by Kylie Scott
A faint smile. "Yeah. We didn't have a lot of money so ... I thought so."
The shadows of his face were frankly fascinating beneath the passing street lights, the sudden brightness of oncoming traffic, everything. He had perfect cheekbones. You could almost miss them above the beard, but the lines of his face were both sharp and beautiful. His lips, for instance. I could have stared at them for hours.
"Will you tell me about your home?" I asked.
"Not much to tell," he said, eventually. "Mom and Dad owned a cleaning business so they were gone most of the time. They were real hard workers. The business was everything to 'em. My grandparents lived next door and they fed us and kept an eye on things."
"Must have been wonderful to have them around. A stable influence like that can mean all the difference to a kid."
"You diagnosing me or something, Miss Psychology Student?"
"No. Sorry." I groaned. "Please continue. You mentioned an 'us'?"
"Me and my sister."
"You have a sister? What's she like?"
He squinted, little lines appearing beside his eyes. "Martha's ... Martha. She's living over in New York these days, enjoys the party scene."
"That's pretty far." I couldn't imagine being on the opposite side of the country from Anne, living without my last bit of real family close by. "You must miss her."
"It's probably for the best," he said. "She caused some shit a while back. I didn't help much either."
I stayed silent, waiting for him to go on. People usually would feel compelled to fill a silence, you just had to be patient.
"Martha and David went out all through high school, and after, when the band started to take off. Then she did something stupid." He shook his head. "So fucking dumb."
"What did she do?"
He raised a brow. "You haven't heard?"
"No."
"Huh. Thought Ev might have talked about it."
"I've only met her a couple of times."
"Yeah, I guess." His fingers tapped out a beat against the steering wheel. "Martha didn't like Dave being away so much. We were working hard, touring when we weren't recording. Thought she understood...."
A fire engine roared past with sirens blazing, distracting us for a moment.
"We were finally getting somewhere, really starting to make it, playing to bigger crowds, and getting some decent publicity." He exhaled noisily. "Anyway, she must have figured with him being on the road all the time that he had to be messing around on her. She got pissed one night and cheated on him."
"Oh."
"Guy couldn't have been more crazy in love with her if he tried. Never even saw him look at another woman. They'd been so tight for years. I tried to tell her, but she got this stupid idea into her head, and ... yeah." His low laugh was bitter, horrible to hear. "She took something beautiful and shit on it. Everything went to hell after that."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too. Really thought they'd make it, get married, have kids and everything. Live the dream. She worked as an assistant for the band for a while, but when Dave and Ev got married she didn't take it too well."
"That's when she moved?"
"That's when she moved." He said nothing for a moment. "Tried one last time to get him back, and I was stupid enough to help. It didn't turn out so well. Things were tense between me and Dave for a while, and it wasn't good for the band."
"I'm sorry." I took a big breath, choosing my words with care. This had obviously hurt him. It was in the tone of his voice, the shadows on his face. Also, I didn't want to treat him like a patient or a subject. He mattered to me much deeper than that.
"It seems you guys are closer to brothers than friends, even though he and your sister didn't wind up staying together," I said. "But I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of it. That must have been hard."
"Yeah. Don't know why I'm telling you all this." He gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. "You're too easy to talk to, you know?"
I smiled. "So are you."
"You haven't told me anything yet."
"Ah, all right." I rubbed my palms against the sides of my jeans, warming them up. What to tell him? His honesty and openness meant I could give him no less. Might as well just lay it all out. "My parents divorced when I was fourteen. It messed me up for a while. But Anne helped me get back on track, helped me graduate and get into college."
"Pretty good sister."
"She's an amazing sister."
His gaze switched back and forth between me and the road. "You work hard too, though."
"Yes. But college is expensive and she sacrificed a lot to get me there, so she deserves the bulk of the credit."
"Sounds like you both hauled ass to get out of a bad situation."
"Hmm." I rested my head against the back of the car seat. The man was far too easy to talk to. I liked it. "That's it really. I work part time at the same bookstore as Anne."
