Hanging on (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)

by K. F. Breene

  My wide eyes watched him smoothly walk away. Well, at least he had seen the drama unfold.

  Before I could dwell further, William climbed into the driver’s seat with a smile that lit up his extraordinary eyes. “Hi beautiful. Ready?”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. The guy was lucky he was worth it.

  “This is a jazz club?” I asked as we drove into the parking lot.

  We parked next to a Rolls Royce. I had no idea those cars were still in production.

  William put the car in park and turned to me. “You are so beautiful, Jessica.”

  My insides heated up. I reached for him, leaning back so his body would have to lean over the stick shift and at least partially cover me.

  “Too bad this car is so small. I could really use a quickie,” I said against his lips with a husky voice.

  “Hmm.” His lips connected more soundly, opening mine and quickly delving his tongue in. His hand slid up my inner thigh and ducked under the fabric of my dress.

  “Oh,” I sighed into his mouth, spreading my legs in anticipation.

  His keep deepened, tongue diving in and out, lightly sucking. He backed off a minute, his face flushed, and pried my legs open with his hands before pushing back in toward my lips.

  I pushed my butt forward on the chair, making more room. Giving more access. Willing him to hop on and service me. His fingers peeled back my sodden panties and stroked up my slick sex.

  I clutched his hair while thrusting my hips up, needing him inside me. He complied eagerly, sliding two fingers deep into my core. With his thumb he pressed and moved my clit, continuing to dive his fingers, hitting just the right spot.

  I reached over the seat and worked at his pants, leaning against the door now, pulling him as far over as possible.

  “No, I’ll be too messy. We’ll do that later,” he panted, jamming his fingers into me with hard thrusts, making my head go light.

  “I’ll swallow it.”

  He groaned, but shook his head, his fingers working faster. “Later,” he murmured.

  I grabbed his neck, smashing his face to mine, then allowing him to get away so he could seek out a nipple. As my dress was moved to the side and strapless bra pulled down, a greedy mouth fastened on my constricted bud, piercing me with pleasure.

  I arched up, needing more, and grabbed his wrist, making him go harder now. Ramming into me. Scrubbing at that pleasure spot. Forcing my hips to pump upward to meet it. Get it deeper. More inside of me.

  I exploded in delight, coming across his palm. His mouth found mine again, the pace slowed, allowing me to come down gently.

  Finally he backed off, looking like a man on the edge. I smiled languidly.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to finish you off?” I asked as I trailed a hand between my breasts.

  His haunted eyes watched its progress. In one quick second he was out of the car, pacing. I just shook my head. He tried to play the upstanding young gentleman, but get him worked up and he could hardly walk straight.

  After a couple minutes of tucking myself back in and reapplying some lipstick and cover up, William opened my door.

  “Yeah, this place is exclusive,” he said with a tight voice.

  “Right where we left off, huh? Like a page marker.” I fixed my panties and shimmied my dress back down my legs.

  His eyes literally lit on fire as he watched.

  “You can’t just pay to join, you have to be pledged,” he continued in a ghostly voice, having a hard time getting himself back online. “They only allow a couple new people in a year. Any more and the whole place has to vote on it. Memberships are actually handed down in families.”

  “Is the jazz that good?”

  William shrugged. “It’s pretty good. I don’t know much about jazz.

  “So it’s not really about the jazz, it’s about the exclusivity.”

  He hesitated, a guilty expression crossing his features. He shrugged again, the guilt etching a smile full of mischief. “Busted.”

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it. At least he admitted it.

  “So you’ve tried to get in and no go,” I surmised, taking his hand to help me out of the low car.

  “My parents won’t pledge me. It wouldn’t be fair to my brother or sister. Plus, there are other people that would take the spot over me. But someday I will. Mark my words. I’ll get in.”

  “Well, happy days,” I said dryly.

  The outside was like a landing strip for aliens—it was that bright. Vegas didn’t have nothing on the giant sign and lit entry way. More red carpet. A Ferrari was being valeted. Snooty people were escorted in.

