“Because music is how I breathe.”
“Well, pussy is why I breathe.”
And with that, he’d grabbed these Armenian twins he loved to hang with and took them to his room. The next morning, I found the three of them naked and dead in his bed. Their eyes were popped open. Dried brown vomit covered their mouths and throats. A hill of cocaine lay on their nightstand next to one needle and several bags of pills. Empty bottles were scattered around the bed. Later, the doctors found all types of drugs in their system. I contacted the twins’ parents and paid for their funeral.
Jason’s side was a different story. I refused to give the body over to his parents or let them go to the funeral. For that reason, the media ripped me apart while my father and mother stood by my side. Jason never wanted me to reveal his secret, no matter how many times I thought his parents should pay. In the end, I knew what the world didn’t.
Jason’s parents were big stars in television, playing wholesome roles that inspired the good in humanity. In real life, his parents were the true reason for his downfall. They gave him drugs at eight to keep him from bothering them. And then at ten, his sick mother got too fucked up off pills one night and introduced him to sex, showing him porn and forcing him to sleep with a hooker. She’d done it for entertainment. She and her friends had laughed the whole time as they’d watched.
Fuck them. They never gave you a chance to grow, so they couldn’t come and say goodbye.
“Goodbye.” I shook my head. “What is good about a goodbye?”
Now, I was just this partied-out husk. It didn’t matter how many thousands of people crowded my concerts or how many millions followed and tweeted my name. I was alone.
And it wasn’t Utah, although my manager, Midnight claimed the place depressed me.
I was alone.
My parents flew out from time-to-time to hang with me. But neither had retired from acting yet, still winning awards and thrilling people on screen. They’d given me an amazing childhood when other celebrity parents ignored their kids. Therefore, I didn’t like to bother them with my sadness. They deserved the freedom to enjoy their lives and not worry about me.
So, I dove into my music. With Jason gone—my best friend and gifted writer—I searched for someone to replace him. He or she had to be passionate and disciplined. I’d almost given up when Simone’s manager sent me her demo.
Now, this will be a gift or curse. Which one are you, Simone?
From the moment I pressed play, every lyric, every note, every fucking tone made my cock hard by the second. It shouldn’t have been that way. I’d been with more women than I could remember, but there was something about her. Something I couldn’t touch. Something that made me crave for more.
Her voice vibrated through my bones and down to my soul. It pumped through my heart. It heated every inch of my flesh. I damn near stumbled as I found my phone and called her manager up.
Simone and I were on the phone the next day, and for the rest of the month, I became too eager to hear her voice. At this point, she didn’t even have to sing a new song anymore. She could’ve just sung the alphabet and I would’ve gone rock hard.
Why does she do this to me?
Had I not been so turned on by her, she would’ve already been here, working with me at my studio. But I needed my distance from Simone. I wasn’t sure if I would behave with her so close.
My phone rang.
I put my cock back in my jeans, zipped them up, and picked up the phone.
“Yeah.”
Midnight’s gruff voice rode the line. “How are you doing, Gio baby?”
His real name was Franklin Tyrone Johnson, but everyone called him Midnight. He told me he’d gotten the nickname as a kid. A bully picked at his skin color, saying he was as black as night, but instead of being embarrassed, Midnight embraced his skin color and the name. Of course, that was all after Midnight beat the shit out of that bully.
“How’s those mountains?” Midnight asked.
“Big and cold.”
“That’s why you need to be in LA, baby. You should be here, enjoying this sun. In fact, as soon as Candy is done with my mani/pedi, I’m hitting the pool.”
I grinned, already imagining what Midnight looked like in his office. I bet he sat in his chair with a thousand-dollar shirt opened and his huge belly exposed for all to see. He’d told me once that he’d grown up missing meals most of his childhood. Once he made his first million, he welcomed being fat, stuffing his mouth with food and showing off that belly like it was a six-pack.