Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  Angel perked up and I gave myself a mental pat on the back. A little stroke of her ego and she was putty in my hands. “I just want you up on that stage with me. The world should get to experience your gift.”

  “Angel, you are an amazing artist! What are you talking about? The way you perform and captivate the audience…I could never, ever do something like that. And you are a much better musician than me.”

  Shrugging, she twirled a long lock of blond hair between her fingers. This week, she had added hot pink extensions in honor of receiving her new guitar. “But you’re a better singer. And I know singing makes you happy.”

  “Geez, enough of the Vagina Monologues!” Dom interjected playfully. “My dick just shriveled up into beef jerky!”

  Angel gagged. “Gross. Sounds like Gonorrhea. I told you about picking up those gutter sluts. Don’t leak any shit on my rug. I just had it cleaned.”

  “Carpet muncher,” Dom sneered.

  “Whore,” I shot back at him in Angel’s defense.

  “Dick tease,” he spat at me.

  This was us: A modern day, dysfunctional Three’s Company. A lesbian rocker, an insatiable man-whore and a notorious commitment-phobe, all under one roof. Of course, that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to our laundry list of issues. And while we may have sounded more like a raunchy joke that begins with us walking into a bar, we had somehow become a family. Dom and Angel were as close as family could get for me. And in all honesty, they were the only two people on Earth that had ever met the skeletons hanging out in my closet. Hell, they just moved them over to make room for theirs.

  Angel stood up and stretched her limbs, her tight body looking X-rated in her sheer chemise and panties. Didn’t anyone wear clothes around here? “So are you sure no one else is hiring that you know of?”

  I twisted my lips as if I was in deep thought though the answer was at the forefront of my brain. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Dom asked, plopping down on the couch next to me.

  “Well, um, there’s that bar…” I could feel my face heat just at the mention of it.

  Dom propped his legs onto my lap and reclined, his hands behind his head. “Bar? Do tell.”

  “Yeah, uh, you know…that bar that Angel and I went to…and, you know…”

  “The bar with the hottie bartender?” Angel perked. She threw herself onto Dom’s body and cuddled him like a giant-sized teddy bear.

  “I mean, that was weeks ago and I’m sure they’ve already filled the positions,” I said with a phony smile.

  “Well, you don’t know for sure until you check. You should stop by, Kami! That’d be a pretty cool place to work,” Angel giggled as Dom tickled her ribs.

  “Nah, it’s ok. I’ll keep looking.”

  Angel let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Look, you can’t afford to pass up this opportunity. I’ll tell you what; I’ll go with you if you stay for rehearsal.”

  I furrowed my brow, wondering what she was up to. “You will?”

  “Yeah! I wanted to check if they have a house band booked anyway. Did you see the size of that stage? A.D. could use a steady gig.” I nodded my compliance, causing Angel to squeal with glee. For a badass rock star, she giggled and squealed more than a pubescent schoolgirl on a Pixie Stix high.

  “Ok, cool, I’m gonna grab a shower,” she announced jumping off the couch. “And Dom, you should do the same. You smell like skank sex and you have cooch breath.”

  After another dish of loving insults, we all showered, dressed and got ready for our day. When the other ladies of AngelDust arrived, Angel and I were already in the spare bedroom that Angel had converted into a studio. The first to arrive was the band’s lead guitarist, MiMi. A pint-sized Japanese girl, no more than 5 feet tall, she played like a badass rock god three times her size.

  Behind her was K.C. on bass that, quite frankly, scared the shit out of me. She wore all black from her make up to the color of her hair. She was ghostly pale and I don’t think I had ever seen her smile. But from what I heard, she was a devoted wife, mother, and den mother of her local Girl Scout troop.

  Bringing up the rear was the drummer, Nessa, who I could only describe as Beyonce’s doppelganger. She was gorgeous, statuesque and stylish. I always felt like a wallflower next to her but she had the sweetest, most calming spirit. She was heavy into holistic living and was always trying to sell us on the benefits of veganism. I was a vegan once. Then Dom made bacon at breakfast an hour later and I said fuck it…Y.O.L.O!

