by Grace James
“I don’t know, at home somewhere…why?”
“Just checking. And…everything else?”
A look of remorse crossed his face. “Gone. I promise.”
“Then okay,” I conceded.
The sun was setting as he drove me across the city in Blake’s Chevy, heading downtown. I figured out where we were heading just moments before he pulled into the weed infested parking lot of the boarded up bowling alley that we had gone to that first night.
“If you climb that damn sign again, I’m walking out on you,” I warned as he shut off the engine.
He held up his hands in an I surrender gesture but he looked amused. “I won’t…but you didn’t hate it that much last time, you ended up kissing me right after.”
“Actually, you kissed me.”
He rolled his eyes, got out of the truck, and retrieved a duffel bag from the flat bed. “Come on,” he said, gesturing to the bowling alley.
I got out of the truck and followed him around back. “What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
We got in to the building the same way as last time, using the dumpster to get through the smashed window. Only this time, Connor didn’t lead me to the roof. We walked through the gloomy interior together until I noticed a soft glow coming from a doorway just ahead. “What’s that?” I whispered. I had no idea why I was whispering, it just seemed like the right thing to do in a darkened, abandoned building.
“You’ll see,” Connor grinned at me and pulled me gently by the hand; when we entered the room, I gasped, at first unable to comprehend what I was looking at. The room was quite small and must once have been some kind of employee lounge or locker room. There were couches, coffee tables, lockers and other random items of furniture, all shoved up against the walls of the room, creating an open space in the middle. The glow that I had noticed from outside was coming from the candles that covered every single available surface, including the floor. In the center of the room there was a picnic blanket laid out with two large cushions on it.
I covered my mouth with my hands as I looked around the room, unable to speak.
Connor led me to the picnic blanket and urged me to sit on one of the cushions whilst he unzipped the duffel bag and unpacked several cartons of food, arranging them on the blanket. Finally, he produced some paper plates, plastic cups, and a few cans of soda. The complete lack of alcohol didn’t escape my notice.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said as he settled on the cushion across from mine.
“Are you kidding?!” I finally exclaimed. “This is – this is – it’s...wow! I can’t believe you did this,” I breathed. He just smiled at me, a little smug, like he had known I’d be impressed and had been waiting for my reaction.
Suddenly, there was a crash from down the hall. I jumped, apprehension flooding me. There was someone in there with us.
At night.
In an abandoned building.
“SHIT!” A male voice cursed, loudly. I edged closer to Connor, reaching out to grip his arm. To my surprise, he looked amused.
“D!” he called. “You’re kinda ruining the mood in here!”
“Sorry, man!” Derren sounded farther away now. “I tripped in the dark. I’m gone. Forget I was here.”
Connor chuckled and I relaxed my grip on his arm, breathing a sigh of relief. “What was Derren doing here?” I asked.
“I needed someone to light all these candles and make sure the place didn’t burn down while I picked you up,” Connor explained, grinning wryly. “He was supposed to hide when we came in and then sneak out.”
“Oh. Well, clearly stealth is not his strong suit.”
Connor shrugged. “He’s a guitarist,” he said, as if that explained everything.
38
Connor opened the cartons of deli food and we both piled our plates high. We made small talk about the mini sausages and olives and debated the merits of battered brie; he asked me about college and work; I asked about his work and the band – I knew that they had played a couple of gigs since I’d seen him last, so I asked how they went…all in all, we skirted around the elephant in the room until I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Are we going to talk about the other night?” I asked, steeling myself for his reaction.
He just carried on eating, staring at his plate, like I hadn’t said anything.
“Connor?”
Finally, he sighed and said “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
Of all the things he could have said, that response was probably the furthest away from what I was expecting.
“It…what?”
He looked at me. “Blake shouldn’t have asked you over, he knew I was wasted, he knew it was a bad idea,” he shook his head scornfully.
I couldn’t actually believe what I was hearing. “So it’s all his fault?”
“That part of it? Yeah. If he hadn’t gotten you to come over, it never would’ve happened.”
“What about the part where you scared the hell out of me?!” I snapped.
He looked slightly ashamed then, at least. “I never meant to scare you, and I would never hurt you. Never.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “I just needed to blow off some steam – I just needed to be left alone for a while.”
“I was worried about you,” I said quietly.
“I know…I’m just not used to having someone worry about me.”
“Blake worries about you.”
He narrowed his eyes at me a tiny bit. “Yeah, he also talks too much – I know he told you everything.”
I wouldn’t have said that Blake had exactly spilled his guts to me; what he’d told me about Connor’s situation had seemed more like the bare bones – but I didn’t see the point in debating that. Instead I went with what had really been bothering me. “He wouldn’t have had to tell me anything if you had just called me, Connor. You just shut me out.”
He huffed out a breath. “I didn’t want to talk about it. Things between me and my mom are screwed up, they have been for a long time. When I’m with you, I just want to forget about all the shitty things that are going on and focus on you. I don’t want to drag you into my mess.” He paused and smiled slightly. “You’re too good for my mess.”
