by Angera Allen
Damn, this girl knows me. Soul sister’s for life.
I answer all her questions with a shaky giggle. “Yes. Not good. Yes.”
Izzy gets quiet and says in a serious tone, “I got you, Rube. Just get here, and let me help you find yourself again. It's just a few days of music, fun, and no drama. Now, are you out of the stall yet and on your way to the gate?”
Laughing, I stand up from the toilet I’ve been sitting on and move toward the sink.
“Because if not I’ll stay on this phone until you do.”
“Yes, I’m at the mirror cleaning my face. See you in a few hours,” I reply.
The plane ride was good but filled with more anxiety.
Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip.
I’m like a fucking walking time bomb ready to explode. I have so much anxiety right now that I can barely breathe. Shit, I never used to be like this. I was always the fun, carefree, ‘let's do whatever,’ kind of girl but not anymore. I’ve always depended on people, first Izzy and then Brody. Brody was always with me, never letting me out of his sight and then there was Isabella. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone.
I started stressing about Gus, Izzy’s security guard picking me up. Izzy is DJing tonight at some lounge and can’t pick me up. I shouldn’t be stressed, I’ve met Gus a couple times, but it was always with Izzy. All I can remember of him was he was really big, had an amazing Irish accent and was scary quiet. Brightside, I shouldn't have a hard time finding him. I still feel weird about it being just the two of us.
I’m so excited to see Izzy DJing in a big club this weekend. It’s been years since I’ve seen her in her element. I haven’t even been to New York yet to see where she lives. My life has been consumed with Brody and Isabella. I need my best friend.
It’s snowing in New York, so I had to go buy a new warm jacket. Izzy said she would loan me some clothes, but I still went shopping. I struggle to pull on my new big fluffy jacket and drop my bag. I didn’t want to check any luggage, so I crammed all my shit into a big purse-like bag and a small rolling carry-on.
I’m leaning down to pick up my bag when two big black steel toe boots come into my view. I look up and see a black journeyman jacket which makes me lean back. I crank my neck up even farther to see the man’s face.
“Ruby …?” His voice is a deep rumble.
I know it’s Gus instantly. Yep, that accent, so yummy.
I smile sheepishly. “Yes. How’d you know?
He smiles. “The hair.” He points to my mane of wild sandy blonde hair.
Ah. He means, ‘stuck my hand in a socket’ hair.
“Perfect. Hi, Gus,” I finish.
He tilts his head up in reply before saying, “You ready? Me boys outside waiting.”
His accent has me in a trance, so I just reply with a head nod back.
“Is that all ye got?” he asks, pointing to my rolling carryon.
Good God, he makes ‘you’ sound so cute.
Still staring at him, I throw my purse over my shoulder before saying, “Yep.”
When he leans down to grab it I try to stop him. “I can carry-” But he gives me a look, and I shut up.
He starts for the exit, only pausing a second for me to catch up. He’s wearing a big black hooded sweatshirt with a journeyman jacket over it, making his chest and arms look even more massive. Don’t even get me started on his buns of steel. The man’s a fucking giant next to me. I bet Izzy wouldn’t mind being his Jack if she could crawl up his beanstalk. I know she has a thing for him and damn he’s tall enough for her. I smile holding in my chuckle, but he just nods and turns to walk away. One of his strides is like ten of mine, so I speed up my pace.
Walking through the exit doors, the warmth of the airport slipping away while a big gust of wind almost knocks me over. Ice. Cold. Wind. Wind we don’t get in SoCal.
“Holyfuckingshitballs, it’s cold,” I sputter through clenched teeth.
Gus makes a humph noise but still not a word. I’m assuming it's his way of laughing. Freezing, I pull my hood over my head, cinching it around my neck. My hair is flying everywhere, so I try to shove it into the hood but fail horribly.
He motions toward a monstrous truck pulling up to the curb. It’s slightly lifted but completely blacked out so I can’t see the driver or anything inside. A matted gunmetal paint job and custom grill makes it look clean as fuck. I pause, not sure how I’m going to jump into this big fucker.
