Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4) Page 8

  “With a highly successful, billion dollar company,” I interrupt.

  “It’s not billions, and he got lucky. He didn’t know what he was doing, and I still don’t. We just hire good people and work hard. But Popper was all about the material things, and I’m a guy living in a thirty-year-old house.” I shift uncomfortably.

  “I’m not really like that.”

  “I know, baby,” he says quietly.

  “I did a lot of stuff, though, that can come back up. I don’t want—”

  “Stop it,” he interrupts me. “If you think I have doubts about whatever it is we’re doing, then you don’t know me at all. I’ve been thinking about this from the second I saw you at the hospital. We may have started out as casual, and I have my share of shit. You’ve heard it all and you’re still in my house, taking care of my business when you didn’t have to.” He sighs. “You mean more to me than I can say over the phone. It’s not the perfect time for a relationship but we’ve been doing our version of one for almost half a year. Just keep it steady until I get home and we can hash things out.”

  It’s more an order than request, his tone suggesting I don’t have an option, and I really don’t want one. But those doubts don’t just go away. “Alright, I’ll table it for now.”

  “Thanks, babe. I have to go.” I take a deep breath and look around.

  “Me, too. I’ll talk to you later.” I get up and go make Finn’s kids dinner.

  ~

  THURSDAY

  “Are you sure this is the place?” I roll my eyes.

  “Yes, Jacque.” I push the doors open to the pub. Immediately, I’m surrounded by bodies and music that vibrates through my chest. I close my eyes and breathe in the stench of sweat and cigarette smoke. As much as everything Popper was a bad idea, I feel in my element.

  Jacque points to a table in the back, and I recognize some of the production crew. We’re here incognito so everything will be shot with small handheld cameras that probably cost a whack.

  The crew insisted that I try to disguise my features, so I’m wearing a slouchy beanie with all but my side bangs inside, and a long sleeve shirt. I’m already sweating.

  “Our boy goes on at ten. What’s his name again?” the producer asks. Shouldn’t he know?

  “Porter,” I yell. “He’s seventeen. I think.”

  “How the hell did he get in to play a place like this? Is that even legal?” Jacque asks, and I smirk.

  “It’s easy if you’re bringing in money for the bar. I’m sure we’ve all done it.” At the blank looks, I add, “Fandy and Danny, I mean.”

  I get nods of acknowledgement as a waitress brings us drinks. I take a sip. Ugh. Not even any Jack with my Coke on my one night out. I think about the kids at home and sigh. It’s a sad day when Sadie Dinah wishes she was at home with the fam instead of in a place like this. I got a kiss and that’s it before I had to get on a plane to this podunk town in . . .

  “Where are we?” I ask the table.

  “Boise, Idaho.”

  Okay, so it’s not a podunk town, but still, I’m here to find a star in Idaho. This kid better be good for me to miss a guaranteed orgasm.

  “Right. Cool.” I nod when Jacque elbows me in the side. I guess they wanted a response? Dunno.

  “So, Jacque, how’s work?” one of the girls ask, getting closer to him. My eyebrows rise. What is this?

  “Work’s good, Cara. How are you doing?” He bends his head, man bun and all. My eyes flicker back and forth between them. Jacque is cute, I guess. A little unwashed for my taste, but they’ve risen considerably recently. My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out and open the text.

  Immediately I put the screen to my chest and look around. Nope. Nobody saw the message with Finn’s HUGE dick. What is he thinking?

  I send random letters in several texts to get the picture off the screen, then type.

  Me: What in the hell are you doing? I’m working.

  Batty: Just making sure you know what’s waiting for you. I can smell you on my pillow and it’s making me hard.

  Me: Are you in bed already?

  Batty: I was working until I saw your panties in the bathroom. I’m talking myself out of smelling them to get off.

  Me: That’s disgusting. Tell me more.

  Batty: I miss you. I want to fuck you. You had all the fun last time. Send me a picture.

  Me: What kind of picture?

