Sell Yr Soul 4 Rock’N’Roll (Part Three)
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Pairings: Starbuck/Kat, Six/Baltar, past Roslin/Adama, Lee/Laura, Lee/Dee.
Disclaimer: Moore’s the man with the master plan.
Summary: So Lee Adama is a nerd with a website having the best day ever, and KT maybe is dating her rival drummer friend, and maybe Laura did a lot of drugs, and maybe there are Cylons in Krypter. Band AU.
Sell Yr Soul 4 Rock’N’Roll
Part III: Lee Adama
From dFAMED, the Music Gossip Site:
Hey, Ba-Noh? Bringing Old Character Actor Exes to Chick’s Party Is Not The Way to Get Said Chick to Cover Your Song Or Do You!
Ba-Noh, as we all know, does not back down from controversial causes. Starving children victimized by Cylon attacks? He’s there. Denouncing the oppression of Sagittaron? Hanging out with former terrorist turned record label exec Tom Zarek? Wearing those shades? All things Ba-Noh does proudly and openly, and that’s why we love him.
But not even we adoring Ba-Noh fans at dFAMED can understand his actions at last night’s release party for Krypter (Read: Laura Roslin and a pack of decent anonymous female musicians who will later turn Laura Roslin into their gravy train through talk shows, the reality TV circuit, and of course, tell-alls) at Delphi Dance Hall last night. According to dFAMED correspondent ‘noTORYus’ who sent us these cameraphone shots of the Showdown of Aging Stars:
Ba-Noh brought Bill Adama to the release party and promptly ditched him to go discuss collaborating with Krypter on his next album. Bill, who’s never gotten over losing his rock goddess ex, made a beeline for Laura. An argument broke out, and got louder despite attempts of Ba-Noh, pathetic ex-teen-wannabe Lee Adama, and fellow Krypter band member Sharon Valerii to defuse the confrontation.
Laura loudly accused Bill of ‘stalking’ her, and when label executives tried to get involved, snarled, ‘go back to the hooker twins, GB!’ before shaking off Valerii and getting into a noisier argument with Bill, asking who had let him in and so forth. When Bill said (or pointed to) Ba-Noh, the angry and apparently intoxicated rock legend said to Ba-Noh, and I quote, ‘Oh, gods, stop trying to recreate your childhood masturbation fantasies!’ before storming away.
While a thousand managers, publicists, and label execs weep into their lattes and consider what it might mean for Laura Roslin, the ultimate MILF rock star fantasy, to tell Ba-Noh that she’s not going to be his MILF rock star fantasy, we have come to the conclusion that Laura Roslin is hardcore and that a thousand Ba-Noh hating teenage boys will discover Krypter simply because, to quote the Peres Hylton thread to break the story, she kicked Ba-Noh’s pussy ass in public.
But we’re still waiting for that diva-tastic collaboration between Ba-Noh and Laura, kittens, and if you two feuding stars don’t mend your ways and do Dear Me, Love You, we’ll hold our breath and turn blue…
Lee Adama, son of famous people, and z-list celebrity geek webmaster of leeadama.net, usually averaged about forty actual emails a day for his site. Most of them made him feel okay to good about his choices in life, especially not pursuing tacky d-list celebrity in the form of “mystepmomishot.com” (which he owned, but would never use).
The day after Laura Roslin told Lee’s dad to stop stalking her, Lee woke up to five thousand, five hundred, and thirty-eight emails, not counting porn, spam, or porn spam.
Approximately five thousand, five hundred, and thirty-five of them wanted to know if he’d ever seen Laura Roslin naked, if he’d seen her having sex with his dad, having sex with Rich, having sex with Davide Buhwee, or having sex with Rich, his dad, and Buhwee at the same time…and if he’d mind sharing those pictures with his loyal readers in his next column.
One of them was from Billy Keikeya with Laura’s label, requesting he not share any naked pictures with anyone but the label if he were in possession of such things, or he’d be hit with a C&D lawsuit the size of…a large lawsuit.
One of them was from his father, informing him that Ba-Noh was an opportunistic frakker who didn’t give a damn about the community, and asking if Lee still had Laura’s phone number so he could call and apologize.
