DARE: A Rock Star Hero

by Scott, S. L.

  Speaking of mistakes . . .

  I see my biggest when I leave the lecture hall to go to my car. Lloyd not only comes at me with a big bouquet of red roses but also with his other hand in front of him in surrender. “Two minutes,” he pleads. “That’s all I’m asking for, Weatherly.”

  I keep walking. “That’s okay. I’m good.”

  From behind me, he asks, “What does that mean, you’re good?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like.” I turn around and sigh. “Aren’t you ready to move on? To find love with someone?”

  His head jerks back. “Find love with someone else? What are you talking about? I found love with you.”

  His confession takes me by surprise. I tilt my head, bewildered by how he thinks what we share is love. “Did you, though?”

  “Of course.” He shoves the flowers at me. “I know I screwed up, but we’ll work through it.”

  “Hmm, let me guess.” I tap my chin, avoiding the flowers. “Like we always do? It’s been a week. I thought you’d moved on like I have.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Are you not feeling well?”

  “I’m feeling great. That’s why I thought this,” I say, waving between us, “was over.”

  I can’t help but notice how disheveled he looks—usually perfectly gelled sections of his hair fall over his forehead, the bags under his eyes will require a bellhop to help lug around, and desperation has taken up residence in the lines of his forehead. Quite frankly, it’s the best he’s looked in years. Real, not perfectly quaffed or put together. Emotions seen in his expression.

  I still can’t seem to garner any sympathy for him, though. Apparently, he’s had a rough go of it after being caught cheating.

  Me, on the other hand? I’ve had one of the best weeks of my life. It was so good that I’m struggling to keep the smile from my face. I’ll have to get better at suppressing my emotions as an attorney.

  Pushing the flowers toward me again, he says, “I’ve learned my lesson. That’s what you want to hear. There! I’ve said it.”

  I don’t take the flowers. Mass-produced, non-smelling red roses were never my favorite anyway. “Go home, Lloyd.”

  “We need to talk this out.”

  “I think you having sex with another woman kind of says it all, don’t you think?”

  He stomps his foot. “No, actually, I don’t think that says it all. It was a mistake, a momentary blip in the scheme of our lives—”

  “Yeah. Yeah. She meant nothing.” I approach my car but keep talking with him in tow. “I’ve heard this song and dance. You’re repeating your speech from sophomore year in college. The difference this time is that I saw you, Lloyd. So I don’t want your excuses. I want out. We’re done.”

  “Why are you being so bitchy, Weatherly? Forgiveness is a virtue.”

  If he was trying to trigger me, he just did it. My arms tighten around my bag to keep from punching him in the face. I’ve never been the violent type, but he seems to have a knack for bringing out the worst in people. He definitely brings out the worst in me and has for years. With him, I was exactly who he said I was—meek and accommodating. I don’t remember dreaming of those traits when I was a girl, but everyone’s repeated insults stuck to me like glue, and that’s who I became.

  With my back to him, I look over my shoulder, and say, “Cheating on me wasn’t an offense. It was a gift. Thank you for finally making me deal with what I always knew inside. You’re free to fuck whomever you want, but now it won’t be at my expense. Goodbye, Lloyd.”

  I get in my car and lock the doors before setting my bag on the passenger’s seat to the sound of him groaning outside. “Come on, Weatherly. Don’t be unreasonable.”

  While I’m reversing, he walks in front of my car, still yapping about how I’m ruining everything, ruining his big plans. “Your father is going to lose his shit when he finds out.”

  I slam on the brakes, the front of my car just barely pressed to the crease of his overly starched dress pants. Asshole. Lloyd always did know how to get to me. Although his face shows the shock from me fighting back, our eyes remain locked in a standoff through the windshield. I have no interest in being with him or playing his petty games, so I shift my car and crack my window. “You’re right. He will lose his shit when he finds out you cheated on me. Again. So get out of my way or get run over.” Although deep down, I wonder whose side he’ll choose.