I shook my head a little; I didn’t really know what to say to that. Connor didn’t seem to be waiting for a reaction from me, though. He reached out and traced my bottom lip tenderly with his thumb. “I really did miss you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
I really didn’t want to respond to his touch, but the feel of his skin against mine set something alight inside of me. My breath hitched in my throat at the contact and I saw the green of his irises shrink slightly as his pupils flared. I held my breath as he leant forwards and brought his mouth to mine, nibbling on my bottom lip and then sucking on it lightly. He tasted of soda – no smoke, no alcohol – but with an underlying tang that was just Connor. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, pulling me to him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over mine, tantalizing me, caressing me, making me moan softly as I felt a twinge between my thighs.
His other arm curled around my waist as he pressed his hard body against my softer one; I snaked my arms up around his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly as our kiss became more passionate. He moved the hand that had held the nape of my neck around and down to my collar bone, tracing the neckline of my tank top down to the top of my breasts, skimming his fingers lightly along the top of the fabric, before moving his hand downwards over my top and palming my breast, squeezing lightly.
I arched into him and heard his groan, the sound of his arousal causing an ache deep within my core. His grip tightened on my waist and he pulled me onto him, guiding me so that I was straddling him. I was wearing a skirt, so I could feel the thickening hardness in his jeans through my panties.
I was filled with a need to show him exactly what he’d been missing out on. I ground myself against him, rubbing up and down his shaft. The feel of him
hard against me, and getting harder with each stroke, thrilled me. The friction of the cloth against my sensitive sex, made me ache with need.
I pulled back and hovered above him, tugging open his fly and reaching into his boxers. I grasped his solid erection and worked him free, until he was in my hands, long and thick and hot. I trailed my fingers over him slowly, teasing him, enticing a low moan from his lips. Then I leant over and swiped my tongue over the head, along the slit in his crown, tasting the salty tang of pre-cum. His sharp intake of breath encouraged me, and I took the whole head in my mouth, letting my wet lips slide over the fleshy ridge where the head meets the shaft. I used my hand as well, pumping him into my mouth as I sucked and licked him, listening to his breathing quicken. He leant back on his hands and I glanced up at him to see him watching me with hooded eyes.
Suddenly, he sat up straight again and his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me off him. “What are you –”
“Condom,” he said, with a hint of desperation, as he reached into his pocket and pulled a packet free. I took it from him, sheathing him quickly but securely. Then I positioned myself over him, before trailing my hand downwards and under my skirt, moving my panties aside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered, watching me intently.
Slowly, I impaled myself on him, watching his face the whole time – watching the green of his eyes darken with pleasure as I took all of him inside of me. Then I started to move. Little movements at first as I adjusted to the feel of him inside me, but that didn’t last long. The sensation of him filling me, rubbing me deep inside, was delicious; I angled him right where I wanted him and drove myself down onto him, over and over, again and again, until I was whimpering with each thrust, my head thrown back, my eyes squeezed shut, completely in the moment, completely absorbed with the feel of him inside me.
He clutched me tight against him with one arm and yanked my top and bra down, so that my breasts spilled out, then his hot mouth was on them, sucking hard, pulling as much of me into his mouth as he could, using his tongue to flick and stroke my diamond hard nipples.
The dual sensation sent me spiraling over the edge in a matter of minutes and I came hard, clamping around his cock, squeezing him, clutching him tight, as I continued to drive myself down onto him. I moaned and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I came. My release must have triggered his own, because as my own contractions started to trail of, he tensed against me, squeezing me tight in his strong arms, pressing me against him as he groaned into my neck, his cock jerking inside me.
As we floated down from our climax, he kissed me lazily. “This mean you forgive me, Amy Scott?” he whispered.
I narrowed my eyes. “What makes you think that?” I murmured.
He chuckled as he hugged me close.
39
Not long after our ‘reunion’ in the bowling alley, I went home to spend Christmas with my family.
We had a typical Scott Family Christmas. Lots of curling up on the couch watching old Christmas movies and overdosing on festive food; an inordinate amount of time being quizzed by my parents about my ‘new boyfriend’; escaping the Parental Third Degree by running away with my sister to the mall and hitting the sales hard, at which point she admitted that she was completely in love with a defense lawyer she had met in New York. His name was Joseph. I spent far too long reminding her that her name was Joanne and she was in love with someone called Joseph, and dubbing them JoJoe. She said she hated me and would never take me to the mall again. I told her I hated her too and she couldn’t play with my Barbies. We regressed about ten years. It was fun.
It was like a dose of normality after a whirlwind few months with Connor.
But we did keep in touch while I was away.
Connor: Merry Christmas, Amy Scott. Thanks for my sticks. Never had personalized drumsticks before. Very cool.
Me: Merry Christmas to you too! Glad you like them. Just about to open my gifts…
Me: Little warning would have been nice. I’m sitting with my FAMILY opening these!
Connor: What? They don’t approve of chocolate and Kings of Leon?
Me: Don’t play dumb! My dad nearly had a coronary!
