by Mia Scott
"Fantastic!" she beamed, sliding over the paperwork and a check for the deposit.
Big nodded and smirked at Rebekah as she gave him the look on her way out of Starbucks that told him there might be a little something extra coming his way after the show. (He'd hit it.) He felt James's massive fist punch him hard on the shoulder. "The fuck was that for?" Big grumbled, rubbing a hand over it.
"For not having any goddamn sense," James tossed back.
"Uh, correct me if I'm wrong, which you won't because we both know I'm the brains of this operation, did I or did I not just score us a well-paying gig because of my quick thinking?"
"And people call me stupid," James muttered into his hot chocolate. He took a sip of his drink and fixed Big with a pointed look. "What girl do you plan on having join our band for the night?" James asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear his idiot friend's plan aloud.
"Who the hell do you think, Einstein? Larrington."
"Why would she even want to, Big? Last I heard you weren't exactly top of her list of favorite people."
"We have a deal," Big shrugged, though he knew that that deal was probably beyond null and void now.
"You had a deal, and then you fucked up by being an asshole. Guessing she probably won't be rushing to help you out any time soon."
"Why am I to blame for everything? She needs to learn to take a joke. She was the one parading around naked in her apartment. It's not my fault that I was there and have working eyes. Nor is it my fault that she's hot for me and can't admit it. Her issues, bro, not mine."
"It's amazing that she's not throwing herself at your feet right now," James drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "If you're going to ask her to do this, you might want to work on your pitch a little more."
Big frowned, not really enjoying the way the truth sounded coming from James's mouth. "You could ask her," he suggested cowardly.
James laughed mockingly. "Not gonna happen. This is your mess, you clean it up."
He scowled now, hating that James was right. He couldn't believe he was about to do what he was about to do, but he opened his mouth and the words poured out. "How do I do that?" he mumbled.
Rising to his feet, James grinned down at his clueless friend and clapped him on the back. "You're the brains of this operation, Big," he told him dryly. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
Dammit.
Big stood outside 5A, staring at the gold-plated door marker and wondering what the fuck he was hesitating for. It was just Larrington and it was just a simple apology. He was awesome. He was badass. He was Big. This really should be no big deal. He heard her laughing inside the apartment and smiled. At least she was in a good mood. Lifting a fisted hand, he rapped loudly on the door.
When the door swung open, he was leaned casually against the jamb, his trademark smirk fixed on his lips. "Hey, Larrington," he greeted smoothly, taking in her casual appearance (sweats and a ponytail were sexy…who knew?) as the smile fell away from her face.
"Big," Alisha replied, completely flabbergasted to see him standing there. "What are you doing here?" she asked, remembering the last time he was in her doorway and fighting the urge to fidget.
"Got a proposition for you—can I come in?" He saw her hesitate and look over her shoulder. Perhaps she was thinking about the last time they were here together. Thoughts of her naked were never far from his mind. Then the blond douche otherwise known as Derek walked out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Lisha, is that our pizza?"
"Sorry to disappoint," Big drawled lazily, still leaning against the doorframe, shifting his eyes to Alisha, who looked awkwardly back and forth between the two men. "Can I have a minute?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.
Alisha was curious. She had no clue what he wanted, but she knew that it would bug her too much to not find out. So she shrugged carelessly and said, "I guess." She looked questioningly back to Derek who was slipping into his coat.
"You're out of beer. I'll run out and get us some," he said with a slight smile on his chiseled face. "Be back in ten."
Big moved out of the doorway and let the guy who was apparently once again fucking Alisha Larrington brush by him as they sized each other up. Douche. She gestured for him to come inside and folded her arms across her chest.
"What do you want, Big?" she inquired.
"Here, I brought this for you," he said gruffly, holding the paper sack in his outstretched hand.
She stared skeptically at him for a moment before taking the bag. "What's this?"
"A bribe…it's your favorite if memory serves."
Unfolding the top of the bag, she opened it and the mouthwatering scent of pastrami on rye floated into her nose. "You brought me a sandwich?" she asked, resisting the urge to smile. He didn't get off that easily. She lifted her cool eyes to his. "And why exactly are you bribing me?"
"So you'll sing with the band in two weeks," he said easily, offering a crooked smile.
"No," she shook her head, folding the top of the bag over again.
"Why not?" he grumbled, shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans.
"Because you can't just show up here, throw a sandwich at me and expect things to be fine," she said evenly, setting the bag down on the little table by the door.
He'd known it wouldn't be that easy. He'd hoped, but no dice. "I'm sorry, okay," he bit out quickly, shrugging a shoulder nearly up to his chin.
Alisha's lips twitched down into a frown and she shook her head again. "For what?" She was pretty sure he didn't have a clue.
Big's mood was rapidly souring. He hated this shit. Being put on the spot…apologizing…it made him uncomfortable and twitchy. "Oh, come on, Shorty—you know why I'm sorry."
"This is the worst apology I've ever heard in my life," she said with a pinched expression. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that anymore."
"What, so we're not friends now?" he snapped. He found that the idea really bothered him. He was getting used to her being around.
"We weren't friends to begin with." She felt her throat go dry.
