by Marie Meyer
“Jillibean,” I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair. Her mouth parted into a toothy smile.
“Griffin.” Her shoulders relaxed as she spoke my name.
I’d have given my right arm to kiss that smile. “Damn, I miss you.” I scratched my face and settled back. “Whatcha up to?”
Jillian flipped the camera view, showing me a partially dressed mannequin. Then she flipped it back to her face. “Just sewing. Story of my life. What are you doing?”
“Missing you.”
“I miss you, too. But hey, your tour starts tomorrow. Aren’t you excited?”
Honestly, I wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I loved playing with the guys. I loved the music. But the whole rock star business was taking its toll on me. Photo shoots, interviews, I just wasn’t sure I was cut out for it.
“Not really.”
“What do you mean?” she mumbled, pulling something from between her lips.
I squinted, trying to figure out what she was doing. “What is in your mouth?”
She lowered her head for a second and came back up, smiling. “Sorry, they’re pins.” She held a small silver object up to the camera. “I was in the middle of pinning this fabric on the dress form when you called.”
She was so busy. I shouldn’t be bothering her. “I’m sorry, Bean. I’ll let you go.”
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare hang up.” She pointed a finger at me and scowled. “I am very good at multitasking. Besides, you’re getting on a damn plane tomorrow. You know how I get when people I love fly.”
I did know. After what happened to her parents, she hated airplanes and wanted nothing to do with them. “I do.” I nodded. “But it’s only a six-hour flight. I won’t be up there too long.”
“The second your feet hit the Jetway is already too long, if you ask me.” Her lips turned down and all I could think about was how they tasted.
Damn, she’s hot when she pouts. In my head I pictured those pouty lips kissing their way down my chest. Lower…and lower…
“Bean,” I said, my voice thick.
“Yeah?”
“You’re in your room, right?” I hoped she was alone, because there was something I needed her help with.
“Yeah. Why?” she asked, taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor.
With one look she’d made me so hard.
“Are you alone?”
“Griffin?” She pulled an eyebrow up. “What are you suggesting?”
I sat up, my face filling her screen. I wanted her to see the desire on my face. “I want you, Jillian. But right now I can’t have you. So…” I trailed off, letting her absorb what I meant. “Go lie down, Bean,” I nudged.
Comprehension dawned on her features and she nodded. Her cheeks grew more flushed by the second. I watched the background shift as she walked to her bed.
The last time I’d had phone sex was in high school and, at least to my knowledge, Jillian hadn’t ever. I’d have to walk her through it.
I watched Jillian climb into bed, aching to join her. Today she wore her hair natural, a long golden curtain fanned out around her head like a halo. I got up from the recliner and walked down the hall toward my room.
Mounting the stairs, I unbuttoned my fly, giving room to my growing erection.
“Griffin,” she said breathily. “I’ve never done anything like this.” Her voice was shaky. “This is so embarrassing,” she laughed shyly.
I grabbed the knob to my door and pushed my way inside. “I’m right here with you, Bean. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” I kicked my door shut and went to my bed. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded.
I liked that I could see her. The iPad brought a whole new level to phone sex. Seeing the flush on her cheeks was sexy as hell. I could get used to this.
I settled on my bed, resting my iPad against my drawn knees. “Close your eyes,” I commanded.
She complied.
“I want to touch you so bad,” I crooned, making my voice raspy and thick. “Do you feel my hand on you, Bean?”
With her eyes falling closed, she nodded again. Her lips parted slightly, and I could hear her breathing, slow and shallow.
“Show me,” I whispered.
Jillian tilted her iPad, showing me her free hand. She drew lazy circles across her stomach, on top of her shirt.
I needed to feel skin. I moved my hand to my chest, imagining it was hers. “Jillian, I can feel you…running your hands over my chest…fingering my ink. Can you feel my hands? Your flat stomach, smooth under my fingers.”
Her breath hitched. Her fingers were under her shirt now. “God, Griffin,” she sighed. My beautiful girl was getting into it now.