  All I could do was shake my head.

  “There you are!” Trudy exclaimed. We thought you’d gotten lost!”

  Denise’s stare found, then settled, on me again as we met them in front of the sparkling jazz club.

  “I had to fix my shoe,” I said easily, feeling William’s hand interlace with mine.

  Tom looked at William closely, then shook his head. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “C’mon you two, let’s go in.”

  Denise and Trudy led the way, followed closely by Tom. Dennis hung back a fraction, checking his watch, holding us up. When he was ready, he fell in beside William and quietly said, “You might wash the lipstick from your face and pull your zipper up, son, before you get too far.”

  Oops.

  William immediately looked down. His face turned red as his gaze slid to me.

  I was a quick study with pants, what could I say?

  Dennis clapped him on the back, and, snickering, walked in front of us into the club.

  Entering the club was magnificent. It was like a modern version of a 1920's jazz joint. The decor was rich and decadent. There was a jazz band on a large stage. In front was a shiny wooden dance floor, currently with a few dancers making their rounds. There were booths all around made from the finest materials. Even the carpet was so plush I literally sank down into it was I walked. The parts that weren’t carpet was wood paneling made from real wood slates—not that cheap faux wood looking stuff made out of some type of hard plastic or other. The whole place was immaculate and well kept, all colors vibrant and inviting. The place spared no expense, and the patrons probably paid a fortune for the treatment.

  Our booth was in the corner on the third level, of which there were four levels and all, separated by only one or two steps. We were able to see the dance floor, but were out of the way of staff and guests on their way up or down. We were handed drink menus, but before I could look at it William ordered us all Champagne and winked at me. Who was I to argue? I smiled inwardly, and probably outwardly now I think of it, at his playful gesture.

  "Do you like Jazz?" I heard from beside me.

  Of course Denise chose to sit next to me.

  “I do, yes.”

  "Really? I wouldn't think a young girl such as you would have much experience with jazz. Especially in L.A. I would have thought you'd be more familiar with Pop and Rock music."

  You would have thought wrong. So suck it! "I certainly love Pop and Rock. I tend to like a little of everything. I admit that I didn't like jazz for the longest time. But now I have a real appreciation for it. I wouldn’t listen to it in my car or anything, but when I hear masters of their trade playing on stage, I will settle in and listen for as long as they’ll let me.”

  “What changed your mind?” she fired back. And while she was probably trying to trap me somehow, everyone else was interested.

  “Well, actually, it was one night when I followed a few of my friends into a place called ‘Close Up 2’ in Chicago. I was the only one that didn’t want to go, and so I was ignored. It was kind of small, crowded, loud and a tiny bit dingy, and I was slightly bitter as we sat in a booth, but when the music started up…” I smiled with the memory.

  “What?” Trudy asked, leaning in.

  “Oh my God, it was out of this world! Four guys walked on stage, laughing and joking, sat aroun
d for a minute discussing what they wanted to play, and then just kind of…played. They were just playing off the cuff. I think they were playing for themselves more than the audience, but it was out of this world. Truly the best experience! Ever since that night I’ve sought out great jazz. You don’t find it often, but when you do, it is worth all the hassle of the hunt.”

  Trudy was nodding with me. I had a feeling she would start a hunt of her own. For a woman that liked to experience all the good things in life, she surprisingly hadn’t. She probably didn’t have friends like mine that pushed and tricked her into things. Her loss! Except, now she had me. I’d fix her right up.

  “And what do you think of this jazz?” Denise continued, a bite to her voice.

  William put his hand on my leg, sweat-free. I figured that was a good sign. Hopefully he was finally noticing the scrutiny I had been getting all night.

  “Um,” I winced. Trudy laughed at me. “It…ah, it’s…”

  “Not an establishment that would employ those which you’ve previously described?” Tom, my savior, helped.