  “You wouldn’t,” he says, glaring with irritation. I saw the same look on his face once when a bug splattered on his windshield and had the nerve to harden before he reached a gas station to clean it.

  To him, I’m that bug—nothing but a nuisance in his journey to greatness.

  Fuck him. I slam on the horn, causing him to jump and grab his chest. Laughing, I shift the car in reverse and back up to the end of the aisle before righting myself to leave him behind.

  He doesn’t run after me like he did last night, which means one of two things. He’s either plotting his next move, or if I’m lucky, he’s accepting our fate. I’m really hoping it’s the latter, but my gut tells me it’s the former.

  A stack of law books waits for me at home, and though I really should be studying, I loop around to Eighth Street and turn down Red River. I search for the scene of the crime on Sixth Street. As I approach the intersection, I recognize the doorway where the gargoyle of a bouncer sat on his stool checking IDs, collecting cover fees, and silently judging everyone who walked through his door.

  Since the light is red, I have a moment to lean over my passenger seat and look up at the name of the bar above the awning—Shep’s Watering Hole. It’s not a place I’ve been before, but it’s a place I intend to return to one day. Maybe even Thursday.

  I wonder if the girls would go to a dive like that? I highly doubt it, but it doesn’t mean I won’t try to work on them. The light turns green, and I start driving again, heading home like I should have in the first place. I can’t afford to let my head slip into the stars like I used to. I need to be responsible, but I have a case of Marquis brain. I cannot stop thinking about him. Or smiling when I do.

  Curious, I voice command to find a listing for Marquis in Austin, but my car replies, “Calling Marquis.”

  “No!” I scramble, taking my eyes off the road to find a stop button. “No. No. No. Don’t call Marquis.”

  “Calling Marquis.”

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Um, hello?”

  A voice an octave or two higher than the Marquis I met last night answers. “Thank God. I’m sorry. I have the wrong number.”

  “No problem.”

  I end the call with no issue finding the button now when the stress is off. Fuck my life. This is a fool’s conquest. I have to get him out of my head. But why does that suddenly feel like an insurmountable task?

  I know why.

  Iced tea on a hot day brown eyes.

  Biceps that the cotton of his shirt couldn’t resist clinging to.

  My name . . . wait, Pepper is not my name. At that moment, though, when Pepper rolled off his tongue, it was as if he’d said it in another life that tied us together. The problem with studying law is that you are taught to analyze and solve. Surely, that is the real reason I can’t get him off my mind.

  I also know he’s trouble.

  He’s the sexiest kind of trouble I ever did see, and maybe, just maybe he’s the kind of trouble I need to release some steam.

  “Call Stascia,” I voice command.

  “Hello, future Attorney Beck,” she answers in a bubbly voice.

  I grin and then go in for the kill. “Are you free this Thursday?”

  5

  Weatherly

  To say my anticipation is getting the best of me is an understatement. I’m ready to let loose, but more so, I’m ready to see Marquis again. This time, I’m not letting an opportunity slip by me.

  It’s warm tonight, so I slip on a gauzy, cream-colored mini dress and belt it
at the waist before slipping on yellow wedges with ribbons wrapped around my ankles that will get me a few inches closer to the musician’s soulful brown eyes.

  That is if I convince the girls to hang out at Shep’s Watering Hole. It might take some bribing. It will definitely take tequila.

  Two hours later, I wave my hand to the waitress. She knows what’s up and hurries to the bar. The three of us have been huddled in a corner booth at a downtown eatery for the last hour.

  April waves her lipstick in one hand and a small mirror in the other but then stops dramatically. She loves all eyes on her. “So I told him to go fuck himself because he wasn’t going to fuck me.” Then she applies the lipstick as though she didn’t just say something for shock value.

  I’ve been listening, I swear, but suddenly, I feel like I’ve had my head in the clouds. I’ve gotten lost along the way of her dating misadventures. “Who are we talking about again?”

  “Weatherly.” Her fingers snap in my direction. “Keep up. It’s a guy I mess around with when opportunity presents itself.”

