Tulsa

by S. L. Scott

  Standing back up, I say, “You be the patient, and while I go clean up, get undressed and wait for me on the bed.”

  There’s a spring in her step as she moves to the side of the king-size bed. “All right. Hurry, though.”

  “I will.” I go into the bathroom and start the shower. Will we ever get a fucking break? God, I hate that this has happened before, but there’s no way I’m touching her with the jail cell smell covering me. Piling my clothes on the floor, I duck under the water and clean up as fast as I can. She’s probably swearing up a storm about me keeping her waiting, but she’ll appreciate the clean me getting sexually dirty with her right after. Anyway, she had a chance to shower while I was doing time in the hole . . . damn, I want to be in her hole. I also want to smell good for her.

  After I step out, I scrub the towel over my hair and then wrap it around my waist. I brush my teeth and then return to the bedroom. Nikki’s eyes flutter open, and she stretches under the sheet that covers her. “Much longer and I would’ve fallen asleep.”

  “You should sleep. Less than six hours to go.”

  “Less than five for Faris Wheel.”

  Sitting down next to her on the mattress, I run the back of my hand down her arm. “You should rest, baby.”

  “I don’t want to rest. I want to be with you. I-I need you, Dr. Crow.”

  It’s like my dick is on call for her every need. “Let me give you a checkup.” I pull the sheet down, exposing her chest. Her nipples harden when exposed to the slight chill of the room, her areolas tightening as goosebumps cover the skin of her breasts.

  Leaning over her, I kiss both taut, pink tips, and then each side of her ribs, after careful inspection. The bruising down her left side tells me where to be gentler, but I need to know she’s okay and not just putting on a front when she’s really in pain. “You’re being such a good patient,” I say while examining her hips and pelvis, her stomach and lower.

  When I kiss her scar, she asks, “You’re not playing doctor, are you?”

  I peek up. “Sure I am.”

  “That’s why you switched the role play.” She lies there and spreads her arms and legs apart. “If you must know, I am in pain, but it’s manageable. I’m not going to lie and tell you it won’t be hard to perform tonight.”

  “You were hit by a car.” I sit back and listen, watching for any lie in her eyes. I care about her and her well-being more than sex and more than a show. If she doesn’t take care of herself, I’ll make sure she’s safe and healthy.

  “I was tapped by a car.”

  “Knocked to the ground.”

  “The reality is, it won’t be the same show. Doesn’t mean it will be worse. I just won’t be able to move around like I usually do. But I can sing, and I can play guitar. I’m also not asking for your permission. You’re my husband, not my boss.” She smiles while batting her eyelids. “Though if you have that fantasy, I can be your naughty secretary.”

  “It’s like your sexual floodgates have been opened. Was it the accident?”

  Sitting up, she kicks the sheet down until her full body is free from the entanglement. She takes my hands and pulls me forward until I’m balancing over her. She tugs the towel from my body, and I position my cock between her legs.

  She holds my shoulders and moves, urging me forward. Once I’m buried in her warmth, my eyes briefly close. Heaven.

  Looking me in the eyes, she runs her hands back through my hair, sliding forward until she’s holding my face between them. “It wasn’t the accident.” Her breath shallows as we move together. “It was the vows.”

  “I owe you one helluva honeymoon to pay you back for this.”

  “There’s nothing to pay back. Being with you is a dream come true.”

  I smile. “You dreamed about me?” I’m giving her a hard time as well as other hard parts of me.

  “If by dreaming, you mean using my vibrator, then yes. I dreamed about you all the time.”

  “Fuck, that’s hot.” Moving faster, I’m careful to keep the bulk of my weight off her as our bodies thrust together. “Turn over.”

  Mischief is in her eyes when they connect with mine as she takes her sweet time. I admire the delicate curve of her waist and the soft landscape of her back. Running my hand along her spine, I take a moment to slow things down. I’m about to fuck her, so I kiss her twice to show her how much I love her. I take her by the hips when I’m where I want to be, avoiding any bruises. I start slowly when all I want to do is go fast.

