Read Online Front Man: The Complete Trilogy by Adora Bell - Free Book Online
Authors: Adora Bell
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straight to
voice mail. Damn it. Suddenly Sara realized she desperately needed to
pee. The bathroom was palatial, all shiny white surfaces and gleaming
gold fixtures. In the corner was the biggest shower Sara had every
seen, with nozzles pointing in all directions. After hours on the
plane, and a battering by the French weather, Sara felt completely
gross. Surely Jack wouldn't mind if she freshened up a bit while she
waited? After finally mastering the control panel, Sara gladly
stripped off her clothes and flung them in a pile on the tiles. The
sensation of the hot water hitting her skin was incredible, and at
last she felt herself relax a little. Grabbing a bottle of divine
smelling body wash, she gently soaped her entire body. Jack would be
back soon, she reasoned. Maybe they would take a shower together, or
a nice long bath in the huge tub on the opposite wall. She could make
him feel better, she was sure of it, and before long the press would
realize they had made a mistake, and this whole stupid story would be
old news. Maybe Jack would take a bit of time off, come back to the
states. Maybe they would finally get to have that dinner. Running her
hands over her full breasts, following the smooth curve of her hips,
Sara imagined Jack's hands on her body. All the stress, all the fear,
would just melt away the moment he touched her, she was sure of it. A
sound from outside snapped her out of her reverie. Her eyes flew
open, and she reached over to switch off the spray. Yes, that was the
door opening. Jack was back! Hurriedly, Sara squeezed the water out
of her hair and grabbed the first towel to hand, not caring that it
barely covered her butt. She wished she'd had time to dress and apply
makeup, but a look in the mirror told her she would do. She hurried
into the bedroom.
"Ja- ...oh."
Michael stood sheepishly by the door, key card
still in his hand.
"Sorry, I didn't realize...I just came to
see if Jack was back. Jared's going crazy, we're supposed to leave
for the venue in half and hour. Have you, um, have you seen him?"
"No, the bellboy let me in," Sara
stuttered, trying to tug her towel into a more decent position. "Why
do you have a key?" The question was out of her mouth before she
had time to think the accusation through.
"We keep spares," Michael said
curtly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do I know you from
somewhere? I feel like we've met, sorry if I've forgotten."
"I don't think so," Sara said coldly.
She couldn't get the image of him pulling at Erica's clothes out of
her head. Once, she thought ruefully, she would have been asking for
Micheal’s autograph. Now she wanted to slap the sleazebag in
the face.
"I guess not. I wouldn't forget a face
like that in a hurry." Michael winked at her, casting a
lingering glance at her bare, wet legs. She glared at him in return.
"So you've no idea where Jack is?"
Michael asked again, and Sara shook her head. "Probably gone on
one of his walks. Sometimes he disappears for hours. I figured he was
in the bars, but he says he just walks for miles. Thinking, he says,
god knows what about. I can't believe he's being such a selfish
bastard."
"Have you seen what people are saying?
Wouldn't you be upset?"
"I'd get over it. The papers write all
sorts of crap. No use crying and running away, for Pete's sake. We're
a band. It's not all about him."
"Maybe he could do with your support right
now." Sara's tone was icy. Michael just rolled his eyes.
"Looks like he's got his own personal
cheerleader already. Good luck with that one. If you do see him, tell
him not to bother showing up to the venue tonight. We can do it
without him. It's not like I don't know the words."
Michael
slammed the door, leaving Sara almost quaking with rage.
***
Jack breathed out into the cold air and watched
his breath disperse. Around him, the city continued to hum with
activity, but he was closed off from it all in a shroud of silence.
The bench was cold and damp; he could feel the moisture
voice mail. Damn it. Suddenly Sara realized she desperately needed to
pee. The bathroom was palatial, all shiny white surfaces and gleaming
gold fixtures. In the corner was the biggest shower Sara had every
seen, with nozzles pointing in all directions. After hours on the
plane, and a battering by the French weather, Sara felt completely
gross. Surely Jack wouldn't mind if she freshened up a bit while she
waited? After finally mastering the control panel, Sara gladly
stripped off her clothes and flung them in a pile on the tiles. The
sensation of the hot water hitting her skin was incredible, and at
last she felt herself relax a little. Grabbing a bottle of divine
smelling body wash, she gently soaped her entire body. Jack would be
back soon, she reasoned. Maybe they would take a shower together, or
a nice long bath in the huge tub on the opposite wall. She could make
him feel better, she was sure of it, and before long the press would
realize they had made a mistake, and this whole stupid story would be
old news. Maybe Jack would take a bit of time off, come back to the
states. Maybe they would finally get to have that dinner. Running her
hands over her full breasts, following the smooth curve of her hips,
Sara imagined Jack's hands on her body. All the stress, all the fear,
would just melt away the moment he touched her, she was sure of it. A
sound from outside snapped her out of her reverie. Her eyes flew
open, and she reached over to switch off the spray. Yes, that was the
door opening. Jack was back! Hurriedly, Sara squeezed the water out
of her hair and grabbed the first towel to hand, not caring that it
barely covered her butt. She wished she'd had time to dress and apply
makeup, but a look in the mirror told her she would do. She hurried
into the bedroom.
"Ja- ...oh."
Michael stood sheepishly by the door, key card
still in his hand.
"Sorry, I didn't realize...I just came to
see if Jack was back. Jared's going crazy, we're supposed to leave
for the venue in half and hour. Have you, um, have you seen him?"
"No, the bellboy let me in," Sara
stuttered, trying to tug her towel into a more decent position. "Why
do you have a key?" The question was out of her mouth before she
had time to think the accusation through.
"We keep spares," Michael said
curtly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do I know you from
somewhere? I feel like we've met, sorry if I've forgotten."
"I don't think so," Sara said coldly.
She couldn't get the image of him pulling at Erica's clothes out of
her head. Once, she thought ruefully, she would have been asking for
Micheal’s autograph. Now she wanted to slap the sleazebag in
the face.
"I guess not. I wouldn't forget a face
like that in a hurry." Michael winked at her, casting a
lingering glance at her bare, wet legs. She glared at him in return.
"So you've no idea where Jack is?"
Michael asked again, and Sara shook her head. "Probably gone on
one of his walks. Sometimes he disappears for hours. I figured he was
in the bars, but he says he just walks for miles. Thinking, he says,
god knows what about. I can't believe he's being such a selfish
bastard."
"Have you seen what people are saying?
Wouldn't you be upset?"
"I'd get over it. The papers write all
sorts of crap. No use crying and running away, for Pete's sake. We're
a band. It's not all about him."
"Maybe he could do with your support right
now." Sara's tone was icy. Michael just rolled his eyes.
"Looks like he's got his own personal
cheerleader already. Good luck with that one. If you do see him, tell
him not to bother showing up to the venue tonight. We can do it
without him. It's not like I don't know the words."
Michael
slammed the door, leaving Sara almost quaking with rage.
***
Jack breathed out into the cold air and watched
his breath disperse. Around him, the city continued to hum with
activity, but he was closed off from it all in a shroud of silence.
The bench was cold and damp; he could feel the moisture
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