Sticks: Music & Lyrics, #4

By Emma Lea

Vanessa Court never had any aspirations of being famous, she just wanted to play with her band for the simple fact that she loved drumming.  If her band had somehow made it to the big leagues then that was just gravy.  But now that they had made it, it wasn't as fun as she thought it was going to be.  The pressure to be 'the next big thing' was almost more than she could bear.

Carson Giles, Senator for the Tennessee General Assembly and heir apparent of the Giles family real estate conglomerate, Aegidius Developments, hated his job…both his jobs.  Or more precisely, he hated that he was a puppet for other, more powerful members of the party and merely more than a yes-man to his father.  But this was what he had been groomed for all his life.  He didn't know how to do or be anything else.

A chance meeting between Vanessa and Carson had them losing themselves in the physical pleasure of being with someone who didn't expect more.  A 'friends with benefits' relationship was what they both needed to blow off steam and reduce the stress in their lives.

It was fun.  It was secret.  And best of all…there were no strings attached.

This is a standalone romance - no cliff-hanger!

*This is a 'Too hot to Handle' Romance on the Emma Lea rating scale - These are definitely 18+ reads and contain graphic sex scenes and high level swearing – not for the faint of heart

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Lea
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386013006

Emma Lea

I am a business owner, artist, cook, mother and wife.  I live on the beautiful Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia with my wonderful husband, two beautiful sons, a dog and a cat (both of which are female because, hey, we needed to balance all that testosterone!) I am a ferocious reader with eclectic tastes and have always wanted to write, but  never had the opportunity due to one reason or another (excuses, really) until finally taking the bullet between my teeth in 2014 and just making myself do it. I love to write stories with heart and a message and believe in strong female characters who do not necessarily have to be aggressive to show their strength.

Book preview

Chapter One

Present Day

Y our father is in the study, Elaine Giles said as she brushed a kiss on Carson’s cheek.

Thanks mom.

Elaine smiled up and him and patted him on his suit-clad chest before walking back toward the kitchen where she was no doubt presiding over the epic creation of lunch. Sunday lunch at his parents’ place was never just an intimate meal.

He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side. If his father was in the study, it meant he wanted to speak to him about something. He couldn’t remember doing anything at the office that would require a private conversation with his father, and if there was, he would have done it at the office and made sure there were witnesses to Carson’s dressing down. So, by process of elimination, that meant that his father wanted to talk politics. The last thing Carson felt like doing right then was getting into another ‘discussion’ with his father about his term in the senate. Unfortunately, short of nuclear war breaking out, he couldn’t avoid it.

He strode down the hall and knocked on his father’s study door before letting himself in. He pulled up short. His father wasn’t alone.

Father, Carson said, crossing the room to shake Harry Giles’ hand before turning to his father’s guest.

Senator.

Senator, the former senator said, reaching out to shake Carson’s hand, a smile on his face.

Senator George Ellis was Carson’s former boss and the man he had replaced when the senator ‘retired.’ The man had been forced to step down before certain indiscretions became public. Carson had been groomed to take his position since birth and so when push came to shove, he was the party’s candidate to fill the vacancy. The problem, of course, was that the former senator had not been ready to retire and couldn’t help sticking his nose in where it was no longer needed or wanted.

Have a seat, son, his father said.

In a small stand of defiance, Carson walked over to the wet bar and poured himself a whisky before taking his seat. He didn’t think he could get through this meeting without something strong.

Carson undid the button of his suit jacket and sat in one of the big, leather chesterfields opposite his father, crossing one leg over the other as casually as he could. Senator Ellis sat to Harry’s right and Carson felt like he was facing the inquisition. He sipped his drink.

The senator here was just telling me about a conversation he had recently, Harry Giles said. We thought it might be of interest to you.

Carson held in his sigh. Oh?

It’s nothing really, Senator Ellis said, waving Harry’s comment away. Just two old friends catching up.

Carson knew it was anything but. He sipped his drink and kept quiet, knowing that the two scheming old men would get to the point in their own sweet time.