The last one was from Kara. Excuse him — KT. Because no legendary rock drummer could be called Kara. That was what Kara had told him when Kara had told him that she had gotten the gig as Krypter’s new drummer.
I AM A GOLDEN GLORIOUS GOD OF RAWK!! was all it said. Well, that and her current contact information, which Lee figured he could sell to the paparazzi for approximately enough money to buy him an apartment on the beachfront side of Caprica City and possibly a pony.
Instead of making money, Lee picked up the phone and called KT, realizing that he was using up his plan minutes to call a glorious god of rock who had just seen her first advance check.
“Hey, loserbitch,” KT greeted him graciously. “I was wondering when you’d call. Especially after last night and the glorious stupidity.”
“Do you have any naked pictures of your lead singer? Everyone’s asking me for them and I need the hookup,” Lee said dryly. “You ask one rock legend to the prom…”
“Dude,” Kara said, laughing. “Lest we forget, the rock legend was your stepmom at the time, and you asked her on live television.”
Of course, Lee was in terrible danger of forgetting that Laura Roslin had been his stepmom during the horniest part of his adolescence. Every day, in fact, if the number of times he’d been informed that Laura Roslin had been his stepmother during his awkward teen years and her awkward cokehead years was any indicator.
“Yeah, I know. I was there when she turned my ass down flat,” Lee said sourly. “Of course, once she sobered up, Laura admitted she almost said yes. But only to spite my dad. Who kicked my ass for asking my stepmom to the prom on live television.”
KT snickered. “Hey, I have sympathy. Remember this is about the time I had my first intuitions of girlfrakking due to your hot, hot stepmom. Also it was about the time she was at her hottest and was wearing that leather jacket with your dad’s jeans and cowboy boots…”
“I remember, KT,” Lee said pissily. “Zak and I were at that photoshoot. It was the noisiest, least fun experience you could imagine. And I still bought the damn poster.”
“Lucky bitch,” KT said. “Anyway. You need naked pictures? I could possibly get them to you. Because you’re my boy. Well, the last boy I frakked before realizing I have no real boy love.”
“Thanks, Kara,” Lee said. “I love you, too.”
“Any time,” KT said. “By the way? Don’t call me Kara.”
“Whatever, Kara,” Lee said. “Was there a purpose to your email, or did you just want to gloat about the bitchfight between the old man and Laura? Or how I ended up with a punch bowl on my head?”
“No, I’m just frakking buzzing, and Laura has a headache from the press and said rehearsal is later, which means she’s probably off doin’ Boomer,” said KT with a snort. “I swear, they’re straight and shit, but really girlfrakky for straight girls. Anyway, you wanna go frak around? I’ll buy us lunch and we can go look at hot girls who will rub up on us both.”
Lee had clearly lost his mind, because it sounded like a halfway decent idea.
“Sure, what the hell?” he said.
“What’s with you and Louanne?” Lee asked, stealing fries from Kara’s plate and dipping them into his fry sauce with relish. Mmm. Expensive food. “Every time you get liquored up and see her, you two are on each other faster than, I dunno, your label on drama.”
Kara’s face flushed and she pulled her plate away from Lee, despite clearly having no intention of finishing her delicious fries.
“There is nothing with us,” she said. “Louanne gets on my last frakking nerve. She still thinks she’s a better drummer than me. Can you believe that ego?”
“How many girls have you frakked in the last month?” Lee asked, eyeing the fries with a grumbling tummy and bemusement at KT’s level of denial.
“Five or six. Not that it’s your business, asshole,” said Kara, affecting her KT scowl.
“How many times have you frakked Louanne this month, including last night, which counts even if it was a threesome,” Lee said, giving Kara a droll look. She had bragged about her lesbian rock star orgy to him the minute he’d gotten into the car, telling him the kind of details that only KT would tell to anyone she wasn’t currently frakking.
“Eight times and shut up,” KT said, folding her arms. “I get your point, but I’m not dating her. Besides, what about you? Weren’t you talking to that chick from the label, Stacey whatever? You know that all Staceys are slutty, don’t you? Also, she’s dating Billy from the label. Label people are so incestuous.”
