No Tomorrow

by Carian Cole

  “Oh my God I am sooooooooooo jealous,” she says. “Of course you’re like twenty-one, right? I guess it’s true rock stars only date young model chicks.”

  “Um, I’m thirty,” I reply.

  Both the girls’ mouths fall open. “Get out! There’s no way you’re thirty!”

  “I really am.”

  Blue puts his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “She really is. We’ve been together for like almost ten years.”

  Their mouths gape wider. I think I’m gaping, too. “Shit, that’s crazy. You are soooo lucky.”

  I try not to laugh. “Thanks.”

  “We really gotta roll. Thanks for saying hi to us,” Blue says, steering us away from them.

  “Wow,” I say when we’re a few feet away. “My first fan experience. Does that happen a lot?”

  “Yeah. You handled it great.”

  “They were cute.”

  “They aren’t always that nice.”

  “You told them we’ve been together for almost ten years. That’s not exactly true.” We’ve been apart more than we’ve been together.

  He looks down at me with a crooked smile as we exit the airport. “Yeah it is, babe.”

  I guess he’s right. There are different degrees of being together.

  “I wish Lyric was here too. How’s she doing?”

  “She’s great. Staying with my parents. She brought her harp with her so she can practice every day.”

  “She played for me over the phone the other night. She’s playing music by ear. Did you know that?”

  “Yeah. Her teacher is really impressed.”

  “Our kid is kickass.” He lights up a cigarette and leads me across the parking garage to a souped-up, black muscle car with wide back tires and a spoiler in the hood. He unlocks the door and throws my suitcase in the back, then holds the passenger-side door open for me.

  “This is your car?”

  “Well, I ain’t stealin’ it. Hell yeah, it’s mine. 1969 Mustang, babe. The hottest car on the fucking planet.”

  Damn. Blue traded in walking for a car as hot as he is.

  “Do you like it?” he asks when we’re both inside. I nod as he puts the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  He runs his hand over the steering wheel. “It’s the first car I’ve ever owned. I’ve wanted this exact car since I was twelve years old.”

  “And now you have it,” I reply, smiling with pride.

  “You wanna drive?”

  I quickly shake my head. “God, no. I’ve never driven anything this nice or fast before.”

  “You’re not gonna crash it. I trust you.”

  “I don’t know how to drive a stick.”

  “I’ll teach you.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  I have visions of seizing up his transmission before I even make it out of the parking lot. “Maybe another time,” I say. “I’d rather you drive.”

  “Okay. You’re off the hook for now. Are you hungry? Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

  “I’m not really hungry yet. I ate something on the plane.” Something meaning two ice cream sundaes.

  “You mind going to my place? You can call Lyric, let her know you’re here.”

  “That’d be great.”

  After some debate, I decided I’d stay at his place rather than at a hotel because I want to spend as much time as possible with him while I can. Now that I’m here, I feel a mix of excitement and nerves. We’ve never spent more than two nights in a row together, and now I’m going to be staying with him for a week. As much as I feel like I know him, it’s like dating someone new. Our relationship has never progressed to the intimacy of sharing space and it could very well reveal things we might not like about each other.

  “You okay?” he asks, turning the car onto the busy highway.

  I glance over at him. “Yeah.”

  He lowers his sunglasses back over his eyes. “This is why I wanted you to come here. I’m not the guy in the shed or the voice on the other end of the phone anymore.”

  “I know. But you’re still you. Right?”

  “There’s a lot of versions of me, Piper. Take your pick.”

  “Okay,” I say skeptically.

  He moves his hand from the leather shifter knob to my leg. “Hey. I’ve been fucked up for a long time. High, drunk, sober, poor, rich. You name it, I’ve fuckin’ been it.”

  “I know. And I loved all those versions of you, but I like you the most when you’re not all messed up.”

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’m not falling off the wagon.”

  I hope not.

  “Good.”

  “So I guess....” He moves the car into the fast lane. “Now we gotta figure out if you like me like this.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yeah. With cars and money and autographs and traveling and stress and interviews and all that shit.”

  “That’s not you, Blue. That’s just what you do and what you have. You’re still the same guy who makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.”

  “There are other girls out there?” he teases.

  “Nope. None.”

  “You’re the only one in my world, babe, and I’m gonna try like hell to make you want to stay in it.”

  Does he have any idea what it feels like—to be told I’m the only one? Nope. I think he’s utterly clueless to the fact he gives me butterflies, makes me dizzy and breathless, makes my panties get wet. Without even trying.

  “I don’t want you to try. Just be you. That’s all.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to say, Piper. I’ve been up and down so many times, for so long, I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I don’t want to fuck this all up.”

  Why, oh why, is vulnerability so attractive?

  “We’ll be okay,” I say softly. “It’s new for both of us, right? We just take it one day at a time and see what comes natural. No trying, no stressing.”

  Nodding, he pulls his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up.

  I see the shaking of his hand, the rise and fall of his chest as he takes deep breaths.

  And then he flashes me his smile, and I see my own smile reflected in his sunglasses, and I forget everything else.

