by Chance : Poison & Wine, book 2

by Sigal Ehrlich

  I leave him standing there, but a greater part of the kiss stays with me. In the pulsing of my lips, in my accelerated heartbeat, and mostly in the headiness I’m feeling. I take my seat at the end of the booth, taking a rich sip of my wine. And by rich, I mean guzzling half of the glass in one pull.

  Pretending not to be wholly tantalized, I join the others, laughing about something I didn’t even hear. I tense when Ricky joins us a minute later. He brings a chair from a nearby table, flips it, and straddles it backward, depositing a beer bottle on the table.

  He tips his chin, responding to the people around the table that greet him. When the attention wanes, he turns to me, “Hey.”

  I hide a smile behind the glass at my lips. “Hi back.”

  “It was such fun!” We all turn our attention to Pandora’s exclamation. “C’mon, you guys enjoyed it as well, didn’t you?”

  Anna smiles at Panda. “We did. It was quite the experience.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ricky joins the conversation.

  Kayla puts her drink down, throws me a devilish grin, and says, “A little road trip we took today where Vicky got her panties ripped by a beast.”

  I shake my head at the wave of laughter coming in stereo from Kayla, Panda, and my traitorous sibling.

  Ricky turns to me, his lips tipped at the corner. He scratches the scar on his cheek with his thumb, looking at me amused.

  I turn to Kayla. “Oh, c’mon! You make it sound so—”

  “Porny?” Panda asks over a giggle.

  I glance at the people around me. “This nutjob”—I gesture at Panda—“dragged us to a farm to pet cows. On a rainy Saturday morning, no less. And what’s her face—Betsie, the wild beast—decided to hook her horn in my pants.”

  More hilarity arises.

  “Wait, you gotta see this,” Panda says, reaching for the phone.

  “Why would anyone want to see that?” I ask, shaking my head, however, with a smile. It was kind of hilarious if you ignore the war scars decorating my poor bum.

  “Oh, I want to see that,” Ricky murmurs next to me.

  I squint my eyes at him, and he chuckles in response. He extends his hand toward Panda, who happily gives him the device with the notorious photo. Ricky’s lips stretch wider when he glances at the screen.

  I grab it from his hand, fling it back to Pandora and say, “Thank you, everyone, for being so mature and empathetic about my hardship.” Which, of course, prompts further amusement from my group of friends.

  “Victoria!” I snap my head to the sound of the familiar voice. “Ciao bella, come stai?”

  Our entire table’s attention shifts to the handsome guy in the tailored suit.

  “Felipo?” I stand. “What are you doing here?”

  Felipo wraps me in a warm embrace, kissing me on the lips.

  “I’m here for a week, was going to call when back in the hotel,” he says in a thick Italian accent. His hand moves to rest on my hip, snugging me to him cozily. “I’m here with a friends.”

  I smile at Felipo, happy to see him. My dear Italian friend. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of years now, a few days every few months. Felipo has been the only constant in my infamous “trio.”

  My stare flings to the side to the loud scraping of a chair on the wooden floor. Ricky grabs his bottle, throws me a look, clearly ticked off, and walks away.

  For the first time since I met Felipo, I feel uneasy about our relationship, especially since I didn’t tell Ricky about it . . . before sleeping with him.

  Bitter deceptiveness sits in my stomach as I plan to meet Felipo for dinner toward the end of the week.

  “Hey Vicky, have your friend join us,” a smiling Pandora says.

  Felipo thanks her but excuses himself to join his friends at another table.

  We’re back to easy conversations, laughter, and alcohol—the best recipe for a good night out.

  There’s a new buzz to Poison and Wine when the band takes the stage. I take notice. I glance around and frown at the abnormal number of female patrons.

  “What’s happening tonight? Did Matt start a Ladies Drink Free Saturday or something?” Anna asks, probably spotting the same thing.

  We watch the stage, Kayla setting a water bottle on the floor next to the drums set. She takes a seat, one foot on a pedal, holding the drumsticks in her hands. On the other side of the stage, Kevin and Dave tune their guitars. Ricky isn’t there yet, but when he joins them a few moments later, it looks like someone threw a burning match on the floor because most of the female patrons flare-up.