“Only if you think their last name is ‘From-the-Label,’ KT,” Lee said with a diffident shrug. Now was not the time to tell KT he’d gotten Stacey’s number and a date for Friday night. “Oh, hey, it’s a paparazzi. Look, over there.”
KT looked over her shoulder, stuck up her middle finger and stuck her tongue out at the guy, who proceeded to take about ten photos of her before she turned back to Lee.
“You know, he could have been here for me,” Lee said, pulling KT’s plate back toward him and chowing down on the fries. She slapped at his hands, but Lee ignored her, because KT liked to slap.
“And you could be the one paying the bill, but that’s in the alternate universe where you’re the celebrity and not me,” KT said with one of her wry, wacky grins. “Stacey From-the-Label is like, nineteen. That’s just dirty, Lee.”
Lee shrugged. He’d just met Stacey From-the-Label last night, who had helped him away from the punch bowl he’d gone tumbling into when his father and Ba-Noh and Laura had started scuffling.
But Stacey was cute, and she’d actually noticed that Lee had tripped, fallen, and ended up with a punch bowl on his head, unlike, say, the entire rest of the release party.
“Hey,” she’d said, smiling a real smile, not the usual publicist-or-assistant smile of forced niceness. “You’re Lee Adama.”
“Unfortunately,” Lee had replied.
“I’m Stacey,” she then said, helping him up. “So, that just happened.”
“Yes, it did,” Lee had agreed, looking at his punch-stained jeans and shirt. “Well, frak. I don’t look like a new media journalist now at all, do I?”
Stacey From-the-Label chuckled. “Afraid not,” she said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”
Cleaning up had involved a good twenty minutes of discovering Stacey had three fillings, smelled kind of like Zanzibar perfume, and liked it a lot when Lee flicked her earlobe with his tongue. He was also pretty sure that GB had seen them going at it, but who cared? GB had the underage hooker twins running around with him, and d.Anna the bassist was higher on smack than Laura had been during her tenure on drugs and booze.
“Lee. Lee Adama, you’re not listening to your best friend,” KT sing-songed, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Were you thinking about your little friend from the label? Or your hot stepmom?”
Lee snorted. “Dude, you can say that to me when you can go a full week without either hitting on my hot ex-stepmom, or getting yourself off to fantasies about her,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her.
KT clearly wanted to retort, but that was when Lee’s phone went off. Caller ID informed him that, yep, it was his dad. He’d been expecting this call; in fact, it surprised him the old man had waited this long to call.
“Who is it?” KT mouthed.
“Dad,” Lee replied. “Hi, Dad. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” Bill Adama asked. “Lee.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Lee, rolling his eyes at KT. “I can’t believe you went to the release party with Ba-Noh, Dad. You had to know that was a bad idea.”
Lee’s father was one of those people Lee would never like if he wasn’t Lee’s father. Bill Adama was overbearing and surprisingly blind to his own mistakes, even though his heart was in the right place, as every woman in his life liked to say, including Laura. Well, back in the day, when Laura would be sitting on the living room floor with a bottle, a blank sheet of paper, and her guitar, crying her eyes out from the comedown. Sober, ex-wife Laura? Lee thought maybe not.
“The situation got out of hand,” Bill said, which in Lee’s dad was that he agreed and wished he hadn’t done what he had done. “Where are you?”
“Having lunch downtown. Oh, KT says hi,” Lee said, smirking at Kara, who gave Lee this look that informed him he was dead and on borrowed time.
“You’ve got Kara with you?” asked Bill. “Put her on, would you?”
“No problem,” Lee said, handing the phone to Kara, despite her vehement gestures of not wanting to talk to Bill. Not that Kara didn’t love the old man, possibly more than Lee, but when Lee’s dad got on the topic of his ex-wife, it was embarrassing.
“Heyyyy, you!” KT said with false heartiness, shooting Lee another nasty look. “Are you going to try to beg for Laura’s number? She’s got caller ID. She’ll block you.”
Ahh, sometimes it was good to be the nobody in a room full of somebodies, thought Lee, signaling the waitress for another beer. Especially the nobody who wasn’t paying the bill OR talking to his father at the moment.