"Alisha, come on," Big said, aggravated. "That's not true."
Her name on his lips made her pause. She wasn't sure he'd ever used it. Maybe once, but she honestly couldn't remember him ever calling her anything other than Larrington or Shorty. Alisha shrugged her shoulders. It was a gesture she didn't really care for and one that she used far too often in his presence.
Her silence was unnerving as hell seeing as she normally never shut up. "Look—I guess I was out of line the other day, but the whole thing was just funny, okay? I don't get why you were so bent out of shape. I was the one that helped you out and crashed on your couch, so no psycho would come in and attack you. Then I wake up and you're all buck ass naked and screaming. And can you really blame my brain for going retarded when you're standing naked in front of me? You may not like hearing it, but you're hot, Alisha. Hot chicks tend to make guys do dumb shit."
Alisha tried to fight the smile, but wasn't very successful. "My statement stands—you really suck at apologizing," she laughed dryly.
Big felt the grin stretch slowly across his face. "Does this mean you'll sing with the band?"
"I believe all I said was that you're no good at apologizing." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.
"We need your pipes, Shorty. Come on," he said with a little smirk. When she arched a sculpted brow, he sighed. "Please?" he muttered. She didn't relent, so he went with the truth. "I kind of already booked the gig on the basis that you'd do it."
"Big!" Alisha snapped. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"'Cause the money was good and I thought I'd get you to agree," he answered honestly.
"You're unbelievable," she told him, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
"Will you please do this?" She'd crossed her arms again and leveled him with a heated look. "For me?" he added cheekily.
Alisha scoffed and shook her head at him like he'd really lost his fuck
ing mind.
"Then will you do it for James?" Her eyes softened. Bingo.
She paused, considering the sweet guy who was the boyfriend of her best friend. He'd probably not gone along with this asinine plan. James would have done the decent thing and actually asked first. But no, not Big. Big was an asshole. A very charming and sexy asshole, but still…
"What's the gig and when is it?" she asked hesitantly. He smirked, and she held up a hand to stop him. "I didn't say yes—I'm merely gathering information."
"It's a high school reunion. Class of '89, baby!" he said comically. "And it's next Saturday."
"Big, I have two shows on Saturday!" she huffed.
He ran a hand over his hair. "You could still do one of them," he said sheepishly.
"Goddammit, Big!" She started pacing around the tiny entryway as her mind whirled over this mess he'd pulled her into. Actually, it was still his mess. She hadn't agreed to anything. Her name wasn't signed anywhere. Though she did have days off that she could utilize if she wanted. Her understudy was champing at the bit to get a chance to perform even once. But it was a Saturday night show. Damn him.
"Come on, Alisha—you don't want to disappoint the class of '89 do you? All of those people in their late 30s wanting to get drunk and relive their glory days. It should be kind of awesome and sad and hilarious all rolled into one."
Perhaps she should insist he only use her nicknames from now on because the sound of her first name coming from his mouth had her doing stupid things like opening up her own mouth and saying, (albeit through clenched teeth) "Fine."
Big's smile was slow and wicked.
"Just so you know I'm only doing this for James," she insistently told him. "I'm sure he had nothing to do with this and I don't think my friend's boyfriend should be punished because you're a presumptuous asshat."
He shrugged and chuckled. "I'll take it, Shorty." He extended his hand. "Shake on it?"
She stared at his hand and then lifted shrewd eyes. "I want a cut of the money."
"Alright, 's fair." He smirked and grabbed for her hand, shaking it. (And sue him if he held on longer than was polite.)
"Okay," she said, jerking her hand free. "You got what you came for—you can go now!"
"Oh, Larrington," he grinned impishly, "I—" He was cut off by her putting a hand over his mouth.
"Don't press your luck, pal," Alisha warned, reaching past him to open the door. He remained rooted to the floor and she nodded towards the hallway.
Big laughed dryly and turned to leave. "We're having practice on Wednesday. I'll text you the address." He opened his ratty backpack and pulled out a stack of music and handed it to her. "Some songs in our set list and some I thought might be a good fit for you. I'm open to suggestions though."
Alisha snatched the stack from his hand. "Thanks," she clipped, shoving him out into the hallway. Did I really just agree to do this?
"One more thing," he smirked, reaching into his bag again, producing a pink tambourine. "For you," he said, shaking it playfully.
She stared at the instrument in his hand, completely flummoxed. "You got me a tambourine?" she asked softly, the corners of her lips turning upward. Taking it from him, she looked questioningly into his eyes. (They were light brown and mischievous today. Whatever, she noticed things.)
Big shot her a grin, happy that he'd rendered her speechless. (And the soft, pretty smile was kinda rad, too.) "I remembered our contract," he murmured. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and saw Derek approaching. Oh yeah…him. He fought the urge to frown. "Guess I'll see ya Wednesday, Larrington." He gave the fuckwad a withering look and tromped down the stairs.
Derek watched Big go down the stairs and then smiled at the expression on Alisha's face. "I know that look, Lisha," he teased, strolling through the door, closing it behind him.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, gazing down at her new tambourine, smiling as it jingled. She set it down on the table next to the sandwich she'd forgotten about.
