earned my money by being crafty and smart.” I was proud of what I’d accomplished, but I failed to admit I earned a lot of what I made by being shady too and stepping on the little guy to get there.

“Okay, you’re really rich. Pretty much everyone in the world knows that. So, she was diggin’ in to get your greenbacks or crypto currency or whatever. Did you even like her?” Ah, she was a sweet little thing.

“I liked having sex with her, she was freaky-deeky and I like that in a woman.”

“Wow, you’re really a catch.” She rolled her eyes for the second time that night and grabbed another slice of pizza. “I know this might lose me the gig, but bravo to her for jumping ship. I mean boo for trying to excavate your bank account and slandering you all over television but she’s a solid woman if she knows when to let go.”

“No, this had nothing to do with women’s empowerment. She didn’t get what she wanted and so she went in to drag me, period. This whole thing is only about the slander. As much as this might surprise you, I didn’t even cheat on her. I talked about cheating, but I didn’t do it. Truth is, she wanted marriage, no prenup, and so many other demands, as well as that damn reality television show. I just said enough was enough and now I’m dealing with all of this.” I truly hated Allie for all she was putting me through.

“So you’re not a cannibal? You don’t want to whip her until she bleeds and suck her blood?”

“Would you be here if I did?”

“The Star is a rag, so anything written in there has to be a lie, but I’m not having sex with you. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, not in New York, not on a train, not on toast, or in the rain…” She giggled. She was infuriating, but cute.

“Why?” I needed to know.

“It’s not my jam.” She finished another piece of pizza. “And it’s getting late.” She leaned forward and grabbed a can of ginger ale. “I need to chill with my girls tomorrow before I head back to Texas. Are we still on for New York? Or is this a ‘nice to meet you, sorry it didn’t work out’ kind of combo?”

She was about to leave?

Oh hell no.

“Do you have time for one more song?” I had to get her to stay the night.

“I do, but why? You either want me to still audition or you don’t.” She looked at me with a wary glance.

“I want you to audition, this isn’t about that. Do you find me attractive?”

“You are not that insecure; you don’t care if I do or don’t.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment I cared, but you’re right, I don’t care.” I flashed her a smile.

She cocked her head. “Of course, you're attractive and funny, but I’m still not sure if it’s all an act. You’re probably rotten to the core.”

“What if it’s neither?”

“Doubtful.”

“How far would you go with me?” I couldn’t believe I was bartering.

She sighed. “Are you serious? Are we sophomores in high school? I’ll go as far as the door and then that’s it.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

She looked at me for a moment and her spiky little defenses soon relaxed. “Yes.”

“That’s fair.” I watched her stunning blue eyes and that shock of gorgeous red hair and all I could think of was what she’d feel like sheathed on my cock. But more, I wanted to hear her moan and scream my name. “What if before you go, we share one truth. No hiding, no lying, no cover-ups. This isn’t about music; this is about us.”

“Why?” She looked terrified.

“Because I really think I like you.” And unfortunately, I did. “I want you to trust me.”

“Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“With you, yes.”

“Because you have the gall to demand answers. You’re not naked on your back right now and I’m jumping through hoops to get you there and truthfully, I know I might fail tonight. You’re an unexpected challenge, I find people like you very rare. You’re one of a kind.”

“One truth?” She stared me in the eye. “That’s all?”

“I’ll start.”

“Okay.” She sat back down in the chair and the tension between us melted a little.

“I was born and named Cayden Marwhipple when my mother Crystal Marwhipple gave birth to me in St. John’s Hospital in Queens. She was a hooker who charged twenty dollars for blow jobs on the corner. She was pretty as fuck though, or at least that’s how I remembered her. My dad is a billionaire, and Crystal was just his plaything. When she got pregnant he bounced her and accused her of being knocked up with some other John’s kid. After that, she started having meth for breakfast and heroin for dinner and turned to the streets. She loved that dickhead and he just trashed her. So, she got trashed. When I was fourteen she lost custody of me and I was put into foster care. I stayed with a nice mild-mannered family, the Arbonettes. The mom had four ‘sons’ like me and we all shared a room. The day after I became Cayden Arbonette, I ran away and never returned. I made up a name and changed it legally,” I laughed thinking of what a punk I’d been.

“I stayed on the streets, ran with gangs, chilled at this house or that friend’s until I was eighteen and started an affair with a rich widow. She was twenty years my senior and she got me started in the music business as her late husband was a producer and she knew all these people. I started with street artists, rappers, and dudes I’d known in the hood...and then it all took off. She didn’t want a commitment and she was ready for another young hunk, but she gave me a shit ton of cash and I ran with it. When I made my first million, I paid her back just to show her that she taught me to make money. She didn’t take the money but was proud, I guess, that I became who I am today.”

“And she had sex with you?” Genni looked horrified.

“Fucking great sex, yeah.” I remember her as being my everything for a while.

“I reach out to her every once and a while and I see her around from time to time. She’s like me, always has a new plaything on her arm and she’s a lot older now.”

“Did you do drugs and stuff with her or while you were on the streets? Or I mean do you do all that stuff now?”

“No, not with her, drugs weren’t her thing. I’ve tried them on the streets and at parties, and anywhere else I could get them, but since my mom was a druggy I didn’t stick with them. I swear what I’ve told you is the truth and no one but my people know it, so if you say anything to the press I’ll have you fileted and roasted. You won’t even be able to get a job at McDonald's.” I shouldn’t have threatened her, but I was feeling vulnerable.

“I won’t say anything to the press. It’s a horrible story, Cash.”

Ah, the sweet empathy in her eyes, she had no idea who I was. I could take shit; I’d been doing it since the day I was born.

“It made me who I am today. Whether that person is, good or bad, it’s who I am. So? Your turn.”

“I really am a virgin.” She looked up at me with wide doe eyes and I felt like a tiger stalking its prey.

“I thought you were messin’ with me. How old are you? How could you have gone so long and not...girl, you have got to lay this out for me.”

“I’m twenty-three and I’m not a prude, I’ve done a lot of stuff, just not sex in the biblical sense. I don’t have any crazy moral conviction, it’s just that I want to have sex with someone I love. Not just any guy, but you know, someone who means a lot to me. So, I haven’t loved anyone enough. That’s all, nothing more dramatic than that.”

“Well, that’s almost as shocking as my story, but not given who you seem to be. So, in order for me to have some fun with you, you’re going to have to love me? That seems unfair, I’m not an easy person to love, we’ll probably never get there.”

“Well, then we’ll just do other stuff, like make music. I can be a client like the rest of your people.” Damn, she was so naive.

“You’re too fucking sexy to be one of my people.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

“I want you just to play one more song, but before you do. I need your consent. Can I touch you? You said you’ve done other stuff, can we do ‘other stuff’?” I looked at her with my true intention which was to get to know her better. “See, with women, even women I just want to hang out with, I like to touch...explore. Also, I need to clean up my image as I’ve said. Having a woman like you would definitely be the kind of deep scrub I’m looking for.”

“There it is,” she sighed and looked disappointed.

“There’s what?”

“The bottom line. You need me because I’m good for your image.” Her face curled into a frown.

“I need you because you are good for me,” I sighed in surrender because it was the truth.