  To put it plainly, AngelDust was the shit. Angel Cassidy (she insisted we use her full name when addressing her in anything pertaining to her as a musician) possessed a presence that most mainstream bands were lacking. She was incredibly engaging, arousing and entertaining on stage. She captivated every eye when she performed, no matter if they were male, female, gay, straight or other. And she oozed sex appeal. It seriously seeped out of her pores whenever a mic or guitar was in her hands. I envied her confidence in so many ways. Angel Cassidy was utterly fearless.

  The girls played through a few of their signature songs before working on a new piece. I smiled and sang along quietly, swaying my head and tapping my foot. Although Angel suggested I grab my own guitar and play with them, I was way too intimidated by their caliber of talent. That was one of the biggest reasons why I refused to join the band. I was too afraid of looking like a complete ass.

  After rehearsal, Angel stood by her word to go back to Dive with me. I know I seemed indifferent to it all, but I was freaking out inside. Freaking the fuck out. I was thankful that Angel offered to drive- she didn’t want to risk me getting crazy eyes again and ditching her. There was no way I could force myself to revisit that bar alone. She knew that. Between her and Dom, they had somehow managed to get me to live through most of my deep-rooted fears. They just didn’t know I was afraid of him. Blaine. The scary-beautiful bartender covered with tattoos that I had nearly made out with weeks before. The man that I hadn’t stopped thinking about since.

  It wasn’t Blaine’s physical adornments that scared me. It wasn’t even his intense chocolate-brown gaze that made me forget to breathe. It was him. All of him. My body’s response to his scared the living daylights out of me.

  I had been attracted to plenty of men before and had my fair share of conventional relationships. I had dated, had one-night hook ups, and even a fuck buddy or two. But with every single one of those guys, I was able to separate my body’s wants from my heart’s needs. Sex had nothing to do with feeling. It was quite the opposite for me. It got me out of my head. It pressed pause on the fear and doubt that weaseled its way into every other facet of my life. Sex was my band-aid over the bullet wound that was my scarred psyche.

  Still, after each guy served his purpose, the guilt set in. It always did, and I knew from the first glance how long I could keep up the ruse. I could project how long we’d be in each other’s lives before I broke it off without reason.

  Take Kenneth for instance. When I began working at his law firm, and he locked eyes with mine, I knew he would want something more. Much more than I could give him. He wanted a wife, children, a home, and a life together. All of the above were out of the question for me, so the moment those three little game-changing words passed his lips, I knew I had to crush him. I had to hurt him so deeply that he couldn’t keep himself from sobbing into my shoulder. Men like Kenneth didn’t get rejected, especially not for doing something as selfless and soul-bearing as loving another human being.

  With Blaine, things were different. I couldn’t see the point where things would become complicated and I’d have to break his heart. I couldn’t decipher what exactly it was that he wanted from me, but I could clearly see what I wanted from him. And that fact, along with the uncertainty of his motives, if any, scared the hell out of me.

  I smoothed my denim skirt and ribbed tank before taking a deep breath and advanced to the door. Suddenly I felt drastically underdressed, espec
ially for someone seeking employment, but it was hella hot in Charlotte. I know I should be used it being that I lived in Atlanta before Dom and I moved up here eight months ago, but the sticky humidity was something I could never grow accustomed to.

  Just as I was formulating an excuse to turn around and get back in the car, Angel sidled up to me and gave me a kiss in the cheek. It wasn’t our usual lesbian bit to prevent unwanted attention from guys. She knew I was 2 seconds from running. In the time we had lived together, Angel and I had grown extremely close. She knew when apprehension seized me to the point where I couldn’t move. She had experienced more than a couple of my freak-outs. And because she was nothing but patient and understanding, I loved her dearly.

  We entered Dive and made our way to the bar. Most of the afternoon crowd was seated at tables rather than at the bar and to my surprise - and, honestly, dismay - Blaine was not stationed behind the bar. I immediately let out a relieved breath but, for some reason, it sounded more like a disappointed whimper.