McDougal has an impressive handicap, the senator continued.

Ah, of course, Carson thought. Senator Jeremy McDougal was one of candidates for the recently vacated position of speaker of the senate.

Such a shame about Senator Barnaby, Harry said with a shake of his head. He was too young.

Senator Victor Barnaby was eighty if he was a day. His heart attack was not a surprise—sad, yes, but surprise, no. The only surprise was that he’d lived as long as he did. The man was notorious for his cigars, whisky and diet of grease-laden fried foods.

McDougal is a friend of yours? Carson asked.

More acquaintance these days, Ellis said. We have known each other a long time, though.

McDougal was one of the more controversial candidates for the position of speaker. Carson had no intention of voting for him. He didn’t like the man personally or professionally and had issues with the way he conducted himself on the senate floor. None of which he could say in present company.

God he hated this. He hated that his father and the senator were such good friends. He hated that his careers—both political and personal—were nothing more than placeholders. He was a talking head. A good-looking, charming puppet who had no autonomy. If it wasn’t the former senator and his father trying to railroad his decisions, it was past deals made in backrooms that he hadn’t been privy to. When he started working for the senator his head had been full of dreams. He thought he would be making a difference. He thought he would be changing the world. He thought it would be like West Wing. Unfortunately, the reality was not so altruistic. His naiveté had been blown out of the water the first time he tried to make his own decision on a bill that crossed his desk. He’d been brought to task and made to heel.

He was supposed to be making sure he represented the views of the people in his district—giving them a voice in government. Instead he had to kowtow to lobbyists and interested parties with deep pockets. He didn’t know if he had another four years in him.

I’ll keep that in mind, Carson said, answering the unasked question. He had become good at evasive answers. He drained his drink and stood. If that’s all gentleman, I think I might go and say hello to the rest of the guests.

Carson walked out of the room and once the door had closed behind him he took a deep breath and mentally shook off the conversation. He thought once he became a senator, his father might actually have a little respect for him. No such luck. The man lived vicariously through Carson’s appointment. Harry’s own failed political career fueled his determination to make sure Carson didn’t make the same mistakes. Politics shouldn’t be a popularity contest, it should be about making a difference for the people. The decision made by those in government should be deliberated over for their long-term effects, not for a quick fix or as a way to ensure re-election. Did nobody plan for the future anymore? It seemed to him that policy was only made with a short-term view. If it couldn’t be accomplished within a four-year term then it was put in the too hard basket. Carson was sick of it.

I need another fucking drink, he mumbled to himself as he headed for the great room where he knew the bar would be fully stocked.

---

Carson pulled off his tie and headed for the shower. Lunch had been long and tedious. Keeping his mouth shut had been harder and harder the longer the day went on and the more he drank. If anyone noticed just how much whisky he’d put away, no one commented. If they noticed how quiet he’d been, they chose not to acknowledge it.

He felt sorry for the latest candidate in his mother’s ‘marry off Carson’ campaign. He tried to be charming but his father’s ambush had put him in a sour mood and he spent the rest of the lunch brooding over his floundering political career. Oh, it wasn’t floundering in the polls, the voters loved him. But in his own mind, he was failing spectacularly.

Carson hung his tie in his walk-in closet and shrugged his jacket off. Similar colored suits lined the racks. When was the last time he’d even worn a pair of jeans? He couldn’t remember. Between the hours he put in at Aegidius Developments, the family business that bought property and developed large, high-rise condominiums before selling them off at ludicrous profits, and his work for the Tennessee State Senate, he was working seven days a week and the senate wasn’t even in session. He needed a vacation. He needed some down time and an opportunity to recharge his batteries and remind himself why he was doing this.