  “You’re so ready, so wet, baby.”

  “For you . . .” Her words trail off as I thrust harder into her sweet haven.

  Her moans mean she’s close, but I push her closer to the edge by reaching around and fingering her clit. Her breasts bounce against the sheet, and her hair closes me off from seeing her face. I gather her hair in one hand and shift her head to the side so I can see her. Eyes closed. Mouth open. I can hear her breath escape each time I thrust into her.

  When her head drops down, and her back arches, her body squeezes around my cock, causing me to fall with her. Darkness fades and the light of day invades. I open my eyes but continue to hold her. My arms wrapped around her small waist, my body embracing hers.

  For the past eight years, the only people I’ve ever turned to were my brothers. And for Nikki, it was her parents and Laird. But today, there was no question in her mind who she turned to when she was scared. Me. And that solidified something for me—we’re a family now.

  I will always have my brothers, and she will always have hers too. But we have created our own family, and fuck if that doesn’t amaze me completely. I’ve never shouldered responsibilities like Jet, or carried a deep anvil of pain like Rivers, but I have felt purposeless at times, as if I didn’t have a real role. So, I simply enjoyed everything life threw at me. Jet and Rivers gave me that.

  That’s not what I want now. Not anymore. This beautiful and courageous woman in my arms gave me a purpose. She’s my purpose. My life. My responsibility. And I will honor that, and more, in the many years to come. God, I’m so fucking lucky.

  Pulling back, I move to the side and lie still as she gets comfortable. She finds her way into my arms, and I kiss her head. “Speaking as a doctor, you’re in great condition.”

  She giggles. “And speaking as my husband?”

  “You’re perfect.”

  39

  Nikki

  “I think you should wear . . .” My dad rubs his temple. “More.”

  “I’ve worn a lot less for years, and now you feel the need to say something?” Moving next to my mom, I lift the side of my dress and look in the mirror at the bruising.

  Laird complains, “See what I have to put up with. You should see the fans trying to look up her skirt when we’re on stage. Men and women.”

  “It’s all a fantasy,” I say. “For show.”

  My mom laughs as she rubs arnica onto my hip. “She’s got a point. She walks around in a bikini back home.”

  My dad turns his back to us. “Don’t remind me. I punched Rod Whitman in the face for what he said when she was fifteen.”

  “You did?” I asked, surprised by the revelation. “Is that why he stopped coming over?”

  Mumbling under his breath, he spits out, “Fucker.”

  Yep, he and Tulsa are a lot alike. I go to him and hug him from behind. I may be grown, but I’m still his little girl. His hands cover mine. “I can’t believe you got married.” He spins around to face me, and I think I see a little wetness in his eyes.

  “Are you mad?”

  Pondering the question, he glances at my mom. “I would have never made it through a ceremony without crying, and then where would that have left my pride?”

  “True.” I agree to make it easier for him.

  My mom says, “I’ve been thinking that we can have a reception when you’re home.”

  Home. Tulsa.

  She asks, “What do you think, Nikki?”

  “I’ll talk to Tulsa.
I’m sure he’d like that.” I hug her because I’m feeling emotional just seeing my parents. “I’d like that.” Resting my head on her shoulder, I add, “Thank you for being here. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says in that comforting tone that made my boo-boos feel better and any sadness go away when I was younger. I regret I never went to my parents regarding Andrés. Maybe things would have turned out differently. I’m lucky it didn’t turn out worse.

  Shane walks into the dressing room with Johnny, and Laird pops to his feet like he just got caught slacking on the job. Johnny comes over to me and leans against the dressing table, his back to the mirror. His arms are crossed like his ankles.

  It doesn’t matter how casual he acts, he’s still intimidating. He asks, “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. I really am. I’ll be modifying some of my moves, but I can perform. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’m not worried. But your health and well-being come first. I’m not going to stop you from going out on that stage. You sounded great at sound check. Just make sure you don’t push yourself too hard. We still have seven shows to go.”

