Crocodile Tears: A Boy Meets Girl Story Read online

  “You have enough women to choose from, Cash. They’re fucking falling all over you, offering it up on a platter. I don’t know why you’d focus your time and energy on a woman like Rachel.”

  “I don’t know either to be honest,” he says running a hand over his jaw, while giving me a sideways glance. “You always did get the best of everything,” he mumbles.

  I shake off his inebriated/drug-induced statement and focus on the words he’s written on the page—half of which I can’t make out because they’re illegible.

  He belts out a laugh. “You hate what I’ve written don’t you?”

  “It’s not up to me,” I quip.

  “It’s just my thoughts, Z—my ideas. You know crazy shit like that.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  Definitely crazy.

  “The first song is about a woman.”

  “Hopefully not Rachel.”

  “Naah.” He laughs. “Not Rachel. This other girl I fucked. She was fuckkkk,” he whispers, clearly reminiscing. “I mean everything about her was perfect but she was too good for me, so I had to let her go.

  “I can’t have a woman like that. I’d ruin her.”

  I chuckle and move across the room to sit in front of a keyboard. I hit a few notes, seeing if they work together.

  “The second song is called Beautiful Disaster,” Cash says. “It’s about me. You know it’s just all about me,” he mumbles, slouching further down into the leather chair.

  Yep, it’s always about you.

  “That’s me. I’m a beautiful, blue-eyed fucking disaster.” He stretches his legs out and scrubs his face harshly with his hands. “I don’t know, man. This whole life. All this shit. I’m tired. I want to give it up and go and start a landscaping business.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” He laughs.

  “You’re still on that shit.”

  Cash never had grass growing up, so he became obsessed with it. After getting a few jobs landscaping for money, while The Vs were still trying to establish ourselves, he fell in love with it. Cash never stopped talking about grass, which led me to believe he was serious. I didn’t know what our collective obsession was with botany.

  “St. Augustine grass. It’s the best,” he says lifting a finger in the air. “It’s pretty, easy to maintain and little to no weeds. That’s the kind of grass I told the gardener to put in when I left LA—crab grass.”

  I shake my head and laugh a little. Cash stands and heads towards me. When he gets close, he places a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me. He pulls me into a hug. I tap his shoulder before he stumbles away from me.

  “Take it easy tonight, Cash,” I suggest.

  I pray...

  When his shoulder slams into the doorframe, he steadies himself and heads back up the stairs to the party.

  I hit a few more piano keys—A, D, G—and look over the scribble Cash has written down. Tearing the headphones off my head, I sigh. I pull out a baggie and look at the white powder that fills it. Sometimes, it feels like my whole life is in this bottomless baggie. I’d been inhaling this shit for so long, it almost felt like oxygen. I want to throw away the pixie dust but then I don’t. I want to stop but then I can’t. It’s the same suffocating feeling I have when I look at Liv.

  But I don’t want to stop her and I probably can’t. Liv was the little bright light I now had in my dark world. She was beautiful. Incredible. Insatiable. Addictive.

  I snort some and shove it back into my pocket, wishing I had the superhuman courage to never fucking touch it again.

  Liv

  I take a seat next to the only sober person, it seems, that’s in this penthouse. The place is enormous with wraparound windows that allow spectacular views of the Big Apple. A fireman’s pole is in the corner of the den on a platform. A few women (strippers) linger around it, dancing and writhing to the music for entertainment. People are either standing or sitting, watching their show. I don’t see the exchange of money going on but I’d no doubt these chicks were being paid. It’s open bar. A table far off to my left holds everything on it from lobster to beef sliders and exotic fruit, including a whole ocean full of liquor.

  November Rain by Gun’s n Roses booms throughout the place and bounces off the walls.

  I slump against the back of the sofa that feels like it’s made of polar bear fur holding a beer, taking in the city lights in the distance. Half-naked, giggly women saunter about the place in five-inch heels. Everyone is here from roadies, musicians to music executives and their wives.

  “Rose,” the man shouts in my ear.

