by Starr, Faith
“Nice diversion tactic. I’m more interested in what happened at the club. One minute you were sitting there. The next minute you were gone. It’s not like you to split on us.”
Why wouldn’t they let this rest?
“Fine, I’ll tell you.” I knew they had my best interest at heart and wouldn’t judge Lizzie. Maybe a part of me felt ashamed about that aspect of her life. “The woman I met at the center also works at the club.”
Nick slammed his beer bottle on the coffee table, smiling wide. “Now we’re talking. You’re fucking one of the strippers?”
“Shut up, Nick,” I growled. “She’s not a stripper. She’s a server. There’s a huge difference.” Nick sat back in his seat, hand up, retreating. “She does it for the cash.”
“Don’t they all?” Jonas asked.
Mason jumped into the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me that part?”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Time out.” Jonas motioned, tapping the side of his hand against the palm of the other one. “He knew about this chick and we didn’t?”
“Are you jealous?” Sometimes my buddies acted like women.
“No, you pussy. We’re brothers. I thought we told each other everything,” Jonas said with an icy stare.
“Stop whining. I met someone at the center. She works as a server at the club. We’ve gone out on more than one occasion. The end.”
“Thanks for filling us in. It wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jonas leaned back in his chair, his forehead relaxing.
“And please don’t speak about the piece of ass from the club you’re fucking and Lizzie in the same sentence,” I warned Nick.
“Lizzie. That’s her name?” Mason asked.
“Yeah.”
“So… which one was she last night?” Nick cocked his head to the side.
Of course, he had to go there.
“I’m not telling you. I don’t want you picturing her body in that demented brain of yours.”
“Damn. You really dig this girl, don’t you?”
Why was he so surprised by the notion? As if I couldn’t be interested in one woman.
“She’s nice. I’m not used to being around nice girls. It’s a total change to have an intellectual conversation with a woman who isn’t solely interested in me because of who I am.”
“She doesn’t know about the band?” Jonas hiked his feet up on the coffee table and finished off his crust.
“She didn’t when I first took her out. Her roommates recognized me. And she also overheard the hostess and other girl Nick took home from the club talking about us. Lizzie’s not fazed by our fame. So again, the answer is no. She had no clue about the band.”
“Does she own a radio?”
Jonas’s obnoxious comment didn’t warrant a reply.
“I’m glad she didn’t know who we were. It meant she wasn’t in it for the fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Let me get a clear picture of this. You’re seeing this girl Lizzie, who you’ve obviously developed feelings for since you’ve seen her more than once—which I have to say is a miracle in itself. What happens when we go back on the road?” Mason asked.
“I’m not thinking that far ahead. We agreed to take it a day at a time. Besides, it’s been a week. It’s not like I’m going to marry her. Now that all of you know the deal, can we please drop it?” I got up and helped myself to a beer from the fridge.
“‘Lighten up, Frances.’ I was just asking,” Nick yelled after me.
“Thanks, Sergeant Hulka.” Jonas laughed.
“‘Why’d the chicken cross the road?’” Nick chuckled, continuing to recite movie lines.
“‘To get from the left to the right!’” Mason and Jonas replied in unison.
“‘He stepped out of rank, got hit by a tank,’” Nick added.
They waited for me to say the last line. Without much enthusiasm, I did so. “‘He ain’t no chicken no more.’”
They clapped, fortunately losing the Lizzie conversation and returning to their normal asshole selves.
“Why don’t we watch it?” Mason suggested.
“Stripes?” I asked as if they didn’t know which movie the lines came from.
“Yeah. Microwave some popcorn, Nick. We’re doing an impromptu movie night.”
Seemed Jonas had made the decision about our activities for the next few hours.
Up Nick went to the kitchen while we brought the flick up on Netflix. It was the perfect ending to close out the day: beer, popcorn, and Bill Murray.
The following morning after working out, I met up with the guys in my parent’s garage to practice “Drowning.”
“This song is morbidly depressing. Your lyrics are getting darker. Maybe you should seek professional counseling. I’m not kidding either.” Jonas puckered his forehead.
“I agree. Pass me a Prozac. Shit, what the hell, Ryan?” Nick’s forehead matched Jonas’s with worry.
Mason sat quietly. He knew the deal. And he knew better than to confront me about it.
“We don’t have to record it.” Screw them. If they didn’t like the song, I’d write another one. It was easy enough for me to do.
“Yes, we do. Our fans will eat it up. They love your doleful lyrics. It lets them know you’re as fucked-up as everyone else.” Nick picked up his bass.
He spoke the truth. I was fucked-up. But then again, everyone I knew had issues. At least I had music as an outlet and fans who could identify with feeling crappy inside. I received email upon email telling me how much my music helped get them through tough situations. That had to count for something.
“Let’s do it then.” Jonas grabbed his guitar from its stand.
My mother entered the garage. “Hi, boys.” She still spoke to us like we were in grade school. “Do any of you want lemonade or iced tea?” She never offered us alcohol even though we were well over the legal age to consume it.
