Clutch

by S. M. West

  “Yeah, I plan to. We’re blowing this fucking pop stand,” I say to Pansy as I grab her hand and lead us through the party. I don’t stop for Bianca or anyone else who calls my name along the way.

  The second we leave the party the night improves tenfold. I get Pansy back to my place, alone and naked, and we spend the night devouring each other. I savor every moment, knowing our time together has an expiration.

  While our time apart will be brief in the grand scheme of things, it’s going to be difficult. I’ll miss her like some crazy lovesick fuck, and I’m in no hurry for that.

  The vibrating of my phone wakes us at a little past eight in the morning. Pansy’s head rests on my chest; her hair fanned out. She lightly kisses my pec and mumbles good morning.

  “Morning.” I kiss the top of her head before reaching for my phone.

  We both sit up, my back against the headboard and her head on my shoulder, fingers splayed on my abdomen, staring at my phone screen. It is an email from Gerald Pilsen.

  What does that fucker want now? If he’s pushing for the tour, I’m going to walk away now. Fuck the album and the agreement. As my body coils and tenses at the possibilities, her lips brush my chest, causing my balls to tighten and cock to salute her.

  I open the email, and there’s a video file, nothing else. I tap it, and it opens and starts to play. It takes a few seconds for me to compute what we’re watching or, more importantly, who we are watching.

  “What the fuck?” I yell and toss the phone like it’s on fire.

  We both sit upright in the bed, alert, with Pansy staring at me like I’m a madman. The familiar pleasurable moans and slapping sounds of sex come from the device lying at the bottom of the bed. Fuck, I was in such a hurry to get rid of it, to prevent Pansy from seeing anymore, that I didn’t stop the video.

  “What’s that, Silas?” Confusion swims in her eyes, but the thick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach indicates there’s also understanding in her gaze.

  I’m mute. I don’t know what to say, how to make it all stop. Her gaze flicks from me to the end of the bed and back again. With another gaze to the foot of the bed, her intentions flit through her eyes before she lunges for the phone. I don’t stop her.

  My gut twists and clenches as a prickle of sweat forms on my brow at the thought that she won’t understand.

  On her knees, completely naked, she flips the screen to face her, and she’s transfixed by the scene unfolding in the palm of her hand. She’s watching me have sex. A threesome.

  “Jared and Bianca?” She gasps, one hand grabbing her stomach and the other covers her mouth. Like me, she throws the device; it bounces on the mattress before falling to the carpet.

  “Once. Ten years ago. It was a mistake. We were drunk, high; you name it. It never should’ve happened, and I never fucking knew there was a recording of it.”

  I reach for her hand, but she scrambles back, pulling the sheet to cover her. My outstretched hand hangs there, in the cold, open space between the both of us, rejected.

  Staring at her, I wait patiently, intent on catching her gaze. Eventually, her glossy eyes lock with mine. Her skin is pale, and she doesn’t look good.

  “I don’t have feelings for Bianca, not like that. Only as a friend.” The gravity of each word hangs between us.

  “I know,” she whispers, her arms hugging her middle as she sits back on her heels. She cradles herself like a life-raft, the only thing keeping her afloat. Her knuckles are curled tightly, so tight they’re white.

  “Are you upset?” What a fucking stupid question to ask.

  I sit on the bed too and gingerly move closer. With my heart lodged in my throat, I’m uncertain how to handle this. I’d go fucking ballistic if I’d just seen a sex recording of Pansy with two other people, no matter if it was yesterday or ten years ago.

  “No. I’m…” Loosening her grip around her body, she shrugs. “I’m not sure what I am right now. It was a long time ago, and you haven’t kept your past a secret. I knew you were a man-whore.”

  I flinch, but can’t deny it. She’s only calling it like it is. Panic glides through me like a shiver -- what if my past fucks up my future with her? Shit, I can’t think like that.

  “I suppose I just never wanted to see it. I don’t like it. And shit, I can’t unsee that.” Her voice cracks on a nervous laugh.

  “Fuck.” This time when I reach for her, she doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Why would he send you that?” Her fingers are fidgeting within my grasp, and she’s nibbling on her lip.