  Blue told me a while back he and Reece moved out of their condo into a rented house because they wanted more privacy and garage space. I was expecting a basic two-story house with a three-car garage and a pile of dishes in the sink, laundry sitting in places it shouldn’t be, guitars on the coffee table, and a huge drum set in the basement.

  That’s what the rock star bachelor pad looked like in my head.

  In reality, it’s a small mansion on approximately two acres of lush grass, right on the water. The state of the inside remains to be seen, but the outside is impeccable.

  “Wow,” I say when he parks the car in the driveway in front of a six-car garage. “You didn’t tell me you live in such a—”

  “House?” he interrupts. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “Monolithic?”

  I laugh. “Yeah.” I peer up at the looming house.

  We climb out of the car together and he retrieves my suitcase from the back seat, then comes around to stand next to me.

  “Reece picked it out. He comes from money so he’s gotta have the best of the best of the best. Me? I don’t need all this. You know me...” He grins sheepishly.

  I do. This guy used to sleep on the ground under a bridge with nothing but his duffel bag for a pillow and a solar lantern for light.

  “How many cars do you have?”

  “Just this one. And a Harley. I’ve only had time to ride it twice, though. Reece wanted all this garage space for his two cars and a hot rod he’s restoring.”

  “Nice.”

  He nods off toward the edge of the property. “Later we�
��ll go for a walk by the water. Every time I walk out there I wish you and Acorn were with me. The sunset over the water is incredible.”

  I follow him to the front door and he leads me into a foyer with a wrought-iron chandelier hanging high above. A wide staircase curves up to the second floor, and the main floor splits from the foyer. The walls are a very pale cream—not quite white as Blue described them—the tile floor just a few shades darker. The furnishings—at least what I can see—are a deep mahogany wood, the accents black metal. Strong and masculine, yet just enough softness to have its own elegance.

  I like it.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  He smiles and puts my suitcase down. “You don’t have to whisper, babe.”

  I’m not sure why I am.

  “C’mon.” He takes my hand and tugs me to the right archway, which opens up to a huge living room with a black leather u-shaped couch that looks like it could fit fifteen people. A matching, but much smaller, love seat sits in front of a wall of glass that overlooks a flower garden. Leather pub chairs in both black and white are placed strategically around the room along with dark accent tables, lamps, and statues. I feel like I’ve walked into one of those homes they showcase on houses of the rich and famous.

  “Hey, you made it.”

  The decor has me so entranced I didn’t even see Reece lying on one end of the couch. His long black hair blends almost perfectly with the leather. He stands and crosses the room to pull me into a hug.

  “I made it,” I say. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “I was just gonna say the same. Make yourself at home. You need anything? Just yell and we’ll get it for ya.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll show you upstairs, babe. You can put your things away.”

  I give Reece a little wave and follow Blue upstairs, past large matted photos of the band, mingled with articles and awards hanging on the walls.

  Everything is so neat and clean. Not a dirty sock or empty bottle in sight. I’m impressed.

  Blue takes me to a bedroom down the right wing of the second level and places my suitcase just inside the door.

  “Reece and I each have a master bedroom and a guest room. His rooms are to the left of the stairs, mine are down here. I thought you could keep your things in this room. The closets and dressers are empty, and it has its own bathroom so you can put all your makeup and stuff out.”

  I scan the huge room, wondering if any other women have ever stayed in here to visit him.

  “Thank you.”

  He snakes his arms around me and pulls me tight against his body. “I really don’t want you sleeping in here, though.”

  “No?”

  He presses his lips to mine and slides his hands down to squeeze my ass through my jeans. “No. You always wanted me to have a bed. Now I’ve got one and your sweet little ass better be in it every night.”

  I go up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and smile up at him. “I can’t wait to be in your bed. Maybe I can beg for your autograph,” I tease.

  “You want to role play, Ladybug?” His husky voice gets my pulse going. “I’ll write my name on every inch of you and then make you scream it when I’m pounding into you.”

  “Ooh.”

  He picks me up in his arms like a new groom on his honeymoon and carries me down the hall to the last bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

  “This one is mine. Now that you’ve teased me, I don’t think I’m letting you out anytime soon.”

  I tighten my arms around his neck. “I never tease you.”

  He throws me onto the bed and falls on top of me, pushing my legs apart with his and pinning my hands above my head with one of his.

  “Tell me about the tattoo,” I ask as he moves his lips across the skin revealed in the V-neck of my T-shirt.

  He lifts his head and shakes his hair out of his face. “Which one?”

  “The ladybug on your hand.”

  A grin graces his lips. “When did you see that?”

  “Years ago. At the hotel. I just never remembered to ask you about it.”

  Lifting his hand, he turns his wrist so I can see the tiny tattoo again. It’s almost exactly like my own, only his is surrounded by the rest of his sleeve design. I’m not even sure how I noticed it that day.

  “I got it a few months after I left. I wanted something to remind me of you. I told you the myth was true, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Do you believe it now?”

  “I’ve always believed it.”