Gus moves toward the truck. I look around the airport noticing people dodging for cars to escape the wintery cold weather, horns are honking, and all my senses are on high alert, making me jumpy. Thank God it's not snowing right now. I close my eyes turning my face up toward the sky and say a little prayer.
I move toward the truck and when I’m a few feet away, the front door swings open with a male voice, who sounds irritated, barking from inside.
“Redman, hurry the fuck up. It’s colder than a penguin’s balls.”
Ah-huh, Redman. I can see that with all his red hair.
Gus says something to the person when he opens the cab door, throwing my carry-on into the back seat. I can’t see the driver because the truck is so goddamn tall. Horns honking all around me again has me jumping.
Gus turns around and motions for me to get in, but I look at him and then the back seat.
“How am I supposed to get in this fucking beast?”
Gus doesn’t say anything, but the driver yells from inside the cab. “Jesus Christ, Redman, pick the little marshmallow up for God’s sake, or something. My boy is going into hiding it's so fucking cold.”
Boy? Ah, we have a comedian.
When Gus speaks, his voice comes out calm, soothing and not barbaric like the asshole driver. “Ruby, let me help you get in. Unless you want to try to climb in but I don’t recommend it.”
Gus smiles at me trying to make me feel comfortable, but when he moves behind me placing his enormous hands on my hips, I freeze. When he lifts me up my jacket moves upward shifting my hood over my face. I squeal, grabbing my purse and trying to see where the seat is but can’t with all my hair covering my eyes.
It's so damn dark inside the truck that I can barely see two inches in front of me. Plus my jacket is so big and fluffy I can’t move around. Where the fuck is the dome light in this fucking truck?
Gus shuts the cab door and jumps into the front by the time I get my purse off my shoulder, and my hood flipped back.
The driver has on a hooded sweatshirt with a baseball cap on backward but I can’t see his face since he’s looking over his shoulder trying to merge back onto the road.
“Get the fuck out of my way, motherfucker. You’re lucky I don’t just run your little Honda ass over.”
Gus turns around in his seat. “Ya alright? Don’t fret about this wanker. He’ll get us there alright.”
I try to smile but just sit there. I move around feeling for the seat belt. I feel like I’m in a cave sitting behind the passenger seat. When the driver finally turns to face forward giving me a view of the side of his face I see he has a strong masculine jawline. Since he is wearing the cap backward, I can’t really see his hair, only the shaggy curls that hang out from under the cap.
Gus says from the front seat. “Quick, this is Ruby. Ruby, my man here is Quick.”
Quick. Weird name.
Quick glances back a few times, he probably can’t see me anyways through the darkness it would be a miracle. But, holy shit! I can see him. He’s beautiful. Good God, I love me some facial hair.
I blink a few times. He could pass as fucking Brad Pitt with those blue eyes and that facial structure. Damn, look at those lips. Looks just like him and I silently gasp.
It must not have been so silent because Quick looks back right after and says,“Hi.”
I don’t reply but just stay fixated on that bottom lip.
Quick smiles and I lose all speaking ability.
“Jesus Christ, is she even back there? You still have your hood ov
er your face? All I see is blonde hair. You okay?”
Jesus Christ is right.
Gus wrenches his big body around to check on me. “Ruby, ya alright?”
I snap out of my lust induced haze. “I’m okay. Sorry. Hello, why the fuck is it so goddamn dark in here?”
Quick keeps smiling but turns back and looks straight ahead at traffic.
“I don’t like people to see what’s going on inside here. I like it dark.”
My sarcasm springs to life and I snap back. “You must not like seeing what’s going on in here either, it’s so dark in here.”
Both men laugh. Quick leans forward touching the screen on the dashboard. “I can see just fine.” He turns the music up, and they both look at the road.
A few minutes later I feel my body start to sweat with all these layers on. The seat feels like it has a heater blasting under it and my body is on fire.
Squirming around, I unbuckle my seat belt and try to unzip this oversized jacket.