We all agreed on lemonade. She left to get it.
“Did I mention she and my dad put the house up for sale?”
Everyone’s face dropped.
“I told them I’d buy it, but they said no. I honestly don’t give a shit how they feel about it. I don’t want anyone else living in this house.”
“What about the garage?”
“It’s part of the house, dipshit. If the house goes, the garage goes with it.” God bless Jonas. Sometimes nobody was home upstairs.
My mood turned foul at the mere thought of my parent’s stupid-ass decision.
She came back into the garage, holding a tray with four glasses of lemonade on it. She handed one to each of us.
“Mrs. Josephs, Ryan just informed us you’ve decided to sell the house.” Mason stepped up to the plate.
“It’s true. Ed and I don’t need such a large house anymore. We want to downsize.”
Nick and Jonas stood on the sidelines, speechless.
“Enjoy your lemonade. I’ll be inside if you need anything.”
What I needed was for her to sell me the deed to the house or take it off the market.
“I can’t believe she’s selling this place. I also can’t believe she won’t let you buy it. I don’t see the problem. You have the money and can easily afford it,” Nick stated flatly once she was out of earshot.
“I agree. She doesn’t want to take money from me.”
“Yet she’s driving the Mercedes you bought her.” Jonas rejoined the conversation.
“Exactly. She didn’t argue when I offered to buy her that.”
“This is bullshit. She can’t tell you what you can or can’t do with your money. You’re an adult. You can invest it however you want,” Nick argued.
“She and my father say it’s not a wise investment, that the values in the neighborhood are going down.”
“Who cares? All we want is the garage.”
Fucking Jonas. I also wanted the house. It held important memories for me. It also kept them alive.
“I’ll speak to them again. The house hasn’t been on the market long. I doubt
it will sell so fast. It could use some work. Besides, who would want to buy a house with a music studio in the garage? It would cost a fortune to convert it back.”
“Hope you’re right.” Jonas’s shoulders slouched.
With that, we got back to business and worked on the song. Our frustration about the house brought more passion and feeling to an already dismal tune.
As we wrapped up, I informed the guys about my staycation with Lizzie. “I plan on checking out on Friday and Saturday. So if there’s anything you want to work on, it has to be done before or after.”
Nick halted his actions. “Why? What’s going on Friday and Saturday?”
“I’m taking Lizzie to a hotel. She needs a break, and I want her all to myself.”
Mason took a few steps toward me. “What happened to taking things slow?”
“We’re spending two days together. It’s no big deal.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re setting yourself up to get hurt,” Mason warned.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Uh-uh. We don’t need women getting in the way.” Nick glared at me, his posture stiffening. “We have a lot riding on this tour. It’s important that we remain focused.”
“I am focused. “Drowning” sounds amazing so far. I don’t see the issue.”
“Everything is great now because this chick Lizzie is in the picture. It’s when we leave that things will turn to shit. That’s when the problems will arise.”
“Stop projecting, Nick. Everything will be fine.”
“I sure as hell hope so. You’ve still got a lot of shit to work through from your past. I’d hate for anything to make it worse.”
“Don’t go there. Lizzie has nothing to do with that. And screw you for having such a bad attitude. I’m entitled to enjoy my vacation. Same as you’re doing with your new friends at the club.”
“My so-called friends at the club are fucks. That’s all. I’m not taking them on vacation to a resort.”
Jonas stepped in, putting his hand in front of Nick to simmer his anger. “We worry about you, is all. We want you to think with your head, not your dick, and especially not your heart. The band is peaking. We have to keep the momentum going.”
“And we will. I don’t understand where all of this is all coming from or what Lizzie has to do with any of it.”
“She’ll have plenty to do with it when you fall into a depression once we get back on the road. We can’t let that happen.” Jonas shook his head slightly. “Trust me. We’ve known each other long enough that I know the drill by now.”
“People change. And please stop bringing up my past. I don’t bring up your shit, repeatedly. For Christ’s sake. You three claim to be my brothers, yet you don’t want to see me happy. Right now, Lizzie makes me happy.”
“It’s not that we don’t want to see you happy. It’s that we’ve seen how you handle situations that don’t quite go as planned,” Mason said calmly.
“We can’t control most of the situations that happen in our lives. I’m not going to live under a shell and not experience anything that might trigger a feeling or two. And it’s unfair of you guys to expect me too.”
Jonas’s hand raised. “Wait a minute. You’re the one who loves to brag about your one-night stands because there are no feelings attached to them, so don’t give us that shit about us not wanting you to be happy. You’re also the one who made the choice to shut yourself off from mankind. Rather, womankind. We didn’t make it for you.”
“Screw all of you.” I pulled my keys out of my pocket.
“You going to take off again, like you did at the club because things are getting too hot for your comfort level?” Nick asked.
“No, asshole. I’m leaving because I have a date with Lizzie. I have to say, this shit of pointing the finger at me is getting old. Why don’t you try looking at yourselves in the mirror for a change and leave me the fuck alone?”
