Phoenix Rising: A Pretty Boy Rock Prequel Read online

  * * *

  “Fine. One complaint and he’s out,” Asher promises.

  * * *

  “I’ve yet to have a woman complain about anything that concerns me.” Phoenix winks. He leaves the room chuckling.

  * * *

  “Fuck,” Asher groans as he leaves the room with him.

  * * *

  I take a look around the room now that I’m alone. This bedroom is huge. It has a sitting area as well as doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the lake. More floor-to-ceiling windows complement the space. The four-poster bed looks inviting until I imagine all the kinky sex that has taken place in it. I shudder at the thought as I walk into the en-suite bathroom. Somehow, I knew it would be a dream. I can see why Phoenix didn’t want to give it up. The rustic travertine tiled shower, encased in glass, could fit like ten people. I see the rain shower that he spoke about next to a regular showerhead. It even has a bench in there. Interesting. The Jacuzzi tub sitting off to the side of the shower is the icing on the cake. I know where I’ll be spending a lot of my time. I love to soak and read. Well, more like an escape into a different realm of reality and pretend I’m the heroine who gets the happily ever after—not the dysfunctional life I have.

  * * *

  First, I guess I’ll unpack. The walk-in closet within the master bath is massive. I flip the light on and am shocked to already see men’s clothing hung up and sneakers lining the wall. So, it appears he hasn’t cleared the space yet, or does he want to share the closet, too? It’s definitely big enough. It’s almost big enough to be a sixth bedroom. Whatever. I’ll just grab my favorite romance novel and read for now. I push the suitcases against the opposite wall as his shoes and grab my book out of my bag. I walk back into the bedroom and curl up into the oversize chair next to the window. I’m not getting in that bed until I change the sheets—just in case.

  Chapter Two

  Phoenix

  Phoenix

  The guys are discussing what songs we’re going to cover tonight from the band, I Prevail. Honestly, I’m tired of singing other people’s shit, but our music is not ready yet. We only have one original song that we perform, titled “Something to Believe In.” I write all of our music, and that song has special meaning since it’s the first one I started working on. It has significance to my past, but the guys just think it is a badass song. We don’t play it every set, but when we do, we play it to close the night, and it brings down the fucking house every time. The topic changes to what after-hours club they plan on hitting up tonight after our show, and I smile as I think about Asher’s “princess” upstairs.

  * * *

  I’ve overheard him call her that nickname. It was odd as shit, to say the least, to hear the word come out of a grown man’s mouth. Imagine my surprise when this princess arrives dressed from head to toe in black, looking as dark as my soul. I see the Goth image, but something is amiss. I just can’t put my finger on it yet. I saw the instant attraction she had for me, yet she chose to pretend otherwise. The shift of her eyes toward the ground when I speak to her gives her away. I’d kill to know what thoughts ran through her mind. What she must think of me? I’m very aware of how most women see me — they want any opportunity to fuck me. Some even want to “tame the bad boy.” Fucking hysterical. Not her, though. I can tell little Miss Harlow is planning on staying the hell away from me. Too bad it’s a challenge I’m willing to accept even though she’s not really my type.

  * * *

  I got a peek at what she really desires, and I plan on opening her up. I bet she has a hot body under all those baggy clothes. Those piercing gray eyes of hers got my attention. It’s going to be fun exploring the rest of her. Asher has warned us all off her, so she will have to come to me, but she will. She will submit. In the end, they all do. Yup, my summer just got a little more interesting.

  * * *

  I watch as she comes downstairs. Apparently, she is coming to tonight’s gig. This should be fun. I hope she’ll be in the front row. She is in for a treat. I have a special performance just for her. This will be the real test. She looks around nervously, and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

  “Ready for tonight, princess?” I ask cheekily as we load the Escalade with our equipment.

  “Don’t call me that,” Harlow whisper hisses. Hm, so she has some bite. I don’t mind. Even better.

  “Why not? Asher calls you that. You don’t like it?”

  “It’s condescending when you say it,” she points out.

  “It isn’t meant to be.” I smirk. “It’s just so fitting,” I continue while gesturing toward her all-black appearance. She huffs and walks around to the other side of the SUV.

  So the goal is not to get under her skin. No, I want to get under something else completely. The more she resists me, the harder my dick gets. This feeling is foreign to me. Women usually make this shit too easy. I won’t lie and say it isn’t great to have my pick of pussy, but a challenge may be just what I need for a change of pace. I have to be careful not to get too involved, though. The last thing I need is to have her fall in love with me. Asher really would kick my ass if I break his sister’s heart. No. Get in and get out. That’s the challenge. My dick accepts.

