“But we can learn it.”
“You’re lucky my dad’s letting us play, Fur Elise,” I assured her. That was one of Beethoven’s easiest, yet beautiful pieces. It was safe. We couldn’t screw it up.
“We’re not going to tell him.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have one month. If we practice every day, we can do it.”
By this time, I was looking at Janie Lynn like she had more than one pimple on her cheek; like she had fifty. Not that it would have mattered. I’m pretty sure she could have had hairy mole right between her eyes and I would have still found her beautiful. The only makeup covering her young skin was trying to cover a tiny pimple. The cover-up drew more attention to it than the actual sign of puberty.
“We’re not playing, Oriental Fantasy. My dad would flip his lid.”
“Fine, let’s just play the little baby song.”
“It’s not a little baby song. You saw the reaction we had on our parents. They were brought to tears,” I reminded her.
“I said fine. You’re off the hook. You can go.”
“Aren’t we practicing?”
“I am. You’re free to go. I don’t need to practice that song. I’ve been playing that song since I was seven. The only reason my parents were so emotional was the atmosphere. They’ve never seen me on a stage, they’ve never heard what comes out of a piano in a room of this magnitude, and they’ve never felt the emotions hit them the way that did. Any parent would do that, even yours and your dad is Conley Coast.”
I was pretty sure I should have been offended by that remark, but I was confused about why. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What I’ve said all along; this means more to me than it does you. You can go. Keep practicing, we’ll meet up again during the show.”
“Do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Get your way? You’re a big baby. What the hell do you want me to do? I wouldn’t even know where to start with something like that.”
“Okay, sit down. We’ve got this.” And just like that, Janie tightened the hold she had around my neck. Oriental Fantasy? Mily Balakirev? Really? Janie Lynn Holden was crazy.
The next thirty days were hell. I didn’t see my friends, I failed a math test because I was too busy learning an impossible song to study. Janie was happy I got grounded for a week; more time to practice. I had to practice on my keyboard with the volume turned down to keep my father from hearing. We made cassette tapes of each other playing alone so we could play together at home. We spent every Saturday and Sunday in the theater. The first two weeks I was sure we were going to be dead. There was no way we could pull this off. My dad’s pride and joy would be a disaster. Our names would be on the front page for ruining Conley’s spring concert. I would be grounded until I turned eighteen.
On Friday before the show the Holden’s threw a party for Janie and her success. That was the first time I saw her in anything besides jeans and tee shirts. Descending the stairs she stopped my breath. That was the first time I thought about her breasts. Either the black dress was stuffed or there was something more going on there. I loved that out of all the eyes in the room, hers landed on mine.
“Wow, you clean up nice.”
“Thanks, so do you.”
“Look what my dad got me. You have to get one so we can text.”
“You got a cellphone?”
“Yeah. My mom’s so mad at my dad. She always said I wasn’t getting one until I started driving and needed one.”
“Yeah, that’s what my dad says too. Let me see it.”
Janie and I sat at a fancy covered table while the rest of the room mingled, sipping wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres. Her new phone was the bomb. It even had a camera in it and we invented the backwards selfie. That was the first time I felt territorial over her. Some blonde kid with spiked hair sat right beside her.
“Hey, give me your number. We’ll text.”
“Okay! Cool,” she exclaimed. I didn’t want this guy texting Janie. I wanted to text Janie.
“Got it. I’ve got to go. Mark and Dillon are going to sneak a bottle of wine. We’re going out by the pool if you want to come.”
“Okay, we might.”
“Who was that?”
“Drake, his dad works for my dad.”
“Why do you want to text him?”
Janie tilted her head and smiled, “Why? Do you care?”
“No, why would I care?”
“Come on. My mom’s waving for me, if I have to endure the agony, so do you.”
“I’m going to go talk to my dad first. I’ll meet up with you in a minute.”
“Okay. Blake?” Janie questioned when I turned to find my parents.
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay if you’re jealous.”
My lips curled all by themselves. I blew out a puff of air and nodded with rosy cheeks. My parents were standing off to the side and I knew before I got to them that they were having a disagreement. My parents rarely argued, but they did disagree from time to time. I knew the argument was about how much my dad had had to drink when I got closer.
“There’s my Chopin,” my dad boasted, toasting a half empty glass in the air.
“Dad, can I have a cellphone?”
“No, when you’re sixteen,” my mom said, taking the glass from my dad’s hand and walked away.
“You heard your mom,” my dad said, looking around for another tray of drinks.
“Come on. I need one. Please? Janie got one, because her parents are proud of her. You should be proud of me too.”
“You have no idea how proud of you I am.”
“Then let me have a phone. I’m old enough.”
“No. Your mother is already pissed at me. I’m not going against anything she says for the rest of the night.”
“What if I learn to play Oriental Fantasy? Will you get me one then?”
“Yes, by the time it takes you to learn to play Mily Balakirev, you’ll be sixteen.” My dad patted me on the back and walked away. I smiled a victory smile. One thing I knew for sure about my dad was he was true to his word. I would have a phone like Janie’s by Monday.