  I take in his appearance—slicked-back black hair with a side part in it, thick black-framed glasses and a piercing in the side of his full, bottom lip. He’s attractive. His arms are covered in ink, black eyeliner rims his bright blue eyes and his arms are cut with muscle. He flashes me a gorgeous smile, exposing his straight pearly whites.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Rose.”

  “My real name is Joshua Crest.”

  “Rose?”

  “It’s a nickname they gave me years ago, since I like red and I guess they think I’m delicate. Who knows the fuck why!”

  “Oh,” I say, certain my brows are cinched. “Not all roses are red.” I laugh.

  He points a finger in my direction. “Yes, that’s true and very funny.

  “Do you like roses?”

  “I-I guess.”

  Rose laughs and places a hand on my shoulder, pulling me against him. I jerk away at the super friendly gesture. He looks at me like I pissed in his drink.

  “Don’t worry, honey,” he says eyeballing me. “You’re not my type.”

  Oh, he’s gay.

  I laugh and lean against him, while we clink bottles and people watch for a while in the semi-darkness. Across the room, Rachel crawls in Cash’s lap and kisses him. She laughs and sings along to the loud music. They stand and dance a little.

  Interstate Love Song by the Stone Temple Pilots now blasts from the stereo.

  Rose follows my eyeline. “You’ve met her?”

  My eyes dart to his. I nod slowly. “Yeah.”

  Rose groans. “Stay away from her, please.” He laughs. “She leaves destruction wherever she goes. She isn’t good for anyone in this band or this band, period. Rachel probably seems nice and everything but believe me, she has a major problem with you now being with Zane.”

  I continue to stare at Rachel and Cash across the room, when they stumble over to a table that’s covered in every recreational drug you can think of. They take turns doing lines of coke off a small mirror.

  “Why?”

  “Zane used to fuck her. Pardon my language.”

  So, he has.

  “Oh.”

  “Now, Cash fucks her.” Rose giggles. “You can see where this is going, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Cash fucked her first.” He giggles in the most adorable way. “Just don’t get into it, it’s messy. I just play the drums and keep my head down.” He laughs.

  “I don’t care if she’s with Cash but she isn’t helping his habit much.”

  “Do you—?”

  “Noooo,” he breathes out, running a hand over his hair that looks like it’s soaked in motor oil. “Not my thing. Once you fall in the deep end of the pool, it’s hard to climb out...especially if you can’t swim, if you get what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, taking another chug of beer.

  Rose drops his hand in his lap and looks at his watch. He smiles and then looks at me again. “I don’t know, this is all very interesting to me. Zane doesn’t do relationships.” He waves a hand around at all the scantily clad/naked women walking about the penthouse. “As you can see, he has plenty to choose from.

  “So, I figure for him, it’s something about you that makes him want to keep you.”

  I give him an inquisitive look. “I might be gay, Liv, but I’m still a man. I know a perfect woman when I see one.”

  “I’
m not so perfect,” I mumble, staring into the bottle in my hand.

  “Okay, then,” he says dramatically. “Maybe that could be an overstretch, since I don’t really know you but you seem nice and real cool with your beanie and seventies band T-shirts. I can see you have real nice tits and a nice ass. That’s usually all these men need.”

  I giggle and take in the city view from where we sit.

  Rose belts out the chorus to Velvet Revolver’s Fall To Pieces that’s booming through the apartment.

  He takes a thick lock of my hair and runs his fingers over it, letting it go when his fingers reach my waist. “This is so pretty.” He pulls off my hat in a gesture that shocks me but I don’t protest. “That’s better,” he says tucking my hat into his back pocket.

  I laugh out loud. “Give me back my hat!”

  “Nope, you’re not covering that gorgeous hair with this ugly beanie and news flash, it is ugly.”

  I giggle. “It’s my lucky hat.”

  “Nope,” he says finishing his beer. “You’re very pretty, Liv. You should flaunt it, not hide it.”

  I blow out a breath that puffs a few strands of my hair away from my face. Rose checks his watch again and stands. I shoot up from my seat to stand next to him.