  “I thought I was keeping up, but I lost count after the . . . what guy are you on?”

  “None. That’s the problem. I’m with you whores when I could be with him.”

  Nothing she says surprises me anymore. I’m sure this sucker is married or has a girlfriend. She’ll use him for entertainment and then move on. But my lack of reaction apparently still surprises her because she adds, “Well, you’re not a whore in the real way, but my bestie bitch.”

  “Good grief, April. You didn’t have to define the difference. Why does it bother you so much that I’ve not been pummeled in bed anyway? Isn’t Lloyd fucking with my head enough?”

  Slender fingers slide through her long black hair, strands falling like a waterfall over her shoulders. “Is he fucking with yours, or are you fucking with his? I wonder if you’re playing games with him just to mess with him.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t play games with his head, his heart, or any other part of that pig of a man.”

  She’s shaking her head and then sighs. “You strung him along forever and then expected him to remain faithful. Are you sure you’re not the one in the wrong, Weatherly? And for that matter, don’t come crying to me when he moves on. Men like that don’t stay single for long.”

  “One can only hope.”

  Stascia huffs. “I’m so over the arguing.” Whipping her hair over her shoulder, she glares at April. “Who cares if she is a virgin or not?”

  The entire restaurant turns our way. Hiding my face behind a shielding hand stuck to my forehead, I whisper, “Okay, this is humiliating.”

  April is silent, holding Stascia’s stare. She finally turns to me, and says, “You reap what you sow.”

  “You’re blaming me for his cheating?”

  “If you don’t have sex with him, he’ll find someone who will. And he did.” Her casual shrug pisses me off, but I maintain my composure.

  “If it helps you not to worry about me, I haven’t regretted one second since leaving him.”

  “Good for you. We can all move on then.” April smacks her lips together, perfectly polished in pink.

  The waitress sets the shots down on the table, and I immediately take mine. “Maybe it’s time we got a new crew too.” I slam down the shot glass, startling them.

  April startles. “What is wrong with you? Are you drunk, Weatherly?”

  “You know what’s wrong with me? This conversation. I’m going out tonight, and I’m not going where our ‘crew’ hangs out. So you can go out with this,” I say, thumbing my chest. “Or you can go out with the others. I don’t care anymore.”

  Standing and putting her hands on her hips, Stascia raises her chin. “Hear. Hear. I’m with you, Weath.”

  April tries to look pissed, but amusement crosses her face. “Fine. You win. You’re also buying dinner.”

  Wrapping my arm over their shoulders, I say what’s on my mind, refusing to hide how I feel any longer. “I know you’re used to running this town, but it’s time this crew got a new leader.”

  April throws an arm over my shoulders. “And that’s you?”

  “For tonight, yes.”

  “All right.” She reaches into my clutch and pulls out a bill to cover our check two times over and tosses it on the table. “Lead the way.”

  Stascia finishes her shot, then says, “Now this is something I never thought I’d see.”

  “Us doing shots?” I ask, laughing. “That’s every weekend since we were twenty-one.”

  “Actually, you’ve been busy for a few years.”

  “Studying, but it’s all going to pay off in a week.”

  She grabs her bag. “Yes, it will, but I was referring to April relinquishing control.”

  “Hey,” April protests. “I’m not that bad. I can cut loose.”

  Tugging on her hand, I say, “Guess we’ll see.”

  We take a cab to where I parked the other night, wanting to retrace my steps just in case I was wrong. As they trail behind me, I can see them stepping carefully as they walk.

  “This just reminded me why we never come to Dirty Sixth,” April says.

  Shaking my head, I keep walking. “We’re walking on the wild side.”

  “That’s for sure.” Stascia jumps, squealing in horror. “Oh my God! That man just flashed me his penis.”

  I reach the corner and turn back. “How was it?”

  At the same time, April asks, “Was it big?” When we make eye contact, we burst out laughing, then April adds, “Basically, the important details,” and we keep giggling.

