by Chance : Poison & Wine, book 2

by Sigal Ehrlich

  I pick up a shrimp sashimi and flatly say, “I am actually nervous about putting it in my mouth, knowing none of you will even attempt a Heimlich if it goes down the wrong pipe.”

  “But we’ll give you a kick-ass funeral and treasure your possessions for years to come,” Kayla says, followed by chuckles from my sister and Panda.

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I mutter, taking a sip of my drink.

  A few glasses of wine and three shared desserts later, we say good night, and I take an Uber to Ricky’s. I smile to myself, a little dazed by the fact that Ricky and I have practically moved in together. There was never an official talk about it. It just happened. Since I left the hospital, we spend the evenings in each other’s places, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. A troubling thought punctures my happy bubble, probing if maybe it’s too soon. No, it’s not. Maybe our relationship hasn’t been conventional, yet it brought along self-revelations, trust, grief, and love worth many long-lasting relationships.

  I still get this flutter in my stomach every time I put my key in the door, knowing he will be on the other side. The apartment is dark, with the soft light coming from the bedroom down the hall. I take off my heels and pad to the bedroom. “God, I love you,” I say under my breath to the sight of Ricky serenely sleeping on the bed. I forgo taking off my makeup or brushing my teeth, a first for me. The urge to be close to him is greater. I slide into bed, molding my body to his, resting my head on his bare chest, and sigh with a mix of relief and a sense of belonging.

  With his eyes closed, his arm moves to cradle me closer into him. Wordless, he tips his head to kiss my hair. I tilt my head up to softly kiss his lips. His lips part, and he deepens the kiss. His hand moves to stroke my hair, mine caress his neck, his hair. When he moves to lie on top of me with the same gentle quality of our kisses, I yearn for him so much the skin along my body buzzes for him to touch me everywhere. And he does, slowly and focused, taking my breath away with the way he cherishes me. Satiated and brimming with sentiments, I fall asleep blissfully spooned in his arms.

  When my alarm clock goes off, I let out a frustrated groan. A chuckle coming from the right has me opening my eyes and looking at Ricky with his head propped on his elbow, grinning at me.

  “Have you been watching me sleep?” I ask, groggy and yawning.

  “Yeah,” he says, happy.

  “That’s weird,” I say, loving it.

  He grins and leans in to press a kiss on my neck. “Good morning, babe.”

  When he inches back to lean on his elbows, I send my hand to stroke his bristled jaw. Smiling at him, I catch a glimpse of the twinkle coming from my hand and perk up. I furrow my brows, trying to make sense of what I’m looking at. My mouth drops as I trade glances between my right hand and the man beside me, beaming at me.

  I sit up, examining my hand, and turn to Ricky. “There’s a massive rock on my finger.”

  Feigning interest, he takes said hand in his and examines it. “Impressive,” he casually says. When I look at him, lost for words, he sits up, takes my hand, and kisses it next to the stunning ring. “You make of it whatever you want to make of it. It can be just a ring I gave you because I love you, or it can be more.”

  I look at him, still somewhat stunned.

  “It’s me telling you that I want you, and I love you, and when I’m away on tour, you’ll look at it and remember that there’s no one else but you, and I’m out there thinking of you.” He shrugs and adds, “Over six months ago, I told you that in a year’s time I’d ask you to marry me . . . let’s just say I moved the date up a little. Time off for good behavior.”

  I laugh. “You mean time off for nutty behavior.”

  His grin widens as his eyes watch me with a wealth of happiness in them. “That.”

  “So you decided to put it on my finger while I was sleeping?”

  He shrugs again, amused. “Couldn’t wait to see how it looked on you.”

  “I love it,” I say and kiss him. “I love you.”

  “That a yes?” he asks.

  “Don’t know about you, but I didn’t hear a proper question,” I tease.

  “Do I need to get on one knee?” Ricky inches to stand.

  I grab his hand and stop him mid-action. “You need to get on top of me. That’s what you need to do.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says and does as requested.

