by L. B. Dunbar
“I’ll be able to provide you with anything you want. Anything you desire,” he stated.
It was true. He could. However, I wanted to be able to provide for myself. He’d already gotten me this gig, in the first place, by his connection with Allora and Lace. He’d slept with them both in the distant past. A fact I didn’t need to forgive, but had trouble forgetting at times. Working with them had become very important to me, though. Lace had offered me kindness I’d never known when I moved into her home for a short time. Allora coached me in her role within the group. Trinity, who was difficult to like at best, actually warmed up to me regardless of Arturo, and Enid remained accepting of my offer of friendship. It wasn’t just a job, it was my passion, and these women were my friends.
Arturo wanted me to go on tour with him. In fact, he insisted on it. I didn’t necessarily want to be left behind while Arturo toured the world, but I didn’t necessarily want to traipse all over the world, feeling like I was following him. While The Nights were on their quest for musical dominance, I didn’t want to feel like a groupie.
“You’re not a groupie. You’re going to be my wife. I don’t want to be separated from you again,” he argued.
His argument was convincing, but like most women of men who wanted to rule the world, I was going to be left behind even if I went with him. I sensed it. The other girls did too. They all had children or a child on the way. I was going to be in charge of Morte. It wasn’t fair for us to be lugged around like baggage, and so collectively we decided to remain behind. It was only going to be three months. Three long months. It would give me time to think, but in the meantime, we had a performance to practice for.
“So much for your secret,” Trinity said, holding out her phone to me on another day.
The article was infuriating for more reasons than one. I had no idea that Arturo had been contacted to comment on our status. His social media profile was listed as “it’s complicated,” which he claimed was a joke. It was true, though. It was complex, at the moment. The second engagement was fast. We were moving at the same pace we had before the last tour. I sensed I should be taking the reporter’s concern seriously. I did not want a repeat of last year, and our circumstances seemed forebodingly similar, despite one fact. I was not pregnant.
Arturo wanted to rectify that. He thought the tour would be the perfect time to work on making a family. I disagreed. I’d already given reasons why I shouldn’t go on the tour. Additionally, there was another problem with Arturo’s plan. Allora and Canyon. It was the reason I was here, despite being sidetracked by the article. Allora didn’t necessarily want to be separated from her new love, any more than I wanted to be away from Arturo. As Canyon would be going on the road with The Nights, it seemed fair that she would want to go, too.
Lace was the calm voice of reason. She suggested we just work out a schedule. Trinity, however, wasn’t pleased. She complained that we were putting the 4Gs into an inconvenient position. The group was on hold while the lovebirds flew the coop, she accused. I agreed it wasn’t fair. I was the replacement for Allora, but I had enjoyed my time with the girls more than I ever expected. I didn’t really want to give it up. Trinity accused Allora and me of not taking the group seriously, but I disagreed. My seat had been my career, as I had not made the Boston Philharmonic Symphony. I could have tried out again. I could have applied for another seat in another symphony, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to make something of our small group.
We’d gathered in Emerald Isle to discuss our options. It was like a nunnery, filled with all women. The addition of a few babies was the hint that this was no collection of celibate women, though. It was practically a celebration of birth, as babies were passed and showered with kisses. Fleur was an excellent mother hen at five years old. She hovered over Linc and Lyric like they belonged to her. Allora’s daughter, Zuzu, stumbled across the floor with her Frankenstein-style walk as she was still learning to use those little legs.
I hadn’t been surrounded with so many women before. I’d grown up in society, but I had a role. On my father’s arm, I was to stay and entertain. I didn’t have many friends, other than Layne Ascolat when I was a teenager. Occasionally, I spent time with Elaine Corbin, but it was more so when our families were joined in some social activity. Ireland had been the same way until recently. The Nights had changed everything. Arturo had changed everything for me.
The Emerald Isle was like a queendom of women. I, however, was not the matriarch here. It was clear that Allora was in charge, with Trinity pushing to be her second. We had our own prince of protection, though. Poor Morte was stuck with us. As a nine-year-old boy, he was good-natured about this situation. He had no friends that I knew of, and was content to be alone, although he seemed sad to me. It was here at the Isle that I had my first glimpse of Arturo in Morte.
Fleur was crying as she approached Lila and tucked into her hip.
“What’s wrong?” Lila tried to pry Fleur back, but Fleur only continued to shake her head.
“Fleur, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong?” Lila pleaded as she bent down to face the child.
“Morte asked me to marry him,” she sobbed. Between gasps and giggles, we tried to remain calm, myself especially. Fleur was only five, and I’d noticed Morte staring at her on more than one occasion.
“What did you say?” Lila asked, biting her lip and trying not to laugh.
“I told him no thank you. Not today.”
Giggles began again. It couldn’t be helped at the innocence of her response.
“What did Morte say?” Lila questioned, a touch of concern on her face. My eyes began to roam the room for Morte. I didn’t see him.
“He said, another day then…and then…” Fleur leaned forward to bury her face in Lila’s shoulder. Rubbing her back methodically, Lila tried to soothe the child as she prodded her forward with the question, “And then, what?”