“Your breasts…let me feel them,” I begged.
Jillian shifted, then lay back down, her shirt gone. Filling my screen, her glorious tits heaved up and down. My hands longed to be filled by them. I fisted my right hand at the fantasy.
I imagined burrowing my fingers beneath the lacy material and shoving her breasts in my hands…my mouth. “Jillian, you have the most incredible body.”
I lifted my ass off the bed and pulled my pants lower, kicking them to my ankles. “I want to feel all of you.” Desire caught in my throat.
I watched her hand travel lower. In my mind I was kissing my way there. “Talk to me, baby,” I coached, needing to hear the want in her voice.
Her fingers slipped inside her shorts. “Griffin, do you feel me? I’m so…” She hesitated.
I grabbed my dick for her, sucking in a breath. “You’re what? Tell me,” I begged through clenched teeth. I needed to hear her say how wet she was for me. “You’re so what, baby?”
My hand moved faster, spurred on by her shallow breaths.
“Wet. God…,” she moaned. “I want you inside me.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My hand moved double time. I wanted to thrust into her so badly. “Soon, baby,” I crooned. I was so close, but I had to hold off. I wanted to watch her come apart first.
On the screen I watched her body arc with pleasure, her mouth opened wide. I wanted to shove my tongue inside. “Griffin,” she called.
“I’m so hard for you, Jillian,” I moaned with heady need. “Come for me, baby.”
And then she fell apart. Her head pressed into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut, her body shuddered, and she growled my name. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
“Jillian…” I clenched and my release came hard and fast. Stars burst against my clouded vision and every bone in my body turned to liquid.
For the longest time, we lay quiet. I listened to the glorious sound of her satiated breathing. It was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
When she regained the ability to speak, she said, “Griffin.”
“Yeah?” I replied.
A smile worthy of a vixen spread across her face. “That was fun.”
I love her. I smiled, too. “Damn straight.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Under the white-hot lights, sweat rolled down my temple. I’d already ditched my shirt half an hour ago. The sun beat down, glistening off the crystal-blue ocean. Despite Mexico’s humidity—which rivaled that of home—outdoor venues on the beach kicked ass. We were down to our last two songs in Playa del Carmen, then we boarded a bus to Cancún.
As Adam counted us in, “One, two, three, four!” I mentally prepared for the next song. This one hurt every time I sang it. I walked my fingers over the strings of my bass and pressed the mic close.
Starving. Drunk. Don’t give a fuck.
Bleeding. Dying. Come back crying.
Spin you around. Hold you down
Don’t play dead, it fucks with my head.
The angry bass line burned in my fingers. My heart pumped the song through my body, recalling a time when fear and hatred ruled my emotions. When I’d found out Jillian was cutting herself, I was so angry with her…and terrified. But as angry as I’d been at her, I’d been f
urious with myself. Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I help her?
Being a sixteen-year-old kid, hormones raging, I couldn’t fathom what Jillian was feeling, why she inflicted pain on herself. My only from of reference was how music made me feel. To me, music cut as deeply as a knife.
The pounding drums, driving guitar riff, and dissonant keys represented a whip striking flesh…my flesh. I wanted to feel just a fraction of what Jillian had felt. Yet I still knew it wasn’t even close. So by the end of the song, it had morphed into something penitent. I needed her forgiveness. I’d let her down.
Remorse. Regret. I can’t forget.
Forgive me yet?
Silence. The clock ticks loud.
Forgive me yet?
Silence…
On the next beat, our hands quieted our instruments and we froze. The wild crowd stilled. No one moved. No one breathed. Then, keeping my voice low and quiet, I delivered the last line, unaccompanied.
Don’t play dead, it fucks with my head.
The audience exploded.
For all the pain and sadness this song fostered within me, it was one hell of a crowd-pleaser. This song was our third single and by far our heaviest hitter.