“Is there any way I can get you to turn down the heat? I’m hot as fuck back here.”
Quick doesn’t turn back but leans forward again to the controllers. “You’re hot as fuck alright.”
What did he just say?
Gus tilts his head to face Quick. “Don’t even think about it.”
Quick glances at Gus, “What? I can’t look?”
He can look…look at what?
Gus growls, “Iz, will knock you the fuck out boy.”
Quick shifts in his seat peering back at me. “I’m just agreeing with what she said, right Ruby?”
When I don’t reply, he winks at me and turns back to face the road.
“So… Iz says you two are like sisters. Grown up together and shit, so why didn’t we meet you when we were in LA touring?” Quick questions, changing the subject.
Well, I was traveling with my husband. Having a foursome and finding out he is a cheating bastard.
“I was traveling with my soon to be ex-husband.” My reply comes out bitchy just thinking of that son of a bitch.
Quick looks back for a second. He either figured out with the tone of my voice, or he could see my face that it wasn’t a subject I wanted to discuss.
“Well, you didn’t miss anything except drama with a capital D.” He shakes his head looking at traffic.
I humph in reply. Oh, I’m sure I had just as much drama.
Gus saves the day by changing the subject. “We’re headed to White Wolf Lounge, where Iz’s playing right now until she gets off at eleven. I’ll take ya to her when we get there.”
I nod my head but realizing he can’t see me I reply, “Yes, okay.”
The rest of the ride goes smoothly. The men chat amongst themselves, and I just stare out the window hoping I made the right decision by coming here.
Chapter Three
We pull up to the lounge, there are a few men standing around out front but other than that it looks like a regular bar. Gus jumps out, opening my door next and when I move to the edge of the seat, I get ready to jump, but he moves in front of me reaching both arms out like he’s going to catch me.
“Gus, I can jump out,” I explain.
“Fuck no ye can’t. It’s all ice here an the last thing I need is for ye to crack that crown on my watch.”
Before I can protest, he reaches in, gripping my hips again and pulls me out, placing me on the ground effortlessly.
I hear a whistle from the other side of the truck. “What the fuck you two doing? It’s cold. Let’s go.”
I grab my humongous purse throwing it over my shoulder and yank my hood over my head before I take a step. It is slippery as fuck. I move slowly toward the door where the group of men are standing. Thank God I wore my Uggs.
I feel Gus move up behind me placing his hand on my lower back. “Follow Quick an I'll be right behind ya. He’ll lead ya to Iz.”
When I moved up next to Quick, I hold my hood in place while I look up. He must have been staring at me because when our eyes meet, he smiles, letting out a chuckle. Jesus, he took his hat off letting his light brown hair fall into his face when he looks down.
“Fuck me. You look like a marshmallow with that hideous jacket on. All I can see is this big as fuck jacket, big ass boots, blonde hair flying around and tiny little legs moving.”
I laugh. “Well I’m not used to this weather and need all the warmth I can get.”
Goddamn, he’s cute. He is just shy of Brody’s height, but man he’s built. Stop. Do not compare the two.
Quick opens the door and moves in only to stop a few feet inside the door, which in turn has me running right into the back of him. I shift my hood off to look around.
“Quick, head to Iz,” Gus barrels from behind me.
“You got it, brother,” he replies.
Once Quick starts moving, I notice it is standing room only. The place is packed. I don’t see anyone in front of me with Quick being so tall and broad. I hear Izzy squeal before I see her.
“Ruby, Rube!”
Excitement and joy fills my heart for the first time in months. Before I have time to look around, Quick is being pushed aside, and Izzy’s five-foot-eleven glorious model of a body is grabbing me into a bear hug.
“Finally. You’re here!” she exclaims.
Quick laughs. “What, no hug for me? No, ‘thanks Quick for going to get my girl?’ Nothing?”
Izzy releases me to arm’s length, looking me up and down. “Rube, what the fuck are you wearing? I can barely see you.”
Both men laugh, but of course, it’s Quick’s sarcastic ass who keeps talking. “See, I said the same fucking thing. She looks like a fucking marshmallow.”
