by Daisy Allen
James Brown’s face flashes in my head, the image of him making love to the microphone in his iconic way, looking down at us approvingly, as we make his song our own.
We mirror the beginning, notes cascading over and over each other in a gushing waterfall of sound, and then with our bows pulled in unison, one brilliant note. And then silence.
I freeze, the quiet after the cacophony of music is just as important as the sound.
“Fuck,” I can’t help exhaling, as I drop my instrument. “That was good.”
“Yeah, it’s cool when we all finish at the same time,” Marius quips and we all laugh, the seriousness of the performance broken. And it is serious. For all our banter and joking around, music is our life, and the reason we’re still together after all these years is because we all take it very seriously.
“Good changeover there, boys.” Seb gives me a wink as he throws a bottle of water to me. “Maybe try taking it up a fifth sometime? Just for fun?”
“Fun? You’re not supposed to be having fun!” Dennis’s deep voice booms over to us and we turn toward the rehearsal room door.
“Yethhh mathhhhterrrrr...” Jez drops to the ground at Dennis’s feet in a grovel as our manager enters the room, a stack of papers in his arms.
“Get up, turd for brains!” Dennis swats at his cellist with the papers as Jez reaches out and grabs for his ankles. “Anyway, I guess it sounded decent from all the way down the hall. Keep it up; you’ve got a long tour ahead of you. The longest you’ve done yet.”
His threat makes us turn to each other and grin. It’s all we’ve ever wanted to do—live on the road with nothing but us, our instruments...and a bunch of adoring screaming women. Now we even get to do it in style.
“So. Good news or bad news first?”
“Good news! And then stop!” Marius suggests.
“Fine. Good news is...” Dennis starts, trying to get through his news before the inevitable happens.
“You’re getting a hair transplant!” Jez interrupts.
Too late.
“Your new mail-order bride from Sweden is coming!” I can’t help but add my guess.
“And she’s bringing her twin sister for Marius!” Sebastian adds to the mayhem.
An empty water bottle sails through the air and lands on the side of Seb’s face. “Shut up, wank-breath! I can get my own Swedish mail-order bride.”
“Are you done?” our unusually patient manager asks calmly.
“Depends, did any of us guess right, or should we just keep going?” I ask him.
“I’m glad to see you’re in such a good mood, Brad. Because you’re especially going to love my news.”
“Oooh, it’s a Swedish mail-order bride for Brad?” Our viola player pokes his tongue out at me, unable to resist taking another dig.
“No.” He pauses. And there’s something in the look of his eyes that makes me feel a little uneasy. “It’s his friend, Emily.”
And all I can see is white.
What?
“What?” My mouth slowly catches up with my brain.
“She’s coming with us. On tour. For six weeks. For an editorial write-up on you guys. She’ll have full access to you. All of you. You’re welcome.”
With that, he gets up and practically runs out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
“What. The. Fuck?” Jez articulates what’s written all over my face. “If that’s the good news...what the hell was the bad?”
***
“Dennis! Wait up! Jeez you run fast for an old man!” I yell, stopping only to grab my splitting side.
He stops but doesn’t turn around, waiting for me to catch up to him.
“What the hell? Emily is coming on tour with us? You know that can’t happen!”
“I don’t know anything of the sort.”
“You saw what happened at the press conference. She’ll eviscerate us.” Not to mention the evisceration that happened after the press conference.
“I saw her stir up interest in you guys if that’s what you mean. Do you want me to remind you how much coverage we’ve gotten over this?” He stares me down, and I can’t help feeling like a diva throwing a tantrum. The truth is, he knows, he knows why. He knows why this is bad for me. Me. But as always, the band comes first. We’ve always wanted him to be that way, begged him in fact. We had one another to worry about each other. His job was the band.
But the news is shocking on two fronts.
“Dennis. I tried to talk to her afterward. She wouldn’t even give me the time of day, and now she’s coming with us on tour for six weeks? What happened?”
“Her editor made her an offer she couldn’t refuse?” He shrugs, his face giving away no more information than that.
“Doesn’t sound like her editor was the one making the offer.”
“Look, do you trust me or not?”
“You know I do, we all do.”
“Then trust me on this. This is going to be a good thing. I wouldn’t put the band in jeopardy.”
“And me?”
“I’m not your babysitter, Brad. Anyway, isn’t it time you sorted this mess out for good?”
He gives me a look that tells me that he thinks I should, whether I’ve realized it or not.
Six weeks. On tour with the girl who broke my fucking heart. Just when I was getting used to not having her in my life.
Chapter Eight
Brad
Eight Years Ago
The squealing feedback from the mic is lost amongst the sound blaring from the speakers. The music from our instruments engulfs everything in this balloon- and streamer-filled ballroom.
My bow is torn to shreds as I pull it back and forth over my strings. In the corner of my eye I can see the sweat streaming down Jez’s face as he takes the solo. His fingers strike like lightning over the fingerboard. Marius is spinning around on the spot, his nervous energy needing an outlet, his viola resting on his shoulder, waiting to be played. Sebastian shouts out to the crowd, waving his arms in the air and they follow. Me, I just take it all in. I could do this for the rest of my life.
