The Neighborhood Series (The Neighborhoood)

by Tarrah Anders

“We talk about everything before we make decisions. But we’ve been together for years, they know just as much as I do pertaining to all the business end, I don’t need to be involved in all of it.”

  “The band is named after you,” she points out.

  “Yup, because I was an arrogant prick when we first got started. Anyways, we’re not here to talk about that. Shall we get down to business?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure you really need me anymore,” she tells me with a shake of her head and a laugh under her tone.

  “No, I do. I want you to be involved in this as much as possible. In fact, my lawyer was talking to me about a BOD and I want you on it.” I declare.

  “A BOD?” she questions.

  “Board of Directors, I want to include town figures as well as talent. I’m in talks with a few other major industry folks. But I want to reserve a spot for you.” I say.

  “How about you just put me in the foundation on a line level position, I don’t need to be on a board,” she says.

  “Are you sure? I want you involved, Les. This was my father’s wishes and you have remained someone to him, when I didn’t. You are entitled to everything that I am as far as I’m concerned, probably more.”

  She looks at me with tears brimming her eyes for a moment before casting her glance sideways at the floor. She uses the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her nose and then offers me a half-smile.

  She convinces me to look for a board and we make a list of potentials.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  We continue talking and I fill her in with everything that the lawyers have told me, the topic of conversation turns to what life has been like for her with a badge. She talks about how my father and her would watch cop movies and how he inspired her. She filled me in on stuff about my father that I missed over the years, how he would talk about how proud of me he was and then about how it was when he started getting ill.

  A few hours later and a full stomach, we walk out the back entrance and I lead her to her car.

  “I’ll take whatever role in the foundation that you want to give me, thank you for offering me a board position, but I think that should be reserved for those in the industry. I’m glad we got to talk tonight. It was… nice,” she says fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, biting her lower lip and sifting her weight from one side to the other.

  “Are you nervous?” I ask her recalling some of her old habits.

  “What? Why? Why would I be nervous?” she asks quickly while stopping her fidgets.

  “Just observant, that’s all.” I say offering her a smile.

  “Well, thank you for dinner,” she steps toward me and places her hands on my forearms before leaning up and gently kissing my cheek as I lean down. She pulls back slightly, looks into my eyes and then moves in closer until our lips are touching.

  She hesitantly brushes her lips against mine giving me flutters in my stomach that I haven’t felt since high school. I don’t move or press her on for more.

  “We shouldn’t be doing any of this,” she mumbles pressing herself into me, tilting her head and kissing me deeper.

  “And why’s that?” I ask in between sweeps of her tongue lashing against my own as I tilt my head and lean down.

  “Because, I can’t let you hurt me again,” she says as if it’s nothing, but I pull back and hold her out, stopping her from pressing on.

  “Leslie, I promise you. I was an idiot then, now I’ve got some years of maturity and I promise you that you won’t fall by the wayside. I will put you as a priority, I just want that chance to prove to you that I’m the man that you should deserve.”

  “What if you’re not?” she asks.

  “But what if I am?” I counter.

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven

  Leslie’s car is trailing behind mine, following me to the house and I couldn’t be more excited. We had the night in the hotel, but this is a whole new level. She’s giving me a chance, giving us, a chance and I know damn well that I can’t fuck this up this time.

  She agreed to come to the house, to stay the night to discuss things further and while I’m a grown ass man, she and I are no strangers to one another, I’m giddy as a damn teenager with a perma-smile on my face that I should probably get under control before we get up the driveway to the house.

  I step out and wait for her then offer her my hand as we walk up the stairs to the wrap-a-round porch.

  “Are you nervous?” she asks quietly.

  “A little,” I admit.

  “Thank you.”

  I turn to her, “For what?”

  “For being honest,” she smiles, “I am too.”

  We enter the house and I can hear a guitar strumming from the speakers from below our feet.

  “You guys are using the studio?” Leslie asks with a smile.

  “Yeah, figured it was about time. Plus, since we’re working on new songs, we’ll need it to practice. I figure we might as well break it in, so when we have the foundation open, it doesn’t smell like fresh paint from being closed up for years. I want to covert the pool house into another studio. Or maybe the garage.”