  Chapter Three

  Harlow

  I sip on my mojito, which I have been nursing for the past thirty minutes as I sit here at the bar. Some Layla chick has been refilling my drink every time it gets low. I’m guessing the only reason I haven’t been carded is because she knows I’m with the band. Asher introduced me at the start of the night. Well, I’ll be twenty-one in a year anyway, so who cares? Two beers and two mojitos later, the guys are finally preparing to take the small stage in the back of the room. The mob of women rushing in that direction tips me off that it’s showtime. I slam back the remaining contents in my glass and head toward the side of the stage where I can see but be away from the drunken women ready to throw their panties. Their drunken squeals are somewhat comical. The lights dim as the strobe lights begin to dance. Smoke seeps from the edge of the stage, and I have to say I’m impressed with the effects. The drummer, Ren, starts with a sexy rhythmic tempo followed by a familiar melody strummed by Asher. By the time Killian’s chords are added to the mix, I’m sure that I know this song, but I can’t put my finger on it. That is, until Phoenix’s lips sing the first lyric. Holy. Fucking. Shit. The arrangement is different, but it is Jeremih’s “Fuck You All the Time” song.

  * * *

  Phoenix walks to the end of the stage and scans the crowd until he finds me. His jeans hug his ass in the most sinful way while his plain white T-shirt shows off every etched muscle perfectly. The stage lights shine down on him, and he is standing there looking quite sexy. The women compete for a second of his attention—just for a quick glance. They’re shaking their breasts and hollering obscene things, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. His eyes finally lock with mine as he sings the seductive lyrics, and I’m paralyzed at the moment. I want to look away, but I simply can’t. The rock undertones give this song an edge, and it is equal parts sensual. One of Phoenix’s eyebrows arches in question as I flush crimson from the visual. My brain is telling me he is a narcissistic douche, but the ache he is causing between my legs with each lyric that falls from those gorgeous lips is saying otherwise. My kitty will lose this battle, though. I won’t be like the women he is used to and just part my legs for him. I’m sure the alcohol coursing through my blood right now is a contributing factor to this moment of lust.

  His hands caress his abs. He makes sure that his shirt raises just enough to give us a peek at his V-cut muscles, which disappear into his jeans, now riding low on his hips.

  * * *

  Even from this distance, my eyes hone in on a vein that lies along that muscle. I don’t know why I find it uber sexy. As a matter of fact, I don’t know why I’m turned on at all. I’ve been holding on to my celibacy for the past two years. It’s my superpower. I use it, in addition to my fuck-off appearance, to repel
men and their one-track mind.

  “I could fuck you all the time,” Phoenix reaches the chorus, and the screams from the women reach another octave.

  “You can fuck me, Phoenix,” a thirsty redhead yells over the crowd. I watch in disbelief as she flashes her perfectly round, sizable breasts—purchased, I’m sure. He winks at her, and a devious smile forms on his lips. He grabs his crotch as an acknowledgment and continues the suggestive lyrics. Witnessing all of this is like cold water being doused on my libido. Ugh, what a manwhore. I make my way back to the bar to get another drink. I’m happy to plant my butt in this chair until the guys are done. I don’t need a front row seat to the sex-crazed freak show. I can follow their journey without being in the midst of it all. I can observe from a distance. It is more than apparent that these guys are beyond talented. It is equally apparent all of the pussy they must have thrown at them.

  * * *

  The band plays a number of songs, but I have lost count. I watched as they each flirt with the crowd in a game of seduction, but Phoenix was definitely the worst by far. He has a sex appeal that is incomparable, and he knows it. Asher seems to be the tamest of them all, but that may be just for my benefit. The guys wrap up the last of their set and head toward the back, which I’m guessing doubles as a dressing room. I take my time finishing my mojito before I get up to go join them. I have already been introduced to the bar’s security, so they know that I’m Asher’s stepsister as well.

  The security guy on for tonight is named Albert. He gives me a puzzled look as if he is wondering if he should just let me through, but then he moves aside and lets me pass. The hallway is narrow, and there are only a few rooms back here. I can hear the music behind one of the doors, so I’m guessing that is where the guys are. I knock a few times, but there is no answer. I hear laughter from one of the guys, so I know they’re in there. The music blaring is keeping them from hearing me. I turn the knob, the door is unlocked, so I push the door open. It takes them a moment to see that I just walked in. The sight before me is shocking, to put it lightly.

  * * *

  My eyes zero in on Phoenix first. He has a blonde on her knees, sucking him off. He gives me a small smirk while the hand he has tangled in her hair pushes her mouth farther down on his cock to take him deeper. The girl doesn’t seem fazed by the intrusion. Ren and Killian both have their own groupie whores on their laps wearing clothes so skimpy they’re laughable. Judging by their position, they’re well on their way to their own sex act, and I’m interrupting. The guys look at me and then at each other before Killian finally speaks up.

  * * *

  “Asher is out back with a few friends, putting our gear in the truck if you want to join him,” he suggests. I’m not stupid. It is his nice way of saying we’re trying to get our fuck on, and you’re in the way. The two women’s glacial stares clue me in that they ready for me to hurry the hell up because I’m taking the attention away from them.

  * * *

  “Oh, okay,” I say, playing along. I refuse to look over at Phoenix again. The groans coming from him are sickening. This is definitely not my scene. I wouldn’t be surprised if they plan on swapping. All of this while Asher puts all of their shit away. I turn to get the hell out of this room before I lose it. Asher needs to put his foot down.