  When he drops me off at the airport an hour later, I kiss him for the millionth time and say goodbye. I hoist my bag up my shoulder and turn. As I reach the gate, I turn to see him still watching me. I smile at him, lift my hand up and bob my head, mouthing, “Yes.”

  How does one board a plane now? How does one continue with normal life after this?

  Home Sweet Home

  “What’s up, man?” Jax shakes my hand.

  “Rick!” Kevin, the moron, jumps on me, almost knocking us both to the floor. I hold the wall, stopping the crush, and shake my head humoredly.

  “Hey, handsome.” Kayla hugs me and kisses my cheek.

  Dave joins them, patting my back. “Are you joining us tonight?”

  I look at Jax in question. After all, he’s the lead of Broken Chords now; it’s not my call anymore. He smiles and nods, “It’ll be an honor.” I drop my head with a nod, humbled by the gesture.

  I returned from LA last night after a busy week of meetings and going over the final details of the tour. Even though it’s due to happen in a week, it still doesn’t register that I’ll open for Tyler Lee Adams’ European tour. At home, I couldn’t focus on anything. I was buzzing with excitement, couldn’t sit still, waiting for Vicky to come back, and decided to hit up Poison.

  Matty enters his office, shaking his head. “Not only do I have to see your faces all the time but now you’re also squatting in my office?”

  The guys snort in synchronized discord yet leave one after the other, heading to set up the stage.

  “Are you performing tonight?” Matty asks me.

  “Maybe a couple of songs,” I say, pouring us each a finger of scotch from the bottle on his desk.

  “I should put it on social media. An influx of patrons is never a bad thing.” He smiles, satisfied.

  I think for a moment and say, “Not tonight.” I hand him a shot glass. “Do you mind keeping it intimate tonight?”

  He studies me for a beat and relents. “Sure thing.” We throw back the drinks. “Catch,” he says, throwing me a pen. He pats a stack of papers on the desk. “Need your signature on these.”

  I take his seat, skim the pages and jot down my initials on each page. I scribble my signature on the last page and put the pen on top. I pat Matty’s back before stepping back into the bar.

  Jax stops me for a few words, suggesting I sing a song at the beginning and one to close the session. “You’re the boss,” I say.

  “You know it.” He grins.

  Poison isn’t full tonight. Tuesday evening isn’t usually a busy night. I’m glad Matt didn’t post anything on social media about me performing tonight. Our group of friends and a few regulars fits my mood this evening.

  I keep glancing at the door, waiting for Vicky to walk in after not seeing her for a week. I missed her something fierce. I don’t want to think of just how much I’ll miss her on tour. I push the thought aside and say hi to our friends in their regular booth. Everyone is here tonight, the girls and their men, and a couple of my longtime friends, Tom and Shawn. Shawn gives me shit about becoming a diva since I started rubbing elbows with Tyler Lee and sorts. I flip him off and stay at their table for a quick chat till Kevin flags me to get on stage.

  I walk to the center of the small stage and take my place in front of the standing microphone. Bringing a hand to shield my eyes, I say to the mic, “Matty, are you trying to blind me tonight?”

  People laugh, and Matt lifts a hand, gesturing, I’m on it.

  “Good evening, everyone; thanks for coming out tonight,” I begin. The response comes with a coupl
e of whistles and a wave of claps. I glance at the door again and fall silent. Be still my heart, my woman is breathtaking. Vicky’s eyes find mine immediately, and she smiles in a way that tells me she missed me just as much as I missed her.

  I hold the back of my neck, looking at the crowd. “I’m sorry for this. Give me a moment, okay?” All patrons look at me in question as I jump off the stage and make my way to the door. Reaching Vicky, I grab her face and kiss her deep and demanding. My mouth swallows Vicky’s surprised laughter. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me just as fiercely. Our fused lips stretch into smiles to the whistles coming from behind us.

  Vicky eases back and pushes my chest with a radiant smile. “You’d better go now.”

  When I return to the stage, every face in the audience grins at me. I wink and say, “Thanks for waiting. I owe you one.” People laugh.

