Grease Slapped

by A. M. Jones

  “When?” Crockett asks, sounding impressed.

  “Five weeks.”

  I wave my hand. “Wait, what’s going on here?”

  Brenna smiles. “I know. You guys didn’t give us the go-ahead, but I thought I’d take initiative and show you what we can do.” She casts us a strange look. “Like I said before, it wasn’t as hard. You guys are upcoming. You could’ve gotten it yourself.”

  Crockett throws me a look. “This is why we need a manager separate from the band.”

  I shrug. “Probably right, but I don’t know about the festival.”

  Brenna smiles. “You’ll do the festival.”

  “What makes you say so?” Jack speaks, pulling out a smoke and walking to the window behind me.

  “Because we’re related to Taylor.” She smiles, and it’s arrogant.

  “Will she come to the show?” I rub the back of my neck.

  Brenna stumbles, “Uh, maybe?”

  I eye everyone as they look to me to decide. It’s as though they’re holding their breaths. Why do I feel peer pressure? If we’re going to do this, might as well give it our all.

  Sighing, I ask, “Where?”

  She cheeses. “Bowling Green.” That’s not too bad.

  I point to the guys. “We’re getting a hotel room, and we aren’t staying out all night. If we will do this, I don’t want to be babysitting.”

  The tension dissolves with Brenna’s squeal. “You’ll love this one. Promise. No cockroaches, dirty bartenders, and you’ll be paid through your PRO.”

  I raise my brows, impressed she knows about our performance royalty deal. It might be wise to feel them out. See how much they already know with no direction from me. “But—I want to see how this goes before we make any concrete management decisions. So, no more stepping on our toes.”

  Smiling, she nods right away.

  Two weeks before the festival, Brenna emails me a list of possible venues and dates for her to book. She’s typed a list of ways we can get sync placement for whatever songs we choose, which I planned on doing eventually, anyway. How cool would it be to hear one of our songs on a TV show or a movie? There are also a few videographers for me to check out. Before I click links and watch portfolios, I look for pricing information. My head already wants to explode. I got to give it to the twins. They’re thorough.

  My cellphone vibrates with an unknown number. “This is Eli.”

  “Eli. This is Charles Thornton at Dash Top Records. I’ve just noticed a proposal you sent in. Needless to say, we’re interested.”

  I breathe deep and pump my fist hard, resisting the urge to yell. “That’s amazing.”

  “I feel like we both have something to gain. I’m transferring you to my assistant to set up an appointment to hear what you’ve got.”

  “No problem.”

  I abandon my computer in favor of going to see Taylor. This new development gives me hope. Major hope. So, I’ll celebrate by seeing her. When I’m riding the elevator to her apartment, my nerves kick in or maybe it’s anticipation. I’m not sure what, but it’s good.

  I slow my pace when I hear an unfamiliar guitar riff beyond her apartment door. It stops when I knock. There’s rustling, and she opens the door.

  “Eli.” My name falls from her lips in a breathless sigh.

  “Hey.”

  We stare at each other for a few moments. Her hair is a side braid, and she looks comfortable in leggings and a long, sleeveless t-shirt with Lemmy on the front. She couldn’t be wearing anything as hot right now. My necks warm and my ears are on fire. She scoots aside to let me in. “What was that music?” I try for something neutral, so I don’t spew anything perverted and search for a guitar, but there’s nothing. No amp. Or sheet music. Weird.

  “Oh, I was watching YouTube videos. You know how that goes.” She laughs. “It’s good to see you.”

  Her words remind me of why I’m here. “Listen, Taylor. I’m sorry for backing you into a corner in Jackson. You have a right to be pissed at me. You have a right to hate the situation I’m in.” The regret I feel, there aren’t words. “My marriage.” I scoff. “It’s an ugly business arrangement I’m stuck in. For now.” I inhale deep, but it does nothing to control my rapid breathing. I grab her hand and place it over my heart. “This. My heart.” I’m suddenly thankful for ribcages because if I didn’t have one, she’d be holding a wildly beating organ in her hand. “Is not married. It belongs to you. Where ever you are or whatever you’re doing, you have it with you. It’s that fucking simple.”