  “I think you should probably keep the garage as a place to keep your tour bus and the other things.”

  “I don’t know if I have any need for a boat, I don’t even remember Dad using it as a kid, and if I keep the ATV’s, I can see that being a liability if some kid took it out for a spin.”

  “Look at you, thinking responsibly,” she pats my cheek playfully.

  “Someone has to officer,” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer to kiss her temple.

  “Can I watch you guys jam out?” she asks shyly.

  “Really?” I widen my eyes and ask.

  “I’ve never been to one of your shows, why not?” she shrugs her shoulders.

  After playing half an album, I’m sweaty and ready for some alone time. Leslie follows me up to the master bedroom, that I’ve made my own after my father’s death. Leslie looks around, and I do nothing to hide my clothing on the floor, my scattered papers on the corner desk, or anything else strewn around.

  “I don’t want to assume anything will happen tonight, but I wanted you to stay over because I don’t want to miss a minute without you since I’ve missed all these years.” I say.

  “Keep saying things like that and you will have no problem getting lucky,” she says placing her fingers through my belt loops and pulling me closer.

  Our bodies tangle together as we remove one another’s clothing. I lay her on my bed gently and hover over her, placing my weight on my hands.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you what I’m thinking right now,” I whisper to her.

  “Don’t tell me, Caleb. Show me.”

  I move down her body slowly, stopping every few inches to kiss her soft skin, watching the goosebumps rise from each one, until I reach the center of her body. I lightly push her legs apart and settle between them.

  Leslie takes a deep breath, readying herself for what’s coming next.

  I lash out my tongue against her, eliciting a small jolt from her body. With my index finger, I open her to me and I don’t waste a second without feasting on her. I feel her body tighten under my touch, hearing her panting and calling my name as I continue on my mission to make her melt under my touch. I can feel her pussy contracting and pulling at my two fingers penetrating her and I increase my speed until her back arches off the bed and she screams my name.

  After a moment of lapping up her delicious juices, I move up her body. With a wicked smile, I suck my fingers into my mouth one last time and sit up on my knees. I pull on my cock and watch her expression as she fixes on my hand and bites her lower lip.

  “I’m going to do what I can to not blow my load quickly, but if I do, please don’t hold it against me.”

  I grit my teeth as I sink all the way into her. I thrust slowly as her hips move up to meet me push for pull. It feels like forever that I’ve felt such bliss. I begin to lose
myself into her body as our bodies move together fluidly.

  This is what I’ve been missing all these years.

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight

  The Neighborhood Bar has advertised the first set of shows around town and our publicist has done well with press releases and a few interviews leading up to our new plans. When we arrive at the bar, Pete drives the SUV around to the back. We drive past a line that is looping around the corner and each chatter happily for a crowd. Thankfully, we hired out for security, and Noah had hired a few new people to make sure everyone was taken care of. Even though Noah didn’t want to, we’re charging a ten dollar cover with it split in two to be spread between the bar and toward the foundation.

  I walk up to the bar and ask Miles for a pitcher to bring to the back room where the band is hanging out.

  “You guys nervous?” Miles jokes.

  “Well, this is a different type of arena than were using to playing, so hell yes.”

  “There’s a lot of women in line,” Miles says with a smirk.

  “Yeah, we’ve accumulated a following over the years,” I smile, trying to not sound smug.

  “Your woman okay with that?” Miles asks.

  “I hope so, it’s not like anything happens with any of them, but it comes with the territory,” I reply.

  Leslie steps through the back hallway, out of uniform and wearing a pair of skin-tight black jeans with a flowing white tank top. She sees me and smiles at me as she comes to stand in front of me.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous,” she says leaning up to say in my ear.

  “Don’t worry, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m the one on stage, I could easily break my hip,” I smile.

  “Funny. What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “I needed to get us some drinks. Show starts in twenty though and I want you front and center.”

  I instructed Leslie to stand in front of me during the show, and every few minutes, I sing directly to her before looking out to the packed house. The bar is busy, the crowd isn’t letting up on filling their drinks and I can’t see an open space anywhere.

  We’re not playing our entire catalog tonight, we’re playing a minimized set and we’ll switch it around over time. That way those who plan to come to our shows over and over again, won’t get the same show.

