by L. B. Dunbar
It should have been awkward. Two random adults having sex in the morning. I couldn’t even call it a one-night stand. The walk of shame was supposed to happen in the morning, not the actual sexcapades. I didn’t know what else to call what we’d done. Make love? Nope, the term did not fit. Sex, definitely. A slight tingle returned, my imagination leading me to ask him for a second helping. And I wasn’t referring to the eggs. However, I took a hefty bite to rid my thoughts of the bed.
We ate for a moment in silence.
“How long?” he asked, and I swallowed the piece of bacon in my mouth before chewing it properly. “How long did you have it?” He looked up at my hair and instantly my fingers went to the wayward curls. I didn’t have a clue what I might look like, and I started combing the edges near my ears. His hand reached across the table to stop me.
“I’ve been cancer-free a few months. I had months of chemotherapy before that. Aggressive. I just wanted it out of my body. I had a single mastectomy and then added the implants to both sides to balance me out.” I offered a weak chuckle at my vanity. I didn’t consider myself vain, but I also couldn’t fathom anything other than the decision I made. “This vacation was a celebration of sorts. I had survived. For now.” I sighed.
“Why the sigh?” He asked, his eyes still focused on my face.
“I guess at one point, I thought I might die, sooner rather than later. It was an awful period in my life. Worse than the divorce.”
He sat back in his seat, but took his coffee mug with him. After a sip, he said, “Just confirming what I already assumed. So, you aren’t married.”
“No,” I blurted with a laugh, and then focused on him. “Are you?” My voice cracked. Hadn’t I heard these horror stories of men who worked with bands, sleeping their way through the tours, while their wife raised children back in some small-town?
“Nope,” he said immediately, chuckling at the expression on my face. “Not my thing. Never plan to be.” The statement wasn’t an admission. It wasn’t a threat. It was a declaration—don’t get any ideas in your head, Edie; it’s only sex. I nodded, smiling weakly as if I understood. As if I were cool with it, as my kids would say.
I took a deep breath hoping to redirect the conversation.
“So, a band manager,” I began. He stared back at me a moment, then confirmed. “A band manager.”
My eyebrow rose, hinting I wanted more detail than a parrot response.
“I took over the boys when they were still raw talent. They were an opening act for a band on the edge of their retirement.”
“I didn’t know bands retired.”
“Ever hear of Boys II Men? New Kids On The Block? NSYNC? Bands retire,” he adamantly stated.
“Wow. Never pegged you for a pop culture, boy-band kind of guy.”
He laughed in response. “Oh, what kind of guy do you have me pegged as?”
I thought for a moment, tapping my chin. “My first thought, Rolling Stones, unequivocally. But the more I learn, I’m not so sure. I think under the hardcore rock star manager might be something a little softer.” He choked on his coffee, laughter filling his expression.
“Now, now, don’t be pinning me as some soft rock freak, but I do like me some Stevie Nicks.” I laughed as he referenced the female rock queen.
“Annie Lennox?” I raised a brow.
“Her, too.”
“Madonna,” I suggested.
“Blasphemy.” But his soft chuckle told me he might like a song or two of hers as well.
“Music is your life, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he said, setting his cup down.
“Do you play something?” The shift in his seat and the glance out the window answered the question. He did. But I sensed the subject wasn’t one he was going to share with me. Silence swirled between us.
“So,” I drew out the word. “If I were a song, what would I be?”
“Something classic,” he stated immediately and my lips twisted.
“You really think I’m boring, don’t you?” My voice fell as did my shoulders. I must be so plain Jane compared to who he usually slept with. He tilted his head and then motioned toward the bed. “Uhm…no.” I giggled and his head spun back to me. He stared at my eyes, travelled down to my lips, and fell to my chest.
“'Barracuda’.” His face was dead serious, but I barked out a laugh.
“What?”
“You had me down on my knees when I saw you again.” He misquoted the song, but his voice lowered, and I shivered under the deep tenor of his voice. The seductive song was certainly not me. I was no temptress like that. I continued to laugh, shaking my head.
