Darling

by Gabrielle G

  “Some mothers think that volunteering for the school is the best way to lodge their head in the teacher’s ass,” she says.

  “Sucking their dick would go faster,” Julie replies loudly, which gets us some glances from people around us.

  “What do you do if it’s a woman teacher though?” Debbie shows our tickets at the entrance.

  “Isn’t that what husbands are for?” I shoot back before laughing hysterically.

  We make our way toward the stage, but because we weren’t here four hours ago, we can’t get much closer.

  “Check what I bought.” Debbie jumps up and down, pulling three Darling Devils T-shirts from her bag.

  “That’s awesome, Debs!” Julie hugs Debbie to thank her.

  “That’s… you shouldn’t have.” I chuckle, trying to hide the fact that I like the gift because it will always remind me of the day I ran into him.

  “Oh, come on, you love it! I bet you even sleep in it tonight or use it to masturbate,” Debbie says, handing the T-shirt over my head.

  “How would I use a T-shirt to masturbate?” I rack my brain for a position where that would work.

  “How wouldn’t you?” Debbie tilts her head. “You’ve never grabbed a T-shirt, rolled part of it into a ball, stuck it inside your panties, and rocked up and down on top of it?”

  “Can’t say I have. I’ve used a pillow but not a T-shirt. You, Jules?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Well, girls, you’re missing out. It’s the best way to masturbate. Seriously. I’m glad I got you both your first masturbation T-shirts then.” She giggles. “It’ll be like fucking the Darlings…”

  When the lights turn off, there’s a buzz in the air. Fans are screaming, my friends are beaming, and my heart skips a beat when the light falls on one spot. Dan Darling rises from a hole in the stage, his head down and his arm in the air, holding the mic and showing a slit of skin from his stomach. He’s wearing black jeans and a Montreal T-shirt. That’s one of his things. At every concert, he wears a T-shirt from that city or country. The sleeves show his biceps and a little bit of his tattoo, and the black jeans are tight enough to contour his hips perfectly. Sexy as hell.

  “Bonsoir, Montreal,” he says with a thick accent.

  The crowd screams and I join in.

  “I’m so glad to be here with you tonight. Are you ready for us?”

  The crowd screams louder.

  “I’m sorry, I barely heard anything. Are you ready for us?”

  We all scream louder.

  “Let’s go then.” He turns his back to us and gets his guitar while the music starts.

  Seeing Darling on stage is the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. He’s a beast. The energy he gives, the winks, the dancing… it’s so sensual.

  I’m drooling.

  Jules and Debbie are slobbering.

  Every female watching him is wet. There are puddles under our feet… I feel hot and sticky, and it’s not only because of the mucky night.

  Am I the biggest dumbass for not going to his room earlier? Who wouldn’t follow a guy who sings and moves like Mick Jagger and has the energy of the Red Hot Chili Peppers—all of them?

  After a few songs, everything stops, and Dan takes the mic. “Hey, Montreal.”

  The crowd roars.

  “So here’s the thing. Today is someone’s birthday. She’s special to me, and I want to sing the next song as a present to her. This is a song I wrote a long time ago, and it’s maybe the only song I meant every word of. It’s a song I put my heart into after a bad breakup.”

  The crowd screams.

  Maybe the only song I meant every word of. Dan Darling is repeating my words on stage. I feel as if I’m going to throw up. The crowd is still yelling, and he shushes everybody because he has more to say.

  “This song is generally not on the set because singing it reminds me of bad memories. But tonight, I’m singing it for her knowing this is something we share. From now on, I’ll sing this thinking of her. For the magnificent redhead in my life, happy birthday, Anna love.”

  I don’t have time to understand what’s happening before my friends turn to face me.

  “Did Dan Darling dedicate your favorite song to you, on stage, for your birthday?” Debbie asks. I nod quietly.

  “What the fuck? You have some explaining to do!” Jules says.

