Rocked by Him

by Lucy Lambert

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from straying down his body. Nice abs, I thought.

  I half-expected to see tattoos of skulls or something all over his body. But, as near as I could tell, he had no ink at all. Just smooth, perfect, skin. I bet he felt warm and nice…

  I shook my head, trying to get out of that daze.

  He smiled at me, then rested one arm against the doorframe.

  Again, impure thoughts entered my mind. I thought about what happened in the shower, and I found I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, as though he’d be able to see my little fantasy about him drawn plainly on my face.

  “Hey there. You doing okay?” Drake said.

  “Fine, just fine. Thanks.”

  In the meantime, all I could think about was getting out of there. I just wanted to hand him his phone and retreat back to my apartment.

  I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled his phone out. I offered it to him.

  “That big bouncer gave me this. I forgot to give it back to you last night…” Last night, when I’d pretty much begged him to sleep with me and he’d refused.

  The embarrassment burning my cheeks got hotter.

  “Thanks…” Drake said, taking his phone.

  I turned to leave. “Okay, see you later. Bye!”

  He caught me by the arm, his fingers gentle. I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t think about his damn fingers!

  “Don’t go yet, Jenn. I really want to thank you for helping out yesterday with… you know. It was big, really big.”

  “It was nothing, really. Look, I really need to go do… something. Maybe some other time?” I said, trying to free myself from his grip while still not facing him. My face felt so hot it was a wonder the hallway wasn’t bathed in red light. And his touch! I really didn’t need him touching me right then. It did things. Made me think about things and want things one shouldn’t think about and want in the hallway of an apartment building.

  “Come in. I have coffee. And also the best cure to a hangover ever. Really. You won’t regret it.”

  I knew that I probably could, and would. But that didn’t stop me from accepting. He waved me into the front hallway of his place. It looked like the same layout as mine, with the bedroom ahead and the kitchen and living room off to the left. He had the hall light on with the kitchen lights off, sunlight coming in through the windows.

  I followed him into the kitchen, watching the muscles move in his back and wishing he would put a shirt on. Traveling in his wake, his cologne eddied past me.

  “Coffee, see?” he said, indicating a pot of it on the counter before flicking on the lights. The coffee did smell good and fresh.

  Plain magnets on his fridge held various flyers and posters for rock shows that happened all the across the city for various bands. Drake leaned back against the counter, the movement tightening and emphasizing his abs. I quickly turned my attention to a poster of a band called The Flying Heads which had apparently played a show in the park a couple months ago.

  “About yesterday…” Drake began.

  “Don’t worry about it, really. I’m just glad I could help,” I said, not really wanting any more of yesterday’s memories tickling my fancy, “What’s this about a hangover cure you told me about, anyway?”

  “Ah, yeah. I was kind of hoping you would cook me up some eggs. Maybe some bacon?” Drake said. He glanced over at his stove as though to say, “There it is.”

  It shocked me so much my mouth couldn’t even drop open. Only my eyes expressed my true feelings. It felt like I couldn’t open them any wider. An indignant rage for women everywhere began roiling in my stomach.

  And still that smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

  “Oh, man. You believed me, didn’t you?” Drake said. He then laughed so hard he had to lean forward and support himself with his hands on his thighs. His skin flushed as his amusement grabbed hold.

  “You… You were joking?” I said, fighting the urge to put my hands on my hips.

  “No. Get over there and cook me breakfast,” Drake said, unable to keep himself from laughing.

  “You ass!” I said, ready to leave.

  He saw my intention and reached out, lightly grabbing my wrist as I turned around.

  “No, really. Greasy foods are the best. And you haven’t tried bacon until you’ve had mine. Stay, please. Don’t go. I won’t tease you anymore. I promise.”

  I relented, and he showed me to the small, oval breakfast table in one corner of his kitchen. It was a bit of an oddity, looking like it would be better suited in the breakfast nook of a middle-aged woman���s house than in a guy whose rock band was verging on greatness.

  Drake opened a drawer beside the fridge and pulled out a long white apron, which he put on and then tied at the back, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. I kept sneaking peeks at his body from the corner of my eye, watching his lithe arms maneuver the frying pan while he put strips of bacon into it.

  Soon, the bacon started crackling and my mouth watered.

  “That table’s my mom’s. She gave it to me when I first came here. Said I needed some good furniture to start me off,” Drake said, using a fork to flip the bacon.

  “Ah. That explains it. Do you justify this table to every girl you make bacon for?” I said.

  Said bacon hissed and spat. Drake just snorted and shook his head.

  Had I really just brought up all the girls he got together with here? Had he sat them at this table, in this seat?

  Had he made bacon for them? I wanted to stand up, away from it. But they’d probably been all over the place, hadn’t they, those girls? I tried to remind myself to not be jealous. He wasn’t even my boyfriend! Why was I acting like a jealous freshman?

  Not long after, Drake set a plate with four juicy, tender-looking strips of bacon in front of me and all thoughts of abandoning the table fled my mind, replaced by the desire to gobble down all the food.

  I was two strips in when I saw Drake watching me. He had yet to touch his bacon, and he still wore that spotless white apron.