Angus would be twirling around in his private school uniform if he could hear our strings-only rendition of “Highway to Hell” right now.
Taking advantage of my break as Jez blisses out, my eyes wash over the crowd. Familiar faces writhing and bouncing to our music, our farewell performance to our classmates. One last hurrah on the prom night stage to catapult us into our adult lives. We’ve learned so much about performing and music on this stage. About each other and what we can create together.
But for all the emotion between me and the other three standing just right near me, there is one more face I want to share this moment with.
Where is she?
I scan the dance floor from left to right, row by haphazard row. I see friends catching my eye and throwing me a wave, but I’m ignoring them. They’re all the wrong face.
Where is she?
“Do you see her?” I shout to Marius.
Without missing a beat, he gestures his head to the right of the room.
And there she is.
Arms raised over her head, eyes closed, completely lost to the moment, to the music. Dressed in a skintight white leather dress, she looks like an angel sent to tempt the most pious of men to fall. Even from here, I can see her tongue dart out to run over her dark red lips, moistening them, making them shine. I hardly need tempting; I’m ready to fall. To jump into her.
Every inch of my skin buzzes, remembering the feel of her body against mine last night. Her hands on my face, my arms wrapped around her. Our mouths, finally quiet long enough from our usual bickering to meet in an epic kiss. God, those lips. Those delectably supple and moist, pouty, gorgeous, lips.
And then she was gone.
Stopping the kiss as suddenly as it had started, she’d run out of there. Leaving me panting for her. For more.
“Let’s wrap it up, boys!” Seb calls over to us, reminding me I’m on
stage.
I drag my eyes away for her to join in with my boys in our big finale. The crowd fills in where our instruments leave off, raising their hands and voices. “It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!” they sing as we go crazy, fingers and bows dancing a crazy jig over our strings.
With one final earsplitting note, it’s all over. The resulting sound is overwhelming as the music dies and the crowd of our friends and classmates continues to roar, almost deafening me. My bandmates run to the edge of the stage, bathing in the adoration. I, however, have other immediate plans.
As soon as I see Marius drop his viola, I throw him my violin and jump off the stage.
I know how tonight’s going to end, and it won’t be by her running away from me. I push through the crowd, even as they try to close in around me.
“Let me through guys, there’s someone I gotta see!” I yell, desperate to not waste another minute.
I push bodies aside until I finally get to her. She stops me in my tracks with a half smile playing on her lips. God, she’s divine. Her skin is radiant with the soft glisten of sweat from dancing, her cheeks glowing with a gently pink flush.
“Butter,” I say, her name sounding different than it did only one day ago.
“Brad,” she says, and then nothing more.
And for once I’m speechless. I can’t find the words to say what I want to, need to.
“Good show. One of your best,” she says. I nod in acknowledgment of her praise, but I don’t want to talk about the band.
“Y-You look amazing.”
“Um, thanks.” She wraps her arms around her body, as if trying to hide it. And all I want to do is rip them from her, along with every trace of material, jewelry, anything that hides any part of her from me.
“About last night…” I start.
She holds up a hand, stopping me. “Yes, about last night. You were drunk, so let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“No.” I shake my head and take a step forward.
“Brad.” She holds her hand out, stopping me from coming closer.
“No, Butter,” I say, taking deep breaths trying to remain calm, when all I want to do is drag her like a caveman back to my cave and make her moan with pleasure and want. “I’ve waited years for last night and now you want me to forget it? Are you crazy?”
“It shouldn’t have happened. I was upset about Silas... and I needed some comfort and you were there.”
“Stop it, Butter!”
“Stop what?”
“Making it less than it was! You came to me last night. Me! And we kissed. Us! Don’t tell me it didn’t meant anything.”
“It meant that...you are my best friend. And that’s what I needed last night. That’s all.” Her hand comes up to her throat, to stop the shaking of her voice.
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever. I stayed just to listen to your performance, and let you guys know you did a great job.” She notices my eyes watching her hands and she moves them behind her back, making her back arch, and her breasts curve tight against her leather dress, her nipples hard against the fabric. I almost moan out loud. Taking advantage of the pause in our argument, she twirls around on her stilettos and heads for the door.
“And you dressed the way you are because?” I call after her.
She stops, her back still turned to me.
I come up behind her, the heat of my chest against her bare back. My fingertips run down the curves of her hips and rest around her waist.
“You look so hot, I think I might spontaneously combust,” I whisper against her neck, feeling the tiniest shiver flutter up her spine. “Are you trying to tell me it’s not for me?”
She sighs and for a moment I feel like her body is giving in to me. She pushes back a little, her ass grinding against my front making me instantly hard, her head falling back to rest against my shoulder. I can see the errant wisps of her hair gently blowing every time I exhale.
And then she stiffens and pulls away, spinning around in my arms to face me.