He half smiled, and sadly even that made me giddy. God, he was beautiful. I never wanted this car ride to end. We could drive to Wisconsin for all I cared. Just point the hood east and keep going until we ran out of gas.
"Messed you up in what way?" he asked.
That stopped the happy. "Not a topic I like to talk about."
He just waited, drawing me out, playing me at my own game. Sneaky.
"I hung out with some losers. Drank, did drugs. Speed and pot, nothing too hard-core. I ditched school and did things I shouldn't have. Dangerous things. Dated the wrong guy for a while." My fingernails dug into me through the fabric of my jeans. All of those memories were ugly. I'd been so young and idiotic. "Then I got busted stealing. The guy who owned the shop kept saying he was going to call the police, but Anne managed to talk him out of it. That scared the shit out of me. Plus, seeing how upset Anne got about it. It finally got through to me that I wasn't the only one hurting. I stopped sneaking out at night and messing around, started going to school again. I was just so angry that they couldn't keep their shit together and be like a normal mom and dad."
"I bet."
"Though what even is normal? Seems like everyone's parents are divorced these days."
"Yeah. Just about."
"Doesn't make for much of an example, does it?"
He made a humming noise of agreement.
"So that's why I'm into psychology. One day I hope to be able to help other kids ride out the rough patches."
He smiled.
"Anyway, enough of me and my early-teen angst." I crossed my legs, turning toward him in the seat. "When did you start playing bass?"
"Fourteen or so. Dave was always crazy about guitars, and then Mal's mom got him the kit. Jimmy'd already decided he was gonna be the singer. I had an uncle who owned an old bass guitar. Grandpa talked him into giving it to me."
"The same Grandpa who gave you the truck? He sounds awesome."
"He was, Lizzy. He really was."
We pulled up outside my apartment building. Funny, I'd never hated the sight of it before, but I didn't want the trip to end. Time alone with Ben, talking, was special. I clasped my hands in my lap, studying the lines of his face. A moment later, he turned off the engine.
"Thank you for the lift home," I said.
"Any time. I mean that." He rested a hand on the steering wheel, shifting slightly to look my way.
Happy chemicals stirred inside of me. Lustful, crazy things telling me to jump him, to climb all over him and cover his gorgeous face in kisses. To rub my jaw against his beard and see if it felt soft or not. To let him see exactly how he affected me, how adored he could be.
"Kills me when you look at me like that," he murmured.
I just smiled. My tongue was too tangled for any attempt at wit. Thing was, I couldn't not look at him like that. It just wasn't in me to be any other way, not with him.
He exhaled hard, staring out the windshield. "I go to that club a couple of times a week to pick up. Place like that? Easy as hell. Pretty much the only reason people go there is
to get drunk and get laid."
"I see."
"I'm serious."
"Okay, Ben. You're not a virgin. Duly noted. Me neither, by the way."
Dreamy dark eyes pinned me in place, owning me. He licked his lips. Every time he did that my hormones erupted into the song of joy, a full orchestra plus heavenly choir accompanying. The whole shebang. It was ridiculous.
"Fuck, you're pretty," he sighed. "Make me wish for all sorts of shit I shouldn't."
"Who says you shouldn't?" I asked, leaning closer.
"Mal. Your sister."
"This isn't about them. It's about you and me."
"Sweetheart. Liz..." The deep, dirty way he said my name, holy shit. His voice rumbled through me, lighting fires and causing chaos everywhere it went. I'd never be the same.
"Yeah?" I leaned closer, and then closer still, heart thundering and lips at the ready. Never in my life had kissing someone seemed so important. I needed his mouth on mine. His breath and his body, all of him.
Nothing else mattered.
I turned, propping a knee beneath me to help with the height difference. Hesitant but hopeful smile in place, I put my hand on his shoulder, getting closer. Fuck waiting on him to make the first move. Time to go after what I wanted.
"Liz."
"Yeah?"