I laugh and hug Izzy again. I haven’t said anything, and I’m trying to hold my shit together. I don’t want to cry in front of all these people. Izzy must sense it too from the way I have a death grip on her, so without a word, she just turns around, ignoring everyone and pulls me hand in hand with her.
The crowd moves, letting her pass through. I don’t look around, I just keep my face down looking at her three-inch heels clatter across the floor.
She opens a small door to a hallway and then another, and when I look up, we’re in a small room with music equipment. Izzy lets go of my hand closing the door behind us, shutting everyone out. I just hear the music that is playing. Not knowing what to do or say I just stand there gripping my purse.
“I got you. Get your shit together while I play the next song. You got this girl,” Izzy says, passing by me, heading toward the decks.
She puts her headphones on, turning her back to me, and that’s when I see the mass of people dancing in front of the window-like wall. I turn to the side so they can’t see me and move toward the couch. I drop my purse onto it before dropping my ass into it, and take a few deep breaths.
I’m here. Finally. I am here. I got this. It's like old times. Don’t think too much into it. It’s Izzy.
I put a smile on my face, wipe my eyes and sit back. Izzy is as beautiful as ever. She was supposed to be a model like her mother but hated it. She’s a good ten inches taller than me on a good day but with heels on, she towers over me. She has her hair in Princess Lea side buns. I laugh thinking of all the weird hairstyles I’ve seen her do. God, she looks the same, if not better.
I start to relax watching her bounce around and tap her foot to the beat. She truly is an amazing DJ. As far back as I can remember, she always has been.
I look around at what looks like it used to be an office, but they knocked out half of the wall that is joined with the main lounge. Kind of like a bar, giving the DJ privacy but is able to interact with the crowd. They can’t get in here or touch her, but they can talk to her if she wants to chat.
Feeling better, I stand up and see that the small dance floor is packed with people, with more people standing around their tables moving to the music as well. When she pulls her headphones down around her neck, she looks to me with a smile and then out to the crowd she starts to g
iggle. I hear a beat I don’t recognize, but with Izzy, you always have to wait for her to drop the chorus to figure out what the song is and sure enough, “How I Could Just Kill A Man” by Cypress Hill, drops in the song. I laugh out loud. The song has obviously been remixed but sounds great.
Izzy laughs over her shoulder. “I knew that would get you laughing.”
I start to dance to the song, moving my upper body side to side to the beat, bobbing my head. I unzip my huge parka jacket that goes all the way down to my knees. I laugh because now that they’ve said it, I do look like a marshmallow. I’m still moving my body to the music while fixing myself as much as I can. My hair is crazy wild since I didn’t do anything to it but wash it today. I try to tame it down, but without product, the waves will stay wild.
I never did have the good hair like Izzy. She has beautiful blonde hair that styles perfectly, and then you have my sandy blondish brown hair that has wild waves to it, so styling it is a mission. I usually try to straighten it or curl it but as of late haven’t done anything to it. The last six or so months, I barely got out of bed let alone styled my crazy hair. Nope, it’s been buns, and ponytails for this girl.
Izzy turns around and smiles. “There’s my girl. Jesus that jacket was swallowing you up.” She laughs and begins dancing over to me, where we begin to bounce around each other singing the lyrics like we did back in the day.
“You know I don’t do well with cold. Um, hello, in SoCal it’s never this cold. I had to get something.” I laugh.
Izzy moves to hug me. “That you did girl- that you did. I’m so glad you’re here. You doing okay? How was the ride here?”
I hug her back, feeling the warmth of her surround me before we both sit down on the couch. “It was good. That guy Quick is a mouthy little shit isn’t he?”
Izzy throws her head back laughing. “That he is,” she states. “Quick’s one crazy fucker, but I love him.” She pauses. “I have a couple more hours to play. Remember me talking to you about Ginger, the one I went on tour with? She’s out there in VIP if you want to hang out and get some drinks, or you can stay in here. Either way is fine with me. I just want you to have a good time and relax.”