To keep the crowd hot, Thor threw in some power chords. Over his guitar I said, “Gracias, Playa del Carmen. ¡Eres hermosa! You’re beautiful!”
The stage lights went dead, and we walked offstage. Thor’s guitar’s reverb continued to sound. Electricity sparked in the air, and the crowd buzzed like a live wire.
After playing three shows in Cozumel, and two in Playa del Carmen, we were seasoned veterans.
Our encore was quick and we put a wrap on Carmen.
“Great show, guys.” Leo held out his hand for one of us to shake. Thor obliged. “Best one yet.”
Still out of breath from the last song, I answered heavily, “Yeah, the audience was into it.”
“Well,” Leo said, dropping Thor’s hand. “Cancún is going to rock.”
“Hell yeah.” Adam nodded in approval.
Leo pushed his glasses up on his nose and lifted his chin, acknowledging Adam. “Bus pulls out in thirty, gents.”
I slung a towel around my neck. “We’ll be on it.”
The second Leo was out of earshot, Adam turned to me. “I don’t think that dude likes me.”
“Why do you think that?” While I waited for him to answer, I gathered my personal belongings.
Adam thought about it for a second and shrugged. “Just a vibe.”
“Well, whatever it is, keep playing like you did tonight, and he’s going to love you.” I pulled a clean t-shirt out of my bag.
“How so?” Adam asked.
Pushing the shirt over my head, I stretched my arms through. “Because you’ll be making him a shitload of money. We’ve got a bus to catch, dude. Let’s hit it.”
Shows might not always start on time, but damn, the tour bus was never late. Within the hour we’d be in Cancún.
* * *
The last three weeks passed by in a blur, like the Mexican landscape outside the tour bus window. I was dog-tired and missed Jillian something fierce. We hadn’t talked since I’d left home, so the memory of our last conversation was what got me through the lonely nights in my hotel room.
Pauly and Adam were in their tanned, beach babe glory…especially Adam, who had recently broken up with Trina for the second time. At least Thor was miserable, like me. He was missing Harper.
Today’s show was no different from the others. I’d gotten so used to prepping that I didn’t need to think about it anymore. Using a small window of time while the opening act was onstage, I grabbed my iPad to FaceTime Jillian.
“Griffin!” she yelled.
I smiled widely. God. She is beautiful. “Hi, Bean.”
“Where are you guys now?”
My screen froze as she said the last word, her lips forming the most perfect o shape. Damn it! Why did the screen have to freeze now? A message flashed on my screen: poor connectivity.
Then her face moved and she was back with me. Mexico didn’t offer the best wireless services.
I shook my head and shouted. The band onstage was settling into its groove. “We’re in Cancún.”
“Awesome. It looks like you’re getting some sun.”
I glanced down at my arms. They were a little tanner. “Yeah, most of our shows have been open-air venues.” I was anxious to get back to the U.S. We were far enough apart, I didn’t enjoy adding more distance between us. “We’re headed back to the States in a couple days. We’ve got shows booked in Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri before we get to come home.”
“You’re a busy man.” She nodded.
I walked to the cabinet where my bass was stored and pulled it out.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I held my bass up to the screen. “We’ve got a show in twenty minutes. I’m just getting things together.”
There it was again, her vixen smile. “That one’s cool, but I much prefer its likeness on you,” she said, wagging her eyebrows.
I got really close to the screen and whispered, “And I like when you play that one.” I kept my voice dark and insistent.
Her cheeks flushed. “I miss you,” she breathed.
I couldn’t avoid the rush of blood heading south. “It’s been too fucking long.” I nodded in agreement.
Behind me Pauly rested his thick beard on my shoulder. “Hi, Jillian,” he said, “you better be sweet-talking this dude.” Pauly turned and looked at me. “He’s feeling left out.”
What? I shot him a pissed-off glare. “Shut the fuck up.” I planted a palm to his face and pushed him off me. “Don’t listen to a thing he says, Bean.”
“Why are you feeling left out?” she asked.