  Batty: Come on, Sadie, be a dirty girl for me.

  “Who are you talking to?” the guy sitting next to me asks casually. I put the phone back in my pocket as I stand and my palms start to sweat.

  “Nobody. I’m going to the bathroom.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Cara asks, one hand on her purse. Why do girls always want to go together? I never got that.

  “Nah, I’m good. Be right back.” I move my way through the crowd that is more crushing than when we got here a little bit ago. This guy must be good to get this big of a showing on a Thursday.

  I push through to the bathrooms and wait, and wait. The line isn’t moving. I wait five minutes more without the door opening.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask the girl next to me.

  “Someone’s banging in the bathroom.” She rolls her eyes and turns back around. I wait some more. Five more minutes and I know I’ve been there for twenty. I’m done.

  Moving to the head of the line, I ignore the indignant remarks and push the door open. It pushes back at me at first, but I keep going and look behind the door. Some dude is banging a girl against the door.

  Since that’s just inconsiderate with two stalls empty, I keep walking until I’m in the room. When the door closes behind me and the music is muted, I can hear their grunts and moans.

  “Hey.” I try to get their attention. Nothing.

  “Hey!” The guy unburies his head from an impressive rack to look over his shoulder. “People are about to piss their pants out there. Can you hurry this along?”

  I get a chin lift, and immediately recognize him as our YouTube find. “You want in, doll?”

  I feel my lip curl. “Are you high? You’re illegal, kid. Bust a nut or move to a stall so the rest of us can use the room.”

  “Illegal?” the girl asks, still moaning in between thrusts that he hasn’t stopped.

  “Don’t worry about that bitch. Give me your mouth.”

  Fucking. Disgusting. I debate leaving the room, but shit, I’ve waited this long.

  “I’m not kidding. Bitch. Move it to a stall. Look, handicapped is open.” I swing the door open helpfully, and he rolls his eyes, picking the girl up and shuffling with his jeans down at his ankles to the stall, slamming the door behind him. It starts to shake. What is it with him and doors?

  Moving to the other stall, all thought of getting myself off gone, I unbuckle my belt and take a selfie of the below the waist variety and send it off.

  I open the door the same time the kid is reaching for the door handle to go back into the club.

  “Wash your hands, dude.” He smirks and walks out. If this kid gets picked, I hope he shits his pants when he sees me.

  The girl he just banged is wiping away smeared lipstick in the mirror. I wash my hands just from being in the same room as those two. Grabbing two paper towels, I reach for the door handle and head out without a word.

  The line cheers as I pass and I curtsy with a smirk. When I get back to the table, Jacque says, “I think it’s about time for our boy to play. I hope he’s up for this.”

  I doubt it,” I mumble, taking a sip of my drink.

  Ten minutes later, the kid is front and center, brown hair disheveled in a way that looks like he’s just been fucked, but then he has. I’ll never be able to unsee it and fantasize about all of the subtle innuendo I can sneak in as a judge.

  When he starts to sing, I watch the crowd first. They go insane. Girls that shouldn’t be in the club, either because they’re too old or too young, start screaming, jumping, s
omeone in the front throws a bra in the air. Then I tune in to his voice.

  What he was lacking in the YouTube video is apparent in his performance. The crowd loves him, even the guys sing along with his cover. Porter is playing with a band, which he wasn’t in the video. It brings everything alive in a way otherwise impossible.

  I pull my cell phone out and bypass the messages from Finn to record the performance. It comes to my attention that several other people are doing the same thing, just like at a concert. You may think people do that all the time, but it’s not common if you suck. I start wishing we had just searched the kid’s name than made the trip.

  I send off a group text with the video to Fandy and Danny and get a response minutes later.

  Danny: He’s got it.

  Fandy: Kid’s a magnet.

  Me: Agreed, so in?

  They agree in short order and I tell the table. Everyone is visibly relieved to have the expense of the trip pay off.

  We do this two more times, at a coffee shop in Minnesota of all places, and another one on a street corner in Brooklyn.