  I laughed in relief. “Exactly, Tom. Hit the nail on the head. First of all, your jazz players, the guys on the stage now, all have very nice uniforms. Orderly uniforms. They are all reading sheet music pretty feverishly. They probably are excellent at their instruments, but not so much at playing together, and going one more step, not so much at playing jazz. They don’t show the passion. That is what I always notice most in hard core jazz and blues joints—the musicians feel the music. They create it as they live it—I don’t know. I can’t describe it. I know it when I see it—not even so much when I hear it. But when you see the magic happen, it is really neat.”

  Denise nodded curtly once and studied me for a second. It wasn’t the normal stare I’d gotten all night, it was an appraising look, but it freaked me out none-the-less. I just kept waiting for the anvil to drop.

  "How about country as a music choice?" she asked next.

  "I still haven't locked down an opinion on Country. There are some good songs, and I have heard some fun songs, but I wouldn't go to a concert I don't think. Not yet. Maybe I just haven't heard enough."

  "Classical?"

  Why was she so interested in my musical tastes? "I like classical. Love it, actually. Probably stems from ballet when I was a kid, but I really like it. I actually need to find a symphony hall around here. Before you ask, for some reason I don't love Opera. I just never got into it. I respect it and the artists, but I haven't been able to sink my teeth in."

  "Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "It might be like jazz—you just haven't been subjected to the best, so you don't realize you love it quite yet."

  Suddenly the clouds parted—she sounded human; like she was talking to an equal instead of her son's date from the other side of the tracks. It didn't last long, however. She must have remembered who she was talking to, gave her son a glance, and turned away to talk to Tom.

  I just sighed. What else could I do?

  When the champagne arrived William jovially raised his glass and toasted to friends. We all saluted and took a sip. As soon as the beige liquid touched my lips I was in love. It blossomed on my tongue and cheered as it slid down my throat.

  Which would only end in drunkenness, followed by telling Denise to shove it.

  I gingerly put my glass down without taking a second sip.

  “Not good?” Denise asked harshly.

  I would stay upbeat if it killed me! “Too good! Champagne is dangerous.”

  Trudy laughed and swatted the table. “Right she is! Right she is! But hard to resist.”

  William’s hand squeezed my thigh. I put my hand over his, turning to compliment him on the choice. The words died on my lips. Those eyes, pulling me in, offset by his jet black hair and striking face; I felt my skin flush and the room get hot. I forgot my surroundings. I could only focus on his remarkable features and the heat his hand applied to my leg. He winked and turned to regard his dad, who must have asked a question.

  I looked around, startled, remembering my surroundings. I took a big, steadying breath as I met Trudy’s eyes. She was smiling at me wickedly. Tom was asking William about business, but I noticed he tried to slyly glimpse my face, too. Even Dennis had a mischievous look to his eyes as he looked back and forth between William and me.

  Before I could meet the cobra’s scowl, I politely excused myself for the restroom, hoping Denise didn’t follow. I didn’t want that moment ruined by the thunderclouds of his mother.

  I wandered to the upper level and found the restrooms right away. In movies this would be where I splashed my face with cold water. In movies, though, a make-up person would repair the damage. I settled for a wet cloth on the back of my neck.

  The music started up again as I made my way back. The musicians were noticeably better. The music choice wasn’t. If I wasn’t mistaken, they were playing a Michael Buble song. And while I did actually like his songs, I had a hard time believing that the song fit in a swanky jazz club. Although, this was the first I had experienced a swanky jazz club, so what did I know?

  As I crouched to sit, all the men stood up. I froze. Mutiny?

  William pulled my chair out for me. Oh.

  “My generation isn’t as used to gentlemen,” I explained with a sheepish smile.

  Tom chuckled. “Especially not in L.A. I imagine. Texans are still brought up right.”

  He was dead wrong in some respects, but I didn’t say anything. Unfortunately, my face was about as deceptive as a fat man hiding behind a sapling.

  “You don’t agree?” he asked with a smile.