Pauly jumped back in front of the camera, pulling at his chin. “There’s a lot of tail here, girl. But no worries, your boy is behaving himself.”
“Fuck, man. Back off,” I yelled, knocking Pauly out of the way.
“Bye, Jillian,” he shouted, stumbling away laughing. I did not hit him hard enough.
I righted the iPad, centering my face. “I’m sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair.
She smiled sweetly. “It’s OK. He seems to be enjoying himself.”
“Let’s just say Adam and Pauly are taking full advantage of spring break.” I rolled my eyes.
“Adam? What happened to Trina?” she asked.
“She dumped his ass. She said he was a hothead, and she was tired of his outbursts.”
She nodded in agreement. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about it.”
“Not in the slightest,” I chuckled.
Jillian sat on her bed, brushing strands of hair behind her ear. “And Thor?” she asked.
I climbed the metal stairs, preparing to go on. Peeking at the audience, I saw the sun beat down on a sea of caramel-colored people. The stagehands waved us over. “Nope. He’s still into Harper. Hey, Bean, I’ve got to go, they’re calling for me.”
“Oh, OK.” She sounded sad. “Good luck. I love you.”
“Promise?” I smirked.
Her smile brightened. “Forever.”
“I fucking love that.” I shoved my hair off my forehead. “I love you, Bean. Talk to you soon.”
“Soon.” She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to mine. So close, yet so very far away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sixteen days.
Sixteen fucking days until Jillian came home. I missed her so much. Anger roared in me like a beast.
Even after talking to her, I couldn’t mute the fury inside me. Frustrated by everything keeping us apart, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I launched my phone across the room.
The second it left my hands, I regretted it. “Shit!” I stared at the lifeless remains, not caring if the neighbors heard me through the paper-thin walls.
I needed to get out of here. Clear my head. Grabbing my keys and helmet, I raced out of the apartment. Str
addling my bike, I focused on the back door. I hadn’t locked up.
Screw it. If I didn’t leave now, my fists would serve as hole-punchers for the paper walls.
With my bike between my legs, some of my anger quieted. I turned the key in the ignition and tromped on the kick starter. The engine roared to life beneath me, and I disappeared into the darkness.
Usually I wrote the best songs when I was angry. Mine Shaft might be looking at another number one.
I drove out to a secluded stretch of road, one that went on for miles. A road where I could open my baby up and let her fly. Being from a rural farming community, an abundance of secluded roadways came to mind.
The darkness swallowed me. I even considered taking off my helmet to feel the warm spring air on my face, but thought better of it. I couldn’t do that to Jillian.
The rhythmic pulse of the road beneath my tires stirred a song inside me. I always heard the bass line first, followed by Adam’s drumbeat. Once the music was straightened out in my head, then I could focus on the lyrics.
Lyrics. Goddamned lyrics. Since Jillian left in January, everything I’d written had been utter shit. Hallmark card shit.
I knew what I needed…Jillian.
Despite the heavy darkness, my headlight cut a small path ahead of me. The road’s curves remind me of Jillian’s curves—smooth, inviting, and beautiful. I envisioned my hand trailing over the contours of her hips and waist, traveling upward to her breasts. The thought of her breasts sent blood rushing elsewhere. I felt her flesh in the palms of my hands, and I squeezed the throttle, trying to bring my thoughts back to reality.
With the growl of the engine, I refocused my attention on the image of her face—much safer. God, I miss her.
With that thought, the hint of a verse began to work itself out in my head: Caught in the dark. Can’t see my way out. Not even hope leaves a mark. But it isn’t until I get to the end of the road that I figure out, I can’t go back.
The song’s skeleton took shape just as the clouds opened up above. Glancing at my speedometer, I eased off the gas just a little. Damn it.
My headlights shone on the rain-slicked road as I took the next turn and doubled back toward my apartment. I thought about stopping at Ren’s place, it was closer, but I wanted to get home and flesh out the lyrics. Thankfully, these back roads were pretty much deserted at one in the morning.