I bolted out of the garage. The three of them had keys and could lock up when they were finished. As far as I was concerned, my work for the day was done.
Mason jogged out to my car. “Come on, man. Ease up. Don’t leave mad.”
“I’m sick of it.”
“I get it. I’ll speak to them.”
“Don’t bother. Let it be. I’ll talk to you later.”
He stood by and watched me pull out of the driveway and screech off.
20
Lizzie
Ryan picked me up at seven. It gave me ample time to go home, shower, and change. He asked if I’d mind hanging out at his place to watch a movie and order in, apologizing afterward that he’d make up taking me out another time. There was no need for apologies on his part. His idea sounded perfect.
“Are you okay?” He seemed off, tense, during the drive to his apartment.
“Yeah, I’m fine. The guys pissed me off before I picked you up which is why I’d prefer to stay in. Again, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’m perfectly content being with you, no matter what we do or where we are.”
He brought our joined hands to his lips and kissed mine, something he did often. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“See, my mood is better already.”
“You’re full of shit. If you want to talk, I consider myself to be a good listener.”
“Ditto for me. How was my grandfather today?”
So much for him opening up to me.
“He had fun. We did art and music. That man loves music. He’ll either clap along or sway to the rhythm of the songs.”
“He’s the one who encouraged me to play the piano. My parents were against the idea so the sly guy he is, he bought me a keyboard and kept it at his house. He lived nearby so I’d go there to practice. My folks were clueless. When they found out, all hell broke loose, but by then it was too late. I was hooked. Nothing could stop me, not even their threats, which were all bullshit, mind you.” The corner of his lip ticked up.
“Your grandfather sounds like he was very supportive.”
“Beyond supportive. More so than my own parents.”
“Why were they so against you pursuing music?”
He glanced at me and tilted his head to the side, smirking. “I think that’s every parent’s nightmare. How many musicians actually make it? Mine didn’t have faith I would. My grandpa did.”
“I now see why you’re spending so much time with him.”
“Yeah. You should hear the man sing too. You’d be shocked that such a small man has such a powerful voice. Once I played actual songs, we would sing together. Those were the days.” He nodded to himself.
“What about your grandma, Carol?”
“She passed away quite young, in her fifties. She had cancer that went undiagnosed. My grandpa said no one could take her place, so he remained single all these years.”
“So, in addition to being a supportive grandfather, he was also a loyal and dedicated husband.”
“Don’t forget father. He was an incredible father to my dad.”
“You’re lucky to have him. Oh, on a different note, I spoke with one of the other servers, and she agreed to cover my shift on Saturday night.”
“Excellent because I went ahead and booked our reservation for Friday. We’ll head out first thing in the morning so we can have a full day at the resort.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.”
He pulled into the garage under his building and parked the car. We went upstairs to his apartment.
“Is there anything special you’re craving for dinner?”
“Not really. I’m fine with whatever.”
“The guys and I had pizza the other night. What else is there?” He contemplated aloud.
“Chinese?”
“I have a thing against lo mein. Lost Boys ruined it for me.”
“How about rice?”
His face scrunched in disgust.
“
‘You don’t like rice? Tell me, Ryan, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong?’”
His disgust transformed into a wide grin. “You know the movie?”
“Of course I do. And I hate to tell you this, but ‘they’re only noodles, Ryan.’”
“Get over here, you.” He tugged me into his arms and kissed me. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”
His comment caused a burst of energy to pool in my heart because I felt the same way about him.
“Why don’t you order food? But skip the appetizer. You can have me instead.” Where that comment had come from, I had no clue, but if his tented jeans had anything to say about it, he fancied my suggestion.
“Fuck dinner. It can wait.”
“Or you can fuck me.” I shrugged, playing innocent.
“Damn, woman. Dirty Lizzie is back.”
“Shall we go to your room?”
“Please, lead the way.”
“On one condition.” I held up a finger.
He frowned.
“It’s nothing bad,” I assured. “Do you mind if I rinse off first? I feel dirty from being at the center all day. I try to shower as soon as I get home.”
“By all means. Let’s shower.”
Guess it was going to be a joint effort.
He got the water going. We both undressed. Steam filled the space.
As soon as we entered the shower, his hands explored my body and soaped me from head to toe. Mine did the same to his but took a pitstop at his erection. I sank to my knees and licked, fondled and sucked on it. When he began to throb in my mouth, I withdrew. He huffed and stared down at me, eyes inquiring.
I felt like rubbing my hands together, such a deviant I could be when I wanted to.
“Good things come to those who wait,” I said nonchalantly.
“Listen to you. The one who said it’s been a while.” He chuckled.
“Consider this me making up for lost time.”
After rinsing off the soap, I stepped out of the shower and towel dried. He was right on my tail. He swooped me into his arms and carried me to the bed where he placed me in the center of it.
“So, you want me to fuck you, do you?” He climbed on top of me.
“But not in the way you do with your fans.”