After a second, Lila’s smile grew. Her eyes closed and she let out a little huff of exasperation.
“What did he do?” I asked, fully concerned now that Morte had hurt Fleur in some way. Images of fire came to mind.
“He kissed her.” Lila bit her lip as she spoke, trying to hold in the laughter. While it was rather funny, my heart broke a little. It was sweet and romantic, but a reminder that Morte could be bold. It was also further evidence of rejection of Morte by women.
One thing I had not planned on with the addition of Morte in my home was the difficulty of having sex, when I wanted, where I wanted, with Guinie. A nine-year-old boy is everywhere, and curious about many things, including why I had her pressed against the wall like that, or why were we both in the bathroom together. It was frustrating, and my body was aching with the effects. I seemed to want Guinie all the time when I was in her presence, and most of the time when I wasn’t. I couldn’t seem to shake the need for her, as I feared the worst for our upcoming separation.
We were arguing often. I didn’t want to be away from her again. She didn’t appear completely onboard with following me on tour. I needed to make some concessions, but I didn’t know what or where to start. It seemed like we were constantly having the same discussion.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” she’d argued. “This is important to me.”
I believed the 4Gs were important to her. The girls had been a huge support to Guinevere while I was away, and I owed them for their generosity. I actually owed them for taking on Guinie when Allora wanted maternity leave. The timing was perfect. I could never have foreseen how Guinie joining the 4Gs would benefit me. She was taking it to a new level, though, with her commitment to stay behind and play with them.
“I have a career, too,” she stated. Her temper was rising. “You’re the one that encouraged me to join them. Are you second guessing that decision now?” she snipped.
I wasn’t. I just wanted her to stay with me.
“This might not seem as worldly as the almighty Nights, but it’s still important. To me.” Ang
er was clearly present in her voice as her hands slapped down on her thighs. She was pacing in front of me in our new place.
Despite the water damage repair, I decided to remain on the higher floor in the building. The fifty-fourth floor was more spacious and had a place for a much needed music room. Morte had talent on the piano, and I promised to purchase one so he could keep up with his practice. Guinevere needed the space, as well, for her cello. This place had room for an office, the music room, plus Morte’s bedroom, and a game room for him. The newer living room held no bar as the centerpiece like my old apartment, which was fine with me. I no longer wished for my home to be the center of the band’s entertainment. We had a master suite, which is where Guinie was forging a path in the rug, while I sat on the edge of the large bed. I wanted sex, not a conversation, but I soldiered on.
“I’m not saying it isn’t important. And I’m not second-guessing my decision. I had to think fast to keep you in New York.”
Her pacing stopped.
“What?”
“You were so disappointed about not getting into the Boston Orchestra, I worried you would run away to another state to try again. I had to find a place for you to keep you near.”
She stared at me. Blue eyes blinked.
“We weren’t even officially together then. You offered me the interview before anything really happened.”
I stood from the bed and approached her slowly. Her eyes followed my movement. My left hand cupped her cheek.
“Guinie, from the first moment I saw you across The Round Table, I knew I had to have you. When we took that walk in Central Park, I knew I wanted more. You understood me, and I didn’t want to lose you. I still don’t. The 4Gs were one of many ways to keep you close to me.”
“But now?” she sighed.
“Now, it seems the 4Gs will keep us apart,” I said, my tone lowering with the reality.
“It isn’t the 4Gs,” she stated, and I knew she was right. The Nights were the ones in the lead. We were the ones leaving, separating Guinie and me. It was affirmation again, that this had to be our last tour for a while, possibly ever. I wanted more stability. I wanted to stay home. I could do more good from here.
“This will be the last one, I promise,” I said, drawing close to her lips.
“You don’t have to promise me these things, Arturo. I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m just asking you to understand I have dreams, too.”
I pulled back; startled that she thought I didn’t value her goals.
“What do you want, Guinie? What is your dream?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “A record deal, too, maybe” she laughed. My thumb had been stroking the smooth skin of her face and my hand stilled.
“Is that what you’d like? A deal of your own, for the girls?”
“I…I don’t know. I just sort of said that.” Blue eyes blinked at me again as if she startled herself with her request. A spark of excitement leapt within them.
“Done,” I said and leaned in to kiss her. Her hands came to my chest instantly and pushed me back.
“What do you mean ‘done’?” Her expression questioned my intention.
“I mean, if you come with me, the 4Gs can have a record deal.”
Heavy silence filled the air. Her eyes narrowed.
“Are you bribing me to go with you?” Her voice sounded stunned.
“No. I’ve been asking you to go with me. I’m offering you a record deal.”
“What if I don’t go with you?”
“You can still have the deal.” The words tumbled out. I didn’t even have to think twice. It would prove to her I took her desires seriously and could potentially promote her dreams. This was the vision of Camelot Records, anyway. Our mission was to elevate talent to new heights. We wanted to push the envelope, and a female string quartet that rocked it would be a good step in our climb to the top. It was an excellent first project for me, and it gave Guinie what she wanted.
“Are you serious?” she inquired, the excitement in her voice rising. It was proof that she wanted this, whether she was in jest at the request originally or not.