He stripped down to his boxers and headed back through his bedroom toward the ensuite. The thick, white card of an invitation caught his eye on the way past. Another reminder of his failure. Stevie was getting married. The only woman he had ever loved was marrying someone else. It didn’t hurt any more, not like it did. It was more a disappointment than anything else. Another failure. Another reason why he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t still in love with her, but he did consider her a friend. She had always been good at cutting through the bullshit and being straight with him. Too many people fed him shit, pushing their own agendas. He knew that whenever he spoke to Stevie, she wouldn’t pull her punches. It’s why he had gone to her that night.

He groaned and tipped his head to the ceiling.

He steadfastly tried not to think about that night.

He steadfastly tried not to think about her. Vanessa Court.

His defenses were low and he had too much alcohol in his system to ignore his body’s response to the memory of that night. For more than a week after the event he had relived each and every minute of their tryst in technicolor detail. He made himself stop because it was driving him to distraction. He tried calling her and she would never take his calls so he gave up, but that night was forever burned into his brain.

He put the invitation down and continued his way into the ensuite. He reached into the shower and started the water before shucking his boxers and stepping under the hot spray. His shoulders were tense and he had a killer headache pounding at the base of his skull. His doctor had warned him about his blood pressure, but there wasn’t much he could do to avoid stress—not with his job and definitely not with his family—which were one and the same. He ran on the treadmill whenever he could, but even that small luxury was becoming few and far between. He hadn’t even had sex since Vanessa. It had nothing to do with her. It was because he just didn’t have the time. He barely had a moment to himself to jack off and relief the pressure. More times than he’d like to admit he had woken up from a particularly hot dream to find the evidence of his arousal all over the sheets like some teenage boy just hitting puberty.

He reached for the shower gel and lathered his body up, trying to ignore the thick erection that throbbed between his legs. It had been too long and the memory of Vanessa and the way she felt as he pushed into her was too much for his sleep-deprived and alcohol-soaked brain. He squeezed himself tightly at the base of his cock and groaned. He’d wanted so much more of her that night, but he’d fallen asleep. The curse of his overworked brain. He hadn’t slept properly in days before going to see Stevie and coupled with the incredible orgasm that Vanessa had torn from him, his body had fallen into a comatose sleep. It didn’t stop his brain from inventing all sorts of interesting scenarios that could have taken place between them if she had stayed.

Using the shower gel as lubricant, Carson shuttled his hand up and down his aching dick. It was nowhere near as good as it would be if it was her hand or her mouth or her tight pussy squeezing him. God, he wanted her again. He could almost remember what she tasted like as she came on his tongue. He squeezed his hand tighter, remembering how tight she had been around him when he slid into her. He groaned and tipped his head back, letting the hot water stream over him as he continued to jerk himself off. He needed to get laid, but finding someone who would be willing to hook up with him without any strings or expectations was next to impossible. Sure, he could troll bars for a willing woman but none that would be discreet enough to keep their liaison a secret. His face was plastered across billboards, buses and park benches. There was no way he wouldn’t be recognized. He couldn’t afford the scandal.

Besides, no one would live up to the fantasy he had created in his head of Vanessa Court. The sex had been spectacular, there was no doubt about it, but he had built it up in his mind to something more. Even now, with his cock gripped in his own hand, he imagined Vanessa on her knees in front of him, looking up at him with her red lips spread around the thickness of his dick, her eyelashes starred with water and those blue eyes full of lust and promise.

His back began to tingle as his balls drew up tight to his body. He bowed his head under the spray of water and shuttled his hand faster along his shaft until he stiffened and came with a hoarse shout. He leaned against the tiled wall, breathing heavily as the water streamed over him. How pathetic was he? The vice-president of a multi-billion dollar company and a state senator with no power over his career and no sex life. From the outside looking in, he had everything, so why did he feel so empty?

He pushed away from the wall with a groan and finished soaping himself up and rinsed off. He turned off the shower and stepped out of the steamy cubicle. He dried off and fell face first into his bed. Alone. Always alone. He was asleep before he could analyze that fact any further. Tomorrow was another day. Maybe he could finally do something that felt right. Maybe he could find a way to make a difference.