“What do you think?” One eyebrow rose on his playful face.
“For myself?” I sat forward for a moment. “Maybe more ‘Landslide’.”
His face lowered. “How old are you?”
“Forty-three.”
He stared at me. “You’re not dead.”
“Not yet,” I chuckled without humor, and an awkwardness fell between us.
“I don’t mean that,” he corrected. “I mean, that song’s about change. What are you reflecting on?”
“Life,” I said, adamantly, letting my eyes drift to the bed.
“Darlin’,” he said, leaning on the table. Why did the way he say that endearment make my skin tingle? He had a touch of Southern drawl, but it was the way he purposely rolled the r that made my insides leap. “How many one-night stands you have in life?”
I sat up straighter at the question.
“Why?” His hand lowered, and I prepared for him to smack the table in frustration. “None,” I answered. He swept his hand outward toward the bed, and I lowered my eyes. “It’s morning,” I justified.
He laughed. A hearty, rock the table, belly full of laughter.
“Okay, so what about me?” he asked.
“'No More I Love Yous’.” The Annie Lennox song spilled out of my mouth. He sat straighter, his eyes not even blinking. I smiled to soften the odd choice of words. “I mean, who wouldn’t love a song that uses the word woebegone?”
“Is woebegone how you see me?” His voice sobered, and I didn’t want to ruin the playfulness of this game.
“No,” I tapped my chin, lying, because there was a sadness just under the surface of him, just under the tattoo over his heart, that I couldn’t read. “I think ‘I Put a Spell On You’ might be more fitting.”
“You think I put a spell on you, darlin’?” He questioned, his mouth curling at one corner.
“Definitely,” I said. “Most definitely,” I added, nodding. The flirtation smoldered between us. “Actually,” I paused. “I was going to name you a Bee Gees’ song, but you don’t strike me as a Bee Gees kind of guy.” I lowered my tone to match his, as he kept telling me I didn’t seem one way or another.
He laughed again, drumming his hands on the table and making his coffee mug rattle.
“That reminds me. You owe me a dance.”
4
Walk of Shame
Breakfast had been sweet, and parting did include sorrow, but as the flirting ran dry, it was either to bed again or exit. As I seemed to be in a pattern of flight, I opted to leave, but not before Tommy questioned me.
“Why’d you run last night, darlin’?” he asked. I didn’t have a good answer. Did I tell the truth that I panicked? Did I lie and say it was my normal response to awkward situations? I’d seen his face when we finished, and I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know him. I was caught between shame and thrill.
“I don’t know.” That was the best answer I could give him. We stood at his door after I thanked him once again for breakfast. Was I supposed to thank him for sex as well? I had no idea how to do this sort of thing. I’d been with David for twenty years. When we finished sex, we rolled over, each to our own corner of the bed. Sometimes, we didn’t even say goodnight.
Tommy stroked my cheek with the thick pad of his thumb. His eyes searched mine, and I realized there would be no wor
ds between us. He kissed me softly, tenderly, sweetly. It was a kiss of goodbye, and I wanted to cry as his mouth covered mine, pulling at my lip as if to say, take care, and I’ll think of you, and this was fun. The last one cheapened the experience just a little, and I lightly pressed on his chest to signal I couldn’t take any more.
I returned to my room, showered with quiet tears, and put on my bathing suit to brave the walk of shame in front of my children. Masie texted me to say she was already at the pool. Caleb hadn’t even gotten out of bed until I entered the small condo. He called out a sleepy hello, and I answered with, “I’m showering.” He left me a note, he was pool bound as well.
I quickly found Masie in the middle of the hubbub of rock stars. Surrounded by subtle bodyguards I hadn’t noticed the day before, Gage and crew had a small section of the pool deck quarantined. Ivy waved me over, alerting the pool security I was with them as I drew near. To my surprise, Tommy sat in a lounge chair, laidback and relaxed as if not a care in the world. As if he hadn’t rocked my world with mind blowing sex in a position I’d practically never experienced. I sighed, attempting to hold my head high as I passed the chairs filled with lazy rock stars to an empty one next to Ivy.