“Yes,” I replied, then captured her lips. I didn’t want to argue anymore. That kiss was my wax seal on the deal. Her lips parted instantly and her tongue thrust into my mouth without hesitation. It stroked mine, played me, and the taste of her was my signature on the contract. This woman could have whatever she wanted of me. My kingdom, for this woman.
Madison Square Garden was the place to be for a band of our magnitude. It was the perfect place to kick off our grand tour: The Future Tour. Canyon Blaze was introduced through the media channels, care of Kaye Sirs’ questionable marketing, and The Nights were up for the challenge that the tour was offering. We had practiced hard for weeks to perfect the sound without me in the lead. It was my voice that ruled, I was told over and over again. The disappointment in not playing the guitar had to go. I’d practiced myself with the use of the 3D apparatus, but I hadn’t perfected it enough to go on such a big scale. The Future Tour was going to be a test of our wills, and our skills, with our temporary member of The Nights.
Foreboding feelings prickled my skin all through the day. I’d been in that position before. A concert. An accident. A separation. I’d struggled to find my way home. I worried that leaving Guinevere behind was going to reopen a gap between us. I desperately wanted her to go with me. I didn’t want to hint that I didn’t trust leaving her behind. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her; it was that I didn’t trust fate. I had a sinking sensation that something was going to happen.
Before the last concert, Guinevere had seduced me. I remembered every detail, every touch, as she stood before me like a bride and tempted me with her body. Little did I know inside of her had been my child. I’d lost them both that night. I didn’t like the thought that making love to her in the afternoon, prior to the show, would be like saying goodbye to her. We’d said goodbye too many times before.
Regardless, I knew that I would not pass up my chance to be inside her one more time. When the concert was over, we were flying to LA the next morning. There would be an afterparty, and we’d be high on the adrenaline and drink too, carrying us to the early morning flight. For the first couple stops, Ireland and Lila were accompanying us. Hollister couldn’t do it with such newborn babes, plus there being two of them. Guinevere had obligations, she argued. She was letting Allora go in her place. We wouldn’t see each other for almost a month, until she came to Paris to meet me.
I wanted our time to be special. I’d purposely sent Morte to Ingrid’s for the day. She’d renewed her interest in her grandchild, as Morte had been lingering in the background while I recovered. She wanted to make the effort that she felt she’d lost when I was a child. She hadn’t been my mother when I was young. Her guilt forced her to want to mother Morte.
I heard the door to our place open and close. Despite the large space, only silence had filled it while I waited for Guinevere’s return from her morning practice with the 4Gs. We’d made a promise to spend the day together before the craziness of the night. I’d done what I thought every woman dreamed of finding: rose petal path on the floor lead to our bedroom door. Inside she found a glass of champagne. A note told her to undress and meet me in the bathroom.
I was actually in the office, holding my breath as I waited for her to follow my instructions. The oversized tub was filled with scented bubbles and covered with floating rose petals, too. I wanted her to have a moment to relax while my own heart raced in my chest. I lasted only three minutes before I made my way to her, striping my clothes as I went. She was a siren calling to me; knowing she was surrounded in water only increased that call.
I opened the door to find her submerged in the warmth of the tub. Her eyes were closed but opened instantly.
“Arturo, this is so…”
“Shhh,” I cut her off. I didn’t want to talk. I was on the hunt. She was my prize.
She stared at me, eyes filled with con
fusion and arousal. I was already firm and ready for her. Stepping into the tub, my feet went between her ankles. I knelt between her legs. My hand made quick work to rub up her thigh, a finger slipping into the heart of her. She gasped, despite my approach. Her head fell back at the feel of me inside her.
“Arturo…” she began again, but I instantly shushed her. I didn’t want words. The only sound I wanted to hear was the gentle lapping of water as she squirmed under my intrusion of her. The moans of her pleasure would be the lyrics to fill my thoughts. The feel of her coming undone would be the music in my heart; a song I’d hold there until I could touch her again.
She was close. I felt the walls of her contract. I rushed for her entrance, bracing my hand on the tub behind her as I slipped inside. She screamed my name as she instantly clenched around me and released. When I felt her calm, I slipped my right arm around her waist. Not breaking the connection, I spun us like practiced water creatures, and she opened her thighs to straddle me. This is what I needed. I wanted her to ride the waves with me. I feared the future drowning, but for once, one last moment, I hoped to encompass the thrill of her over me.
She was slow at first, methodical, as she rolled over me. The tidal wave inside me built. Half the pleasure was the anticipation. It crawled up from my toes. The water in the tub rocked with the increase of her rhythm over me. Her hands balanced her as she pressed against my chest. Her eyes closed, her head back, I leaned forward to take a breast with my mouth. I wanted us connected in as many ways as possible. My tongue swirled around the erect nipple. Her rhythm increased over me. She purred as the sound of slapping water on ceramic tub filled the small space. Her channel constricted, tightening its hold on me. My legs stiffened and my release shot through her. One handed I gripped her hip, holding her down on me while I pulsed deep inside of her. My intention was to seed. I didn’t want one drop to miss. She cried out again as she clenched around me, milking the final throb inside her. Exhausted she fell forward to kiss my chest.