“I’m going to get you for that, Lee Adama, if it’s the last thing I do,” KT said as they got closer to KT’s relatively modest apartment that Lee was sure that KT would be ditching the minute Krypter first played live with the new line-up. To Lee’s complete non-surprise, Louanne was standing out front, arms folded. “Frak.”
“What did you do to your non-girlfriend?” Lee asked, noticing that Louanne looked ready to tear KT a new asshole.
“I don’t know! For real this time!” KT said, pulling up next to the other woman with a squeal of her brakes. “What now?”
“What now?” asked Louanne, nearly in tears. “You complete bitch. Do you know how hard I worked to get that session with GB? Four months, Kara. Four frakking months, and he looks at me and says, ‘aren’t you the little dyke KT and d.Anna picked up at the party last night? Sorry, darling, I don’t need any more on the label. I’ve got enough progressive angry-girl rockers.'”
KT’s mouth dropped open in genuine shock. “Oh, baby,” she said, shocking the hell out of Lee. Baby? Lee had never earned a baby out of KT. “He said that? That arrogant twin-frakking frak said that to you?”
“Yeah, he said that to me!” Louanne said, voice shaking. “Are you telling me you didn’t know he would?”
“I’m telling you I’ll go kick his ass for you. Hell, if you want, I’ll have Laura go kick his greasy ass for you,” KT said, putting the car in park despite being a bit far from the curb. “Lee, get out. Louanne, get in.”
Lee blinked. “Um, Kara, I don’t make a million cubits a year like rock stars do,” he said. “Can you drop me off? I’m sure that you can wait a whole half an hour to chew GB out.”
“Fine, but you’re in the back,” KT said without a second glance. “Come on, Louanne. Do you want some record label balls for a present, babe? Cuz nobody fraks with my incompetent little drummer friend but me.”
Louanne and Lee both half-laughed at that, because gods-damn, KT. Only KT could declare something like love by calling the object of her affections incompetent. Louanne even looked at Lee and shook her head. Lee nodded in silent agreement.
“GB is such a frakking motherfrakker,” KT said grouchily as Lee climbed into the back of KT’s sedan and Louanne got in front. His knees now pressed to his chest, Lee tried not to sigh. The glamorous life of a friend of a rock star was even less glamorous than being the stepson of a rock star. “Did you know he’s frakking Natasi from the band? I swear, that’s why she freaked out when he showed up with the hired punani.”
“Oh, they already made up,” said Louanne with a shrug. “She was leaving his office when I was coming in, and she did the little mouth wipe thing? Also, he did the panty-shoving in the pocket thing.”
“Ew, straight people,” KT said with a wicked laugh. “Speaking of, Lee has a thing for Stacey from the label. Even though I told him all Staceys are sluts.”
“Can’t blame him. She’s pretty cute,” Louanne said with a shrug. “Besides, look who’s talking. Did KT tell you how we were all over d.Anna last night? That was crazy intense.”
“In detail, and with great pleasure, because you know Kara,” Lee said with a grin. “It’s no fun to have sex without sharing the details to everyone ever. She even attempted to replicate the noises made.”
Louanne choked, and slapped KT hard on the upper arm. “Why are you a whore?” she asked, squeaking and giggling in half-real outrage. “I mean. KT, you’re the gods-damned devil. You made all the little sex noises? What the hell?”
“Oh, and she promised me girls who’d rub up on us both, and failed,” Lee added.
“Shut up, you made me talk to your dad on your cell,” KT said, snorting hard. “For like, twenty minutes, you frakking passive-aggressive asshole. Just because your dad thinks you’re still trying to make the moves on his woman doesn’t mean you can’t field his calls.”
Louanne was laughing so hard that she was choking and spitting, tears rolling down her face. Lee was glad that someone was having fun on this little side trip, even if Louanne did look like she was going to have a seizure.
“I have an idea,” Louanne said, catching her breath. “And if we do it fast enough, maybe we’ll be able to catch Boo-mah–” and Lee noticed Louanne said it exactly the way KT did — “Giving Big Mama Laura the literal kiss-up.”
KT perked up. “Oh, I like this plan already,” she said.
Lee snorted. “Why do you think Laura is screwing around with a woman?” he asked. “Remember, I was kind of around when Laura and my dad were breaking up and frakking anything in sight in the mansion. Never saw any women.”