“How are you?” she asked, a touch of concern in her tone.
“Where did you disappear to?” Masie interjected, even though I texted her to say I was using the resort gym instead of finishing the yoga session.
“I worked out,” I said, and Tommy coughed from his end of the line.
“I went to look for you,” Masie said. I hadn’t counted on that, although I knew that her nature was to worry about me.
“I went for a walk.” I hated lying to her. She was a good girl and a great daughter.
“But you’re okay?” she asked, and I sat in the lounger with a huff.
“I’m fine.” I might have said it a bit too brusquely, but I didn’t understand the inquisition. So I was missing for an hour, hour and a half tops, big deal.
“Leave Mom be,” Caleb said, appearing out of nowhere and sitting at my feet. He was a good kid, too, albeit wrapped up in his own world. He hadn’t been home during the worst of the cancer treatment. I didn’t want him missing college to come take care of me, as his protective nature would have wanted to do. I lied to him often, saying I was fine, but I know Masie most likely told him the truth. Some days were rougher than others.
I laid back and listened, the conversation filling with chatter from two little girls, groans of hungover twenty-something adult males, and the occasional teasing of a young married couple. It was heavenly and mind numbing, and the dialogues flowed around me, lulling me into a comfortable state of lazy.
The heat was stifling, despite a swift breeze, and I stood to enter the pool. I wore an orange strapless tankini with a black polka-dot bottom. Not the sexiest, but I was well past bikini days like the slim bodies of Ivy and Masie. As I entered the pool, an older woman stood at the end of the stairs.
“You have a lovely family,” she said to me, and I stopped one step from the pool’s bottom.
“Thank you,” I said, glancing over at my two children, proud of the compliment. Masie had my original hair color, brunette, but streaked with gold highlights from the sun. Caleb was tall, his body filling out, on the verge of manhood, with subtle chest hairs. His hair matched his sister’s, minus the golden streaks. I loved them both unconditionally.
“Your husband is a fine catch,” she offered, and I turned to face her. Following her line of vision, she focused on Tommy who sat forward on his chair, staring in the direction of where I stood. Dark aviator glasses covered his eyes, though.
“Oh, he’s not my husband,” I nervously giggled, glancing back at him before addressing this shrunken raisin of a woman who obviously had eyes for Tommy.
“Oh my, unfortunate man,” she said, patting my hand, and I smiled at the hidden compliment. I twisted slightly to see Tommy shake his head, but I assumed he couldn’t have heard the woman from this distance.
“Are those little ones your granddaughters?” So much for compliments, I decided, as I looked at Ava and Emaline, Gage and Ivy’s daughters.
“Uhm, no,” I chuckled to lessen the sting. How old did I look?
“Didn’t think so, but you never know. Grandparents are getting younger and younger these days.” She smiled sweetly, and I guessed her age to be almost double my own. Just out of curiosity, I had to ask.
“Who did you think was my family?”
She chuckled as she responded. “The whole lot of them. You look like one happy family on vacation together. Those two girls look like sisters.” She nodded at the huddled Ivy and Masie, who were whispering to each other. “Thought you and the man might be celebrating something special, as you both look so happy. My husband and I took our family on a vacation to celebrate our wedding anniversary.” She paused. “That was back when it had been fifty magical years.”
“That’s sweet,” I said, trying to process how she thought I’d mothered all those boys and girls and was married to Tommy. Ava and Emaline saved the day by entering the pool, followed by Gage, West, and Masie.
I didn’t want to notice West paying extra attention to Masie. It had heartbreak written all over it for her. She was only eighteen, and he was a twenty-two-year-old rock star. As the newest member of the band, I assumed he was still trying to find his way amongst the older three, who seemed like life-long friends. Caleb had tried to fill me in, telling me that Collision was one of the hottest bands out there with their alternative rock sound, sultry ballads, and raging songs. After sharing a few titles with me, I was able to admit I’d heard them, but I couldn’t say I knew anything more about its members, or their manager. He was a music buff, and playing guitar would have been his dream, had his father not driven him toward baseball.