  “Ew,” Stascia says, raising her voice. “Can we please forget that happened and get to where we’re going?”

  “Speaking of,” April pipes in. “Where are we going?”

  The band is heard before I spy them playing on the stage. Their backs are to the window, but I see him. Marquis. Nice ass in those jeans, but I love his even voice more. “Come on.”

  I pay the cover charge, and my friends follow me inside. They plug their ears but don’t complain. Thankfully. We squeeze in at the bar when a group of girls go toward the band.

  I’m suddenly nervous to look back, to see him on stage and for him to see me. What if he really didn’t mean for me to come back? He’ll either be happy, or I’ll be humiliated. I have a fifty-fifty shot here, and it’s causing my emotions to bounce around.

  “I had a feeling you’d be back,” the bartender says.

  A smile bubbles up as I turn around. “Hi Jake, how’s it going?”

  “It’s been a good week.” His palms press to the wood bar top, and his eyes move from me to Marquis and back again. “Do I need to ask what brings you back?”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “Not to me. Care to share?” Stascia says.

  Jake points toward the stage.

  The girls follow, but then confusion follows. Stascia scrunches her face. “I don’t get it.”

  April pulls a cleansing toilette from her purse and rips the package open. “You’re into live music all of a sudden?”

  “I’ve always liked live music, but you never did, so I don’t get to see many shows.”

  She wipes her hands with the little wet wipe.

  I shake my head. “Can we be cool for one hour, please?”

  Offense strikes her . . . I would say face, but her face doesn’t move from the injections, so I stick with wide eyes since I’m a pro at reading those. “We are cool. That’s why we don’t hang out at places like this.”

  Stascia steps closer. “I kind of like it. It’s not pretentious.”

  “Exactly,” I say, smugly. “She gets it. Anyway, this band is great. I heard them last week and thought they were worth seeing again.” They both take another look, and this time, Stascia laughs. “See them or hear them? Because I’m seeing them, and it all makes perfect sense why you wanted to see them again.”

  I must turn red as a tomato because my cheeks feel like the
y’re on fire. “I meant hear, but yes, not bad to look at either.” Not bad one bit.

  She humors me. “They sound great, but I need a drink.”

  “What can I get you?” Jake asks.

  Slapping my hand down, I order, “A round of blow jobs.”

  “You took my line,” Jake jokes.

  The creamy concoctions are set before us, and the first thing April says is, “How many calories can they pack into one small shot glass?”

  Holding hers up, Stascia licks the rim. “I’m thinking a lot. This tastes amazing.”

  Jake smiles at her. “Wait until you taste all of it.”

  With their eyes on each other, she downs it. Their flirting makes me cringe, but they seem to be enjoying it. That’s what tonight is about—enjoyment.

  The music stops, bringing my attention back to where it should be—on Marquis. He’s drinking a beer while talking with one of the guitarists on the left side of the stage. Sexy. Masculine. A rock star. The hottest man I’ve ever seen.

  The band gathers in front of the drummer and tune their guitars. A few hits on a drum are followed by the four men dispersing to their own spaces on stage. Stascia elbows me. “How cute are they?”

  “Really cute.”

  “Imagine losing your V-card to a musician. That would be so incredibly sexy.”

  “It would.” That thought has played out in my head many times over in the past week. When they start playing again, I take my shot but am bumped, which causes me to cough.

  A shudder runs down my spine because I feel his creepy hand on my shoulder before he says, “That’s something I never thought I’d see. Watching you take that shot is hot, Weatherly.”

  Ugh. I groan, shooting April a deadly glare because I know she’s the one who told the guys where we were. I mouth, “Thanks a lot, traitor.”

  “Maybe he’s here to hang out with Stascia and me.”

  Lloyd leans toward the side of my neck, and says, “Your lips would look so good wrapped around my—”

  I elbow his gut, freeing myself from his hold. “Jake, I’m going to need something stronger.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Setting a glass down, Jake says, “Whiskey.”