  “Good afternoon, I was hoping to find out more about the bartending position available?” I smiled, greeting the bearded man wiping down the bar with a rag. He was the same guy from before and seeing his familiar face gave me an ounce of assurance.

  The older gentleman, probably in his 50s, rubbed his beard and nodded before extending a hand to me. “Is that right? Well, I’m Mick.”

  I shook and smiled warmly. “Kamilla Duvall, but everyone calls me Kami. It’s good to meet you Mick.” I stole a peek at Angel as she walked towards the stage to check out the digs.

  “Alright, Kami, let me go fetch you an application so we can go ahead and get the paperwork out the way.”

  Once Mick retreated to the back, I took the liberty of getting a better look at the place. It was spacious, clean and it felt inviting. I knew I could be comfortable here. Comfort was a major factor in stifling all my idiosyncrasies.

  Without warning, something deep within me clenched, nearly making me gasp for air. It was as if every one of my senses were on hyper alert and humming. I could not only feel him when he entered the room, I could taste him. He was on my tongue, minty and spicy, and tasting slightly of lime. That memory came barging in like a Mack truck. And something in me didn’t just want it as a memory anymore. It wanted it to be reality.

  “Hi,” he muttered from behind me.

  Just the sound of his voice jolted me, causing every detail from weeks ago to come rushing back with a vengeance. I tried to take a deep breath without the rise and fall of my shoulders being too obvious then licked my lips before turning around. My plan was to be nonchalant. Breezy. Maybe even flash him a friendly smile. But what my eyes found when I turned to face him was something I could not plan nor prepare for. It was…him. Dressed in simple jeans and a tee that showcased the vibrantly colored body art roped around his arms, he was even more gorgeous than I remembered. And, he didn’t have on a ball cap, letting his ruffled hair that screamed sex sweep across his forehead. Oh no. This would not be good. I was a whore for a good head of hair.

  I struggled to swallow, my mouth completely barren of moisture. “Hey,” I squeaked, my voice a bit too enthusiastic. I cleared my throat. “I mean…hi. Blaine, right?”

  Blaine gave me a knowing smile, though it looked more like he was trying not to laugh. “Yeah, Kami. What brings you here today?” he asked, folding his arms in front of him and causing those biceps to flex. Once again, those lucky little sleeves hugged them tight.

  “Oh, um, I…” I began, mentally scolding myself for being so easily distracted by the thin fabric.

  “Here you are, young lady,” Mick announced, sliding the application over to me. I hadn’t even noticed he had come back.

  I smiled and thanked him, then looked back to Blaine. He was frowning. It was a slight frown, just creasing the middle of his brows, but it looked like a frown nonetheless. “You want to work here?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  I shrugged and gave him a tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, why not?”

  Blaine relaxed his features yet his expression still seemed a bit perturbed at the idea. I instantly regretted coming here. It was evident that he was still upset, if not confused, by what happened between us before. His mouth moved as if he was rolling his tongue, his brows still knitted together. Then I got a flash of silver, causing my stomach to clench once again. The reminder of that tongue ring had me doing an internal happy dance. Why? I have no idea. It wasn’t like I expected to feel that barbell sliding against my tongue… or other places.

  He looked to Mick and nodded, snapping me out of my trance. “I’ll take care of her.” Then he took a step forward and grabbed my hand.

  He grabbed my hand! And I yelped like a freakin’ puppy.

  We both sputtered apologies at my outburst, and my face reddened instantly. Damn Asian flush. Not wanting to make me any more uncomfortable, Blaine tentatively placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the other side of the bar just as Angel approached and took a seat. I know my wide-eyed expression at his contact was evident to her.

  “Good to see you again, Blaine!” she beamed, cutting her eyes at me.

  He smiled warmly, one side of his mouth curled up farther than the other. “You too, Angel.” He then turned his head to me, placing his palms against the bar and leaning forward a bit, regarding me intently. “Ready?”

  My eyes narrowed in confusion. “Ready for what?”

