Paper, Scissors, Rock

  Copyright

  Paper, Scissors, Rock

  Published by Nicole S. Goodin

  Digital edition

  ISBN: 9780473404468

  Copyright 2017 by Nicole S. Goodin

  All rights reserved. ©

  This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Paper, Scissors, Rock

  First published September 2017

  All rights reserved. ©

  Cover design by Nicole Goodin

  Images purchased from Shutterstock and Canva

  Editing by Spell Bound

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses and brands mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.

  Nicole Goodin is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  Dedication

  This is for everyone; friends, family and people I barely know, who message me or come up to me and say ‘oh my god, I read your books…’ thank you for your support, your encouragement and for taking a chance on me.

  And to my good friends, thank you for not looking at me like I’ve completely lost the plot when I attempt to explain to you how these characters and their stories appear in my brain – I promise I’m not totally insane just yet.

  Nicole xx

  Author’s Note

  This book has been written using UK English and may contain euphemisms and slang words that form part of the New Zealand spoken word.

  Please remember that the words are not misspelled. They are slang terms and form part of everyday, New Zealand vernacular.

  AKA: I’m from New Zealand and sometimes we say weird things down here… please try and be cool about it.

  The roar of the crowd nearly caused me to fall backwards as I sauntered out into the centre of the stage, my trademark bad-boy smirk in place.

  I chuckled as my heart sped up to a gallop in my chest. Performing live was a thrill that was rivalled by no other.

  I live for this shit.

  The rest of the fame I could take or leave, but not this. The pure ecstasy of the fans screaming your name, watching the sweat pour off them as they gasp for air, some of them even passing out… I needed it like an alcoholic needs a drink.

  I was addicted. One hundred percent hooked on the euphoria that fifty thousand people screaming your name created.

  I bumped fists with Jasper as I approached the mic stand.

  This is how it went. He introduced me to the crowd… I introduced the guys… then I did my best to blow their little minds right out of their heads.

  “How’s everybody doing tonight?” My voice boomed across the huge stadium, causing the level of screams and shrieks to reach an even higher intensity – something I didn’t think was possible.

  I chuckled deep and low, my skin already prickling with my body’s eagerness to begin. Despite the cool air, I was already covered in a fine layer of sweat. By the time this was over, I’d be drenched with it.

  “How about we have some fun, huh?” I grinned suggestively.

  The high-pitched, female screams ricocheted through my ear drums.

  I strummed my guitar and the sound screeched out through the air above the crowd. I strummed a few more chords and turned to face the guys behind me.

  I didn’t take the band with me everywhere, but when I wanted them, they were there.

  “Can you all say hey to my man Ricky on the drums?” I asked the mass of bodies.

  The crowd went wild as Ricky pounded out a beat on his drum kit.

  “Jimmy on the bass,” I yelled into the mic.

  His response was just as deafening.

  “And Peter ‘pumpkin-eater’ on the guitar.” I chuckled.

  The momentum was building – the crowd were hungry for more. They were no longer individuals… they had turned into one screaming unit – a beast in its own right.

  I thrust my hips forward and rolled them seductively… it was all part of the show.

  I live to feed the beast.

  “You ready boys?” I cooed.

  I knew they would be. They were always ready – they lived for this shit too. I heard a collective ‘whoop’.

  “Let’s do this.”

  The minute I set foot in the club, I noticed him.

  He was hard to miss… tattoos, posse… V.I.P. booth, gaggle of underdressed groupies…

  Typical rock star.

  I rolled my eyes as I typed out a text to Hannah.

  “Parker Sloan is here…”

  I knew she’d kill me if I didn’t keep her informed on the location of her precious rock star.

  Her reply was a series of ‘OMFG’ and 'are you serious?’ Followed by an 'I'm on my way’.

  Hannah was infatuated with that man – among others. She had been for as long as we'd been friends. I had to admit, he wasn't exactly my type; tall, dark-haired, brooding and covered in tattoos didn’t really do it for me, but holy hell he had a way with music.

  I couldn’t deny the fact that his talent was enough to make him alluring. It wasn’t nearly enough to make me want to throw myself at him – but the same could not be said for my best friend.

  He was one of the reasons we’d been hanging out in this club for the past year or so; Han was always hoping that he, or one of her other obsessions would be here, so she could get ‘her shot’ – her words, not mine.

  I thought she was crazy. I didn’t see what the big deal was – he was just like any other guy in this club. Fame, money and publicity didn’t flick my switch the way it obviously did for so many others.

  I watched with amusement as woman after woman made their attempt to get up to where he was seated, his arms splayed widely on the booth, bored smirk on his face. Most of them failed, but every now and then, Parker, or one of his boys would nod at their security, and a girl would be given access.