  “What?” I said, feeling a self-conscious heat rise up into my cheeks. I swallowed.

  “About yesterday…”

  “Forget about it.”

  “No. I can’t. I won’t. Not a lot of people have helped me. I had to make myself what I am now. This table? My mom gave it to me, then never helped me again. Not even when I was two months late on the rent and about to get evicted…

  “So I’ve had to rely on myself, mostly. It really did mean a lot to me. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t think there would have been a show. I guess what I’m trying to get at here is: thank you.”

  Drake held my eyes for a few moments, waiting to see if I got the message, before finally picking up a strip of his own bacon and shoving it into his mouth.

  I pinched my final strip of bacon between thumb and index finger, looking at the greasy meat on the plate. The show? He wanted to thank me for getting him to perform? Nothing about our little dalliance on the dressing room couch, then. Was it nothing to him? Because it wasn’t nothing to me.

  He doesn’t feel the same way, I thought. How could he? His band’s about to make it big! He’ll be rich, with beautiful women actually lining up to be with him. Why should he care about me?

  My hangover headache came back with a vengeance. Gongs pounded in my head, and that greasy ball in my stomach went rancid as my realization took hold.

  I really, really wanted to eat that last piece, but the sudden urge to get looking into my lack-of-job situation (and getting away from Drake) took over. I let the bacon slip from my fingers (which I then licked. Because I could, that’s why) and stood up. The chair’s feet squeaked against the shiny linoleum.

  “You’re not done yet,” Drake said.

  “I’m full. I’m happy you could perform. I’m happy that the show was such a success. I’m happy…” the words caught in my throat when a sob tried to make its way up at the same time. I coughed, making it look like I’d
been choking on something.

  “I’ve got something to do,” I said, not wanting to share my latest plight with him.

  I marched out of his kitchen, the sweet smell of bacon whirling in the air around me. Each step I took towards his door added another ton or so of worries to the weight pressing down on my shoulders.

  It was only a couple weeks until rent was due again. Where was I supposed to find a job, anyway? I needed to call mom and tell her to tear that check up when she got it.

  That one almost made me stop. I was three steps from his front door, the hallway and freedom just a few feet away. That just cut me the deepest. I thought I could finally help my parents out, and now it still looked like a pretty good chance I’d be asking mom if I could move back in soon.

  That phone call could wait until after dinner. Until then, I could work on building myself up enough to actually pick up the phone and select her number from the speed dial.

  “Jenn? Where are you going? Seriously, what’s the matter?” Drake said, I thought he probably stood in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning out to speak. I didn���t look back to make sure.

  “Don’t worry about it. You have your band to think about, remember?” I said, unable to keep all of the hurt from my voice.

  I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, about to spring myself from this place.

  “Don’t go yet,” Drake said, his hand falling on my shoulder.

  I shrugged it off, then started opening the door again. This time, Drake slammed it shut with one hand, the movement wrenching the knob from my fingers.

  “What the hell?” I started, turning around to give him an earful.

  But he was faster. He grabbed my wrists and slammed them back against the door, which rattled against its frame. I arched my hips out, trying to get away, but he pressed his body against mine.

  “No…” I said.

  He silenced me with a kiss. After a moment, I stopped struggling. Just a few moments ago, I thought any chance I had at all of feeling those soft, hot, insistent lips against mine had gone away with his apparent lack of interest.

  Then his lips parted mine, and I felt his tongue. God, he was so warm! The strength went out of my knees, but he held me up with his arms around my back. My hands now freed, I put them on his bare shoulders.

  “Oh…” I said when he pulled back from me just enough so that all I could see were his eyes staring into mine.

  “You never gave me a chance to finish,” Drake said, “I like you. And I know you like me, too. Why else would you have come down during work to help me like that? I think we could be great.”

  I let my hands trail down his shoulders, down his arms. His skin was just as soft and warm as I’d thought it would be.

  “I…”

  Then my cell rang. It buzzed in my pocket, blaring out its tune in the enclosed space of the front hall.

  Drake reached into my pocket and pulled it out, offering it to me. I meant to just turn it off and then continue exploring Drake’s half-naked body when I glanced at the screen.

  It was Lucinda calling. Before I could really think about it, I hit the answer button. Drake shook his head in that knowing way of his and disentangled his arms from my body. I leaned back against his door to keep from falling over.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Jennifer? It’s Lucinda… Mr Loughery would like to see you again. Today, as soon as possible.”

  I smiled at Drake and turned away from him, not wanting him to see the anger and confusion painting my face.

  “What do you mean? Why would I want to see him?”

  “I spoke to HR after I heard you two fighting. They’re making him re-hire you. But you’ve got to come in and settle it all today, before he finds some way to weasel out of it… Jennifer?”

  I hadn’t spoken in a while. My free hand grabbed onto the doorknob and squeezed. First, the hot rock star living below me told me he wants to go steady, and now my pervy old boss had got his comeuppance and had to hire me back? It was unbelievable!

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, I’ll pencil you in for this afternoon… See you then.”

  “Lucinda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. See you soon.”