  “I have a hunch. I’m sure we’ll hear from him.”

  “So, I guess Bianca really likes cock,” Pansy says, again with a jittery laugh, and then she covers her mouth.

  My surprise colors the bark of my laugh. “What?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that! I say silly and inappropriate things like that when I’m nervous.”

  She is flustered, squirming beside me as her chest reddens, the color slowly climbing to her neck and cheeks.

  “It’s okay. Why are you nervous?” I tug on her hand, and her eyes flick to mine.

  “I don’t know if I can ever look at Bianca and Jared the same again.”

  As she says their names, I realize that I have to call them. I’m pretty sure they don’t know about the recording. At least I fucking hope not, or else there’ll be hell to pay.

  “I thought picturing people naked was supposed to calm nerves?” I say, trying to calm hers.

  She giggles and bats at my shoulder. “Not helping.”

  Sliding my hand around the back of her neck, I bring her closer to me and lightly kiss her forehead.

  “I really am sorry. If I could have prevented you from seeing that, I would have,” I say. She nods a small smile appears on her lips. “Go get dressed. I’ve gotta call Bianca and Jared.”

  I slip on some boxers and grab the phone from the floor when it vibrates with an incoming email. Gerald Pilsen. I growl, and Pansy stops just before closing the bathroom door.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s fucking Pilsen. We now know what he wants,” I grind out.

  My shower is a blur, my mind filled with what-if scenarios and flashbacks to the recording of Silas, Bianca, and Jared. God, I wish I could obliterate the vision of the three of them, naked bodies tangled and fucking, out of my mind.

  By the time I’m finished and back in the bedroom, Silas is dressed and on the phone with Eli. I wonder if he’s telling Eli about the threesome and Pilsen’s blackmail, or maybe the band already knows about their threesome? Did they all sleep with Bianca? Damn, I have to stop this. So what if she did? It’s none of my business, and I don’t want to think about any of them having sex.

  “Okay, see you soon.” He ends the call with a heavy sigh.

  “Hey, how are you doing?”

  He looks as rattled as I feel with his hair a mess from continuously running his fingers through it. Pilsen’s demand goes against everything that Silas wants. Needs. Trojan must do the world tour or else the tape goes public.

  “Fine. They’re all on the way. Bianca got an email too. She’s upset. Eli and Gray don’t know what’s going on. We just need to figure out what we’re going to do. Fuck, I hate involving everyone, but there’s no way around it.” His eyes find mine, and I nod in agreement. “I couldn’t get ahold of Jared, so I texted him. He most probably has an email too.”

  Before I even formulate a response -- my mind’s still stuck on the idea of the entire band showing up to discuss a sex tape -- there’s a knock at the bedroom door. Silas hollers for whoever to come in, and Bianca cautiously enters the room.

  Her usually warm olive complexion is pallid, and her eyes are red and puffy. My heart clenches as what I can only imagine she’s feeling.

  “Hey.” Her voice is wobbly, barely a whisper.

  “B.”

  They walk toward each other but stop midway, both looking at me with
uncertainty and regret. Seeking permission. I don’t want to be in this position.

  A part of me doesn’t want to see them hug, innocent touching isn’t even welcomed right now, even though there’s nothing but friendship. Deep in my heart, I know this.

  “Guys, it’s okay,” I finally say, looking away as he takes her into his arms.

  “Silas, what are we going to do?” Pain and heartache drip from her every word.

  “It’ll be okay.” His fierce conviction fills my heart, knowing Silas will do everything in his power to make it all right. “Let’s wait for the guys to get here. I’m going to jump in the shower. Wait downstairs?”

  “I’ll wait with her,” I say.

  Silas comes to me, taking my arm. “You don’t have to.”

  “I’m fine,” Bianca adds.

  “It’s okay.” I squeeze his hand and turn to Bianca. “I want to.”

  Bianca and I are not close. We are civil to each other – for the most part – but now, it’s weird to say, but because of the tape, this scandal that could ruin lives, I see her in a different light.