That's when it registered. Ben's body language was all wrong. The man wasn't moving into me, wanting me back. I was alone in this.
"You don't..." Words caught in my dry throat, sticking. I withdrew my hand.
"I can't."
"What?"
He stared straight ahead. "You should go in."
Whatever face I had on, it wasn't happy. "You want me to go?"
"It's for the best."
"It's for the best," I parroted, staring perplexed at the dogged shadows on his face.
"I can't do this, Liz. I can't do it to the band."
"And you answer to the band for who you date?"
"We're not dating."
I cleared my throat. "No, we're not dating. But god, we spent hours talking and texting to each other."
The look he gave me was tortured. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Right." All of the emotion inside me felt huge, overwhelming. Still my mind worked, turning all of the evidence over, trying to figure out where I'd lost the track. How the fuck I came to be flailing in the woods. "I think you were a little bored, a little lonely maybe, so you played with me."
With a grimace he turned away.
"Tell me I'm wrong."
Nothing.
At least now I knew where I stood. As if that was any real consolation. I pushed open the passenger's side door, climbing down.
"Liz--"
I slammed the truck door shut, cold metal stinging the palms of my hands. Done with him. I was so damn done with him. The bitter night air slapped me in the face, waking me right the hell up. How fucking embarrassing. I'd felt so much and been so sure. Went to show you how much I knew.
Nothing.
Not a single fucking thing.
Time to put my heart and hopes back on ice.
CHAPTER THREE
Ben: Hey, how you going?
Ben: You doing okay? Studies all good and everything?
Ben: C'mon, Liz. Talk to me. I'm still your friend.
Ben: So I guess you'll be at the wedding?
*
"He's not really going to wear one of those white satin Elvis jumpsuits, is he?"
My sister shrugged. "Whatever makes him happy."
"Yeah, but this is your wedding."
"Our wedding " she corrected, applying a final coat of lipstick then blotting it carefully on a tissue.
"God, Anne. You look amazing."
She really did. The vintage lace dress was divine. With her bright-red hair artfully drawn back from her face, she looked so elegant. I had to blink a time or two, my eyes actually getting a little misty. Given how long the makeup artist had labored over my face, I didn't dare mess up her hard work.
"Thank you." She reached out giving my hand a squeeze. "You're looking pretty awesome yourself, birthday girl."
My birthday had actually been yesterday. Anne had insisted on waiting until I was old enough to legally join in the wedding celebrations in Vegas. Rather an unexpected delight, since treating me like a full-fledged grown-up wasn't really her thing.
Ev, Lena, Anne, and I had spent my birthday hanging out in this Bellagio villa's personal hot tub, nibbling yummy things and sipping cocktails while being waited on hand and foot. Because of course the villa came with a personal butler. Oh, and the outdoor fireplace had been roaring because during December in the desert it actually does cool right down at night. Last but not least, we had cake pops, because nothing could possibly be better than cake on a stick covered in candy.
That shit owned my soul.
I smoothed down the skirt of my own vintage dress, a knee-length ink-blue Dior number we'd found during a Saturday market hunt a few weeks back. It was beautiful. Feminine without being froufrou. My hair too had been pulled back into a simple but classy style.
Wonder what Ben would think.
Not that it mattered. I felt good about how I looked and that was that. My world didn't stop or spin based purely on his or any other male's validation. Until my feelings for Ben simmered down some, however, I'd just keep doing my best to avoid him--or at least eye contact with him. Even a stubborn heart like mine had to give up eventually. School had been busy and work much the same. What with Anne occupied with wedding arrangements, Rhys had given me extra hours in the bookstore, so there'd been plenty to keep me occupied. Ben Nicholson had been little more than a stray thought. Mostly. It would be nice later tonight to get out and let my hair down a little. See what Vegas was all about.
Sam stood, giving me a nod. It was time. Any lingering thoughts about the man gave way to squeeful excitement. Muted conversation could be heard coming from the living room, the faint sounds of music.