  I’m so confused, it’s painful. Even if only Jules and Debbie know I’m the Anna he’s talking about—as well as Scumbag and Wifey—I feel as though everybody’s looking at me. The knot in my belly is worse than ever.

  I need air, water, and a toilet bowl.

  The song is perfect, and even if he’s not used to singing it on stage and his voice sounds vulnerable, the crowd follows anyway. I have to admit, this is the best birthday present ever. I take out my phone and text him a thank you.

  Debbie looks over my shoulder. “Are you fucking texting him?”

  “What?” Jules screams.

  I throw my phone in my purse and tell them that I’ll explain later, because right now, I want to listen to him sing my favorite song. I forget the thousands of fans around me and immerse myself in the song that is just for me. Even if the guitars are loud, his voice is screaming, and the lights are pounding, I’m alone, connecting with him and regretting that his eyes can’t find me.

  After the concert, we’re back at the hotel bar. Debbie and Julie want to see if we can find Dan again. I want to see if I can have a couple of drinks and go home.

  Favorite Brother: The fact that your friends are texting me relentlessly because you were texting Dan Darling is annoying. Tell them the freaking story, so they stop bothering me.

  Me: I don’t want to share.

  Favorite Brother: That good?

  Me: I’ll tell you tomorrow.

  Favorite Brother: I thought you did not want to share?

  Me: Fuck off.

  “Ladies, please stop disturbing Oliver. He doesn’t know anything.”

  Debbie’s and Jules's eyes widen.

  “You didn’t tell Ol? But you tell him everything.” Jules blinks.

  “Almost everything…”

  “‘To the redhead in my life.’” Debbie swoons. “It’s flattering.”

  “Not sure I liked it,” I say.

  “Seriously, I know your heart has been made of marble since your divorce, but it was swoony, sexy, and adorable. Is this about Scumbag?” Jules inquires.

  Irritation flares from hearing his nickname. Bringing Joel into the mix is the best way to have me throw my drink at her face. But as I’ve heard that’s how you lose friends, I stay silent, trying to hold on to the bliss I felt.

  It’s Debbie’s turn to break the balls I don’t have. “Two reasons why you don’t want to tell us. One, Dan Darling was a prick, but well… I can’t believe that. Two, you’re trying to minimize the fact that you felt something for the hottest guy on the planet and rationalize it as if he’s just a guy. In that case, nothing will make you speak. I say it’s two.”

  I sigh. “I’m going home. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

  “Anna,” Jules pleads, “I’m sorry, I just think if Dan Darling dedicated a song to you and you have his phone number, maybe you should take the opportunity to get to know him?”

  “Imagine if Jules was in the same situation,” Debbie says. “What would you tell her?”

  “To reach out to the guy and see where it goes,” I mumble.

  “So?” Julie adds. “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “You both know why.” I close my eyes, swallowing back the pain and the anger rising inside me.

  Debbie says in her maternal voice, “He’s not Joel. All men aren’t like Joel.”

  After the high of the concert, I feel misery crawling back into me the same way as when I saw Scumbag again.

  My friends are right though. My reluctance to talk to Dan is about Scumbag, but it’s also about the life we weren’t able to build. If it was only about Joel, I certai
nly would have moved on by now.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I tell my friends before stepping away from Debbie’s hug. “I’ll call you, okay?”

  They nod, seeing there’s no way to convince me to stay. After saying my goodbyes, I walk away, not sure what I’m feeling anymore.

  I need my brother, and I know whatever time it is, he’ll answer even if he’s not alone.

  “Anna, it is twelve thirty a.m. on the only night the bar closes early.” He sounds annoyed, but I can hear the smile.

  He likes that I need him. I like having him to talk to. It was us against our parents until Joel swept me off my feet.

  “You were just texting me,” I scoff. “I’m driving home and I need to talk.”

  He clears his voice. “What’s up?”

