Always been You

by Mia Scott

  "You just don't give up do you?" she asked shoving him out into the hall. She opened up the blanket revealing all of her naked glory to him. His jaw dropped. "Well, Jake Biggerman, take a good long look because this is the last time you'll ever see this naked body again. Fuck. Off." She slammed the door in his face.

  He stood, stunned, outside her closed door, the image of her firmly emblazoned into his brain as the blood rushed south. It took him a moment to snap out of the shock she'd sent him into. Turning, he started down the stairs and realized he didn't have his goddamn shoes on. Fuck. He lifted a fist to pound on the door when it opened up and she chucked his shoes at his head. Lucky for his face she had terrible aim. "Goddamn, Larrington!" he laughed. When she flipped him off he nearly pissed his pants from laughing. "See ya at Maggie's birthday party," he reminded her. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off," he said, wagging his eyebrows.

  "You're uninvited!" she yelled, slamming the door in his face once more.

  Fuck, it was fun to mess with her, he thought, bounding down the stairs. He pulled out his cell phone and sent her a text.

  Alisha was lying on her bed, staring at her ceiling, wondering what entity had possessed her a few minutes ago and made her go completely bat shit crazy. God, it was bad enough that he'd accidentally seen her naked, but then she'd gone and showed him again during her hissy fit.

  Well they call me the fireman, that's my name

  Making my rounds all over town, putting out old flames

  Well everybody'd like to have a what I got

  I can cool 'em down when they're smold'ring hot

  I'm the fireman, that's my name

  "Can't he just stop torturing me?" she groaned, hearing Big's ringtone on her cell. She fumbled for her phone and saw that he'd sent her a text.

  Big: Don't 4get ur future per4mance w/FE

  Her face fell into a frown. What the hell was he talking about? She had a bad feeling it was another missing piece to the puzzle. But whatever it was couldn't possibly be any more humiliating than what she'd already been through today.

  She replied with a succinct '?'.

  Big: Check ur bag

  Alisha huffed out a breath and rooted through her bag, pulling out the newspaper article that she remembered him defacing. Looking at it through sober eyes was every bit as funny as the night before, though she cringed seeing at some of the things she'd told him about Gregory. Tossing that aside, she found a bar napkin with a bunch of stick figures and scribbles of a tambourine, fire extinguisher, what she thought was a microphone, some musical notes and a star. "Alcohol is truly the devil," she murmured.

  Alisha: This is gibberish

  Big: UR singing w/my band 1 night. Practice on Wed.

  Alisha: No

  Big: Quit getting ur panties in a twist over everything…oh, wait. UR not wearing any!

  Alisha: Eat a bag of hell and die!

  Big: LOL! I enjoy ur wit and tits alike, Larrington!

  She wanted to break his stupid face.

  Instead, she called up Maggie. She'd stupidly avoided her yesterday and if she hadn't done so, she wouldn't be in the mess she was in now.

  "Well, well, look who it is," Maggie greeted shortly. "Glad to see you still know how to get a hold of the person you supposedly consider your best friend."

  Alisha winced. Maggie's worry had turned into annoyance and Alisha knew that was because she'd hurt her friend's feelings by not talking to her yesterday when the article came out. "I'm sorry I didn't take any of your calls last night."

  "Hmph," she sniffed.

  "Can you please come over?" Alisha asked, her throat suddenly grew tight and she thought she might very well be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

  "Are you okay?" Maggie asked, concern flooding her voice.

  "No," Alisha cried dramatically. "Things are seriously crazy and bad and I did something so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

  "On my way," she said, and the line went dead.

  "…and then I slammed the door in his face."

  Maggie's jaw hung open as she sat blinking owlishly at Alisha. A little squeak of shock was the only sound she'd made in the last thirty seconds. Alisha squirmed uneasily waiting for her best friend to say something for the love of God. She braced herself for an oncoming lecture, or maybe to be swept hurriedly out of the apartment to the nearest nuthouse to be fitted for a straightjacket. (It was a mental breakdown. She was sure.) What she hadn't expected was the hearty outburst of hysterical laughter.