  I’m not the only one noticing this.

  “Did they just catcall at Ricky?” Danny asks and laughs.

  At the stage, Ricky frowns with a startled smile. That video of him probably spread its wings even further. He walks over to say something to Dave, who grins and side hugs him, saying something back to Ricky.

  Taking the mic in one hand, Ricky pushes his hair back from his eyes with the other. “Wow, we have quite the crowd tonight. Thank you for coming out . . .” He sends the audience a flirty smile and adds, “Ladies.”

  And boy, do they pick up what he’s putting down.

  I want to roll my eyes but can’t really blame them. On stage, he’s all that. And maybe off stage too.

  “We’re the Broken Chords, and this one’s called ‘Selected Poems.’” The song starts slowly and picks up toward the chorus. Ricky doesn’t give me any special attention tonight, not like the other night. And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t sting. That is until he sings the following words, then his attention is entirely on me, loaded and unyielding. He sings about being crazy about someone and how it feels like life is a series of dreams and that everything has chains.

  I don’t stay for the rest of the show. When Anna says that they’re leaving because Liam has an early shift at the hospital and asks if I want a lift, I jump on the excuse to go home. It’s been a long day, and I’m not in the best of moods. Not anymore. As we get ready to leave, tucking my phone in my back pocket, I glance at the stage. Ricky’s eyes meet mine, carrying a loaded expression I can’t even begin to decode. Nevertheless, it leaves me nothing but rattled.

  Failosophy of New Beginnings

  “Great show tonight,” Dave says as we get off stage, heading to meet the others at the bar.

  “So, how does it work now? Can you still perform with us after you sign with that agent?” Kevin asks, resuming our conversation from earlier tonight when I told them I’d be signing with Amanda Linden. “I mean until we find a new singer.”

  It stings, but I can’t do anything about it other than take the rough with the smooth. I am leaving them high and dry with no real notice. In other words, I’m screwing my friends over.

  “Yeah, I can still perform with you live.” My fingers crawl up to my scar, absently scratching it. “There’s this other thing.” I wince. “I can’t mention that I’m a part of the band. It’s sort of fucked up. I can refer to you guys as the band, but I can’t say I’m part of it.” I clear my throat, having a hard time voicing this shit. “It’s ridiculous, but I can’t be associated with the band in any way, verbal or otherwise.” I send them an apologetic glance. “I’m really sorry about this, guys. You’ll have to print out new flyers and update all the social media accounts. I’ll cover the cost.” It’s eating at me like I’m betraying my family.

  Kayla steps over and hugs me. “You shouldn’t be feeling bad; you’re doing what any of us would do given a chance.” She smiles at me and adds, “Anyhow, I would have kicked your talented ass if you even thought about passing on this opportunity.”

  I smile at her.

  “You should be thrilled, and I, for one, am beyond thrilled for you.” She gives the others a Kayla look, the one you say yes to, no questions asked. “We’re all thrilled for our person, aren’t we, guys?”

  I chuckle humbly yet still feel like a royal jackass. We’ve been playing together forever, so taking the next step witho
ut them just feels wrong.

  “All good, brother.” Kevin pats me on the back. “As long as you share all the pussy with us.”

  I shake my head, not giving him any further stage to go on.

  “You’re disgusting, Kev,” Kayla snaps.

  “C’mon.” Kevin chuckles. “Just look behind you. It’s like he has his own private cult following him around, waiting for the right time to pounce.”

  I don’t have to look back to know what he’s talking about. I noticed it earlier on stage and when I came to meet the band here. I’m not even half inclined to meet anyone for anything non-music-related. The only one I want in that sense asked me to keep our thing on the down-low, not to mention had someone else kiss her in front of everyone. Another thing that ticked me off.

  I’m waiting for Matt to explain things, then right after, I’ll pay Vic a visit. There’s a conversation to be had between us, and the sooner, the better. Talk about taking the bad with the good; I don’t even know how to approach this conversation with her. There are so many gray areas with Victoria that it’s like treading a minefield.