Connor: Totally lost here.
Me: The Santa thong?! The green fishnets?! The RED FLUFFY HANDCUFFS?!
Connor: WTF?
Me: Yeah, right. So not cool Connor.
Connor: Honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t put them in there.
Connor: FUCKER!
Me: Let me guess – Blake?
Connor: I’m gonna kill him.
Furious, I texted Blake next.
Me: You’re an asshole.
Blake: Got your gift?
Me: You’re an asshole.
Blake: Happy Christmas, Princess.
40
As the winter progressed, Sons of Sinners were playing more and more shows. All four of them were barely holding down their day jobs, but they weren’t yet making enough through the band to live on that alone. All of them were exhausted – but they loved every second. It was infectious. There was a buzz around them that couldn’t be contained. Hayley and I were a fixture at a lot of their shows by that point, but even we couldn’t make them all.
When they headlined at Filthy Joe’s though, we were all there. The last time that Sons of Sinners had played there, they had been opening for another band – this time the show was theirs.
Hayley, Mel and I arrived at Filthy’s to see a long line snaking around the block.
“Wow, there are so many people here tonight.” Mel said, surprised. She hadn’t been to one of their shows for a while.
“Every show, there’s more,” said Hayley. “They probably couldn’t have filled this place a few months ago. Derren said there’s a manager here tonight, he wants to check them out.”
“Really? Connor didn’t mention that,” I said.
“Connor probably has no idea. It’s not like he ever has a clue what’s going on –”
“Hey!” I said, affronted on his behalf.
“Kidding!” Hayley grinned. “Kind of…anyway, a guy – Aiden something-or-other – called Blake a few days ago and said he was really interested in representing the band,” she explained as she led us towards the entrance. “Derren says that this guy’s worked with a lot of successful bands before – I can’t remember who –”
“You can’t remember much,” Mel teased as we walked to the front of the line. We were on the guest list, so we got right in, despite the disgruntled glances of the people waiting outside.
“I do remember that he’s based in L.A.”
“So would they have to go to L.A.?” I asked, a little alarmed.
She frowned slightly. “I don’t think so, I don’t think it works like that. From what Derren said, they would still be based here but Aiden has a bunch of contacts that could help push them to the next level.”
The cavernous bar was already crowded and we had to weave our way through the throng of people in order to get to the bar. We’d managed to escape the neon stamps that should have been on the back of our hands, proclaiming us to young to drink – probably because we were on the guest list. Their oversight was our advantage and we – well, mainly Hayley – had no intention of wasting it. “Tequila, bitches!” she crowed, ordering us a round of shots and a round of beers to wash it down.
We found somewhere to stand where we had a good view of the stage but weren’t too close to the crush at the front. Even though Sons of Sinners were still relatively unknown anywhere outside of Nevada, they had a small legion of die-hard fans that would squish anyone in their path to get closer to the stage.
The opening act was a band called Damascus Rising, and they were pretty good; their songs were quite catchy and easy to remember. By the time they finished, the bar was packed almost to bursting full of people – I was sure they must be breaking some kind of fire regulations by letting this many people in, but the atmosphere was electric.
Hayley, Mel and I had sunk a
few beers by then and I was feeling a pleasant buzz when Sons of Sinners took to the stage.
They pummeled their instruments – perfectly in accord with Blake’s deep and resonant voice. Connor was in the Drum-Zone, as I had dubbed it, so deep into his rhythm that a bomb could go off in front of him and he wouldn’t know it. The only person who had a chance of reaching him in this state was Kane, his bass and Connors drums were close companions, grounding the songs, anchoring their wild swells.
Sons of Sinners usually played one cover song in their sets, generally songs that they just loved to play. It was usually well known classics – they used to do a mean cover of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit that always went down well.
That night they played Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.
It was the perfect choice. They were surrounded by their local fans in a packed out venue, playing for a potential manager, eyes fixed firmly on their future. The crowd sang the song back to them like it was an anthem, and I swear I even saw Blake shimmy.
As I looked around me, at all the people there, all the people worshipping them, it hit me. They were really going to do this; not just play in the bars and clubs and backyards of Nevada, they were going to go all the way. That night, it felt like their dream was within sight.
I wasn’t sure why the idea of that filled me with sadness, and I felt guilty as hell for it, but it was as if I could see Connor slipping away in front of my eyes.
41
Shaking off my melancholy, I downed my beer just as the set finished. The guys left the stage as the lights lowered and rock music started to blast from the speakers around the room as the DJ started up the after show party. I had to shout above the music to tell the girls that I was going to the restrooms, and then I left them by the bar – ordering more tequila.
I made my way to the narrow hallway beside the stage that led to the restrooms and, beyond that, the back exit that led to the parking lot. I remembered that if you turned left through a door just before the back exit, it led to the dressing rooms and backstage area. The line for the ladies was already out the door, so I squeezed past and headed through the door leading to the dressing rooms; I knew from – ahem – past experience, that Sons of Sinners’ room had a private bathroom inside.