  She’s just a woman, like me. And woman to woman, I want to be there for her. I don’t care if she has threesomes all the time or if that was just one time, a regrettable mistake, it doesn’t matter. Nobody deserves to be blackmailed.

  “Pansy, I don’t know what to say. You must hate me,” Bianca starts, grimacing, once we’re seated downstairs at the kitchen table.

  “No. I don’t hate you. This happened years ago. I won’t lie, I wish I’d never seen it, but I can’t hate you.”

  “God, that was the worst decision of my life, and I totally regret it.”

  “Sex with two hot-as-fuck rock stars was the worst decision of your life?” I jest, hoping to stop her self-loathing. “Why? Was it a bad experience? It can’t be Silas because he’s phenomenal in bed.” Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens as I continue, “It’s gotta be Jared. What, is he seriously lacking? Pencil dick? Can’t get it up? A selfish lover? That would certainly explain his constant scowl and brooding. I might act like him if I was a shitty lover and everyone knew it.”

  Her laughter starts small and shaky, more an awkward giggle. “I can’t believe…” she starts, the giggle building, taking over her speech as it morphs into a full-blown guffaw. She bends over and clutches her stomach.

  I join her, snorting and chuckling at my improper comments. By the time Silas comes downstairs, we’re two silly girls laughing so hard we’re crying.

  Each of us tries to talk, but we can’t catch a breath, and I’m glad I’ve helped bury some of this ugliness, if only temporarily. While what I said was funny, it wasn’t that funny, but she’s letting off steam and unloading some of her distress.

  Silas is puzzled, but also grateful for the levity. While we get ourselves under control, he makes coffee. Then we sit in silence, waiting for the others.

  Eli and Gray arrive shortly after and are filled in. Both are shocked, but as they study Bianca, it’s not lewd or disillusioned, but rather with caring and in a protective way.

  “You okay?” Eli asks, coming to her side. She nods, but her lips quiver and he pulls her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “We’ll figure this out. We have to,” Gray adds, his tone determined.

  As we murmur our agreement, Jared walks into the room, his dark eyes flicking to each of us. His gaze holds Bianca’s deep, dark eyes for a beat longer than anyone else’s.

  Looking like he just rolled out of bed, his long hair is in disarray, his eyes glassy and his black shirt wrinkled like it’s been rolled up in a ball for days.

  “Fuck, who died?” Jared asks. “Is everything okay? Why are you crying?” He’s staring at Bianca, his voice rushed and rough.

  She shakes her head ever so slightly in reassurance. His fingers dive into his mass of hair and curl in a hard grip as he lets out a jagged breath.

  “Did you check your email?” Silas asks.

  “Email? Who uses email anymore?” Jared responds, pulling out his phone.

  In less than a minute, the deep groans and breathy whimpers of the three of them having sex pervade the still kitchen air. Jared doesn’t move, and all gazes fall to the floor, or table top. No one dares to look at another.

  Silas clenches his hands into fists and his jaw ticks while he tries to catch my eye, but my gaze is on Bianca. She refuses to meet any of our glances, her head hung low, a lone tear sliding down her face.

  “Fucking hell! How the hell did Pilsen get this?” Jared roars and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

  “Think about it.” Venom coats Bianca’s words. All her anxiety, shame, and frustration unleashed on him.

  “Easy, B,” Silas says, patting her hand. “It was the record label’s house and their party.”

  “The place’s probably wired with cameras for this very reason, among others,” adds Eli.

  “They must fucking love having dirt on their talent. What the fuck do they want?” Jared seethes.

  Like a trip down memory lane, each of them retells some part of the happenings of the night before at the label’s party. Silas, Bianca, Eli, and even Gray add something to the story of how Pilsen wants them to do a world tour. It ends with Silas reiterating his refusal to do it. This time, he isn’t as emphatic.

  Before they can get to the second email with what this is all about, Jared interjects, “So, we fuck ‘em. Let ‘em fucking release this. Let ‘em do their best. We’re fucking rock stars -- we’re only living up to our reputation, or down, depending on how you look at it.” He chuckles and shrugs.