“Oh. My. Frakking. Gods,” KT said. “Who, and what did you see?”
Shit. Lee had never meant to mention that he had, um, seen his hot (if out of her mind on drugs) stepmom perhaps doing things of an adulterous and deeply sexy nature while in the pool. And in the hot tub. And on the deck chairs between them. And probably in the pool house, too.
Maybe he could leave out that he’d seen her at it in the pool. Because if he told KT, his dad would know, and if there was one thing this week didn’t need, it was Bill Adama knowing his ex-wife had screwed Rich Adar for the last time in their hot tub.
Louanne giggled again. “I love being a rock star’s semi-official woman, man,” she said. “Speaking of which… did you remember you have that dinner thing tonight, K? And the radio appearance?”
Wow. They were actually really kind of, sort of dating, Lee thought as Kara cursed loudly and made a huge u-turn, driving them further away from his apartment.
“Um, Kara?” he said. “How am I getting home again?”
Laura was looking damn fine these days. Lee had managed to notice that last night during the release party, but up close and personal, she looked even better. Sobriety suited her, as did the glasses she was wearing to peer at him, standing there on his doorstep at loose ends.
“Lee?” Laura asked incredulously.
“KT left me here,” he said, hands in his pockets, feeling like even more of a loser than previously thought. “GB called her girlfriend a dyke, and she has a radio appearance and a dinner for gays and lesbians in the arts. So she kind of ditched me here because it was closer than my apartment.”
“Well, as long as it wasn’t Ba-Noh,” said Laura wryly, looking him over with a smile. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” Lee said, walking in and looking at the mess with a nostalgic sense of deja vu. Paper on the floor, a guitar, a smudge of graphite on Laura’s nose, four broken pencils, and loud music playing. Just like when he was sixteen. “I didn’t know you liked this song.”
This song being, weirdly, his favorite song ever.
Laura met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. Then, with a sly grin, she picked up the remote to her stereo, and restarted the song. With her gaze directly on Lee, she started to sing along, changing the words just enough.
“He came from Thrace, he had a thirst for knowledge,” she teased in her throaty voice. Lee groaned, toe tapping along to the beat as she kept going. “That’s when I caught his eye…he told me that his dad was loaded, I said in that case I’ll have ambrosia and cola. He said fine…and then in thirty seconds’ time…”
Her voice faded off as she gave Lee a meaningful look.
“I want to sleep with common people like you,” Lee said tunelessly, playing along.
“I said, well, I’ll see what I can do,” Laura sang back, turning the volume down and seating herself back on the ground. “How are you, Lee? I read your site sometimes. I get Billy or Tory from the label to print it out. You sound pretty good. A little hard on yourself, though.”
Lee shrugged, though something in him glowed to hear that Laura read his site. And cared how he was.
“Could be worse,” he said, sitting on the arm of her couch like he used to. “This week was a bit uneven. I made out with a girl from your label who works for the R&B division after Ba-Noh knocked me into the punch. My dad went off on KT for twenty minutes for not giving him your number, and I make my living being a nerd whose claim to fame was asking you out.”
“You’re a good writer, though,” Laura replied. “And you’re making it without relying on Bill or anyone to do it, so good for you.”
“What are you working on, anyway?” asked Lee, diverting her from his life. “You with the serious face and the listening to new music and no booze usually says songwriting, unless you’ve changed a lot since we all shared one crazy household.”
“Just changing up one or two phrases for live versions of the songs,” Laura admitted with a smile, and Lee noticed the pencil resting over her ear. “Here, you look at the lyrics. It’s for ‘Another Dumb Broad’ — I’m sure you’ve got the album, right?”
“I got it a week ago, for one of my reviewing gigs,” Lee said, sitting down next to her, near the coffee table. “It’s better than anything you did while you were with Dad, Laura. By a frakking long shot.”
“Oh, I know,” Laura agreed serenely, handing him the paper. “But it could be better. Plus, there’s creative energy in the air. I finally have an angle for that idiotic cover I have to do — but I want the live show to be better than the album. You know how I feel about performances.”
Lee, nodding, took the paper from Laura and read along.