  Even though I’m not in school anymore, I’m tempted to say I’ll do my best. But I don’t have to. He knows I will, which is why we’re on this tour and we’re making an album with Outlaw Records.

  We fist bump before he goes around to Shane and Laird and does the same. “Break a leg and kick some ass.”

  When the door is opened wide, I hear The Crow Brothers doing their sound check. “C’mon, Mom. Dad. Let’s go watch. I want you to see how—”

  “Incredible they are,” my dad finishes my sentence.

  So maybe I’ve bragged a little . . . or a lot, about my husband and his band, my new family, but they really are incredible. “Okay, fine. I’ll stop saying it and let you discover it for yourself.”

  I thrive onstage. I live for it. The rush of adrenaline. Feeding off the energy of the crowd. It’s a high that very few people will ever reach, but here I am, living my dream.

  My mom is dancing. My dad is singing our songs without missing a beat. Who knew Joe Faris was a super fan.

  Sitting more than usual has helped with the pain, but I’m already getting antsy to dance again. I cover the stage from left to right and back again before I set the mic on the stand. Tulsa told me we’re to continue keeping our secret a little longer, but it’s so tempting to share the news.

  I don’t, as promised, but I do give thanks for all the messages and well wishes, a big shout out to the nurses, and the bands on the tour. And to our fans, I say, “Without your support and enthusiasm, we wouldn’t be on this stage.”

  Sidling up to Jagger, I introduce my band, starting with our bassist and then point at Shane. “Shane Faris on drums.” Throwing the attention in my brother’s direction, I give him the props he deserves. “Laird Faris on guitar.” I set my guitar on the stand and walk to my brother to give him a hug. “Thank you.”

  With his guitar between us, he hugs me. “Love you, sis.” When he backs away, he jams, playing a solo as he leans into the mic. “Our lead singer, guitarist, and all-around badass, Nikki Faris.”

  Taking his hand, we take a bow, and then head off stage. I let the guys go first and then follow a little slower down the steps. Tulsa is standing there, offering me a hand. “Do you need help?”

  “Nothing a few ibuprofen can’t fix.”

  “You were awesome.”

  As the roadies scramble to change out our equipment for their show, I say, “My parents fly out early in the morning, but they want to know if they can throw us a reception after the tour.”

  We start walking toward the dressing room where I left my bag. “That’s nice of them. Do you think this is all coming too easily?”

  “Their acceptance? Maybe. But I think the threat of losing me has worked to our benefit. I’d rather not have been hit, but if it brings everyone together, that’s a good thing.”

  He closes the door behind me and doesn’t care that Shane or Laird can see us when he kisses me. Leaning his hand against the wall above my head, he says, “When Laird told me you were hit, all I could think about was getting to you. I’m sorry I didn’t get in there sooner.”

  “The nurse told me you tried, and the guard was watching you.” Lifting up on my toes, I kiss him this time. “You’re on in a few minutes.”

  “I’d rather stay here kissing you.”

  Shane says, “We’d rather you didn’t. Hit the stage, Crow.”

  Laird and Shane may be chuckling, but I prefer kissing him, so I do.

  Before he leaves, he says, “Tell your parents we’ll be there.”

  “I will.” I smack his ass on his way out.

  “Revenge is sweet like your fine ass. I can’t wait to spank th— Mr. Faris, good to see you.” Tulsa salutes my dad as he passes him. “Sir.”

  Tulsa hurries off, and my dad looks confused. “What’s gotten into him?”

  I think it’s what’s gotten into me. Him. I laugh to myself and grab my bag. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “My favorite band,” he replies proudly. “Will we see Tulsa later?”

  “Depends. Are you staying for their show or do you want to leave?”

  He scrunches his noses, whips out a rock on hand gesture, and says, “Let’s rock.”

  Laird hits him in the shoulder. “Only if you never do that again.”

  My mom pats his shoulder. “Yes, let’s not do that and leave it for the kids.”

  “Oh,” I start to say and tease some more, “that was supposed to be rock on?”