  “Do you think I’ll ever be in a relationship again? Do you think I’ll end up alone with cats?”

  “Digging right into the freak-out zone.” Oliver has heard my speech so many times that he named it after the third repeat. “Listen, you can be in relationships if you want, but maybe find a non-douchy scumbag cheater with a small dick.”

  “He dedicated a song to me tonight. We only spoke for a few minutes, and I got a song. I loved it and hated it at the same time.”

  “Joel?” He teases me trying to get a rise out of me.

  “No, Dan!”

  “Darling?” He continues with humor in his voice.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Why are you whispering? Nobody is listening to us.”

  “You never know…”

  “Well I know you.” He yawns. “So I’m not surprised a rock star would dedicate anything to you. Now is us talking about relationships and the fact Dan Darling sang ‘Once You Were Gone’ for you linked in any way?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I’ll say this because I know sometimes you live in fantasyland, but please don’t put your career in jeopardy by following him across Europe or moving to LA. Last time you did, it did not end well.”

  I huff. “I won’t. What’s up with you? You said earlier you wanted to talk to me?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, your head is full of Dan Darling, and you don’t have the focus for my shit.”

  “Okay, but talk soon?”

  “Yes. Good night, sis. And there’s no harm in using your vibrator while thinking of Dan Darling.”

  “Vibrators are so last year, Ol. T-shirts make the best masturbating tool.”

  He gags. “TMI! Seriously! I’m hanging up now!”

  I laugh, imagining his expression. As I park on my street, I wonder if Debbie was right about the T-shirt technique. I guess there’s only one way to find out. I have a date with Dan Darling’s face.

  4

  Dan

  Going off the stage, I feel like the rock star that I am. I’ve never given such a great show. Well, we’ve never given such a great show. The guys were awesome.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, Art, the bassist and my bandmate since high school, hugs me. “Awesome shit tonight. I don’t know who the fuck Anna is, but I’m pretty sure she has something to do with it. You were on fire.”

  He’s right. I was on freaking fire. I was Vesuvius burning down Pompeii. I was hell raising the temperature of their bodies. I was the arsonist of our fans’ panties.

  “There’s going to be a great choice of pussy tonight! Thanks, man!” Art adds before making his way to the exit.

  Montreal is a great city. The fans give us the best energy we can ask for. I was pumped before meeting Anna, but after, I felt like I used to after snorting coke. I tried to find her in the crowd tonight, but there were too many faces and it was way too dark. Nevertheless, I knew she was watching me, so I imagined I was watching her, and I sang for her and her beautiful green eyes.

  We have another show here tomorrow, but in a smaller venue, mostly unplugged, and I need her to be there.

  Lars, my other best friend and the drummer of the band, is waiting with a playful grin but worried eyes by the door.

  “Anna?”

  I know he’s not asking if I’m fucking her tonight. He’s asking if I’m in love. He’s worried because the last time I was in love, it ended, and I wrote “Once You Were Gone.”

  “Not even. Just tired, bro.”

  It’s nice to be in a band with your best friends since I landed in the States. They know that after a show like we gave tonight, I’m wiped out and need my rest for tomorrow night. They also know that I wouldn’t dedicate a song on stage unless the girl is special. They know I wouldn’t fuck around with my image if she weren’t worth it. Because let’s be clear, most of our sales come from the fact that we’re handsome, sexy guys, women want to fuck. We know that. We play the game. That’s why I dedicated the song tonight in an elusive way. Tonight, every woman in that crowd wanted to be Anna. They all swooned at my words. They all wished I’d fuck them. They all hoped I’d make them come.

  My phone keeps buzzing. I have tons of messages to answer about interviews to give, parties to attend, but I’m exhausted. The only one who could keep me up is Anna. I hope she liked my present.