  Her eyes shine. She opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “I’m not finished.” I thread my fingers through hers still posed over my heart. “I know I’m broke and that I whore my voice and band in seedy places for pennies. I know that comes with a lot of extra luggage you shouldn’t have to deal with.” I squeeze her hand. “This is my choice. My risk. And I know it’s not much, but my heart is all I have to give and it’s yours.”

  She takes a shuddering breath, but her body language is wide open. No crossed arms. It spurs me on, “Don’t say anything now. I needed to get that off my chest. And I’m working on things. Just don’t give up on me. Please.”

  I kiss the side of her mouth and want to bury my face in her neck, but I don’t. I drop her hand backing toward the door.

  “Wait.” She bites her lip and looks down before meeting my gaze again. “Turmoil isn’t about you or us or whatever you think. I mean, your marriage inspired it but it sort of.” She scratches her head. “It’s how I wished my parents story would’ve ended. Not the tragedy but the good parts.”

  I smile. “But then you wouldn’t have the twins.”

  Her faces changes as if this hadn’t dawned on her, but then she smiles. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

  “And you know I didn’t mean that about your mom, right.”

  “There’s truth to it.” Her smile turns sly. “She’s amazing.”

  I laugh and feel for the door knob, feeling good about our conversation. “Think about coming to the festival in Bowling Green. I’d love to see you there.”

  I demand a do-over for this day. Apparently, I woke from sleep on the wrong side of the bed. Turning off my radio, I roll down the window. The festival music blares through along with the smell of burnt nacho cheese from a vendor somewhere. A few stages are visible over a huge, evergreen tree-line.

  My phone rings, and when I check it, I get angrier because it’s my mom. It’s not her I’m pissed at, however. I hit ignore and stop by the parking guy who waves people through with glow sticks. “Where do the bands unload?”

  “Which band?”

  “Tainted District.” He checks the schedule on his electronic tablet.

  His brows crease as he scratches his head with his stylus pen. “You better hurry. You’ll be on the left stage.” He points in the general direction I need to drive. Cursing and white knuckling the steering wheel, I drive off, trying not to gun it and spin gravel. My blood pressure is no doubt sky high.

  I spot Milo’s van. It’s parked, and my band is nowhere around. For some reason, they drove separate. To top that off, I’m running late. I sigh, knowing the real reason I’m in a bad mood. I haven’t heard from Taylor, but I’m sticking to my guns. The dull ache returns with a vengeance. I rub my chest as if it’ll soothe the pain.

  When I make it to the entrance, several people rush about with instruments, yelling at one another. Another coordinator stops me again and seems surprised I’m arriving late.

  “There you are!”

  I turn to Brenna and Camden as they wave me down. “Where is everyone?” I ask, trying to control my tone as I search for Taylor. Disappointment flows through me and my heart sinks even more—shattering into more pieces. The hope I harbored for her to be here explodes and leaves me with nothing.

  “Come on.” Brenna grabs my arm, pulling me behind her. I let her because I can’t gather the will to want to be here. We weave through throngs of people and vendors selling beer, lemonade,
and assorted food. She takes us through a small gap in some trees, coming out at the side of a stage. A fence runs along the front, so overzealous listeners can’t get to the stage. People scream and clap.

  Brenna stands on her tiptoes, searching the crowd. “They’re getting ready to go on. I didn’t think you’d make it.” When she glances at me, her brows rise. “Cheer up, Gregor.” Apparently, my foul mood isn’t lost on her.

  My phone buzzes again, and I send it to voicemail as soon as I see it’s my mom again. I step to follow Brenna, but I pause. The calls keep coming, and it’s not like her to hound me. Dread coats my stomach as I swallow hard when I hear the new voicemail ding. Placing the phone to my ear, my mom’s choked voice comes through loud and clear. I’m wrong. Things can get worse. Brenna’s eyebrows draw in question.