"You like him. And it's worse than I initially thought when I walked up." He headed for the kitchen to put the beer down on the counter.
Alisha frowned at his retreating form and followed him. "I do not like that cretin!" she denied vehemently.
Derek chuckled as he popped the tops off two beers, handed her one. "Do you hear yourself, Gorgeous?"
"He's an asshole!" she cried, lifting the bottle to her lips.
"Maybe, maybe not," Derek shrugged, trying to sympathize with his friend's plight. He found it amusing instead.
"I wish you and I liked each other as more than friends," she pouted. "We get along so well, and we used to have really amazing sex."
He grinned down at her. "All true, Alisha, but things have changed. Though I'm not opposed to giving the sex another try," he said, wagging his eyebrows.
She set her bottle down on the counter. "Kiss me—let's see if it's different."
He shook his head and laughed, knowing it wouldn't be. "Alright, I'll play." Setting his beer down next to hers, he stepped closer and cupped her face with his wide hands. Dropping his head, he covered her lips with his.
Alisha leaned in to the kiss, his lips warm and soft against hers. She thought that maybe…
Derek pulled away first and smiled down at her. "Sorry, Alisha. I felt nothin'."
She sighed and nodded her head in agreement. "Me neither. Sure would be easier if we did."
"I know…but, I can't compete with tambourines and douchebaggery, baby," he chuckled, ruffling her hair when her face fell into a scowl.
She wasn't sure she could either. God help her.
Wednesday arrived, and with it came band rehearsal with Fire Extinguishers. As promised, Big had sent her a text with the address the night before. She had just slipped into bed, exhausted from rehearsals and the show that night, looking forward to blissful sleep when her cell phone came to life with his ringtone. Flipping open her phone, she read the text, surprised by his brevity. She'd expected something Bigish, but figured that maybe he thought it best to not push her since he was already on shaky ground. Just as she'd found the cool, comfy spot on the pillow, her phone rang again; he called that time. And because she was too tired (and maybe a bit too cowardly) she let it go straight to voicemail.
"Sup, Larrington. Just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to giving you the full Biggerone experience at rehearsal tomorrow. Can't wait to hear you hit the high notes as you bang it out…on the tambourine. Get that mind of yours out of the gutter. Naughty dreams, Shorty."
She blamed her busy day yesterday on the fact that she was still sleepy today. It had nothing to do with his voicemail (that she may or may not have listened to more than once) and that deep, sexy voice in her head right before bedtime. Nothing at all. And the dirty, obscene dreams that she had last night were absolutely, unequivocally not about him. She was adamant that she'd been yelling out fuck repeatedly in the dream because that's exactly what the tall, dark haired man had done (expertly and repeatedly) to her. And this morning, as she took to ridding herself of that deep, primal ache between her legs, his face and sweaty, half naked body never once entered her mind. His name most certainly did not tear from her lips as she hit her peak.
She also decided, as she pulled open the door to the rehearsal space, that, for an actress, she was a pretty terrible liar.
Glancing around the large, open room, she spied James setting up his drums and the other two (Mike and Matt?) getting out their instruments (guitar and bass respectively) as well. There was no sign of Big, which simultaneously calmed and unnerved her. He wasn't here now, which means she didn't have to be subjected to his filthy comments right away. On the other hand, he would eventually show up and the inevitable embarrassment she was sure to feel seeing him after the thoughts she'd had was almost enough to have her running for the door. She absolutely couldn't fuel that fire. She'd already gotten drunk and kissed him, which was bad enough, but if he ever knew that he'd been on her mind as she…
"Hey, Lisha!" James called in greeting.
She focused her attention and smiled brightly at him. "Hi, James," she said, walking over towards the group.
"Mike, Matt, this is Alisha, Alisha, Matt and Mike," he casually made the introductions.
Alisha gave them both a friendly smile and shook their hands. "Nice to meet both of you officially."
"Thanks a lot for bailing us out, Alisha," James said in a grateful tone. "I'm really sorry that he roped you into this."
"Yeah, Big's kind of a doucheasaurus rex sometimes," Mike laughed, tightening the strings on his electric guitar.
She giggled at the term. "No problem. I wouldn't tell him so, but I'm actually looking forward to it. This gives me a chance to sing something different for a change." Unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and removing her hat and coat, she tossed them over the back of a chair. Not wanting to sit around and twiddle her thumbs until Big graced them with his presence, she said, "Do you boys want to wait, or should we go ahead and get started?"
The three exchanged amused glances and shrugged. "Let's see what you've got," Matt smirked, strapping on his bass.
Big jerked opened the door, running late (as usual) to rehearsal and could hear that they'd started without him. James pounded away on the drums and Mike was getting really into some Joan Jett and the Blackhearts on the guitar. His eyes instantly gravitated towards the gorgeous brunette shimmying slightly to the beat and gripping the microphone. She opened her mouth and the gritty rock lyrics poured out.
We've been here too long
Tryin' to get along
Pretendin' that you're oh so shy
I'm a natural ma'am
Doin' all I can
My temperature is runnin' high
Cry at night
No one in sight
An' we got so much to share
Talking's fine