  A glass of water and a conversation later, Matt shakes my hand, wishing me all the best.

  “Appreciate it, man,” I say, thanking him for agreeing to allow us, the band, to perform whenever I am around. Our usual spots are in high demand—it’s a bit of a comfort to know that when they find my replacement, they won’t have to build their way up to the “good slots.”

  I had a lawyer go over the contract Amanda sent me, and I’m going to sign it . . . after talking to Vicky tonight. The fact that I’ll sign it and accept all the terms doesn’t mean I’m quite to the point of feeling thrilled yet. Rather, I’m wholly frustrated. Some of the stipulations aren’t easy to swallow, and that’s an understatement.

  On my way to Victoria’s, I push the bike a little faster than usual. My left foot works the gears up, and I squeeze the throttle to the max, sending the vehicle to devour the road with an animalistic purr as I try to leave all thoughts behind. There’s something about being one with the bike, on edge at all times, the danger always there that’s fucking exhilarating.

  By the time I chain the bike to a pole below her building, my mind is much clearer. Someone left the main door to the building open, so I take advantage of it and climb the stairs two at a time. I send my hand to knock on the door, but it flings open with my hand midair.

  “Oh, hi there, who have we got here?” A pretty lady that looks like an older version of a mix between Anna and Victoria smiles at me. And before I’m able to thread in a word, her smile turns saucy as she calls, “Winnie, there’s a gentleman caller at your door.”

  Winnie? Gold! I take a step forward, extending my hand for a shake. “I’m Patrick, Winnie’s friend. Pleasure.”

  Her eyes drop to my tattooed hand, and a sassy smile splays her lips as she reciprocates the shake. “Hi, Patrick, Winnie’s friend, I’m Helena, the mother.” She doesn’t even try to conceal the once-over she gives me. All humored, she says, “Maybe I should stay for that tea, after all.”

  I’m about to respond, but Vicky enters the hall, beating me to it. “You got the book, Mom. Night.”

  Her mom tells her something in a language I don’t understand. It’s just the lightest of shades, but it looks like Vicky just flashed a little.

  She rolls her eyes and leans in to hug her mother. “Love you. Go now, bye,” she grouses playfully.

  Holding a book pressed to her stomach, Helena smiles at her daughter and turns to leave. Just before, she winks at me, beaming. “I think this one’s my favorite, Winnie,” she says after her and closes the door.

  “She came to borrow a book I just finished. She lives nearby,” Vicky explains. She doesn’t invite me in.

  It makes my lips twitch. She’s such a tease. “She seems cool,” I say, humored.

  “Most times, especially when she’s not nosy.”

  I eye her with an amused glint. “I think we clicked.”

  A faint smile touches her lips. “I think you did. Maybe you guys can start your own little intrusion club. She tends to pop by unannounced too.”

  I chuckle lightly. “Am I getting VIP treatment, or are you always this welcoming to everyone?” I take a step farther in, unzipping my jacket and depositing both the jacket and the helmet in the entryway closet. “Does this special treatment include leaving Poison without saying goodbye?” I turn to look at her.

  Her lips turn up at the side sassily. “VIP treatment all the way.”

  I take a step closer, noticing how her mouth parts a little and how her eyes become hooded by my proximity as I invade her personal space. I had no idea an attraction to someone could reach these mad levels.

  “Hi,” I say, nearing my mouth to hers.

  Vicky blinks, lets out a breathy exhale, and presses her mouth on mine.

  And I’m pulled in—the need to touch her damn near obsessive.

  I push my thigh between her legs and gradually lean her to the wall. She moans into my mouth when I deepen the kiss and press my thigh to her in slow, persistent pressure. She rakes her fingers into my hair, taking control over the kiss. She sucks on my tongue and nibbles at my lip. When she slides her hand to my abs and lower, pressing it against me, we detonate into something uncontrollable.

  A blink, and we’re tearing each other’s tops off. I get rid of her pants and grab her by the waist, lifting her to straddle me. It’s so wild and untamed she injures my lips a little with her wild kisses. I can taste the metallic tang in my mouth, and it only fuels my desire.