  “Your audition,” he said, with that amused, trying-not-to-laugh look on his face. It was infuriating and adorable all at once.

  I nodded stiffly and pursed my lips, frustrated with my betraying emotions. After washing my hands, I turned to him and waited for his first order. He was staring at me. Not just casually gazing, he was staring at me like he was appraising a rare piece of artwork. It was odd and intense, and that damn flush crept back up my neck and painted my cheeks.

  Finally, he turned his body and pressed his backside against the bar, casually crossing his ankles, his head turned towards mine. He was close - very close. Close enough for me to get a whiff of his scent and feel the warmth of his body.

  Standing side by side, I could tell Blaine was tall. He had to be at least six inches taller than my 5 ft. 6 in. frame. I liked tall men. I liked the way they could fold their bodies around mine and make me feel safe and secure, even just for a night. My mind began to drift to images of Blaine’s arms around me, those big hands sliding across hips, around my ass, up my bare back…

  “It’s good to see you again, roadrunner,” he muttered for my ears only. It was enough to startle me from my insane daydream. Just as well. It would never, ever come to fruition.

  I glanced at Angel, engaged in a conversation with Mick, then turned my head back to him and raised a brow. “Roadrunner?”

  Blaine’s mouth twisted again, giving me another peek at that metallic barbell. He wasn’t doing it to be seductive. At least I didn’t think he was. It seemed more out of habit than anything else. “Yeah. The way you ran outta here last time, you would’ve thought a 50-ton anvil was about to come crashing down on you.”

  “Is that right?” I smirked playfully. I couldn’t help flirting with him. It was harmless, after all. “So what does that make you? Wile E. Coyote?”

  A question knit his brows. “Why would you think that? You think I’m chasing you?”

  My eyes widened with embarrassment. “Oh, no, I wasn’t saying…”

  “Because I’m not chasing you,” he cut me off. “Not yet, at least.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. I was confused by his behavior, unsure if he was attracted to me…or not. Not that he should be. I just liked knowing where I stood.

  “Oh,” was all I could manage.

  Blaine grinned crookedly, his warm chocolate eyes heating into a smolder. “Screaming orgasm.”

  “Huh…what?” I juggled the glass in my hand, almost dropping it.

  He chuckled, and I had to admit, it was a fascinating sound. Husky and
sexy. He ran a hand through his perfectly unruly hair. “I want a Screaming Orgasm. You do know what those are, right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I mumbled, assembling the cocktail. Yeah, I knew what they were from prior bartending jobs, but unfortunately I had only experienced them in drink form.

  Once the shot was perfectly garnished, despite my slightly shaky hands, I slid the drink over to him. It wasn’t far since he had made it a point to only leave a few inches between us.

  Blaine took the tall shot in his hands, appraising it thoroughly, then brought the glass to his mouth and took a small sip, licking his lips afterwards. It gave me full view of that tongue ring, and I felt I could die happy right then and there.

  “Mmmm,” he groaned lightly. I had to suck my lips in to stifle my own reaction. He turned to me and held up the glass just inches from my face. “Taste it,” he breathed, the words audible only to me. Before I could take the shot glass from him, he was pressing it to my lips gently, his gaze predatory. As my lips parted, so did his, as if he was guiding the movement. He tilted it back, the sweet-strong mix of vodka and creamy liquor trickling down my throat and warming my chest.

  “You like it?” he asked just above a whisper as he brought the glass down, his eyes never leaving mine.

  I licked my lips slowly, probably too slow to be considered totally innocent. “Yes.”

  “I like it too.” Blaine’s eyes drifted down to my lips and he began running the top row of his teeth along his bottom lip as if he was contemplating whether or not to kiss me. His breathing was just as labored and heavy as mine, anticipation flowing through our veins. This was bad. Very, very bad.

  Angel’s jingling laughter ringing throughout the bar doused the heated moment like ice water. We jerked apart and looked sheepishly towards her and Mick as if we had been caught red-handed. Nothing had happened, but for some reason I felt guilty and a little exhilarated. No…a lot exhilarated.