  "Oh…my…God…Alisha!" Maggie's laughter turned to cackling and continued until she was on the ground and sound was no longer coming out of her mouth. She was—wheezing—like a ninety-year-old asthmatic with emphysema.

  "Maggie! It's not funny!" Alisha scolded, which only made her blonde friend laugh even harder. Huffing out an exasperated breath, she flopped back against the couch and covered her head with a pillow, hoping to just snuff the life out of herself. It smelled like his cologne and she tossed it across the room like a hot potato, knocking over a DVD rack.

  After what felt like an eternity, her best friend began to regain her composure and sat up, wiping the tears away from her eyes. "Jesus, Lisha…thanks for the laugh. I think my abs have gotten enough of a workout today now that I can skip the gym."

  "Har dee har har," Alisha pouted.

  "I just have one question for you though," Maggie said, putting on her serious face.

  Alisha eyed her suspiciously. "Yes?"

  "Why in the hell aren't you having sex with him right now?"

  It was Alisha's turn to be speechless. And speechless she was as she stared at Maggie like she'd just sprouted another head. "I—I—what? Maggie, did you not hear a single word I said? Big is an asshole of biblical proportions!"

  "But one that is hot as balls and one that youuu kissssed!" she trilled in a sing-song voice.

  Grabbing another pillow off the couch, she lobbed it at Maggie's head. "I was drunk! I wasn't in my right mind."

  "And you were in your right mind when you flashed him your business stone sober? He gets you so worked up, Alisha. I've never seen anyone get under your skin the way he does."

  "Whatever," she mumbled, wanting to put the whole incident behind her. "I wish I'd called you last night."

  "Sorry, love, I'm already seeing someone," Maggie winked, smiling at her friend's annoyed expression. She reached for the newspaper and the napkin on the coffee table and looked them over again. "That is so fun that you're going to sing with the band one night."

  "I'm not," Alisha vehemently said, getting up off the sofa to set the DVD rack to rights.

  "Yes, you are," Maggie said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the napkin as she tried to decode the drawings.

  "No, I'm not! Maggie!" Alisha stomped her foot. (She was going for a personal record today)

  "Alisha! It's my birthday wish. You always give me one, and that's it. Oh, damn, I should've said that it was for you and Big to screw yourselves into oblivion. Can I change—?"

  "I'll sing!" Alisha agreed quickly. "I'll sing with them."

  Maggie rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Excellent! Now, let's talk about my birthday party."

  The next time Big saw her again she was in the middle of the dance floor with Maggie and Russell dancing and singing to Baby Got Back. Her dress, if that could even be counted as one, was black and strapless and indecently short. He fucking loved it. God what he wouldn't give to—

  "Big!" James called, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

  "Huh?" Big asked, dazed.

  "Here's your beer. And a napkin for the drool," James teased.

  Big rolled his eyes and sneered. "Shut the fuck up, dude. We've been over this."

  James smiled crookedly over his drink at his poor, clueless friend. "I think you actually like her. I know I do because she wants nothing to do with your bullshit."

  "Some friend you are, asshole," Big tossed back acerbically. He sipped his beer and went back to watchin
g Alisha dance. Christ, she could move.

  "Maggie's motioning me over, I'm going to go dance," James said.

  Big snorted. "Have fun with that, white boy."

  James's face scrunched up in confusion. "What? We're both white."

  "I meant that you've got no rhythm, dude," Big laughed. "Hopefully you're better in bed than you are on the dance floor or else you're not going to keep that hot girlfriend of yours around very long."

  "You can be such a prick sometimes, Big," James grumbled and walked away.

  Great. Now he'd gone and pissed his best friend off. He was only kidding. Mostly. James was a shitty dancer—it was like common knowledge. He seemed to be pissing everyone off this week. Whatever. Fuck 'em if they couldn't take a joke. Seeing the rest of the group out there laughing and having fun, he decided to go and ruffle his favorite set of feathers. He was halfway out on to the dance floor when he saw her heading in the direction of the bar, and he changed course.