I took the bait
And played your stupid game
Another dumb broad
Stuck with your frakking name…
“This one’s a crowd-pleaser,” Lee said halfway through a song that could be construed as one big frak off to his father. “KT’s totally got the drums on this one banging, from what I remember. You could have the women in the crowd screaming it along with you, I think.”
“It’s a gods-damned pop song pretending to be rock,” Laura replied with a wry shrug. “Help me de-dolly a little bit.”
Lee looked at the lyrics sheet, shrugged, and tapped a stanza toward the end. “Well, okay, how about, ‘Next time you see me coming, you better run’ how about, ‘Next time you see me coming, you’re gonna run…’ so you can repeat gonna run run run instead better run run run.”
“Better,” said Laura, closing her eyes and sounding out the phrasing in her head. “Hey, you know I’m sorry, right? For what I did to your life.”
“What did you do to my life?” Lee asked, suddenly very interested in the lyrics to ‘Another Dumb Broad.’ “I’m the dumbass who asked you out on TV.”
“Yeah, and you were fifteen and I was running around after school wasted on ambrosia and whatever the frak pills I was on at the time in t-shirts and no pants,” Laura pointed out. “Your father and I put you and Zak in a terrible situation and I’m genuinely sorry for that.”
Lee nodded, still more interested in the table than looking at Laura and confronting that twelve years after asking her to the prom, he was still attracted to his former stepmother.
“Thank you,” said Lee. He meant that, at least. “I do forgive you. I already did. A long time ago. It’s not your fault that I had a crush on you.”
“I always liked your crush on me. It was flattering to my ego,” Laura said with a half-hearted laugh. “Lee, could you look at me while we’re talking?”
“I think I should go,” said Lee quickly, standing up. Looking would be bad. Looking would tell Laura Roslin, ex-stepmom and reinvented rock star, that he was still harboring a crush. “Thanks for being cool about everything, tell KT I’m sorry I couldn’t hang out and wait for her…”
“Lee!” Laura shouted, grabbing him by the arm. “Don’t you kind of need me to call you a cab?”
“I just…I should go,” Lee said, trying to shake her off.
“Oh, gods,” said Laura softly, holding on. “You’re still a little bit in love with me, aren’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lee said with a snort.
“I’m not flattering myself so much as noticing the evidence,” said Laura dryly.
Lee wished he was dead. That the planet itself would swallow him whole. The only way it could be worse was if his father was watching, about to tap on the front window in rage. And Lee was so certain that that was possible he looked. Closely.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked.
“Making sure my dad isn’t outside, about to make a bad situation ludicrously worse in the way that only happens to, you know, me,” Lee said, scanning the horizon.
There was dead silence, and then Laura started to laugh, and laugh so hard that Lee looked back at her, eyes closed as she rocked back and forth.
“I’m sorry, does my legendary bad luck amuse you?” Lee asked, trying to glare and finding it really frakking difficult when Laura was laughing this hard.
“Nooooo,” Laura said, shaking her head. “More like the image of your father making his angry face — the one he got his Silver Bail for, remember? When he was the judge in that TV movie, the overly earnest one — as he stared into my house. And him doing the two finger tap-tap of manly disgust.”
Lee cracked up. Because Laura was making Bill Adama’s legendary anger face, except with a little grin that was sexy and funny.
“Lee William Adama,” Lee intoned in parody of his father’s voice. “I have certain expectations of my son, whether or not they fit with what you see in the industry. Under my roof, you will behave in a certain way.”
Laura cracked up all over again. “Did you know, when he made that speech, he was stoned?” she asked, gesturing at Lee to sit down again. “I would have said something, but I was coked out of my mind. Or possibly on something else, but I was out of my mind.”
“Were either of you ever sober during my high school years?” Lee asked plaintively. “I mean, I guess it explains why you didn’t like wearing pants around the house, but…”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Laura said softly. “I am so, so, so very sorry. It took me a long time to hit bottom, you know. I was pretty sure I was going to end up dead before I got old, and hey, why not? I’d had a good run. Three really good albums, one or two songs that were perfect…sometimes it’s awkward. Realizing that I spent a decade trying to burn out and hey, here I am. Still picking fights with rock stars and Bill.”