  “Man.” Following Laird out of the room, Dad says, “Tough crowd.”

  When my parents told Tulsa he was incredible onstage, I felt a sense of pride, not only for my husband, but that there seemed to be an acceptance I wasn’t sure was real before. Did my parents approve of the way I went about things? No. We talked about it, but in the end, they understood when Tulsa told them that he had felt the vows from the moment he met me and truly meant what he promised me.

  The sincerity in his eyes, the emotion in his voice—it wasn’t an act. He was sharing a part of his soul with them, the same soul I’ve fallen in love with.

  When we part ways at the airport, my parents hug Tulsa, welcoming him into our family as his family had welcomed me. I see him squeeze his eyes closed when my mom gives him a “mom hug,” holding him tightly, including a kiss on his forehead. It reminds me that for all his bravado, he hasn’t been hugged by a mom in eight years. And at that moment, I’m even more thankful for my parents and their unconditional love.

  Even though it was hard to say goodbye, it didn’t feel as heavy knowing I had Tulsa by my side for the rest of the journey. My brother and Shane have always been by my side, but I had to keep so much from them that I felt alone sometimes, even when surrounded by people.

  I’m not alone anymore.

  40

  Nikki

  Detroit

  Andrés was found outside the employee entrance of our hotel the night of our concert. The security team detained him physically, and since a restraining order was in place, he was arrested and taken into custody.

  I received the news as we finished our set. He was held for two outstanding warrants—one in California for possession of an illegal substance and one in Arizona for assault charges against a woman he apparently dated after me.

  Promises are sacred to Tulsa. It’s a code he lives by—keeping his word. It’s something I value in his character and have tried to live by myself.

  I never made a promise to Andrés. Only a threat to reveal what he did to me to get him to drop the charges against Tulsa and Laird. So, I owe him nothing except to follow through.

  The statement I gave to the lawyer Rochelle set me up with will be filed by the time we reach our next tour stop. It will corroborate the other woman’s claim that he’s a danger to society. He won’t get more than five years for what he did to us, but the drug charge will m
ake his sentence worse if he’s found guilty.

  Pittsburgh

  I didn’t last past Detroit.

  Not in terms of pain from my injuries, but my heart was aching. Someone who’d been so much a part of my life since forever didn’t know who I’d become—couldn’t celebrate with me—and that was no longer something I could handle. She deserved better. So, that’s how I found myself crying on the phone with her on a Thursday afternoon in a hotel in Pittsburgh.

  Even though I loved the idea of surprising her, I knew it would hurt her more if she knew others had been brought into the secret long before her. I couldn’t keep my marriage from Lauralee any longer. She was upset, as I’d expected, but thankfully, she understood my reasoning.

  “I want to be mad at you, Mrs. Crow, but I’m actually just so happy for you I can’t be angry.”

  “Oh, Lauralee, thank you.”

  “You’re a married woman now. Holy wow. That’s crazy. I can’t believe you eloped. That’s so romantic.”

  “It’s not how I ever saw myself getting married, but it feels right, it felt right.” Just like Tulsa. “For what it’s worth, you would have totally loved the bridesmaid dress I considered for you.” I laughed. “It had great ’80s puffy sleeves with shoulder pads for extra—”

  “Now that’s just plain horrible. Maybe I don’t forgive you after all,” she said, giggling. And we are okay.

  She let me off easy, forgiving me and making me promise not to keep any more secrets.

  Also, I’d either have to name my firstborn after her or she’d be told first when I got pregnant.

  I’ve always liked her name.

  She was happy with that, and the huge basket of chocolate chip cookies and coffee I sent her the next day.

  Her text in response was perfect: Okay. You’re forgiven. L xx.

  “From the top,” Tulsa says. His acoustic guitar sits on his lap as he gets ready.

  The first part is the easiest; I’ve played it so many times recently. He joins in at the chorus, harmonizing in notes and singing back up for me. I used to think he was all ego with a playboy chip on his shoulder. He’s not. He’s respectful and kind. His heart is made of gold, and his personality is my personal sunlight.