  Maggie Louwer loved her birthday. Loved it. Even though she didn't love the number of candles on her cake now that she was no longer considered mid-twenties, she adored having her friends lavish her with attention and being Queen for a Day. (Okay, the week. She loved her birthday.) This year was no exception. She was surrounded, as always, by her two best friends, and this year, her cute boyfriend. (She loved being able to call him that now.)

  As was tradition every year on her birthday since they moved to New York, they dressed to the nines and danced the night away. The tunes were old school, Alisha's dress was guaranteed to make Big swallow his tongue, and Russell's Spanish was starting to kick in. And when she felt James wrap his strong arms around her waist and drop a kiss to her shoulder, she thought that this was shaping up to be a birthday she'd never forget.

  Alisha fanned her face as she got in the crowded line around the bar. She needed another drink and it was time for the birthday girl to do another shot. When he swaggered up next to her she couldn't stop the eye roll.

  "'Sup, Larrington?" he greeted smoothly, a half smile quirking over his lips.

  She kept her eyes trained forward. "Big," she said flatly, cursing the absence of fabric on her dress and the heat of his eyes as they raked over her.

  "Lookin' good on the dance floor. Though you look even better up close."

  "Go be creepy somewhere else," she spat.

  "Got your panties in a twist tonight, Shorty?"

  She ignored him, moving forward as the line shifted closer to the bar.

  Big frowned, not really appreciating the silent treatment. "Hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  "What?" she asked heatedly. She shrugged off his hand, finally meeting his gaze.

  "God, are you still pissed about the other day? Get over it, Larrington. It was funny." He didn't get what the big damn deal was. They were both adults and they were both clearly attracted to each other.

  "Is this guy bothering you?" a deep voice asked.

  Big turned, ready to tell the guy to mind his own fucking business and scowled when Alisha's face lit up like goddamn fireworks and launched herself into the blonde douchebag's arms.

  "Derek! Oh my God!" Alisha squealed as he lifted her off the ground and spun her.

  She giggled and flashed the brightest smile he'd ever seen when that fuckstick sat her back down on her feet. Big's scowl grew deeper.

  "Hey Gorgeous," Derek grinned, deep dimples flashing along with his brilliant smile.

  Big fought off the eye roll. Original nickname, asshole.

  Alisha stared up into the crystal blue eyes of Joe Fletcher. If there ever was anyone that could be considered an Adonis, it was this gorgeous man before her. "Joe Fletcher," she smiled. "Long time no see."

  Joe Fletcher. Joe Fletcher. Why did that name sound familiar? Oh. Now he remembered. Well, fuck!

  "Alisha Larrington—look at you." He gave her a slow once over and a sly grin stretched easily over his face.

  Big watched interestedly, waiting for her to light into Derek the way she always did him when he gave her that look. He felt the frown when it didn't happen. Instead, she slapped his shoulder, giggled, and said:

  "You're an incorrigible flirt, Derek. Some things never change." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and grinned up at Derek.

  "Who are you here with?" he asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.

  "It's Maggie's birthday. We're all over there," she said, pointing towards their table. "She'd love to see you."

  "Great, let me buy you ladies a drink."

  "Don't sweat it, dude, I got this one," Big informed him. Both Alisha and Derek turned to finally acknowledge his presence. Alisha's lips thinned into a tight line whereas Derek smirked in amusement. That prick was about to get his face rearranged.

  "Sorry, Lisha. Are you two—" Derek began, gesturing between the two.

  "No," Alisha quickly scoffed. "Absolutely not."

  The muscles in Big's jaw twitched. Seriously? Fuck this. And fuck her for that matter. He really didn't know why he was bothering in the first place. What he should be doing is what he did best…finding some easy girl that would be more than thrilled to wrap her legs around him and keep him company for a night. Quick and dirty and with far less bitching and fighting than he had to put up with the brunette in front of him. "See ya, Larrington," he bit out gruffly and walked away, leaving her smiling with the walking Abercrombie ad who, according to Alisha herself, was apparently good at plumbing her pipes. Fucking prick.