  Having her like this against the wall, I don’t even bother taking my pants down all the way. Vicky says my name over a pant, and it’s enough for me to lose my damn mind. My blood runs in flames through my veins when I push into her.

  Chrissssst. Fucking. Christ.

  I put one hand behind her head, buffering the contact with the wall. My other hand grabs her ass as I thrust deeper. Vicky’s moans become needy and stretched, and it’s almost my undoing.

  I still hold her in my hands as we both land back from the high moments later, catching our breaths over the madness that just happened between us.

  I nuzzle her neck with my lips, hugging her closer to me. It’s not lost on me that the minute we both climaxed, and it turned into quiet intimacy, Vicky wiggles out of my hold.

  This is the second time she’s done this. Pretending it doesn’t bother me would be a complete lie. It’s challenging to know where I stand with her. One minute, she trusts me enough to have unprotected sex, and the next, she’s fleeing from me.

  On her feet, Vicky says, “Be right back.” Without even throwing me a backward glance, she walks away.

  I clean myself in the guest bathroom; my mind is back to buzzing. Vicky’s volatile behavior just added to the load.

  I wait for her in the living room, ready to have a much-needed conversation.

  “Get you anything?” she casually asks, heading toward the kitchen.

  “I’m good,” I say, reveling in her beauty as she gets a drink. She’s changed into a pair of those very short tights and an oversize sweatshirt that leaves one of her shoulders exposed.

  Joining me, she puts two ice-water glasses on the table. I smile at the additional glass, asking her to sit closer to me. She looks a bit defiant, like it wasn’t her intention originally. It doesn’t bode well with me.

  Finally, sitting down, she takes a sip of water, asking, “There was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  I nod. “I’m going to sign the contract.”

  Vicky sends me a genuine smile. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

  Before touching on the crux of what I wanted to talk to her about, there’s something we need to clear up. I hold her stare. “Babe, what are we doing?”

  “Pleasantly conversing over a glass of mineral water.” She smiles at the glass in her hand.

  I shake my head, and my lips tip at the side. I take her free hand in mine. “Vic, you
and I, what’s happening here?”

  She grins at me. “Socializing and scratching some itches?”

  I retrieve my hand, not amused.

  She frowns at my reaction. “We’re sleeping together, Ricky. No need to overanalyze.”

  I nod to myself, irritated. Well, I came here to tell her something, so I might as well just put it out there. “So, as you know, by some incredible chance, I got this opportunity, and as I told you, I decided to take it.” I hook my finger over my necklace and slowly move it from side to side. “Well, it comes with a set of stipulations. Like the fact that I shouldn’t be officially associated with Broken Chords. I can perform with them . . . ” I sigh. “That is until they find another lead.”

  It’s her turn to speak. “To be honest, I don’t think that you’ll have much time to practice with them; I’m sure your new agent will take advantage of the buzz around you. This craze is free advertisement; they’d be fools not to bank on it.”

  “Well, that’s a part of it. The other part . . .” I lick my lips. “They want to present me in a certain way.”

  Vicky tilts her head, waiting for me to go on. I chuckle, self-deprecating. “I can’t even voice this BS, but they want to have this image of me.” I shake my head. “Of a—” I wince. “Umm, a rough rebel sort of image.”

  “Rough rebel image?” Vicky asks.

  I shake my head and scratch my scar. I swear my cheeks heat a little when I croak, “Bad boy. Amanda’s words, not mine.”

  She grins widely at my discomfort. “What can I say?” she says. “I can see where that’s coming from. You already got the looks.”

  I worry my scar again. “The other rules have to do with my public persona too.” I train my eyes on her. “I won’t be allowed to date. I mean—I can, but it has to be under wraps.” I search her face for a reaction, finding it hard to decipher what she’s thinking. “And I need to be seen with random women.” I wince again, tapping my fingers on my thigh and clear my voice. “They mentioned setting up dates for me for heavily covered events. For PR purposes.” I keep my eyes on hers. She’s staring at her fingernails, picking at her thumb absently.