  The room is silent. Jared has missed the point. Pilsen has them right where he wants them.

  I don’t know why I’m stunned. I shouldn’t be. Jared hasn’t thought this through. He’s most probably high; I can’t tell anymore.

  “If it were just you and me to think about, I’d be with you, but Bianca…”

  I hate that I mention her like she’s not even there. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have overlooked her. Despite the tension and history between them, he cares about her and would never hurt her. Not intentionally.

  “Fuck.” Jared grimaces and yanks his dirty fingers through his greasy hair. “Bianca, I wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”

  “I know,” she croaks, wiping her tear-stained cheeks.

  And then there’s Pansy. She’s mine to consider and worry about, but there’s no fucking way I’ll subject her to the media shit storm that would follow the release of that video.

  “You have to go on the tour,” Pansy says while grabbing hold of Bianca’s hand.

  Our gazes lock and her shimmering hazel eyes hold only warmth and compassion. We both know what the tour would mean. I’ll be gone for months, possibly even a year.

  She’ll be in South America, fuck I need to talk to her about that, and then school. We will both be doing our own thing. Apart. But isn’t that what I promised myself I’d do? Encourage and nurture her dreams no matter what?

  Damn, but why does it feel like I’ll be cutting off a limb? A part of myself? “Pansy, are you sure?” Bianca asks, the hopeful lift present in her tone.

  “Of course. No question.”

  While Pansy doesn’t say it, we know Bianca will be the whore in this story. The media will rip her to shreds, and it’ll be a major blow to her job, if not career-ending. She might never come back from it.

  “Okay, it’s settled, so now what?” Jared asks.

  “We get him to destroy every single copy,” Gray grits out.

  He’s been silent through the whole thing, but now his face is red with fury. His gaze is fixed on Bianca, filled with only compassion.

  “Yeah. We’ve got to get Pilsen to sign something before we agree to anything. Something that makes it impossible to come at us again. I’ll get Otto on it.”

  Once they leave, I spend close to two hours going back and forth with Otto, who does all the negotiating with Pilsen and the record label. I’d like nothing better tha
n to fuck them, but it’s not in the cards.

  We finally come to a verbal agreement, including Pilsen handing over all that he has. It’s not a world tour but close to it with cities on four continents.

  It’s close to evening when this shitty day goes from shaky to a full-blown earthquake. With the negotiations behind us, Pansy and I head to her apartment to pack her things for my place. The sooner I get her in my bed permanently, the easier I will breathe. Even if it is only for now.

  While packing one of the last boxes, she steals furtive glances at me every minute or so. I think I know what’s going on. Resting the box on the table, I near her.

  “What’s up?”

  I’m pushing. I promised Pansy that her dreams would come first, and I meant it. She may be second-guessing everything because of what has happened with the tape and the tour.

  “I’ve got to tell you something, and the timing sucks. I should have told you sooner.” She’s wringing her hands, and I take them in mine.

  “Tell me.” My voice is soft, coaxing.

  “Vinny has invited me on a research trip to Uruguay for six months or so. It’s an amazing opportunity, and it changes all my plans, but I …” She looks away for a split second and then her warm eyes are back on me. “I want to go.”

  “This is fantastic!” Gathering her in my arms, I lift her feet off the ground and mold her to me. Inhaling all of her. Cherishing her smell. Her feel. Her.

  “It is? Did you hear me when I said I’d be gone for six months at a minimum?”

  I chuckle, placing her feet back on the floor. “I hear you, and it’ll suck, but it sounds like something you have to do. You’d be crazy not to.”

  Water gathers in her eyes, and she nods as a tear spills down her cheek. I brush it away and pull her into me.

  “On one hand, I’m so excited, and on the other, I feel horrible. There’s so much going on. You’re almost done writing and recording, and then the tour. I feel like I should be here.”

  I cup her face and tilt her chin up. “You will be with me all the time. And in case you don’t know about it, there are ways to communicate. There’s this thing where we can video chat, text.” She pokes at my side, and we laugh. “And, if I can, I’ll come visit.”