  “Sorry, sir. But not in the slightest. Don’t get me wrong—William and his circle of friends are stand up gentlemen. I have never been treated more like a lady than when with them. But...as far as Texas goes, or at least Austin...well, let’s just say that William is not the norm.”

  “There certainly aren’t as many ladies in California, either,” Denise said in a cutting tone.

  Instead of wilting, I could feel my spine straighten. I was getting tired of this bullshit. She was getting down-right nasty now. I half wanted to say something to defend myself, but noticed that every member of the party was looking at her negatively. Tom looked cross, Trudy disapproving and Dennis was slightly shaking his head.

  William abruptly stood up, his hand bringing me with him gently. He was fuming.

  “Would you care to dance, Jess?” he asked through a tight jaw.

  “Of course,” I said softly, allowing him to lead me.

  When he stopped on the dance floor, he brought me around to stand in front of him, then paused, eyes closed. His nostrils flared with the deep breaths he was taking. When his eyes opened, they were apologetic. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He shook his head slightly, about to say something else, but hesitated. He gently hugged me close and picked up the beat, leading me around the dance floor as if we had been born to it. He was a strong leader even for the inexperienced, but with me, I could add flourishes and enrich the dance and make a sensation out of our movements.

  He swirled me, he dipped me, and led me through what must've looked like complicated steps. I knew his movements and body so well, and was so fond of looking into his liquid eyes, that I lost myself to the rhythm and our combined efforts. It was a sweet dream. Or a welcomed spell.

  That deep place inside me opened up and begged to be noticed. It was like a homely woman baking cookies deep in my chest The warmth and tenderness radiated through me, unfurling like tendrils of smoke until it filled up each corner of my being.

  Instead of shrinking from it in fear, this time I let it overwhelm me, relishing in it.

  As I slid my hand up his shoulder and lightly caressed the back of his neck, he came out of his musical induced trance and regarded the difference. In another beat he recognized it. A languid smile curled his lips as his face filled with such compassionate devotion it choked me up. His expr
ession seemed to say: I waited for you. I knew you would come.

  It was like I stumbled into a tea party set for two. A tea party he had been waiting patiently at, daring me to find the path myself. Now that I made it, I wondered why it took me so long to get here.

  I opened my mouth to tell him how I felt, when he smiled bigger and slowly shook his head. Later.

  He threw me into a spin. A Frank Sinatra song came on. We changed our pace to match it and William started taking me through some intricate dance steps. Not only did I keep up with everything he threw at me, but I was still able to add the detail that men always forgot in their broad strokes. We made a great team and the entire dance floor knew it. Most couples cleared to the sides to allow us more room to maneuver. And maneuver we did. I was smiling like a fool. He was smug.

  At the end of the song he dipped me slowly, leaning dangerously close. I wanted him to kiss me intensely. I was lost in his arms, my desperation to stay like this playing on my tear ducts. As he brought me up he stayed within inches of my face and smiled sweetly.

  “Down girl,” he whispered. He looked at me a second longer, his soft eyes betraying what his mouth hadn’t.

  I felt like I was going crazy. This wanting. The needing. The emotions I was feeling were spiraling out of control, but I wasn’t afraid. For the first time, I wasn’t uneasy. And I wasn’t horny, exactly, either. It was something else. Something I didn’t quite understand and couldn’t interpret, but that I wanted to explore all the same. It was uncharted territory, and it excited me.

  I was snapped out of my reverie with Denise saying, “He’s my son Tom. I have to protect my family.”

  “Denise, he isn’t a boy. He isn’t your baby anymore. Let him decide for himself.”

  “He’s all I have left!” she said tearfully.

  “Denise, you are being selfish. You are going to force him to choose, and judging by what I’ve seen, I am not so sure it will be you. Let the boy live. She is a good girl. Better than you have picked for him. Let him live, honey.”

  William asked me if I wanted to sit down, a little more loudly than needed. It occurred to me he was eavesdropping as well. Denise tried to look busy and was quickly bustled away by Trudy.