Convincing Constance (The Blow Hole Boys)(8)

By: Tabatha Vargo



I knew how he felt. I didn’t touch my guitar for months after my accident. It was hell. It was beyond hell. Especially when you used playing as your sense of relief. Zeke would need relief more than ever, and he wouldn’t be able to get it.

At least he had his girlfriend, Patience. She was good for him. I watched from afar as she turned him into a better man, and while I envied him for that, I knew I wasn’t any good for anyone—physically or mentally.

Women were beautiful creatures that were an enigma to me. For years I’d watched from the sidelines as the boys filled their time with different women. Even though they thought I did, I never joined in on their fun. I couldn’t. No woman deserved what I had to offer. They were much too sweet and soft for a man like me. A man who was so blocked from any emotion that I couldn’t feel anything good.

An hour later, Zeke’s pain pills kicked his ass and he left the room. Patience followed behind him, although I sensed trouble in paradise for those two. It was in the way they looked at each other. Usually it was all sweet and stomach turning, but since Zeke’s accident, they had tension between them that was so thick I could stand on it.

“Fuck, I’ll get that. Y’all spray something,” Finn said when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll spray something. I’ll spray my load on his face,” Chet slurred as he melted into the couch.

My eyes were closed when I heard a female voice. I didn’t bother opening them. Girls were my last concern.

“We got company, assholes.”

When I opened my lids, she was there. She looked over me with uninterested green eyes. It wasn’t often that a girl who was around us looked uninterested. Chet was for sure going to eat that shit up. He loved a challenge just as much as the next guy.

She had hot-pink highlights woven throughout her hair and piercings that reflected in the sun coming through the window. Tattoos covered her arms and all the important areas of a woman’s body. They made me wonder what else she had hiding under her fishnet stockings and schoolgirl skirt. Her knee-high boots squeaked when she sat on the couch across from me.

I tried not to look, but the bright-pink bra she wore beneath her fishnet top was so sexy I couldn’t control the hard-on that was filling my jeans. She was hardcore—a rocker girl with the piercings and attitude to match—and I liked it. Liking a girl was no good and feeling the attraction toward her pissed me off. I didn’t have time for bullshit like that.

I didn’t think it could get any worse, but when she pulled out her guitar and I watched her finger that thing like her best orgasm depended on it, it got a hell of a lot worse. It took a long time, but I’d finally found a woman who turned me on like no other.





Turned out Gary Steele from Music Line did have a job for me. I almost lost my shit when he said Blow Hole was looking for a replacement guitarist to finish their tour with them. Fucking Blow Hole! As in some of my favorite music to play.

I knew the chords to their songs better than any other band. I liked their sound and I’d always been able to pick up their pace right away. I could hardly believe my luck. So when he told me they wanted me to come to their condo in Los Angeles to audition, I was all over that shit.

I called Shay to bring me some gas money, told her why I needed it, listened to her scream on the other line, and then I drove entirely too fast to the address Gary gave me. I pulled up around the corner and changed my clothes in the backseat of my car before going inside the massive building the boys lived in.

When I finally made it to the top floor, I stood in front of the door and convinced myself that ringing the doorbell was the best thing I could do no matter how badly my nerves were jumping around. I’d never auditioned before since I’d never played for any other reason than I loved it, and I couldn’t lie. I was scared.

When I finally worked up the nerve, I reached out and rang the doorbell. I stood there waiting for someone to answer the door, but no one came. I rang the bell once more, and the door opened quickly.

“Can I help you?” It was Finn, the lead singer.

Everyone who loved music knew who Finn was. His voice was soulful. When he sang, he put so much emotion behind it you could almost believe he was living his lyrics. He was raspy and deep, and I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive.

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