  The line went dead. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, all the while feeling Drake’s questioning eyes on me.

  “I got my job back,” I said.

  “I didn’t know that you lost it.”

  “Long story. Hey, I know we’ve sort of got a thing happening right now, but do you think I could get a rain check? I have to go into the office right away…” I looked down at myself, at the white tee and blue jeans, “I’ve got to change, and do my hair, and so much else.”

  “Sure,” Drake said.

  The look on his face told me this never happened to him before. A girl stopping the make-out and petting session just when it started. He looked a little uncertain about all this, finding himself in unfamiliar territory. Yet, somehow, his confusion just deepened his handsomeness.

  Or it could have just been my total lack of desire to see Bud Loughery in person again. Yeah, it took a bit for the information to sink in. To get my job back (with Bud) I had to go see Bud. Presumably so he could apologize and tell me that I was being un-fired. The thought of that encounter curdled in my stomach.

  But it would mean keeping my apartment, not calling my mom to tell her to tear up the check. It would mean still living in the same building as Drake. Who was a really good kisser. My lips tingled a little, and I already found myself missing his touch.

  So, as quickly as I could, I explained the situation with Bud and my misgivings about him.

  The smile dropped away from Drake’s face. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing. His jaw worked.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said finally.

  “What? No. That would be weird.”

  “Jenn, clearly this guy’s a huge creep. He’s the type of guy you actually need a chaperone around. Don’t worry, I’ll help you through this.”

  Chaperone was one of those words you didn’t expect to hear coming out of the mouth of some rebel rock and roller. This guy was just full of surprises.

  I made the decision quickly, but chose to look like it took me a while to make up my mind. Couldn’t have him knowing what a relief this was. And I couldn’t wait to see the look on Bud’s face when I walked in with a guy wearing a leather jacket and long hair.

  That reminded me.

  “Okay. But put some clothes on first,” I said.

  “Maybe Bud would like me better like this,” Drake said, untying the apron and pulling it up over his head.

  I cut my laugh short when I thought that maybe Bud would like Drake more like that. Bud was a strange guy.

  But with Drake there with me, I knew I could get back to work and get this all sorted out.

  ***

  “Jennifer! Oh… and this is?” Lucinda said, frowning at Drake.

  I’d changed into more proper business attire: a dark jacket and skirt, some short heels. I’d even managed to change my hair from an 80’s poof to a more contemporary straight look.

  Drake had just thrown on a t-shirt and his jacket. It annoyed me that guys could look that good with so little effort. He looked so out of place there in that cubicle farm. I could feel people peeking up over their dividers to take a look at the stranger who’d disrupted their habitat.

  In support of my observation, I noted how the tapping and clicking of keys and mice had stopped, and how the phones rang and rang, unanswered.

  “Oh, him? This is Drake. He’s my… friend,” I said.

  “Well then,” Lucinda said, hurrying to look at her calendar, her eyes barely able to peel away from Drake, “I’ll, umm, I’ll let Mr Loughery know you’re here.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Drake leaned forward and whispered, “This is where you work? The lights are so bright, and it’s so co
ld. It’s like a morgue in here.”

  As Lucinda hit the button for the intercom, I thought of the low, soft lighting in the dressing room at Club 54. I thought of the blaze of multi-colored lights during the show. Then I looked up at the fluorescent tubes in the ceiling casting their antiseptic glow down onto the office, their light harsh and merciless.

  “Mr Loughery? Jennifer Snow here to see you. And…” Lucinda said, glancing up at Drake.

  “Jenny? Send her in!” Bud said.

  Lucinda almost lost her professional veneer, the tiniest smile at the corners of her mouth betraying that she also found the thought of Drake startling Bud delicious. She waved us in.

  I reached for the handle, but Drake beat me to it, opening the door. He came in behind me. His presence there was comforting, solid.

  Bud looked up from a manila folder spread open on his enormous desk, which was just as polished as it had been when he’d fired me. He started to smile, then his eyes strayed over my shoulder to Drake. His mouth faltered, opening slightly as the surprise robbed him of his ability to speak.

  Today, he wore an out-of-date suit with a silk shirt. An awful choice; his inability to control his sweating had the expensive fabric clinging to him. And I’d also somehow managed to forget about the cloud of cheap cologne wafting about him at all times, barely able to cover up the smell of body odor lurking beneath.

  His fat face went red for a moment, a big vein standing out just off center on his forehead so fat and juicy it looked like a single prod might pop it. A feeling of security and satisfaction settled over me. I had the power here. I knew it, and it looked like Bud did, too.

  “Jenny… Jennifer,” Bud corrected, glancing between Drake and me.

  This was so much better than “sweetie!”

  “Yes, Mr Loughery?” I said, smiling and pretending not to notice his discomfort. Is this what it felt like to have power over people?

  Bud pushed himself to his feet, his hands leaving greasy smears on that shiny veneer of his desk. He wasn’t as tall as Drake, and I watched the revelation unfold on his face.

  “Jennifer… Ms Snow. It’s come to my attention that my actions may have been hasty and rash. And that I may have made you feel uncomfortable. I’m… I’m…” he said something, but it was lost in a mumble.