The realization of what we were doing hit me the following morning. As soon as my eyes opened, I freaked out. I ran to the cordless phone and brought it back to my room.
“Why did you call my house phone? I told you to call my cellphone.”
“I forgot. Janie, we can’t do this.”
“Oh my God, you’re not chickening out. We’ve got this. You haven’t screwed up for at least fifty times now. You’re gold.”
“My dad’s going to flip. I’m not even kidding. He’s going to freak out.”
“Wear the blue cummerbund instead. I changed my mind.”
“Janie!”
“You know what? You better just bring the blue and the pink. I might change my mind again.”
“Janie!”
“I’ll see you at six. I’ll be the one in the blue dress, or maybe pink.”
“Janie!”
My nerves were played off well. My dad thought they were about the show in general, not the fact that Janie was making me do something that was going to send me to my room for the rest of my life. My life was over.
“Stop worrying. We’re about to make history,” Janie assured me, taking my hand. The dampness instantly dried in my palms with her comfort. I took a deep breath and tugged on my pink tie. The theater quieted and I followed Janie to the pianos facing each other in the middle of the stage. Just like Mozart would have, I flipped my tuxedo tail to the back and sat at the same moment as Janie. I don’t know what we sounded like, I don’t know what reaction my dad held on his face, and I don’t know if I messed up or not. My eyes never left Janie. Her eyes bore into mine while we played our hearts out. It wasn’t until we put the spin on the last note, using the feather-pinky that our smiles broke. We freaking nailed it.
There wasn’t a body sitting, ther
e wasn’t a hand not clapping, and there wasn’t a more proud father in the world. My dad practically jerked us both from our seats and dragged us to the middle of the stage. Holding both our hands high in the air, he bent at the waist, taking us with him.
“I get a cellphone now, right?”
Four
“Wow, you played Oriental Fantasy when you were twelve?” I asked Blake.
I felt his smile against my hair, “I keep forgetting you know more about this stuff than I do.”
I laughed and moved to my side of the bed, “Lay down with me,” I requested. Blake’s chest molded with my back and my eyes closed with a smile. Janie was a little rebel and Blake was a whipped little puppy.
“I love you,” he whispered in my hair.
“I love you too, Blake,” I said with a deep breath. As much as I didn’t want to think about it, I knew I had to. But not that night. I wanted to fall asleep with a smile, picturing Blake and Janie on that stage defying his father. I would worry about what to do another time. I was too happy to worry about leaving them.
The problem with that was I was always too happy.
Pea was banging on the door before eight the next morning excited for the parade.
“It’s unlocked,” I called, seeing the little lever horizontal. We were both dressed leaving us no reason to lock the door the night before. Blake moaned and rolled away from me.
“It’s the parade day. Come on we have to get ready.”
“Pea, the parade isn’t until four p.m., we have all day.”
“Well, we have to eat breakfast first.”
“Come on munchkin, grandma will make us waffles. Let them be lazy, we’ll just get ready without them.”
I smiled at Pea’s grin; she loved her Grandma Grace. That made me think about her Grandma Sarah; she hadn’t seen her in almost two weeks and that made me ashamed of myself. I was supposed to be figuring out how to make this all work and keep everyone happily in Pea’s life. It was hard, knowing the separated states were a barrier. I liked the neighborhood Grace lived in, and I liked the normal house. That’s what I wanted for Pea. I wanted a house just like this, with a back yard within a safe neighborhood. But what neighborhood? I knew by doing a search on my phone that Roanoke, Virginia was the half mark, but was still a six hour drive one way. Maybe I should find a theater first. That was going to be a big part of the deciding factor. It still had to be worth it. An abandoned theater in a ghost town probably wouldn’t pull in a crowd. Nashville would be perfect, except for being so far away from the Holden’s.
I audibly sighed and looked over to Blake sleeping.
“Why the heavy breath? What’s on your pretty little mind?”
I snickered and told him what was on my mind at that very moment. “Did you text her?”
“You’re still thinking about that?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Of course. I texted her every chance I got,” Blake said, rolling to his back. He moved one hand above his head and one below my head. I rolled into his arms and relished the warm lips to my forehead. “So you remember a show called Fear Factor?”
“Yes, I used to watch it with my mom.”
“I used that show for a reason to text her. All I had to say was ‘would you?’ She would know that I was talking about the current task on the show.”
“Oh my God, I remember being so grossed out with some of things they had to eat and do.”
“Snakes, I hate snakes more than anything,” Blake confessed.
“I hate planes more than snakes.”
“Janie used that to torture me once she found out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rubber snakes. Holden got in on it as soon as he heard me scream like a little girl once at her house. He brought her back a rubber snake from everywhere he went. Normal girls collected Barbie dolls, Janie Lynn Holden collected fake snakes for the sole purpose of torturing me.”
“That’s great. I love her, but you may have been safer to keep that one to yourself.”
“Oh no, I learned to get even. If I were you, I’d leave that one alone. I’m pretty good at retaliating.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“That’s exactly what I am doing.”
“You do know that curiosity killed the cat, don’t you?”