  It’s the girl busking on the street I’m most excited about. Fandy goes to that one, but I got the recording. She’s beautiful, her voice is magic and people actually were stopping to watch her perform, one couple even danced. I’m putting my money on her, even if, you know, I am supposed to be rooting for just one. Stella for the win.

  Chapter 12

  FRIDAY

  I have popcorn and pizza, I have chips and dip, I have wine. It’s a big night. A big, big night for everyone. The first episode of Triple Threat is airing. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Finn and he’s over talking with a group of people. Why don’t I learn the people’s names that are on the set? I don’t know, but he’s all I see. The kids are sitting beside me, jumping in their seats, so excited they can’t keep still.

  Someone decided we would have a viewing party in honor of the first episode, so everyone is crowding my house right now. I just want them all gone so that I can put the kids to bed and get my man. At this point, I’m not above a quicky in the pantry.

  “It’s starting!” Bridgette shrieks. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Half of the time, when we’re together, I forgot the cameras are on. What if I look like an idiot? Or what if my resting face was high as a kite? I don’t know.

  I start to bite my nails. I move from one thumb to the other, before a much bigger hand covers mine, pulling it away.

  “You’re going to be great, baby,” Batty rumbles in my ear and my whole body shivers. He’s behind the couch, one hand covering mine and the other behind the back of the girls.

  “Why aren’t you nervous? You should be nervous. This is huge, Finn.” I look behind me after I ramble.

  “I’m not nervous because there’s nothing I can do. It’s taped, it’s going to air, and you’re all good people. It’s going to be fine.” I roll my eyes at his grin. What does he know? Then I spin back around.

  “Have you seen it already?” I demand.

  “Of course. Didn’t you?” Asshole. He could have told me.

  “No,” I say slowly. He shrugs. I turn to Fandy on my left. “Did you see this already?”

  He shakes his head, dreads swinging, so I turn and ask Danny on the right. He says he hasn’t seen it, either, so I don’t feel so bad.

  “I’ll make sure you get the next one.”

  “I want to hear Aunt Sadie sing. Do you sing in this one?” Hannah asks. I pull her toward me and tickle her just to hear her laugh. It calms me down.

  “Yeah, I sing a little bit. But . . .” I trail off. I’ve never sang for millions of people before. That may sound stupid for someone who’s recorded five albums, but I’ve only yelled, screamed and growled. This is primetime TV. I may have a heart attack before we hit the live shows.

  The crowd yells and claps loudly when it starts. Someone by the TV flashes a camera at us watching the opening scenes. It’s quick clips of the YouTube videos, some we’ve selected, all we’ve watched, as their voices jumble together and turn into a mural of singing people. Then Fandy is at the set from the first day.

  “I'm Fandy Potreyas, lead guitarist form the band Rolling Bridges.” Oh shit, there’s me.

  “I’m Sadie Dinah, former lead singer of the band Chimera.” Danny’s big body fills my TV next.

  “And my name is Daniel Walsh. I don’t have a band . . . that’s kind of depressing, actually. Why don’t I have a band? Where’s my manager at? We need to straighten this out right now.”

  The screen changes as everyone laughs at Danny to the three of us sitting together.

  “We’re looking for the next superstar,” Danny says.

  “And we know that superstars have to have three things,” Fandy reads from the prompter.

  “Determination,” I supply.

  “Talent,” Danny says.

  “And stage presence,” we say together. The next scene has cut the TV into three different screens. Danny and Fandy are at either side of the stage giving their interviews and in the center is me, wandering around the empty set between them. The boy’s voices are on top of each other, so that you can understand what they’re saying if you focus on one, but not both at the same time.

  The second I hit the first chord on the electric guitar, both men turn their faces to the center, and quickly excuse themselves. The cameras are shooting from up high, moving in arcs I never noticed when it was actually happening.