“I wore this to fuck with Silas, that’s all.” The shake in her voice tells me everything I need to know. She’s scared, and she needs me to make her see what I see.
“You’re lying.”
She just shakes her head.
“You are,” I tell her again. “Don’t you know, after last night’s kiss, you can never lie to me again. It stripped everything that’s fake between us. All that’s left is truth.”
“And what is the truth, Brad?”
This time I know the words to say. “That you want me every bit as much as I want you.”
With that, I pull her into me, tipping her chin up to meet my mouth when I lower it to hers. The heat flares as soon as we touch. My arousal for her deepens tenfold. I could fall into her mouth and live in bliss forever. Her deep red, soft, warm, mouth of a fucking temptress. The heat spreads through me to her. I can feel it in the way her body becomes softer, pliable, open to everything I’m offering her.
Suddenly, I’m tasting the sweetness of her tongue. Fruity from her recent cranberry juice concoction, and waxy from her lipstick. Somehow, it makes my cock even harder and I wonder how I’m ever going to get her from here to where I want her, naked, in bed, wrapped around my hardness.
There’s a soft moan as she pulls her mouth away from mine.
“Take me home, Brad,” she says, the words husky against her throat.
“Home?”
“Yes. I want to go home. With you. Right now.”
And she takes my hand and leads me out the door and into a future that is changed forever because of this moment.
***
“Are you ready?” I ask her, but somehow it feels more like me reassuring myself than her.
I’m sitting on the side of her bed, suit jacket discarded during that first frantic kiss when we arrived home. Shoes are kicked off and my shirt is half unbuttoned.
She, however, is still in her heels and her dress, that goddamn cock-hardening, stuff-of-my-sex-dreams dress, hugging every inch of her curvy body. The low V-neck teases me with a hint of that deep, deep valley between her breasts that I want to suffocate myself in. She walks over to me, kicking her heels off and pushing herself between my legs, spreading my knees apart. Somewhere in the ten-minute ride home back to her car, the power shifted, and now she controls everything. And I’m hers.
Her hands are on my shoulders, her hair falling over us. It reminds me of the hundreds of times we’ve rolled around in the grass, on the bed, play wrestling and tickling each other, her mane a cascade of curls hiding us from the world. In the back of my mind, I wonder how I had restrained myself from kissing her. Because nothing could possibly stop me now.
She must have the same thought because her mouth is suddenly on mine. Already it feels like the most natural action in the world—as if nothing else makes sense unless we’re breathing each other’s air.
Just as I wonder how much longer I can kiss her before needing breath, she pushes on my chest and steps back from the bed. I grab her hand, and she shakes me off, her eyes locked on mine, telling me not to worry, she’s not going anywhere.
She reaches around her back and I hear the metallic sound of a zipper sliding down its track. She starts to wriggle and pull on the front of her dress. Reluctantly it grabs onto every curve of her body, not wanting to leave her, and I don’t blame it. But soon, she’s standing here, in only a soft pink lace G-string and dangling gold earrings, and there’s really only one thing left to do.
“I love you, Butter,” I whisper to her and pull her onto the bed.
Chapter Nine
Emily
Present Day
“We’re here, love. Let me get out and help you with your bags.”
The Uber driver stands by the side of the road waiting for me with my suitcase and I realize I can’t hold it off any longer. I’m going to have to get out of the car. And then into that tour bus over there. Where he is. Where he’ll be for the n
ext six weeks.
“Emily!”
There’s a friendly female voice greeting me as I wave goodbye to the driver.
I turn around and just in time to almost fall over as she knocks me to the side in a big hug.
“Um, hi,” I stutter, a little intimidated. She pulls away, still grinning, her face warm and open. And my nervousness melts away. I love this woman already. I recognize her as Sebastian’s new fiancée and from her picture in the album cover as a guest artist, but she’s so much…more in person.
“I’m Cadence! It’s going to be so good to have another female around. Between Hailey and I we’re just about even in battling the boys, but you should push us over into winning territory!”
I shade my eyes from the sun so I can look at her face, so animated. “Oh…what are we competing for?”
“Everything, babe. Everything. Now come on! Let me introduce you to everyone.”
“Er—”
“Oh, that’s right! You know everyone already. In that case, come on! I can’t wait to hear about what they were like in high school.” She grabs my big suitcase and walks toward the buses, I hurry my pace to a quick trot to keep up with her.
“Well, they were loud, annoying, ridiculously good-looking...and they knew it. They couldn’t hand in homework if their lives depended on it, but they didn’t care because they were going to be music gods.”
“No... I said describe them then...not now.” She throws her head back and laughs and I can’t help but fall a little more in love with her as I join in with her laughter.
“What did we get ourselves into, right?” She winks at me as we come to the door of one of three tour buses parked side by side. “Come on! Let’s get you settled.”
I linger a bit, taking in the size of the bus. The outside of it is completely black, the windows tinted and no words except a small painted logo on the door. “Rock Roadster” it says, in pink and yellow neon paint. But it’s the size of the bus that’s really impressive. It looms over me and seems to go on forever.