Oh, gods, there were kind of sort of tears in her eyes. And Lee had himself under control, but he was still here, in Laura’s living room, not sure of how he was supposed to feel about any of this. Pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to feel like Laura was far, far hotter than Stacey from the label.
“Do you regret coming back?” Lee asked, finally sitting down again.
“No, I love it,” Laura said with a laugh, ruffling her hair. “I mean, I’m going to have to bitch out my label for a homophobic slur about a band member’s on-and-off girlfriend I didn’t know she had, but not be too mean because the label guy’s sleeping with my keyboardist. Then Ba-Noh, of all people, wants to frak me, and I’m weirdly drawn to my lead guitarist — if you tell KT that, I will eat your brain — but I feel like I have a purpose again.”
“And next week, you have your first arena show in eight years,” Lee said, remembering that during all the years in the mansion, the one thing Laura stayed consistent on was how much she loved the big arena performances, how the only real music was played live. “How does that feel?”
Laura sighed, and sank back against the floor. “Better than doing a line,” she said. “Not as good as sex. Do you know I’ve been celibate for a year?”
Danger. Danger, Lee Adama. He was not going to look at his ex-stepmom’s breasts as they sort of stared him in the face. Or her bare feet.
“You? Celibate?” Lee asked, laughing. “That’s impossible. You had more affairs than Dad, and Dad was frakking half the set and the maid.”
“Believe it or not,” Laura said.
“Well, I’d help you break the streak if you wanted, but if I did, KT would show up with my dad in tow, announcing loudly that it was time to kick GB’s ass right when my pants came off,” Lee said, rubbing his forehead ruefully.
“Lee,” Laura said, rolling on to her side and peering at him over her glasses. “The woe-is-me self-deprecating, my dad continually ruins my life in comedy fashion tone is fantastic on your website. But please keep in mind that I know what you’d do if I said, ‘oh Lee, please help me!’ right now.”
“What would I do?” Lee asked.
“Get rug burn in the name of the cause,” Laura said, not missing a beat.
They were both staring each other down now, and Lee got a weird prickle down his back, realizing that Laura was actually considering asking him to frak her. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it at all, either. Because in his fantasies, he never even thought no was an option, but in this case, Lee wasn’t going to agree to rug burn if Laura went at him in a way to prove he’d do anything she wanted.
“I thought you didn’t frak groupies,” Lee heard himself say, thinking maybe he could dissolve the tension at his own expense. She didn’t take the bait, and the prickle became sweat, despite Lee’s dry mouth. Laura had her fingertips on her thigh, tapping on it lightly, still looking at him. “Say something.”
“Something,” she said softly, licking her lips.
Well. That was permission. Or something. And Lee had always wanted to do it, so he leaned over, awkward as hell, and kissed his ex-stepmother on the mouth. Slowly, because if this was his one shot, he wanted to remember it, how her head was tilted, how she leaned up to meet his mouth, how her hair felt under his hand as he supported her head.
“Gods,” she whispered against his ear. “You’re so sweet.”
“Is that good or bad?” Lee whispered back.
“I don’t know,” Laura murmured quietly. “I think maybe you should do it again.”
His voicemail button was blinking furiously and there were another six hundred unread messages in Lee’s inbox when he closed the door to his apartment behind him.
He got himself a beer, and then settled down by the computer, scanning for names he recognized before filtering another set of horny pervs into his folders, the last few hours replaying in his head.
Lee: Ellen Tigh at Needle Drop here. My assistants love your work at your website and for The Rutabaga’s media reviews. I was wondering if you’d be interested in writing us a feature about Krypter’s first live show, given your history with L. Roslin? Give me a call, we’ll talk.
Given his history with Laura. Given that maybe three hours ago, he’d been undoing the drawstring on her songwriting pajamas, rolling them down slowly. They’d gone very slowly. Lee had liked that, too, kissing the tops of her thighs, breathing on the skin he’d licked to watch Laura jump and shiver.
Hi, it’s Stacey Dualla. Just wanted to say hi. Drop me a line whenever.
Not that Laura didn’t have her own tricks.
“Like that?” she murmured, her hand on his dick and her mouth right next to his ear, nibbling at the nape of his neck and frak god damn.
“Yeah, like that.”