  Alisha frowned at his retreating form, feeling momentarily guilty for being so rude to him, but brushed it aside. Instead, she focused on her old friend as he put a hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the bar.

  Later in the evening, Alisha and her two drunk best friends went into the ladies' room. Girls started squealing at first due to Russell's presence.

  "Relax, I'm a lady," Russell insisted, pushing his way to the mirrors to check his appearance.

  Maggie leaned against the wall while she and Alisha waited for a stall. There were grunts and moans coming from the stall on the end. Alisha and Maggie exchanged glances and snorted out a laugh. "That's disgusting," Maggie giggled.

  "Seriously," Alisha agreed, just as the girl in the stall reached her peak and shouted out a string of oh Gods peppered with obscenities. Classy.

  The stall opened and the red head, who looked appropriately rode hard and put away wet, emerged, tugging down her dress that made Alisha's seem prudish. Maggie nudged Alisha and the two shook their heads in disgust.

  Their revulsion grew when Big strolled out behind her with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. His eyes met Alisha's and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn she saw that smugness falter momentarily.

  "Ladies," he nodded as he strode past them and swaggered out the door.

  "What a fucking douche!" Maggie said, completely flummoxed.

  Alisha just shrugged, really not at all surprised.

  "Sweetie," Maggie slurred, "I'm so sorry for trying to push you two together. I'm such a bad, bad friend!" She stroked Alisha's hair.

  She smiled and patted Maggie's shoulder. "You're not a bad friend, Fabs. And don't worry about me. I'm fine. I promise."

  Russell hurried over, mouth agape, eyes wide. "Was that Big?"

  Alisha nodded.

  "Bastardo!" he exclaimed, cutting in front of Maggie and Alisha for the available toilet.

  "You know what you should do? You should go right back out there and hook up with Derek. I know you used to enjoy doing that," Maggie said. "And he is hot hot hot!"

  "I don't need to hook up with someone just because Big is skeevy and likes to bang skanks in bar bathrooms. I'm just glad you realize what I've been telling you all along about him. Let's just leave it alone, okay. It's your birthday!" she reminded her friend, knowing that would get her mind back on having fun.

  "Yay! Birthday!" Maggie clapped.

  The rest of the night she spent with the group (and Derek) dancing and laug
hing and forgetting about Big entirely. (Mostly.) When Derek smoothed her hair out of her face and smiled down at her with that slow, roguish grin, she felt the warmth stir in her belly. And when he murmured in her ear and asked if they could get together some time, she smiled back and said she'd like that. (And meant it.) Then, at the end of the night, when he leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss that used to make her weak in the knees, she went with it, tried to pour herself into it.

  And felt nothing at all.

  It would have been so much easier if she had.

  Chapter 9

  "I really love your band. My girlfriends and I have seen you a couple of times. It's definitely a fun experience," smiled Rebekah Nelson, the pretty thirty-something blonde currently sitting across the table at Starbucks from Big and James. Both guys smiled appreciatively. "But…even though we're scrambling at the last minute to find a replacement band for our reunion, the committee really wants a band that has both a male and female lead singer." She rolled her green eyes and set her pink lips into a pout. "God forbid we miss out on any girl songs from the 80's," she clipped sarcastically. "If it were just up to me I'd book you for the gig right on the spot." She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth and sipped thoughtfully, the enormous diamond on her wedding band sparkling in the light. "I don't suppose you know of anyone that can join your band for the night?" she asked hopefully.

  Big slanted a look over towards James, who was shaking his head and giving him a look that clearly said don't do it, asshole. Not being one to listen to James's advice much over the years, Big ignored him and looked back to Rebekah, whose high school reunion committee was prepared to pay the Fire Extinguishers a pretty sizeable sum to entertain the Class of '89 for a night. Hey, these were lean economic times and they worked for the city…he wasn't about to turn down money to buy a new guitar or whatever the fuck else he felt like with his share just because James Keller said so. With a wily grin, he opened his mouth and said, "Beks, we've got the perfect girl for you. Killer pipes. You'll love her."