“Don’t do it little pussy.” Jesus, he was talking about a cat, not the instant throb between my legs. I think.
“Let’s get up, your armpits stink, go take a shower.”
“Come with me.”
“No way, I don’t trust you.”
“I won’t touch you.”
“Liar. I’m not taking a shower with you. Pea asks too many questions.”
“You could tell her you were pooping and she’d be okay with it.”
“I’m not taking a shower with you.”
“Rock, paper, scissors.”
“No. I’m on my period.”
“I won’t touch you.”
“You’re lying.”
“I won’t touch you unless you tell me to touch you.”
I sat up, rolled my body on top of his and pressed my thigh into his crotch, “I wouldn’t do that,” I assured him, kissing his lips. I eyed him with my sexy eyes, and left him alone. Blake followed me and I ran, trying to get the bathroom door shut and locked before he caught me.
“Ouch!” he whined with his foot smashed between the door and the door-jam, “open the door.”
“No, it’s a trap.”
“No it’s not. Just give me my foot!”
“You promise you give up?”
“Yes, God, open the door.”
Of course dumb me fell for it. As soon as I gave him an inch he stole the mile and was standing inside the bathroom with me in his arms.
“Blake, stop! I have to pee,” I cried, thrashing my body from his torturing fingers. I hated being tickled.
“Hail to the King.”
“No!”
“Say it!” Blake ordered, digging his fingers into my hipbone.
“I hail to the king,” I yelled defeated. Blake retreated and went to the toilet. I watched him slide down the front of his basketball shorts and aim for the hole.
“What?” he asked, turning to me.
“Nothing, are you turned on?”
“No, I mean yes, you always turn me on, but this is because I need to pee. And thanks to you, I can’t now.”
“I’ll help you,” I offered, taking his side. He let my fingers replace his and I did the aiming. “Go,” I coaxed, biting my top lip. If he knew I was about to laugh he’d push me a way.
“That’s not helping me.”
“Do it.” I felt the vein jolt on my fingers and then a stream. Blake’s stomach muscles tightened like he was really working for it. “Jesus, I know where Pea gets it now,” I teased, wondering if he was ever going to stop.
“Your turn.”
“I’m not peeing in front of you, I have a tampon in. Get in the shower.”
“Nope. Pee,” he ordered, nodding toward the toilet. I did it not because he told me to, but because I had to go. I didn’t let him see me, I kept my legs closed and let it flow.
“Take a shower with me. I promise I won’t touch you.”
“Fine, get in so I can take my tampon out.”
Blake started the water and stepped out of his shorts. “Okay, but just so you know. There is nothing about you that could gross me out.”
I didn’t argue with him, he could think that if he wanted, I knew different. There was nothing pretty about periods. I should have known it was a trap.
“Stay back there,” I warned with a finger when I stepped under the spray. Blake leaned against the tile and I gave him a show, using the soapy washcloth to bring his eyes to restricted places.
“We could just fuck, you know?” he offered. I ignored him and used the hot rain as poison. Arching my back, I pressed my breasts toward him. It was when I brought my eyes back to him that things got a little more he
ated. Blake had his hardness in the palm of his hand, pumping it in his fist. Damn. He was shooting below the belt. It was the sexist thing I’d ever seen in my life. Stupid period.
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“You don’t want to come?”
“Blake,” I begged, tilting my head in mercy.
“It’s not dirty.”
“It is too.”
“Only if you make it that way. Just turn around and let me give it to you from behind.”
My mind was screaming no, but that’s not what was controlling my body. The throbbing between my legs took over all of my control. I turned and placed my hands flat against the gray tile. Blake didn’t waste a second, his hands were on my hips and his hardness was pressed into me. I moaned, instantly failing to recall the reason I was turning this down. The reach around from his fingers solidified it.
“Shh,” Blake warned, sliding in and out of me.
“Oh God. I can’t.”
“Turn around.”
Spinning to face him, my eyes landed on Blake’s shaft. It reminded me of the art work I created on my arm, only this wasn’t black rain, it was red. Blake was right, I wasn’t repulsed at the sight at all. It didn’t even feel dirty. It felt like Mikki and Blake. It felt like it meant something. My back rested against the cool tile and my legs wrapped around his. The blood that was transferred from me to Blake was washed away with the rain pouring between our bodies. It wasn’t disgusting at all, it was erotic as hell.
Blake’s mouth covered mine when I moaned again, I don’t know if it’s physically possible or not, but that orgasm was different. I’m not one hundred percent sure that I didn’t squirt. Rocking on Blake’s hips in that position angled him in the perfect location. Maybe it was the fact that I was on my period, I don’t know, but even when Pea interrupted from the other side of the door, I couldn’t stop.
Knock, knock.
“Penny.”
Knock, knock.
“Penny.”
Knock, knock.
“Penny.”
“Don’t stop,” I panted in Blake’s mouth. He didn’t. He held my moans in his mouth and pumped hard, in and out while he tried like hell to keep his own pleasure inaudible.
“Mikki!” Pea whined when her silliness didn’t work.
Midnight Rain Page 5