Definitely not like his fantasies, where he had done most of the work and Laura had made a lot of noise and approved.
“How about this?” Lee asked later, his hands sliding over Laura’s stomach and down as she straddled him.
“Harder,” she said raggedly.
“Lee, it’s your father. I wanted to talk to you about how I behaved today to you and Kara. Call me or Tressa, we’ll have lunch. Or spend the afternoon together on the set, if you’d prefer.”
Harder. He’d frakked her harder, digging his fingers into her back while Laura whimpered, her body moving up and down against his. But not faster. He’d been deliberate, and Laura had been impatient, face getting red, trying to go faster.
Lee had deeply underestimated how frakking good it would be to make Laura scream with want and frustration.
“That’s right,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m gonna make it last.”
She’d practically bitten through his lip when he said that, and that had almost gotten Lee off but somehow he’d persevered.
And listened to her moan his name when he succeeded at making her come, flushed and delighted.
“Hey, bitch! I was expecting to see you at Laura’s when I showed up for rehearsal. Where the hell did you go? Did your stepmom toss you out on your ass so she could frak Boom-ah? Call me, seriously. I kind of feel like a bitch for ditching you at your stepmom’s, so maybe I’ll get you front row tickets for the show and backstage passes. You can even bring Stacey-from-the-label.”
His tongue teased the edge of her breast, looking at the just-too-perfect nipples.
“Tattoos,” Laura murmured, her hand carding his hair as they both caught their breath. “Nothing about my breasts are real any more. They did a double mastectomy.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing the spot he’d just licked. “I didn’t even realize until afterward that it had been that bad.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know it was that bad,” Laura said. “What time is it? I think maybe you should disappear before rehearsal.”
Lee chuckled, not nearly as stung at being tossed on his ass as he was expecting, especially because Laura didn’t seem especially eager to kick him to the curb as he stroked her side.
“Don’t worry, I have enough time to shower before I disappear,” Lee said. “Are you good?”
“I’m good,” Laura said. “How about you?”
“Really good. And sweaty,” Lee said. “If you can have a cab here in fifteen minutes, I can be gone in sixteen.”
“Hi, Lee. Ellen Tigh at the Needle Drop again. I’ve just read some of your columns, and I decided to get your number and call you myself. Please call me as soon as you get this; if the feature goes well, we may have a staff job for you.”
Lee blinked. Needle Drop. Okay, so they weren’t as influential as they were in the old days, but a staff gig with Needle Drop was nothing to sneeze at, especially for a guy whose claim to fame was, well, being Laura Roslin’s stepson. He definitely needed to call Ellen Tigh, after he heard his last voicemail.
“Hi, it’s me,” Laura said in that tired, husky voice she got after singing her guts out for a few hours. “I know things ended a bit abruptly, so I thought I should call to check in.”
Lee nodded along. Nice of her to check in. Weird, and vaguely stepmomlike, but nice.
“You know, you’ve infected me with the fear that your father will find out,” she said conversationally, chuckling. “And I think that would be a shame, because I haven’t done half the things to you that I’d like to.”
Gods. Either Lee was being mocked heartily, or he’d just seen the best day of his life jump up yet another notch.
“I’m not joking. I mean, you understand we’d have to be careful. I think it’d be a good idea if you saw Stacey from the label a few times in public,” Laura continued. “And if that isn’t your bag, I understand. But…call me up, will you? I hate talking to machines.”
She hung up, and Lee stared at his phone. It was shaking like it was being held by a nerdy website writer who’d just been told to call Laura frakking Roslin up to set up a secret sex affair type thing. After he called Ellen Tigh at Needle Drop to write a feature and maybe get a staff job. And after he called Stacey from the label and confirmed they were going out for drinks Friday.
And maybe after he called his dad and tried to talk to him. He was going to end up wasting a frakload of plan minutes, seriously.
Lee was staring at his phone when the familiar ting of a new message turned his attention to his email.
Subject: Cylons in Krypter
Gods. Even secondhand fame brought out the crazies. Just because the album was called Skinjob, too. People were nuts.
Lee had an actual feature to do about Krypter, not idle speculation that there were skinjobs in Laura’s band.
But first, to the phone. He had calls to make.