“Three,” Cal answered. “But you can take off once it slows down. I don’t want to kill you on your first night.”

I nodded, glad that I was going to be able to get out of here before Geena was too wasted to remember what she was doing. I was all about a good time, but I wasn’t about to take advantage of a girl that wouldn’t remember consenting. I’d had enough trouble in my life. I didn’t need that, too.

Geena unlocked the door to the hotel room with her keycard, dropping it twice before getting it in correctly. She was definitely feeling good, though not too much for me to back away. She’d been watching me all night long while dancing with her friends, making me hard as steel for no less than three hours. I knew from my inspection while we’d been in the elevator that she wore no underwear under this dress, that she was bare for me, dripping wet, and also very willing to give me what I wanted.

“What’s your name?” Geena dropped her heels on the ground before I could tell her to keep them on.

“Johnny,” I said, kicking my shoes off and pushing her against the door. There was no time for talking. I hiked her dress up to her waist and pulled my pants down, springing myself free. I crushed my lips to hers, tasting the many drinks she’d had. My fingers dipped into her wet pussy, making her groan into my mouth as I found her spot. One of her hands snaked down my abs and then farther, wrapping around my shaft. Her other hand ran through my hair as I continued pumping her with my fingers and assaulting her with my mouth. I broke free, scrubbing my short beard on her neck and then down her cleavage. I pushed the flimsy material aside and sucked on a bare nipple. Geena tightened on my fingers, moaning and pulling on my hair.

I set her down on the ground, lifting her dress and tossing it, so she was naked in front of me. I turned her and pressed her against the door, rubbing my dick against her ass as she wriggled, moaning and calling out my name.

I bent over and retrieved a condom from my wallet, rolling it on as she writhed in front of me. She’d get what she wanted in just a second. Safety was paramount in this type of situation. I gripped her hips and pounded into her, both of us grunting and moaning at intermittent times. She was hot, tight, and exactly what I needed to stop thinking.

It was over too quickly to exercise the demons floating around in my head. Once we both got off, I disposed of the condom and walked her to the bed, laying her out so I could really see her.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her blonde hair was fanned out behind her on the bed. Her chest rose and fell from our frantic race to the end. “Johnny,” she purred. “That was fantastic. I could do that all night long.”

“Good,” I said, hitching her legs up on my shoulders. “Because I’m just getting started.” I closed my mouth over her, causing her to tighten her legs around my head and grab my hair. And after a few more hours of pleasure, I forgot the pain.

I closed the bedroom door quietly and threw my wallet on the bedside table. I smelled like the bar and sex, but I was too exhausted to care. After round after round with Geena, I’d left without any issues, just the way I liked it. She was going to be around for a few more days before she went home, so I’d see her again. Thankfully, she hadn’t asked to exchange phone numbers or any of that shit. She said she’d come to the bar and we could ‘hang out’ after, and we both knew what that meant.

The girl was talented. I only knew how old she was since I’d checked her birthdate at the bar (twenty-eight) and where she was from (Chicago), but I didn’t know what she did for a living, or what she was doing in Florida specifically. And I didn’t care. She didn’t ask me anything other than my name, which I’d heard shouted out more times than I could count tonight. I knew I was gifted in that area. Hell, it was really the only talent I had anymore.

It was almost six in the morning, and I knew Julia would be up soon with the baby. I flopped down on the bed, my eyes trained on the ceiling. Julia’s question from earlier resonated in my head. What did I want to do with my life? From the time I’d been barely an adult, someone else had planned out my life for me. Hell, my whole life before that had been dictated, too. My parents had always wanted me to do what they wanted me to do, never encouraging my dreams or desires. Then when I left home thinking I would do what I wanted, that’s when shit got real. Getting mixed up with drug dealers and trafficking and drug rings had made me a prisoner long before I’d actually become one.

The last two years had been the first time in my life that I’d been able to make my own decisions, and what had I done with it? I’d tended bar. I’d hooked up with many women. So many, I was embarrassed to realize I didn’t have a clue on the number. I’d shut out everyone except my sister and now her husband, Carter. I had nothing outside of this house. Yet I’d possibly alienated Julia earlier, too. All she’d wanted to do was do something nice for me, and what did I do? Run away like the pussy I was.

When I’d seen that guitar, I’d had to get out of there. The panic attacks didn’t come as often anymore, but they still came without warning sometimes. Seeing the dream of mine all wrapped up in the smooth wood and tuned strings of the only guitar I’d ever wanted had sent me directly into one of the worst ones I could remember for a long time.

It had taken sitting in the rental car for at least a half an hour before I felt like I could breathe again, and even once I’d made it to the bar, I’d walked the beach for another twenty minutes before I could face anyone. I’d just kept telling myself over and over that it was okay.

My eyes settled on the chair across from my bed, and I shot up. The Gibson was sitting there, mocking me. How had I not seen that there before? It was like the elephant in the room. My chest tightened, and I looked away.

“Stop being a pussy,” I hissed to myself. “It’s a goddamn guitar. Not a fucking drug lord ready to shoot your ass.”

I stood up, standing in front of the chair. It was gorgeous. Everything I ever wanted was personified in this guitar. My sister knew what she was doing when she got me this. I knew the exact amount of days it had been since the last time I’d touched a guitar. It was 5,984 days ago that I played on a stage for the last time. Before my already shit life went even further south and I lost everything.

I reached my hand out, hating myself for the way it was shaking. I got within millimeters of touching the taut strings, my breath coming out in spurts. Just touch it, I willed my hand.

I couldn’t do it. I dropped my hand, my eyes never leaving the smooth exterior of the beautiful guitar. I wanted so badly to pick it up and move it so I couldn’t see it anymore, but I couldn’t. I reached up and pulled my shirt off and threw it over the guitar. It covered enough to make me be able to breathe again.

I flopped back on the bed. Light was infiltrating the blinds, but I didn’t care. I had to sleep, pronto.

Johnny

I stood next to Yoda, my chest heaving as I watched him threaten the thug that didn’t do what he asked in the particular way he wanted. I was the muscle behind his threat, in case the sawed off .22 in his face wasn’t effective enough. I’d never seen any of them kill anyone, but I knew it happened. I hoped to hell tonight wasn’t the night I saw it for the first time.

Tonight’s delivery and sale hadn’t gone quite as planned, and Yoda was pissed. He was no one. Not in the grand scheme of this shitty drug ring. But he had just enough authority that he thought he was in power, and that was dangerous.