Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
But now that Laz is mine, it’s rearing his ugly head. I watch him, waiting for him to look up and notice me. But he doesn’t, not for a while. And then I catch his eye, I’m waiting for him to say something to the redhead, something like “hey, that’s my girlfriend over there” and have them both look my way. But he just goes back to talking and smiling at her.
“Who’s the ginger?” Naomi asks. “She’s getting a little handsy for my liking.”
She is. She’s laughing along with Laz at something and leaning forward, her hand briefly on his chest.
“If she keeps doing that, I’m heading over there and opening up a can of whoop-ass on her white ass.”
“No,” I tell her, holding her back, because Naomi’s anger is feral these days. “It’s fine. It’s just a groupie.”
“Ugh,” she says, giving me side eye. “You better keep an eye on that boy.”
“I trust Laz,” I tell her. “They’re not all like Robert, you know.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Laz would never cheat on me.”
Right? I mean, it’s not exactly something I’ve thought about, it’s just been a given. We’re exclusive with each other, that means something. And as far as I know, he’s never cheated on any of his girlfriends.
“You don’t look so sure,” she says studying me.
I look back at Laz. The redhead is doing all the classic flirting moves. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, touching his arm. Now he’s leaning in close and saying something in her ear. His smile is cocky. She looks pleased.
I feel sick. I know I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t let this get to me but it’s getting to me.
“You need to go over there and claim your man,” Naomi says, egging me on. “Before she does.”
She’s right. I should go over there and make my presence known. But before I can, Laz and the band head up on the stage and the redhead takes a spot among the other girls at the front of the stage.
Too late.
Shake it off, I tell myself. Don’t be a crazy girlfriend.
I’ve never really been anyone’s girlfriend, so it’s not really surprising to find out I am of the crazy variety. I mean, what about me has been normal so far?
Nothing.
See, now I’m talking to myself.
“Hiya,” Laz says into the microphone, guitar slung on his shoulder. “We’re Magic 8 Ball and we’re here for your pleasure.”
Even though I’m kind of pissed at myself for being pissed, I still smile at that cheesy opener.
“I can’t believe he still says that,” Naomi mumbles into her beer. She looks around. “And I can’t believe how popular they’ve gotten.”
“It’s Laz’s book. Now everyone who knows him for poetry is showing up at these things.”
“And this is why you need to keep an eye on him,” she says. “He’s just going to get more ginger vixens hanging off of him.”
“Do they have to be ginger?”
The band starts off with the new keyboardist, I think his name is Hugh, hitting a few notes and samples, then the drummer comes in.
“John the revelator,” Laz starts to sing, his deep voice pitch perfect as it soars across the crowd. It’s amazing how good he is, how his voice still reaches far inside me and fills up each hollow part.
Then the song hits the chorus, the tempo goes up, they get louder somehow and the whole crowd starts to groove and dance. I guess Laz was right, people really do want to be able to dance to their rock music these days.
“Seven lies, multiplied by seven, multiplied by seven again,” he sings and the crowd starts to sing along with him.
It’s pretty incredible. Any angst I had earlier over him and the redhead is gone and I’m just like everyone else. I’m a fan. His biggest fan. I’m in awe, lost in the throes of his performance, the music, the way his voice makes me want to climb on that stage and fuck his brains out. I can’t blame him in the slightest for having groupies because I know exactly what they’re feeling.
By the time the show is over, an hour later, everyone is happy, sweaty, drunk. I think a lot of people are getting laid tonight and I’m hoping that includes me.
Laz comes off the stage, his shirt damp and sticking to him, ramping up the hotness factor, and the redhead finds him again, grabbing hold of his bicep for a moment.
To my surprise, he takes her arm and starts leading her toward me through the crowd.
“What the fuckity fuck?” Naomi says.
Laz and the redhead stop right in front of us. “Marina, I’d like you to meet someone.”
Okaaaaaaay.
He nudges the redhead, who is even prettier up close.
“This is Samantha.”
“Hiya,” the girl says with the same Manchester accent as Laz and gives me her hand. “So nice to meet you. I grew up next door to Laz.”