  I skirted around the edge of the dance floor, heading for the quiet end of the bar and heard his name mentioned at least ten times on my travels. It appeared my vagina was the only one in here that didn’t care to be Parker Sloan’s parking space for the night.

  I shook my head at their naive stupidity. I never understood the obsession some women, my best friend included, had with the rich and famous. He was known for being untameable – Parker Sloan didn’t do girlfriends… but these girls obviously thought they could be the one to change all of that.

  I don’t get it.

  I reached the bar and hoisted myself up onto one of the bar stools – no small feat for a girl my height.

  I dreaded to think about what Hannah was doing to ‘primp’ for the evening and I actually shuddered when I thought about what she might deem a good choice of outfit.

  I glanced back over to Parker and his friends and found myself watching him, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about.

  I honestly didn’t see what the big deal was.

  He threw his head back and laughed and I begrudgingly admitted to myself that he was easy to watch.

  So is a dog doing a trick…

 
Sure, there was something about him…

  I guess he is good looking, if that’s what you’re into…

  It wasn’t necessarily that either though, he had this magnetism about him… an energy I could feel from even this distance, and for a fraction of a second I could understand why he was such a hot commodity.

  Two girls that didn’t look more than a day over twenty-one walked past me on their way to the bathroom, and I couldn’t help but overhear the topic of their conversation.

  “He only does blondes,” the black-haired one insisted to the blonde one. “You should totally go for it.”

  The blonde one nodded in agreement. “I read that he’s like, a total adrenaline junky… if I could get up there we’d totally hit it off, right?” she replied with a flip of her hair.

  Jesus…

  “Totally.” Her friend nodded enthusiastically.

  “Like, totally,” I mocked as they strolled past out of ear shot.

  Christ, what have I got myself into here…

  I shot daggers in Parker’s direction.

  This is all your fault.

  I cursed him and his celebrity status in my mind.

  “Damn rock stars,” I mumbled under my breath.

  I sat back and waited for Hannah to turn up. I cringed just thinking about it. She’d be no better than the two desperate girls I’d just witnessed when she finally did arrive.

  I was embarrassed for her already.

  “Who's it gonna be tonight, Sloan?” Ricky yelled across the table, gesturing towards the hordes of groupies that had scored themselves entry into our area.

  I shrugged – well past bored with the scene in front of me. They were the same type of girls that followed me around everywhere. They might not have been the same women every night – but they were all after the same thing.

  Sure, I’d had my fair share of women, but I wasn’t interested in these ones anymore… they presented no challenge whatsoever. It wasn’t like I wanted or needed to chase women, but these ones came a little too easy for my liking. It didn’t stop them from throwing themselves at me whenever the opportunity presented itself though.

  These girls, they already knew the answer, but for some reason, they continued to ask the question.

  Ricky shook his head at me like I’d lost my mind and went back to the busty brunette that had perched herself on his lap. Guys like him never got tired of banging groupies; ‘the more the merrier’ was like the motto of his life.

  I glanced around again and thought about getting the hell out of here.

  Same shit, different day.

  “Try not to yawn, you’ll damage our rep,” Jasper deadpanned as he nudged me in the ribs.

  I shot him a look.

  Hypocrite.

  He looked nearly as mind-numbingly bored as I was.

  I frowned and took another shot from the table in front of me.

  “Wanna get some air?” He tilted his head towards the main bar and dance floor.

  I tossed the amber liquid down my throat and smirked as the burn moved through my body. I lifted my chin in agreement – ‘get some air’ was code for chase some tail.

  “We’re good,” I called to Sammy, my head of security, as we passed him.

  I could tell he didn’t agree with my assessment in the slightest, but he chose to only nod in response and remain where he was.

  I knew as well as he did, that we couldn’t stay down here long – the vultures would swoop as soon as they got wind of me mingling without security.

  I never needed long anyway.

  A tingle of excitement ran down my spine. There was just something about pulling some random girl out of the crowd and making her mine for the night. In my experience those girls were always so excited, so willing. I gave them my all too, but only for the night.

  They knew the score, I made sure of that. It was just sex – mind-blowing sex most of the time, but that was it. No sleepovers, no feelings, no repeats.

  There had only ever been a handful of woman that I’d trusted to have more than one roll in the hay with, but not for years, not since the media circus had stepped up its game.

  My life wasn’t my own anymore – it was splashed on every tabloid for the world to see. I didn’t care what they captured, I had nothing to hide and no one to protect. That thought caused a familiar pang of sadness to shoot through me.