  Watching myself on TV, judging every move I make, I have to admit that we couldn’t have done any better, even if we did practice. We are a cohesive unit in that moment. Danny rocks the rap parts perfectly, Fandy is amazing at harmony and a God on the guitar. As for me, well, I look fucking hot. My voice is smoky, it breaks at times, but that only adds to the rock image of me in all leather.

  I feel Finn’s hand in my hair as he pushes my head to the side and into his. His lips end up by my ear. “I wanted you so bad that day. Still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers.

  I smile from ear to ear and rub my cheek against his.

  After the performance, the stage goes dark when we’re hugging and laughing with each other. It shows the meeting where we are all going over the rules, and agenda of the show. Fandy, Danny, and I clearly state that we want to be the ones watching the performances, no one else.

  Cut to my house, giving the guys beer and pizza in our pajamas and getting comfortable on the couch. My eyes leave the TV when I notice Danny texting on his phone. My butt vibrates so I shift to get it.

  Danny: I liked that one.

  It’s the group text from before. Fandy pulls his phone out next.

  Fandy: We have to narrow it down from 100 to 20.

  “Hey, can someone write the kids’ names down when we say? We have to get the number down for live shows,” I ask the group during the first commercial.

  “Yeah, sure thing. We’ll get you all of the videos that they have on the website and put it together for you,” someone in the back says.

  The rest of the show is mostly the contestants, some subpar, some fantastic, and our remarks afterwards. Thank God none of us are really mean people. We don’t say anything maliciously. The episode closes with us singing “Let It Go” and again I’m shocked to hear how my voice sounds.

  “Tweets are coming in. ‘Triple Threat, more like triple hotties. Who knew there were so many hot boys on YouTube?’ ”

  “ ‘Where did this show come from? Daniel Walsh. I. Die.’ ”

  “ ‘Who knew that druggie could sing? I’d bang her.’ ”

  “Oh, well that’s just fantastic. Little ears, dumbass,” I yell over my shoulder. The crowd laughs and I shrug, looking down at the girls. Their eyes are huge. “What?”

  “You have the best voice I’ve ever heard!”

  “You’re my favorite singer ever!”

  “Can you come to our school and sing in our class?”

  “Wait, what? No. And I’m not that great. There�
�s a lot better singers out there, trust me.”

  “But you’re our Aunt Sadie. That makes you the best singer there is.”

  I sigh as my heart melts. “Thanks, kid.” I pull them to me, squeezing them until they giggle. Finn leans down and kisses all three of us on the top of our heads.

  It’s kind of a perfect night, all things considered.

  Chapter 13

  MONDAY

  “I just don’t understand how you would think that this is okay,” I yell. The kids are home from school, Finn is gone to be with his dad, and my Twitter is blowing up because of a picture I supposedly posted the night of the debut episode. The numbers came back great, our show being the second most watched of the night.

  Immediately interview requests started coming in and Jacque has been running ragged. I may have to bite the bullet and hire another publicist.

  “I thought it was a good move. Everyone knows that Daniel Walsh and Rolling Bridges are pretty much open books. The fans eat that up.”

  “You should have cleared it with the room, and especially me, since you posted it from my account. I have to be able to trust you, Jacque.”

  “You’re right, I know. I really didn’t think it was a big deal.” He sounds suitably guilty.

  “It wouldn’t be if the kids weren’t there. That’s a gross invasion of privacy. All of our kids were there.”

  “Our kids now, huh?” I wave that away.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry. Are the other guys mad about it?”

  “Danny and Fandy aren’t. Finn might have you six feet under before dinner.” I chuckle evilly at the thought.

  “Shit. It’s going to come out. I don’t get the big deal.” Jacque’s voice is getting defensive and I don’t like it.

  “It’s called respect, asshole.” I hang up, tossing the phone down.

  “Who are you cussing at, Aunt Sadie?” Hannah asks from the kitchen counter. I kiss her hair, inhaling her sweet, bubblegum scent.

  “Jacque. Don’t listen to me being grumpy.”

  “What did he do?”