I exited the pool to find a margarita by my seat.
“Tommy took the liberty,” Ivy said as I sat. I held up the tempting drink, ready to tip my head in thanks, but found him speaking to a young woman on his right. She wore a red bikini. I sighed as I took a hefty sip of the salty sweet lime combination.
“It must be hard to fight off all the women,” I muttered, referring to Tommy, but thinking of Gage as well. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Oh, you get used to it.” Ivy chuckled. “Although I’m not the one with a jealous streak. Gage is rather…possessive. I don’t worry. Gage would never cheat. Tommy would kill him.”
I wanted to believe, for her sake, that her man would never stray. I wanted to believe it with my whole heart, but knowing what happened to me, I found it hard to have such faith in complete loyalty. Her comment about Tommy gave me a thought as well. It must be nice to know she was protected from all sides—a sort of checks and balances for her trust.
“Tommy told me you’re his niece,” I said, hoping to learn more about him and her relationship. Ivy didn’t open her eyes as she lay in the Hawaiian sun.
“Yep. My mother was his younger sister,” she whispered without offering more information. “So, what do you do for a living?” she asked, blatantly redirecting the conversation.
“I work for a manufacturing company.”
“Butt plugs,” Caleb coughed, and Petty sat forward on his lounger a few seats down.
“What?” Ivy giggled.
“We manufacture—”
“Butt plugs,” Caleb coughed again, and Jared started laughing as well.
“Caleb!” I admonished. “They do not make…” I lowered my voice. “Butt plugs.” This set Jared laughing and Petty cracking a mischievous smile. “They manufacture plastic parts and pieces for a variety of companies.”
“One of which makes butt plugs,” Caleb said, wiggling his brows, and then squirming in his seat.
“Stop it,” I laughed. “I don’t know that.”
“Mom, please.” Caleb laughed. He’d researched my company for a business project in college, finding all the subsidiaries and retailers who purchased products we supplied. One h
appened to include a sex toy manufacturer who specialized in…butt plugs.
“Do you get samples, Edie?” Petty asked, and Tommy reached over and swatted the curly blond in the back of the head.
“Be respectful,” Tommy demanded.
“Just asking,” Petty grumbled like a petulant child.
“You didn’t answer,” Jared stated, and fell into another fit of laughter.
“No, I don’t get samples.” For some reason, my eyes flipped to Tommy’s, but I couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark lenses. Besides, he had returned to his reclined position, and another girl had joined the first at his side. I decided I needed another drink. We weren’t family, but we were too close for comfort to this group of band members.
Standing at the bar, Gage came up beside me. The dark-haired, dark-eyed singer looked every bit a rock star, or a tortured poet, with his layers of leather necklaces and a wrist full of bracelets. I noticed that all the guys, including Tommy, had the same set of two: a solid silver band and separately, a row of brown beads.
“Hey,” he said, looking over his shoulder at his wife before turning back to me. “I wanted to ask you to back off a little.” The comment startled me.
“From Tommy?” I blurted, looking over Gage’s shoulder at a man clearly busy with other women.
“Tommy?” he questioned, brow crinkling. “No, Ivy.”
“What?” I asked, looking back at the young musician.
“Yeah. It’s just…she’s become sort of instantly attached to you, and it isn’t good for her.”
I blinked in surprise. I’d noticed the same thing, but I certainly hadn’t pursued a friendship with someone nearly fifteen years younger than me.
“I don’t—”
He cut me off. “Ever since her mom died, it’s like she’s always searching for her. Missing her. I don’t know what it is about you, but she’s latched on, and stuck hard. You’re all I’ve heard about for the past twenty-four hours.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t think I understand. I didn’t mean to do anything to Ivy. In fact, she spoke to me first. She asked me to join you last night, and included me this morning for yoga. She invited Masie to the pool. I’m just here with my daughter.”