"Okay, future Mrs. Ericson. Everyone's arrived so--"
"Pumpkin!" an overly familiar voice wailed. "Pumpkin, where are you?"
A picture of perfect calm, Anne turned to face the doorway and hollered back, "In here."
The doors crashed inward and Mal appeared, turned out in a truly amazing slick black suit with matching Converse on his feet. What a sight. His golden hair shone, falling over his shoulders. Left undone at the bride's request. Already he felt more like a brother. But even I had to admit, the man had it going on and then some.
"You're not meant to see me before the ceremony," said Anne.
"I don't like rules."
"I noticed."
He ambled up to Anne with a faint smile on his face. "You know, I look pretty fucking awesome. But, Pumpkin, you look even better."
My sister smiled back at him. "Thank you."
"Gonna marry me?"
"You better believe it."
He buried his face in her neck. A moment later Anne squeaked and beat him on the back. "Do not give me a hickey before the wedding, Mal, or I will kill you."
Maniacal laughter filled the room.
"I'm serious!"
"I love you. Let's wed it on." Like something out of a movie, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her out, pausing briefly at the door. "You don't look too bad either, Lizzy. C'mon, let's do this!"
I picked up both mine and Anne's bouquets and followed with a smile. This was going to be awesome.
Out in the super fancy living room, the furniture had been set aside, leaving plenty of space for the ceremony. And the Santa Elvis performing it. The big bewigged guy wore a belt bearing so many sparkly stones it was a wonder his pants stayed up. That thing had to weigh a ton. Vases full of red roses covered every available surface, the heady scent filling the room. A roaring fire burned in the corner. It was perfect, beautiful, and there were so many happy, familiar faces all gathered around, waiting to share the moment. Anne finally had the family she deserved.
In th
e corner, a string quartet started playing, and Santa Elvis opened his mouth. His rendition of "Love Me Tender" was wonderful. Or so I was later told.
Ben stood to the side with Jimmy and David, all of them dressed in similar dark suits. Only Ben had actually ditched his jacket and tie. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, leaving the ink on his thick arms exposed. God, he was glorious. So ... manly, for want of a better word. Everyone else faded into the background. He looked so damn fine. It hurt, and angry or not I'd have told him as much, had I been able to find my tongue.
He looked up and found me staring. There was no censure in his eyes. Just the same, embarrassment threatened to flood me, turning my face to red. But he stopped and stared at me too. If our breathing and hearts were beating in exactly the same rhythm, it wouldn't have surprised me. It was crazy. I should have known better by now.
There was just me and him.
Things were said and I heard my sister's laughter.
His gaze strayed down over my dress then back up again. Little lines appeared beside his eyes, his face tensing. As for me, my jaw ached from all the things I was holding in, all the words left unsaid. Or maybe it was just more of the same, the urge to convince him that there was something real between us that was worth the risk. Some jumble of sex and friendship and I don't know what. The fabled connection.
In all likelihood, he still wouldn't want to hear it. The man made my head and my heart hurt.
"No, you're not doing it right." The pronouncement split my focus, my gaze darting to the front of the room. Something was wrong in wedding town.
"I'll do it," Mal told Santa Elvis.
The King just shrugged. Guess he got paid either way.
"Of course you, Anne, take me, Mal," he proceeded, my sister still held high in his arms. "You're my Pumpkin, my whole damn world. You get my music and all my weird moods, and you think I'm funny when other people are just shaking their heads wondering what the fuck I'm on about. I think it's cute when you have your little hissy fits, but if you need me to listen and take shit serious, I promise I will. Good times or bad, you're with me and I'm with you. No matter what, we'll always work stuff out together, okay?"
"Okay," said my sister, raising a hand to wipe a tear from her face.
"You're the only woman I want or need, and no way are you into any other guy, 'cause you got me and I'm awesome. We good?"
"We're good."
"Right," said Mal. "We're married."
"They're married!" shouted Santa Elvis, throwing in a hip swivel just for fun.