  “It’s late and I need my beauty sleep. I’m calling it a night,” he says pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

  “Good night,” I say before I take a few steps across the room, shouldering my way through the small crowd, and the plume of thick smoke that hovers above them.

  I make it to another dark corner and plop down into a pink velvet sofa. I look at my watch and realize it’s after three in the morning. This place looks like a warzone.

  I slump against the back of the sofa, cross my legs and pull up my phone. When I lift my eyes, one of the roadies I recognize is sitting in a dark corner of the room. I nearly lift my hand to say hello but stop myself, when I spot the caramel head of curly hair in his lap. I cock my head to the side, looking his face over as it twists and contorts. His fingers are fisted in the woman’s thick hair, guiding the speed and depth she’s using to suck him off?

  I jerk my head to look away but somehow, I find my curious gaze back on them. I can’t believe he’s getting a blow job in a party full of people!

  The woman releases him from her mouth and gives him a smile. She’s pretty. He’s exposed and I can see everything. She takes the head of him back into her mouth, while her hand remains wrapped around his length. My mouth falls open a bit. I force myself to shut it. I’m sure he’s moaning, when she picks up speed even though I can’t hear it. He stiffens, forcing her face down in his lap. He tries his best to stifle the moans that leave his mouth but I can still hear them.

  The woman drops into a squat, allowing him to watch her swallow. When she’s finished, he tucks himself away. She crawls into his lap and whispers something in his ear. I sit forward on the chair, still in a bit of shock. I stand again and dart across the room, terrified of being spotted, even though they couldn’t have cared about who saw—considering where they were damn well doing it.

  When I make it to the doorway, pushing my way through another small sea of people, warm fingers wrap around my wrist. I stare at the large, tanned hand which has shrubbery tattooed on it. I lift my eyes to meet wide, pale blue ones, attempting to tear my eyes away from the weird marking he’s put on himself. A gleaming smile takes over Cash’s face. He’s handsome in a hardened, blond surfer boy way. His eyes are tired-looking and red.

  “Going somewhere?” he asks, blinking slowly.

  “Yeah, I was just looking for Zane.”

  Cash steps away from the wall he was leaning against and looks me over with a smirk. “You know Zane is a lot like me,” he says, leaning into me.

  “Okay.”

  “He wants to be different but we’re cut from the same cloth, whether he likes it or not. We bleed the same, red blood, except sometimes mine is black.” He laughs. “Black blood.”

  I give Cash a strange look. Was this an introduction?

  “Don’t tell him I told you that. It’s our secret, okay.”

  I nod very slowly.

  “I say crazy shit sometimes, Liv. You’ll get used to me. I’m just a joker. You know I live for the moment. I like to do my own thing. This band is my life. Music is my life!” he shouts.

  I jump.

  “But you know shit gets real, after three years of doing this,” he mumbles, staring at the marble tile beneath our feet.

  “Okay.”

  Then he starts to laugh out loud and I’m completely confused. I giggle anyway.

  The man in front of me sways from sleepy to being jittery, and then from giddy to morose—all in the matter of a few seconds. He’s a monumental mess. Cash stares at me for a while and I wonder if he sees me, or if he’s looking straight through me, like glass.

  “He’s been keeping you away from the band, not that I don’t entirely see why.” He sniggles under the hand that covers his mouth.

  “Where is he again?”

  Cash sucks in a breath and stands straighter. He points down a long hallway. I allow my eyes to follow the direction of his index finger, taking in the faint cutting scars that decorate his thick wrist. A solid mahogany door is at the end, which is shut.

  “He doesn’t like being disturbed when he’s in there.”

  “Oh.”

  “You should stay here with me.” He smiles mischievously. “I won’t bite.”

  Sure.

  “No, that’s okay.” I eye the door warily.

  I take a few steps towards it, tucking my hands in my back pockets. When I reach for the brass handle and notice the security panel, a loud click confirms it’s been unlocked from the inside.

  Liv

  It’s dim inside and the walls along the quiet walk are burgundy. I finally reach a door. Zane is leaning against it, with his fingers holding a thick tuft of his hair. I lean into him without speaking and wrap my arms around his middle. He’s warm and hard and just him. His arms wrap around me, when he rests his chin on my head. I snuggle into his cotton T-shirt, then crook my head to look around the large studio.