  He dips his head down again and presses his warm lips against my neck. “We should get married.”

  My breath catches in my throat, right beneath that sensitive spot his mouth is covering.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Me and you,” he whispers, nudging the fabric of my shirt away with his face and dragging his lips to my collarbone.

  I am utterly, without any doubt, shocked speechless. I raise my hand and touch his head, threading my fingers in his hair as he continues kissing me like he didn’t just drop a huge bomb on me.

  My brain fights through the tremors spreading through my body from his touch.

  “Blue...do you have any idea what you just said?”

  “Mmm,” he hums, lifting my shirt and kissing my breast through the thin white lace of my bra.

  “Evan?” This is a conversation that might require his real name.

  Finally he looks up at me, his blue eyes smoldering. “I fucked this all up, didn’t I?”

  “I guess it depends on what this is.”

  “This is me trying to tell you I want to be with you forever.”

  I sift his hair through my fingers and search his face. “You used to be afraid of forever.”

  “You’re right. I’m not anymore. Now I’m afraid of not having it.”

  “So am I. You kinda kept taking my hopes for a happily ever after away.”

  His jaw muscles twitch. “I’m trying to give it back.”

  “I know,” I say softly. “And I love it so much. I just think we have to take things slow.”

  I hate saying those words. The last thing I want to do is take things slow. I want everything now—Him. Happiness. A wedding. My own family, together. I want it now before he changes his mind or something happens to take it all away.

  He nods but says nothing. Just moves his fingers lightly up and down my ribcage and the curve of my waist.

  “And I think you’re not supposed to make any real big life decisions during your first year or so of being clean. Right?”

  “Someone’s been reading,” he accuses, then moves his attention to the dip between my breasts. He slides his tongue over my goose-bump pebbled flesh.

  “I have,” I admit. “I want to understand, and help you, that’s all.”

  “I know you do, babe. That’s why I’m gonna be chasing you down with a ring in a few months.” He leans up on his elbows, looking down at me with his notorious sexy smirk. “So you better take off running, or be prepared to get caught and have a diamond as big as an ice cube on your hand.”

  I laugh and he covers my mouth with his, capturing my laughter. Swallowing it. He grinds his hips into mine as he slowly pulls my clothes off. When I’m naked and lying in the middle of his bed on the slate gray comforter, he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a pen. He twirls it in his fingers like an expert drummer.

  “About that autograph...” he chides.

  Staring up at him, I reach for his shirt, seductively undo the remaining buttons, then run my fingertips over his abs.

  “I’m your biggest fan,” I coo. “I know the words to all your songs.”

  He scrunches up his face, trying not to laugh. “I bet you do.”

  “Can I get your autograph?” I bat my eyelashes.

  “Only if it’s on your breasts.”

  This time it’s me who tries not to burst into giggles.

  “Oh my God. That would be soooo amazing.�
��

  He pulls the pen cap off with his mouth and spits it out onto the floor, then cups my breast in his hand, bending down to place a soft wet kiss on the tip before signing his name across my pale skin. I could’ve sworn I’ve always seen him write with his left hand, but he signs me with this right.

  “I’ll never wash it off,” I say, twisting my body beneath his and rubbing myself against his thighs.

  “You better not.” He stands and tosses the pen onto his nightstand, then pulls his shirt off, throwing it onto the floor. My stomach still does a somersault every time I see him shirtless—or even better—when I see him totally undressed. While I appreciate a nice body, I’ve never really been the type to get all drooly over bodybuilders, movie stars, or hot naked men. But when it comes to Blue—there’s just something so sensual about the confident way he moves and how his hair flows over his broad chest and shoulders like a Viking. The tattoos covering almost every inch of him are the icing on the cake and it all sets off sparks of desire in me.

  “Do you bring a lot of women back here?” I ask, still using the sugary role-playing voice, but asking for myself.

  He steps out of his boots and watches me watch him unbutton his jeans. They’re my favorite on him. No zipper. Just five silver buttons. The jeans are worn and soft and fit him like he was born in them.

  “Hundreds,” he replies. “They’re all buried in the backyard.”

  I laugh as he climbs onto the bed and between my legs.

  “Do you like my room?” he asks. “And my house?”

  “So far I’ve only mostly seen the ceiling of your room,” I tease, leaning up to peer around. His room is like the others in the house I’ve seen so far. Neat. Clean. Four guitars stand in a row in front of the windows that overlook the front yard. Black and white paintings of birds hang on the walls. Several photos in silver frames sit atop one of his black dressers, and as I squint at them, I realize they’re photos of me, Lyric, and Acorn.

  “You have our pictures,” I say softly.

  “Yeah. I print all the ones you email me. When I feel like I might fuck up again, I look at the pictures. There’ve been nights when I’ve sat here for hours just staring at your picture, waiting for the demons to fuck off and leave me alone.”

  A vision of him flashes in my mind—sitting on the floor, taunted by drugs and alcohol and staring at photos of me, his daughter, and his dog while he sweats and struggles between all the things he loves and wants the most.