---

Carson felt his eyes glazing over. Jenna, his PA, was giving him a run down of the meetings he would attend today. One after the other. Back to back meetings with people who wanted something from him. Jenna’s mouth moved but he barely listened. He didn’t need to. His day was planned to within an inch of its life and he would be reminded constantly that he had to move on to the next meeting. There was no need for him to actually put any brain power into any of it. He was a puppet, controlled by the strings of his staff and his father.

This was not what he thought it was going to be like. The crushing disillusionment of what it really meant to be his father’s heir with an empty vice president title and a state senator without the authority to wipe his own ass pressed down on him until he could barely breathe. He tugged at his tie. He felt strangled, forced to conform to a shape to fit in a hole that he didn’t want to be in. It was like wearing a suit that was too small in some places and too big in others.

He hated it.

The thought blew through his mind like an explosion. He hated his life right now. He hated the man he had become. He’d compromised his own principles so many times that he didn’t even know what his personal beliefs were anymore. The ambush by his father and the former senator were just the most recent in a long line of similar ‘discussions.’ Carson was reminded constantly that the only reason he held his office was because Senator Ellis had backed him, practically naming him as his successor. None of it was because of who he was or what he believed in.

The face in front of him changed. Jenna left the room and was replaced with Gracie. Gracie’s face was much more pleasant to look at, not that Jenna was unfortunate looking. It had more to do with Gracie’s smile and her unflappability and upbeat optimism. Jenna always looked at him like he had done something wrong—in her defense he usually had. Gracie’s short, unruly curls bobbed as she shook her head and pushed her over-sized glasses further up her nose. Carson smiled.

Hey stranger, she said, taking a seat opposite him. What’s going on? You look a little…peaked.

Carson huffed out a sigh. Gracie was his legislative assistant and probably one of the only people he felt comfortable enough around to let the mask slide. It wasn’t unusual for her to come into his office at Aegidius to discuss senate matters, keeping in abreast of all the goings on was her job, after all and coming to his office made sense.

I think I’m having a mid-life crisis, he said.

Her eyes widened and she rolled her lips together in an attempt not to laugh at him.

Um, what? she finally managed to say.

He grinned. His problems weren’t solved but he felt lighter having someone to talk to. Gracie had known his family a long time and knew his particular issues in dealing with them.

Senator Ellis was at Sunday lunch, he said and sighed, looking away.

The Speaker position? she asked.

Carson nodded, still not looking at her. He stared out the window at the view from his office but didn’t see it. His mind was back in his father’s study reliving the awkward moment when he realized his entire life was a scam.

Senator Filby?

He turned to look at her then. No. If it was him then I could probably vote for him without too many reservations.

Then who? she asked, biting the corner of her lip.

McDougal, Carson said with a sigh.

Oh for fuck’s sake, Gracie breathed and Carson let a full smile break over his face. To look at her you wouldn’t expect her to have a potty mouth, but she could swear like a sailor and usually did.

I couldn’t have put it more eloquently myself, he said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. You’re not going to vote for him, are you?

Carson wanted to say no. He wanted to assure her that he hadn’t lost all his scruples—he wanted to assure himself that he hadn’t lost all his scruples—but he hesitated.

No, Carson. No.

He sighed and looked away. He felt like he didn’t have a choice.

Look, she said with a sigh. I get it. I get that you have inherited this seat and all the baggage that came with it, but it doesn’t mean you have to continue carrying it all around. Don’t you think it’s about time you started making your own decisions? What is it that you really care about, Carson? Are you going to spend the rest of your time trying to win your father’s approval or are you going to accept that you will probably never get it? It doesn’t matter what you do, you’re still in the position he wanted and he will always resent you for it. He will always be bitter that you were able to achieve what he couldn’t.

Tell me what you really think, Carson mumbled.

Gracie took a breath and exhaled slowly. I’ve watched you these last few months and I can tell you’re not happy. I’m worried about you.

He smiled sadly but still couldn’t look at her. She had always been able to see him the way others couldn’t. Gracie and Stevie shared that ability.

