Total pages in book: 7
Estimated words: 6578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 33(@200wpm)___ 26(@250wpm)___ 22(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 6578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 33(@200wpm)___ 26(@250wpm)___ 22(@300wpm)
As soon as I walk in the door, the scent of dinner greets me. It smells amazing.
“Ma?”
“Sammy,” she yells and comes running out of the kitchen and into my arms. Mom is a big hugger.
“Dinner is ready and afterwards you’ll come to church with me, right?”
“Of course, Ma. Of course.” Mom doesn’t like to get up early, so the Sunday night church service at St. Xavier’s is perfect for her. When we were kids, Aric and I always went with her.
After dinner, we walk the six blocks to the church and sit in the first pew. Mom likes to be sure she can get communion first because she also doesn’t like to wait in line. As soon as we sit down, the choir shuffles in and I am immediately drawn to the petite goddess in the front row. Our eyes lock and hers widen. She recognizes me. Then she licks her lips and I about die. I can’t help imagining her wet, pouty lips wrapped around my cock, which is currently hardening in my jeans. I’m going to hell. Only a complete depraved bastard gets hard in church.
Then she starts singing. Clear and crisp chords of Hallelujah fill the church.
I want her.
For the band.
For me.
Forever.
2
TINA RIVERA
Savage is here. I had no idea he was a member of this parish. I just moved to New York from Streetsboro, Ohio a month ago. This was the closet Catholic church to my apartment, so I came in and asked about the choir. I have to keep my voice in tip-top shape for auditions. My one and only goal in life is to be a singer. It doesn’t matter if that’s on Broadway or the radio. I just want my music to be out in the world and I want it to resonate with everyone. That’s not too much to ask, right? After graduation in June, I moved out here. Here is where everything will happen for me, I can feel it.
I can also feel the way Savage is staring at me. I look up to the heavens and pray for guidance as my thoughts roam to imagining his epic beard scratching up my thighs. What kind of girl gets horny in church? Calm down, Tina. Calm way the hell down.
I stand with the rest of the choir after the priest directs us to sing and sing I do.
When I’m singing, nothing else matters. I am one with the music or something like that. It’s an out of body experience for me. I have a whole songbook full of songs that are ready to be sung, if only someone will give me a chance. I’ve gone on forty auditions in a month and no callbacks. I have dropped off demos at every radio station and record label in the city and nothing. I am beginning to wonder if I’m just Midwest good and not New York good.
After the song ends, so does the service. I am turning to walk down the stairs when I feel a hot touch on my elbow, under my choir robe. I gasp as I turn.
Savage.
“Hello,” he says. His voice is deep, and he gives me goosebumps. I know he can feel them on my arm. “I’m Sam Holbrook.”
“Savage,” I whisper.
“That’s my stage name, baby,” he says and my tummy flutters.
“Right. Sorry. What can I do for you, Sam?”
“That’s a loaded question, but for now, come audition for Savage Plight.”
“Your band. You want me to audition for your band?”
“No. Not really. You’ve got the job, if you want it.”
“What’s the job?”
“Backup singer,” he says, and I frown.
“I don’t really see myself as a backup singer.”
“Then co-lead vocalist,” he says surprising me. Hell, he sounds surprised himself.
“Um… Can you do that?”
“I can do whatever I want. They put me in charge of finding singers.”
“What happened to the other singers?”
“They didn’t stay away from Billy. Promise me that if you take the job, you’ll stay away from Billy.”
“I promise,” I reply immediately. Something about the way he said it makes me want to listen to him.
“Why don’t we get a drink, and we can discuss this further,” he says.
“I can’t. Sorry.”
“Your husband waiting on you?” he asks, looking behind him.
“No. I’m not married. I’m not old enough to drink.”
“Fuck, please tell me you’re legal,” he groans.
“You shouldn’t swear in church,” I chastise him.
“That’s not an answer,” he says.
“I’m eighteen,” I say, and he breathes a sigh of what I hope is relief.
“Thank God.”
“You’re in the right place for that,” I say, giggling. I don’t think I’ve giggled since I was a little girl. What is this man doing to me?
“How about a cup of coffee?” he asks.
“I’d like that.”
“I just need to walk my mom home,” he says and my heart melts. The big, sexy rock star loves his mom. What could be better than that?