  The fact that I had no one to share my life with was something that had been beginning to bug me; it was there, nibbling away at the edge of my subconscious. I’d found myself starting to watch couples… families… and feeling like I was missing out on something. But that was the way it went – nobody could have it all in this world, and the life I lived left no room for that kind of commitment.

  “Where to?” Jasper asked, pulling me out of my own head.

  I scanned the room, flicking from face to face.

  Too much makeup… too fake… too drunk…

  Jesus, she may as well be naked…

  I paused briefly on a black-haired girl, but moved on just as quickly. She was looking right at me and I had a feeling her and her friend were talking about me like I was some kind of tasty snack.

  Hell no…

  My eyes landed on a petite, red-haired girl, sitting alone at the bar. Her skin looked like porcelain, and her eyes were wide as she gazed over towards the door.

  Her.

  “There.” I pointed her out to Jasper.

  His eyes followed my direction. “The red-head?” he asked, surprise colouring his voice.

  I watched her cross one of her sexy, creamy legs over the other as she turned back around to face the bar.

  “Yeah.” I nodded, my voice inexplicably gruff. “Her.”

  “Well alright,” Jasper replied lazily.

  I raised an eyebrow at him in question, but he just smirked and said nothing.

  I knew it was popular belief that I was only interested in blondes, I guess the fact that they made up about eighty-five percent of the women I’d ever been photographed with only fuelled that rumour. Truth was, I didn’t really have a preference – a beautiful woman was a beautiful woman, regardless of her hair colour.

  I glanced at her again and it was as though something was telling me to hurry up and get hold of her. It felt like I was being sucked in.

  Like gravity.

  There was something special about that girl.

  I’m damn well gonna find out what it is.

  I looked around behind me again, still searching for Hannah. We hadn’t agreed to meet for another hour, but now that she knew her precious Parker Sloan was here, I was expecting her to rock in any minute.

  Sell out.

  It was when I glanced around that I saw the very man himself, followed closely by Jasper Jones – the guy the media called his ‘wing man’, and they were heading right for the very bar I was sitting at.

  Mingling with the common folk, huh…

  Hannah is going to lose her shit.

  I rolled my eyes and carried on looking for her, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.

  I gave up and decided to get myself a little less-sober while I waited.

  “Vodka tonic please,” I asked the bartender, resigning myself to the fact that I’d have to sit here like a loner until my roommate arrived.

  He sat the drink down in front of me and I passed him a ten as I took a long sip through the straw.

  ‘The Mack’ by Nevada blasted through the speakers and my body swayed involuntarily to the beat.

  “Thirsty?” A deep, husky voice to my left took me by surprise. Goosebumps I couldn’t explain prickled my skin.

  I turned towards the voice, hoping it wasn't some creep I was going to have to fend off.

  Ah crap…

  The rock star himself…

  The minute his eyes met mine, it was like a warning siren went off in my head. ‘Dangerous’ it screamed, ‘evacuate the building while you’ve still got your panties on’.

  He pointed to my drink and
I followed the gesture with my eyes to look down at it.

  Half empty already.

  I laughed lightly as my eyes settled back on him. "Yeah… I guess I was."

  He smiled and I found myself unable to think of anything else to say. His ice-blue eyes were looking right into mine.

  It was totally unnerving.

  Most people averted their gaze every now and then; it was common ‘don’t make people uncomfortable’ practice.

  Mr. Sloan apparently hadn’t got that memo.

  I glanced back to the entrance, looking for Hannah again, suddenly eager to get the hell away from here and the hell away from him – bad-boy rockers were not something I had the patience for right now – that was Hannah’s fantasy, not mine.

  Dammit… she’s still not here…

  I sighed as I glanced down at my watch again.

  Ten thirty-five.

  I saw Parker whisper something to Jasper out of the corner of my eye.

  “Are you waiting for someone, sweetheart?” he asked in his gravelly voice, focusing his attention on me again.

  I turned my body in his direction, stalling, still trying to figure out why he was wasting his time talking to me. I nodded curtly. “My name is not sweetheart, and yeah, I am.”

  If I didn't know better I would have sworn he frowned slightly.

  What’s the problem, rock star, not used to a woman who can think for herself?

  I took a moment to really look at him – the man from the magazines. He was tall, taller than I’d thought – much taller than me, but that wasn’t hard. His dark hair was long on the top and shaved close at the back and sides. The longer strands were flopped forward, half in his eyes. The exposed skin on his arms, shoulders and neck was golden brown and covered in tattoos, and he wore fitted black jeans, a white singlet and beat up old chucks.

  I guess rock stars have their own dress code.

  He wasn’t at all my type, and I shouldn’t have been attracted to him, but there was just something there in his blue eyes that made my stomach flip a little.