What’s the worst they can do? If you vote with your conscience instead of their agenda? Seriously, what is the worst they can do?

Um, I could be excommunicated.

Gracie snorted. Don’t be ridiculous. Your father wouldn’t cause a scandal like that. The fact is, he would have to go along with whatever you decided because the fallout from him publicly disagreeing with you would cause too many ripples in the media, not to mention the dip in share price for Aegidius.

Carson’s father might not have had his own political career but he did have a high profile when it came to the press. Being Ellis’ best friend had given him the visibility he craved, if not the political clout. Now he was the president of a major development company and the father of a senator, raising his profile even more. He was a political pundit who shared his opinions without censure.

Gracie was right. If Carson voted with his conscience his father would find a way to justify it to the press and even take credit for it if he could swing it. It all came down to whether Carson was brave enough to defy his father and after years of being beaten down, he didn’t know if he was.

Chapter Two

O kay, let’s run that through again, Jace said as the final notes faded.

No, Stevie said with a shake of her head. I’m already late and Nate’s mother is coming for dinner to go through the final wedding prep.

Yeah and Gabe and I have plans, Nadine said, sitting her violin in its stand and running her hand through her hair.

Vanessa twirled her drumsticks in her fingers and blew a bubble with the gum she had been chewing for hours now. Jace had been single-minded today, more so than usual, and they were all tired. They weren’t even in the studio yet. This was still all the pre-recording stuff they did in their practice room at home before they booked time in the studio.

I thought it was family dinner tonight, Vanessa said, looking around at the rest of the band. No one would look her in the eye.

Fucking great.

The whole point of family dinner was so, even though everyone was being pulled in lots of different directions, they could all still get together once a week outside of band business. This would be the third week in a row that they bailed on her. Stevie had moved in with Nate. Nadine had moved in with Gabe and Jace practically lived in this room or at the studio. The only time they saw each other was during practices like this and they barely even spoke to one another.

Sorry Nessie, Stevie said. Nate’s mother called last night and told us she was coming down. Apparently she has some last minute changes to the guest list and a change to the program. You know what she’s like, I couldn’t say no.

Vanessa sighed and slammed the skins in front of her in a complicated drum solo. Nadine waited until she finished and the room was quiet again before speaking.

Gabe and I have hardly seen each other these past few weeks. I promised him I’d be home tonight.

Whatever, Vanessa said, putting her drumsticks down and standing from the stool, stretching her arms above her head. She walked out of the room without saying goodbye.

Once behind the closed door of her bedroom, she slumped on her bed and let her head fall into her hands. Their tour had been a success. Their last album was a success and now the fans were clamoring for another one, which was why they were all working so hard, but for what? Vanessa had no life.

Nadine had always been her partner in crime. They always did stuff together—go out to clubs, get into mischief, annoy Jace. Now Nadine was happily wrapped up in Gabe and Vanessa barely saw her sister. Well, they saw each other every day, but it wasn’t the same.

Vanessa loved Gabe and she loved how much he loved Nadine. Vanessa couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend for her sister and even though she was jealous of the time they spent together, she was so happy for them. It just sucked monkey balls that it meant she lost her best friend.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it out of her pocket. Someone was looking for a drummer to fill in for a gig tonight. Vanessa bit her lip. She’d done it before—gone in disguise and filled in for a band at a local nightspot. She’d even signed up to the Facebook group where bands could post their substitution needs. She’d even filled in on guitar once. She wasn’t anywhere near as good as Jace or Stevie, but she could hold her own. The trick was to not get recognized. She was pretty sure her contract with Dre Studios forbid her to play with other bands. Not that she knew for sure because she hadn’t actually read it. She trusted Marci with all that crap and just signed where she was told. As long as she didn’t get caught, what was the harm?

I'm in, she replied. She’d set up a bogus Facebook account calling herself Sticks so she could respond without outing herself. It wasn’t very original, but that was the point. She had to fade into the background so as not to be noticed.

Excellent. The reply came back