  I drag the high stool and lean on it. Scratching my scar, I speak to the mic, “Can I ask for a favor? Those who are filming this, do you mind stopping for the next couple of minutes?” People look at each other, but those with their phones in their hands put them away. I carry on, “Not many people know this about me, but Poison and Wine is where everything began for me. Matty here”—I gesture with the mic to Matt—“saw this punk kid and thought it was a good idea to give him a chance on stage. And now, a decade later, knowing what Poison means to me, Matt agreed to take me on as his partner in Poison.” I press a hand to my chest and say, “Thank you, Matty.” Matt lifts a beer bottle and nods.

  “Poison has been and still is home. It’s also the place where I met the one person who drove me crazy as much as she made me fall for her.” I smile at Vicky and chuckle, self-deprecating. “Due to some unbelievable chance and what I believe a lapse in her judgment, this woman agreed to be my wife.” I grin at Vicky, pressing my hand to my chest again and mouth, “Thank you.”

  Vicky laughs and blows me a kiss. People clap and whistle once more.

  “So, as you can see, this place has a very special spot in my heart, and whenever I step through that door, I feel like I’m home again.” I gesture to the band, “These are the Broken Chords, and this is Home Sweet Home.”

  I climb the stairs to Vicky’s apartment two at a time. Opening the door with my set of keys, I set down the helmet and throw my jacket on a hanger. “Vicky?” I call.

  “In the kitchen.”

  As I reach the kitchen, I stop to watch her. My eyes are honing in on her perfect ass encased in a pencil skirt. Damn. She turns to look at me, her silky ponytail swinging with the motion. Smiling, she leans her superb ass on the countertop and returns my stare. This is the first time we’ve been alone since she said yes and disappeared.

  We drove back separately from Poison, me on my bike and Vicky with an Uber as she had her carry-on with her. She’d come directly to Poison from the airport.

  “Hi.” She grins at me.

  With my eyes dancing, I fold my arms across my chest. “You said yes and ran away.”

  Her smile takes a devilish shade. “Yes.”

  I chuckle. The tease.

  “C’mere,” I say.

  Her eyes narrow, and she shakes her head.

  When I take a step toward her, she lifts her hand. I stop in my tracks, staring her down.

  Her eyes stay firmly on mine. “You make me feel proud and unapologetic about my strength, but with that, you make me feel secure and supported to acknowledge my weaknesses and be okay with it. No one has ever made me feel so empowered even when I’m at my most vulnerable.”

  “Babe.” I’m about to walk her way, but she holds a hand up and shakes her head.

  “No,” she says. “We’re not going to turn this into a hallmark moment. It’s just something I wanted to say.” She places her hand on her waist. “Now, take your shirt off, slowly.”

  I grin and shake my head. But pull my shirt up and throw it at a chair.

  “Your belt.”

  I put my hand on my belt but keep it there. “You know how this works.” I raise an eyebrow. “Shirt. Off.”

  Beaming amusedly, Vicky takes her time unbuttoning her blouse. When her blouse glides to the floor in a pink pile of tossed silk, I rip my belt off.

  “Your jeans,” Vicky commands.

  I open two buttons and look at her. Narrowing my eyes, I start walking her way, determined. “What are you doing?” she yelps as I grab her and lift her over my shoulder.

  I rub her ass once and smack it. Vicky laughs as I carry her down the hall and throw her on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asks again, looking at me from the bed. Some of her hair managed to slip out of the hair tie, her lips with faded lipstick slightly parted with a smile as she lies there, looking at me.

  “What am I doing?” I ask, grabbing her legs, sliding her toward me. I lean in to press a kiss to her belly button and flip her over. “What am I doing?” I ask again. I rub her ass again before smacking it, again. “Smacking this superb ass into submission like I wanted to do from the moment I laid eyes on you, the moment you started giving me shit.”

  Vicky laughs in return and turns to face me. She stands up and pushes me to the bed. I am taken by surprise, falling onto the comforter. Vicky climbs to sit astride me and says, “Well, about that.”

  “I love you.” I grin at her.

  “I love you too.”