  I swallow. “My parents were in an accident. My dad isn’t doing too well.”

  Hours later, I sit in a hospital. My mom stares forward through the dimly lit room. Her eyes droop from the medication for her broken arm.

  “I think it’d be a good idea if someone took Gina home. It’ll be sometime before we hear from the doctors.” A nurse with short spiky hair says, breaking me out of my reverie.

  When my mom doesn’t respond, I know it’s a good idea.

  “I’ll take her, Eli.” Madison helps my mom from her chair.

  I focus on the nurse. “But he’ll be okay, right?”

  He becomes sympathetic. “Shock does weird things to the body. They’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  My dad arrived at the hospital in shock, which hid complications he might have had, until his seizure. Now he’s going through scans to diagnose the problem.

  I glance at Madison. I’m not sure what’s she’s doing here, because it’s clear she doesn’t want to be, but I nod anyway.

  After helping them to Madison’s car, I shuffle to the waiting room where my band mates wait with Brenna and Camden. When I spot Taylor, my steps falter.

  Crockett leans forward, both of his legs are bouncing. “Any news?”

  I shake my head, taking a seat next to her. “Soon though.” Swallowing a lump, I take in Taylor. Her eyes seem bigger when she searches my face even as her anxiousness and worry crease the corners of her mouth.

  “You okay?” she asks. The pain in her gaze mirrors my own, but I nod, glancing away. She looks amazing as if she’d been out. “How’s Gina?”

  “She went home for the night because of her injuries.”

  “Mr. Gregor?” A doctor waves me into the hall. He starts as soon as we have space for privacy. I feel light-headed and disconnected from my body as he explains about brain hemorrhaging and emergency surgery. My chest becomes heavy even as he hands me a clipboard to sign for consent. After that, I settle in the waiting room for a long wait.

  After a while, the band leaves to go to my parents’ house to sit with my mother who keeps texting and calling my phone. The only person left is Taylor. She’s curled in her chair. I relax enough to place her head on my shoulder. Without looking, she flattens her arm and laces her fingers through mine, squeezing. The show of comfort warms my chest and I stare at our connected hands for an unknown amount of time.

  She’s fallen asleep by the time the doctor returns wearing a solemn expression. My gut sinks as pressure builds behind my eyes. He glances at Taylor’s sleeping form and clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says in a low murmur. “Mr. Gregor’s bleeding was extensive—”

  A fog clouds my vision as I try to listen to the details. I hear my father died on the table. I feel like the floor falls from beneath me. As if I’m floating on a cloud. He bends down, placing his hand on my shoulder. “We did all we could do.”

  Taylor sits just as he leaves. She touches my arm. “Hey, did they give you any news?”

  “They told me he passed. Extensive spinal cord and brain damage—and hemorrhaging. My mom was very lucky.” I clear my throat and swallow rocks.

  “Oh, Eli.”

  I squeeze her hand. “I need to tell my mom, but she went to sleep.” Looking at my phone screen, the last text from Madison is still there. “I don’t know what to do.” Agony swipes through my chest as I look into her damp eyes.

  “I’ll take you home,” she says.

  Leaving my car at the hospital, I drive his truck to his parents’ house. Devastation and solemnness hangs in the air while Eli explains what happened to John. Even more awkward, no matter how much I try to ignore it, is that Madison is here. Something flashes behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word. She stays longer than the rest of the band. Eli tells her she can go home after Gina calms down enough to sleep again, most likely, from the meds the doctor prescribed for her arm.

  “I’ll be back in the morning.” I hear Madison say from the hall as I put a coffee cup in the drainer. It’s so quiet, the old clock ticks on the wall. “Will you be okay?” He mumbles a response, and she says, “Just call if you need anything.”

  When she walks through the dim kitchen to the carport door and garage, she pauses as if she’ll say something, but she only drills me with a glare. Her tear-stained face shows just as much anguish as everyone else. I wouldn’t expect anything less. She’s been married to Eli for almost ten years. Even so, I don’t back down from her. If I’m going to be by Eli’s side, I have to face the music and deal with whatever she throws at us. Together. But this is not the time or place. We both seem in agreement because she leaves.