  Her favorite song took me by surprise. She’s right—that was the only song I meant every word of. That’s the only one I’ve refused to sing on stage. It’s too personal. But I did it tonight for her. I couldn’t stop imagining her reaction, her eyes like big green lights, her mouth open in an O shape. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I could do to those beautiful lips. I wondered what color they were under the lipstick. I imagined her mouth around my cock, playing with my tip while those green eyes looked at me.

  I haven’t had fantasies for a long time. I never need to. When I want someone, I don’t need to think of women doing things to me; they do them willingly.

  But Anna is different. The fact that the song she loves the most is the band’s favorite. The fact that she understands it’s the song I poured my heart into.

  When she answered my question, I felt as if she could read my soul.

  She isn’t a fan.

  She isn’t a fuck.

  She’s a woman who has piqued my interest.

  I smile when I see her name on my screen. I check the time stamp first. She sent it during the concert. I’m the happiest idiot on Earth.

  Anna Love: Thank you

  I love hearing women thanking me for their orgasms, but Anna’s thank you is more than an acknowledgment of my talent. It’s an invitation to open the discussion. It calls for an answer.

  After refusing to go to the after-party, I wonder if I can convince her to see me again.

  Once in my room, I know I’ll crash hard, but I need to unwind first. It’s one in the morning, and I want to text her back and it can’t wait for tomorrow. It’s late, but it’s worth a try. Removing my shoes, I get comfortable on my bed, fully dressed and still sticky from the sweat of the show. I hate the feeling, but I’m too afraid Anna will be asleep if I wait after taking my shower to text her.

  Me: Hey Love, you awake?

  Anna Love: No.

  Me: Did you like the concert?

  I feel my chest tighten. It seems like a harmless question and her opinion shouldn’t matter, but it does. I have the feeling she’ll be brutally honest, like when I asked her if she liked what we did or like when she called out her ex on the fact that he hates our music.

  Anna Love: Yes and no.

  Me: Ok… Again, please can you elaborate your thoughts?

  Maybe she didn’t like how I sang her song. But she thanked me for it. Her song. I love how that sounds. For the longest time, it was my ex’s song, then it became my song. Until tonight.

  Anna Love: Yes, because it was awesome. Saw you in concert before and tonight was the best concert you ever gave here. No, because I didn’t like the attention.

  Me: Liar. You thanked me for it. *wink emoji*

  Anna Love: True but I had the feeling all the women there were looking at me. I generally don’t care, but it felt
strange. It felt like it was a lie. It felt like I meant more to you than what I know I am. It was flattering, but I felt like an impostor.

  Me: I’m sorry then Anna Love. It’s not what I was going for…

  She doesn’t answer for a few minutes, and I believe I’ve lost her. It puts me in a somber mood and tiredness slowly takes over. I feel myself drifting away when the chime of my phone brings me back to life.

  Anna Love: How did you manage to insert the song at the last minute?

  Me: I asked the guys. They know if I ask it’s because it’s important to me. They said yes.

  Anna Love: That simple huh?

  It was that simple. The guys love “Once You Were Gone” and are always trying to include it in the set. I’m the one stopping them every single time. So when I asked, they didn’t put up a fight. They were freaking happy about it. The only thing Art asked was who were we playing it for. I just smiled, and he knew not to ask anything more.

  Me: I know it seems different to an outsider, but my life is, in fact, quite simple… sometimes…

  Anna Love: Ha. Ha. Can I be honest?

  Me: Always, love.

  Anna Love: Seeing you on stage, I kind of regretted not going to your room before the concert.

  I would love to know if her face is flushed or if she’s cool and mellow about what she’s implying. It kills me that I can’t picture her right now.

  Me: To stay honest love, you could have come up. Nothing would have happened. I need all my energy for the stage.

  Anna Love: So you never have sex before a show?

  And I’m hard again…

  Me: No.

  Anna Love: Did you want it tonight, I mean before the show?

  Holy fucking moly. I’m trying to keep the conversation on track, but it seems my redhead is horny. Breathing in, I type my answer. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?