  “Let’s get married on the date I was supposed to get on one knee.”

  She cocks her head.

  “You know the date that you put in your phone as . . . what was it? “Betrothal, location never-never land.”

  Vicky laughs. “A destination wedding in Cancun with only our closest people. No media.”

  “Deal.” I extend my hand for a shake, my eyes dancing with hers.

  She shakes my hand. “Now that we settled the technicalities of making you my husband, let’s get back to work.”

  Singular Species

  “Babe, get me coffee while you—”

  I snap my head back to give the bed a death glare. Shrugging my jeans on, I say, “Get your own damn coffee. And I swear, if you ever call me babe again, I’m going to cut your tongue out and feed it to raccoons.”

  “Morning, Sunshine, I love you too,” Kevin says in a raspy morning voice, scrubbing his hands over his face.

  Thank God! Thank God we didn’t actually go ahead and do the deed last night. Sometimes, life grants little gifts to those who make alcohol-driven decisions.

  As I see it, there are three types of male douchebags in this world.

  The classic: a good-looking, full of himself bastard who flies through life mastering his degree in making women drop their panties.

  The accidental: like his fellow species, the classic, the accidental, he gets into more women’s panties than Tampax. Albeit, this type is lacking a functional brain, as they believe they are not only God’s gift to women but also that women are like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  And the last, but definitely not the least, the Homo-Douchesapient: aka the Shiva of all douchebags. Looks of a God, traits of a devil, personality of a rabid dog . . . on steroids.

  Which one is the worse is debatable. In my opinion, number three takes the gold. It’s also the one I usually end up with. However, this time, I’ve outdone myself because not only is the douche that’s wiping web cobs off his eyes in my bed didn’t deliver (the human manifestation of when the occasion falls short of the desire) but he is also Justin’s cousin. Justin as in my long-lost best friend. Not to mention Kevin is one of my band’s members. Mixing business with toxic pleasure. Never again.

  “Just shut the door when you leave,” I say, grabbing my keys from the bowl and haste to get the hell out of my apartment.

  “No, you didn’t. Why would you do that? Kevin? Kayla, really? Kevin? You’ve run out of normal tools and had to go for the king?” Anna, my friend, says from the other end of the phone.

  “I can’t believe I let this happen. I mean, nothing really happened, but still . .
.” I say to the phone. I tuck my red bangs behind my ear, pushing open the door to enter the coffee shop. “We both had a bit too much to drink, we fooled around a little, and by the time we reached my room, we basically crashed down on the bed.”

  “Sorry, I must have missed something . . . why in the hell did you think it was a good idea to fool around with him in the first place? Kevin? Justin’s cousin of all people out there?” She huffs. “You know that’s going to circulate faster than you can order your coffee.”

  I wince at the mention of Justin and take it out on my short, black polished nail. I nod at the barista, signaling I’ll have my regular.

  “Oh, I get it. Now it all makes sense,” Anna muses.

  I continue assaulting my nail, waiting for what she’s about to dish.

  “It’s because of Justin. Because he’s coming for a visit, uh?”

  I wince again. “Oh come on, Sherlock, that ship has sailed long ago. It had nothing to do with Justin coming back.” Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I’m lying to one of my closest people.

  “If you say so.” I can practically visualize her eye roll. “Well, what can I say? Try to stay douchebag-sober, at least until I see you later. Poison at nine?”

  Poison and Wine, our usual hangout bar, the same bar where Broken Chords, my band plays, is jam-packed this evening. I pass by the bar, say hi to the bartenders on duty, and grab a water before heading to the backroom to meet with the rest of the band. We’ve been playing for a few years now and got ourselves a name in the local indie-music scene. What’s more surprising is we even have more than a few dedicated followers.

  “Looking ravish-worthy tonight, babe.” It’s Kevin, yeah, him. The homo-douchesapient, who also happens to be our bassist, gives me a slow scan. I roll my eyes.

  “Try to keep your tongue out of my throat tonight, babe,” he continues. “There are lots of other babes out there tonight I want to taste. Don’t want them to get the wrong idea.” He winks.