  After she shuts the door behind her, he appears in the kitchen. “We have extended family coming tomorrow, so I’m going to stay tonight.”

  I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand as he comes to stand in front of me. “Of course.”

  “Will you stay with me? Please?” He adds the last while searching my eyes.

  With so much to say, I know the most important thing now is to bring comfort and help when I can. I nod. “I don’t want to be anywhere else. You know that, don’t you?”

  Stepping close so his body is against mine, he tilts his head. “Do I?” Sorrow fills his features—the grief etched there squeezes my heart. I’m not sure if it’s just about John, the emotional havoc we’ve been through, or both, but I know what he’s asking.

  I place my hands on his cheeks, feeling the beard he’s grown over the past several weeks. “I was on my way to Bowling Green today when I got the call from Camden. I didn’t go to see Tainted District. I went to see you.”

  He sucks in a breath as his eyes brighten if only a little. “Say that again.”

  “I went to see you?”

  He smiles, wiping under my eyes. I’m sure there’s mascara smeared from crying. “Come on, we need sleep,” he says.

  I peek toward the hallway biting my lips together.

  “She’s out,” he reassures, grabbing my bag off the table and pulling me down the basement steps. He pauses at the bottom. His gaze hovers on a recliner in a theater area in front of the huge TV. A neon blue beer sign casts a glow on everything. The space feels empty, unlike the last time I was here, when it was full of smiling people. Moving to the sofa, he removes cushions to reveal a pullout bed.

  “Sheets?” I need to feel useful.

  “In the laundry room.” He points to a doorway. It leads to a laundry room and a bathroom. He follows and hands me my bag. I do my nightly routine at the sink and change into a t-shirt. He stays bent over the faucet, splashing water against his face. Over and over. Then he holds a hand towel on his face for a few long moments. My heart breaks even more when his face emerges. He places the towel on a little drying rack all the while swiping at his eyes.

  After retrieving sheets and a quilt, we make the sofa bed and he falls on it, pulling me with him.

  I sigh. “I missed you.”

  “You have no idea.” His voice strains as he wraps his arms around my waist. After a few minutes, his shoulders shake, and he buries his face in the crevice of my neck. My heart splits wide open as my own tears trickle down my cheeks.

  There’
s a first time for everything, and tonight’s first is holding a grown man while he cries himself to sleep.

  The bed moves, waking me. I’m on my stomach, hugging a pillow. A hand glides to the back of my thigh and the blankets are thrown off causing a chill. My heart quickens as Eli grabs my hips, lifting my ass in the air until I’m on my knees. He slides my sweats and panties off. I gasp when he licks the length of my crack, feeling the prickle of his facial hair the whole way. Arousal replaces my sleep fog with that one gesture. Grabbing my ass cheeks, he bites each one. Heat surges through me as he puts his weight on my back. His erection makes itself known, and he reaches around to work me in light strokes. I’m more than ready for whatever he’s about to do.

  Breathing in my ear, he states, “You want me. Tell me to stop, Taylor, and I will.”

  The raw thickness of his voice makes me speak the truth. “I need you.”

  A long moment passes before he brings his other hand under my throat, pulling my head to meet his gaze. His serious expression scares me for a moment. “What is it that you need?”

  I swallow as he makes a show of sucking me from his fingers. “I need you to need me, too.”

  “Do you know what I need right now?” he whispers, his eyes dilate in the dawn light. Oh, I know what he needs. I can feel it poking me.

  “To lose yourself in my body.”

  “Oh, yes.” A moan escapes me when he slides in with a hard thrust. He pauses, letting me feel all of him, but he starts as if unable to hold back. I catch his rhythm, bumping back harder as he pushes forward. “Taylor,” he groans before taking my mouth in his roughly. The beating of our hearts are in tune with each other when he breaks away, stopping to remove my shirt and pushing me down. “This is when I should ask you what you want and how you want it—”

  I shake my head and groan. “Keep going.”