  Chapter Four

  Harlow

  I find Asher out back, putting the last of their equipment in the Escalade as Killian said.

  * * *

  He’s deep in conversation with a guy he introduces as Nick. Nick is a lanky-looking kid with hair that he keeps wiping from his eyes. His need for a haircut is evident. Apparently, he is the son of the owner, Steve. He helps the guys set up and take down when they come to play.

  “Asher, why do you let them make you do all the work?” I question when Nick disappears back into the bar.

  “They don’t make me do anything. I make myself scarce. I have someone I’m seeing in San Diego, so I’m trying to stay away from the extracurricular that goes on after the shows,” he admits. “I could wait until they finish with the groupies to pack up, but this helps to pass the time, and I have Nick to help, so I just get it over with.” I get what he’s saying, and it makes sense, but it still seems like they get to play while he works.

  * * *

  “Well, if I’m going to be going to these gigs with you guys, I can help you pack up. Those women are deplorable and lack even the slightest hint of morals,” I offer.

  “Why? What did you see?” Asher pauses and looks at me intently. I have stuck my foot in my mouth. I don’t want to be labeled as the tattletale.

  * * *

  “I saw how those women behaved while you guys were playing. That one woman flashed her tits, ugh.” Asher breathes a sigh of relief and chuckles.

  * * *

  Somehow, his reaction makes me believe what I witnessed, just now, is only the tip of the iceberg of shenanigans they get into.

  “You don’t have to, but I won’t turn down the company,” he says as he opens the truck door for me.

  * * *

  “Good. Now tell me about this woman you’re seeing.” Asher’s whole face lights up. It must be pretty serious.

  * * *

  “Her name is Lily, and she is an amazing woman,” he begins. He tells me how they met after another one of his gigs, and she was sitting in a hotel lobby, waiting for her whorish friends to finish hooking up with the other band members. Asher waited with her, so she wouldn’t have to be part of that scene, and they hit it off. That was three months ago, and they’ve kept in contact ever since. She is supposed to fly out for a visit in a couple of weeks, so I’ll get a chance to meet her.

  * * *

  “I’m glad you’re not like the others,” I confess to Asher.

  * * *

  “Don’t give me too much credit. Before Lily, I’d participated in my share of sexcapades. It just gets old, you know?” He shakes his head as he recalls the memories. “Those guys are still young and single. As long as the women are willing and don’t have any expectations of more than one night of sex, I don’t have any problems with it. The guys aren’t into drugs—we have a strict policy against that. Everything else is small potatoes.”

  * * *

  Asher proceeds to tell me a little about each of the band members and how they all met. I was shocked to learn he met Phoenix through Killian. Phoenix and Killian used to work together as bartenders. Asher and Killian had been working on music and the plan to start a band for a couple of years before Killian discovered that Phoenix could sing late one night at the bar. He told him about their band idea and asked if he would be interested in joining as their lead singer. Phoenix was hesitant at first but was quickly swayed once he heard the guys play a few cover songs. Phoenix knew a guy from school who could play bass guitar, and from there, the band was formed. Unlike I previously thought, the band’s name was derived from their collective plans to rise from the ashes—from the cards they were dealt.

  * * *

  We talk about their dreams and the future of the band. Phoenix is their front man and writes all their songs. They’re still a work in progress, so only one song has been shared during their gigs. Right now, they are just playing cover songs and looking for management to take them to that next level. Currently, it is all on Phoenix’s shoulders. He can play guitar too—multitalented and kinky, it seems. He is an enigma to me. I’ve seen firsthand the attention women give and how he reciprocates, but something still makes him alluring to me. My skin prickles at the thought of his name. I would never act on it, but my traitorous body definitely defies my insistence on not being attracted to him.

  * * *

  I change the subject, and we talk about my mother and marriage number three. I can’t stand him. Thomas is a real fucking tool. I don’t want to get into my hatred for him. I steer the conversation back to the good memories, when his dad was still married to my mom and having him with me—a time before the Goth as he calls it. Time passes quic
kly, and it is not long before we’re being interrupted by the guys, who have now come out of the bar to head home. They’ve ditched their one-night stands. Phoenix slides in the back behind Asher, who is in the driver’s seat. I’m in the passenger seat, but I can feel Phoenix’s stare.

  “I’m starving,” Ren says, sliding in next to Phoenix. “What are we getting to eat?” Asher looks over at me.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Whatever everyone else wants is fine.” My buzz has worn off, and I admit I am kind of hungry.

  “Pizza it is then,” he says, and everyone mumbles in agreement. The guys try to talk in code about the orgy they just had, and once again, I feel like an intruder. Surprisingly, Phoenix is quiet and doesn’t participate in the replay of it all. It’s going to take some time listening to the guy talk, but it’s a beneficial inside track for my journalism. I lay my head against the seat and pretend not to hear about what redhead number one could do with her tongue. I close my eyes and drown out their sounds with my own thoughts that hold me captive. After all this time, the more unpleasant ones still manage to make a daily appearance. Nobody knows about these demons but me, and that is where they will stay. They can’t hurt me by memories alone.