  “What are you working on?”

  Zane takes a breath. “Cash’s music and lyrics.”

  “Are they any good?”

  He cups my face in his hands and glares at me. “No.”

  “I just met him,” I whisper.

  He lets out a constipated groan.

  I laugh. “He was nice.”

  Zane pulls me further into the control room. I take a seat on one of the plush sofas, when he sits back at the mixing console.

  “I promised I would spend a little more time with this—just a half hour, okay.”

  I nod and pull my phone out, finding my Kindle app. I pull up a book called Born to Love, Cursed to Feel by Samantha King, which is full of some of my favorite poetry. I read. I read. I read until nearly an hour and a half has passed.

  Zane still has a pencil in his hand and is talking to himself. I try to contain how pissed off I am but fail miserably. I don’t speak. I start to sing Got to be There by Michael Jackson. I get to the chorus twice before he gives me a scathing look and turns away. He continues to write, while mumbling to himself. I keep singing.

  “Olivia,” Zane says firmly, when he slams his fist down on the console.

  Low music turns on, which I think is a mistake from a switch Zane hit but he ignores it.

  I belt out my tune louder.

  “Olivia!”

  I keep-fucking-singing.

  He shoots up from the chair and stalks towards me. I scramble up from the sofa and nearly fall over the arm of it, when I take in how purple his face is. I’m in an awkward pose when he reaches me, sliding his hand up the back of my neck, stilling me to look at him. His eyes have morphed into slits and his jaw is so tight, I think it will shatter.

  I hear the song clearer once I shut my mouth. It’s Witchy Woman by The Eagles.

  “You don’t want
to keep your mouth shut,” he says, yanking me towards him.

  I don’t speak—only remain frozen in his grip, while his other hand busies between us. I hear the hissing sound of a zipper but I don’t look down.

  “You don’t want to keep your mouth shut,” he bites out, swinging around to sit on the sofa taking me with him.

  I’m on my knees looking up at him. He pulls me closer. His gaze remains on my face for a long time before he says anything more.

  “Since you can’t keep your pie hole closed when I’m trying to work, I will give you a reason to keep it open.” He hisses, when he shoves my face into his lap.

  I moan, right before the head of him is forced into my mouth. It’s hard and hot against my tongue, stealing all my air. It snakes its way down my throat. I choke and gag but I take as much of him in as I can, wrapping my lips around his hot skin. His fingers thread through my hair, controlling the pace as my mouth moves along the long length of his swollen flesh. My eyes water, when I heave and gag. He doesn’t loosen the grip in my hair. I keep going.

  “Every time you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut, I’m going to fill it with my dick, Olivia. Do you understand?” he moans out.

  I hum a yes, while struggling to breathe. Zane wrenches my head back by my hair, forcing me to look at him. I drop my mouth open and let out a loud gasp.

  “Those pretty eyes, Liv.” He clucks his tongue and drags his fingers over my jaw lovingly.

  I drop my gaze to look at the hard appendage that stands at attention between us, which is now slicked in my saliva. Precum dribbles from the head of it along the length of him, which I knew I’d be licking up soon. At first this felt invasive. Now, it just feels like a fucking challenge. I take another deep breath.

  “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asks with a smirk.

  “No,” I say, grateful for the reprieve that allows me to breathe again.

  “Well, you’re going to learn today,” he whispers, shoving me back down to take him in my mouth.

  I move slow and steady while my hand wraps around the length of him. Zane moans and hisses, while his thumb caresses my cheek the entire time. His face falls and a deep moan escapes his throat. His brows are knit together and each time I hit a nerve, his thigh jumps. At first, it felt like he was in control but now I’m beginning to think I am, which amuses me. I move my fist and mouth along the length of him, slowing and speeding up. Occasionally, he whimpers like a girl and I shake my inner-pom poms. I feel every jerk, twitch, and shiver of his thighs beneath me, while he comes undone at the mercy of my wicked mouth.