  We’re finishing up the show, and the guys have begun the chords for our final song of the night, a ballad. I’m sitting on a stool in the center of the stage. All the lights are down and I’m in the spotlight. I lick my lips and smile at the crowd. I turn my hat backwards and then stand up quickly. I head to the side stage and whisper into the ear of Wyatt, one of the wait staff here at the bar who is doubling as a stage hand. He nods and smiles, and I return to the center of stage. I pull the microphone out and begin talking, to fill in time.

  “I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight. You see, I’m from this town, if you didn’t know that, well now you know. I have been away awhile, but I’m back. I left a lot here. Family, my heart and friends. So, we’re giving back in a way that I know now, music. Anyways, I hope you’ve have a good night, I know we have. This is our last song of the night and I’m going to single out someone special in the audience. My heart.”

  I turn and Wyatt all but pushes Leslie out on stage. I meet her halfway, the crowd cheers and she looks like she’s going to kill me. I lead her by hand to the stool in the center of the stage and lean into her.

  “I’ve never pulled anyone up on stage before, this song, was written for you.” I lightly kiss her cheek and pull back watching her blush as I begin the start of the song.

  I’ve never wanted anything more, more than you.

  You’ve always been on my mind, yes, it’s true.

  I’ve never felt the way that I do, than when I’m with you.

  You are my dream come true.

  Hold me near and never let go.

  Take my hand and I’ll give you the control.

  I take a deep breath and smile at Leslie as the final chords play. The crowd cheers and Leslie is no longer embarrassed, but misty eyed. I smile, put my hand on her shoulder and turn to the crowd.

  “Thank you all for coming out to The Neighborhood Bar! It’s been a pleasure playing for you folks. We hope that you guys had a good time. Make sure to tip the bartenders and we’ll see you guys next time,” I say waving to the crowd and then the lights go down on the stage casting Leslie and I into darkness while I pull her to the side and out of sight of the crowd. I wrap my arms around her and gently kiss her.

  “I’ve never heard that song before,” she says pulling back.

  “It’s one of our new songs, inspired by real life,” I wink at her. “Listen, we’re going to do a quick meet and greet, then we can get out of here. Or you can meet me at the house, if you don’t want to stick around?”

  “No, I’ll hang around,” she smiles.

  I kiss her on the forehead, squeeze her shoulders and then head back out on stage with the guys. We walk back out onto the stage and I grab the microphone.

  “Ladies and gents. There were people chosen by random selection at the door, those people with that wristband, please get in line to the left of the stage.”

  Murmurs erupt around the bar and I watch as people do as requested with excitement. There is about twenty men and women in the line by the time we start.

  I notice that Leslie is perched on a barstool at the end of the bar, her profile is to the line until Miles comes up to her at the bar and they begin talking.

  The fans are ecstatic to be able to meet the band. We take photos and sign various objects. Women have pulled their tops down for each of us to sign their bras, one woman asked us to sign her chest and declares that she will be memorializing the signatures in tattoos right away. While that’s sweet, I shake my head and think of how that would look to her future spouse or when she’s eighty years old. Chuckling to myself, imagining wrinkly skin with our signatures, I notice the chatter in the remainder of the line. There’s under ten more people left and they’re all women.

  Smile. Photo. Sign. Handshake. Side hug. And repeat.

  I look up and see the tenseness in Leslie’s back and hope that she’s not annoyed with how long I’m taking. As the next woman comes up on stage, she’s a ball full of nervous energy. She offers out a poster for us to sign and one by one we do so. The woman hands her phone to Wyatt for the photo and we all gather round her. She smiles wide as she takes a photo with us, then turns to shake our hands. When she comes to me, I smile and hold out my hand.

  “Can I get a hug?” she asks meekly.

  I nod and open my arms. It happens in slow-motion; her right hand reaches out and cups my junk, then squeezes as I begin to bend over for the strength of her fingers clutching me, she leans in and at the perfect height plants a kiss, her tongue wiggling its way into my open mouth. She’s like a fucking toddler, clutching onto my jewels and invading my personal space with her saliva all over my lips.

  I manage to push her away by the shoulders just as Pete and Will pull her back off of me. I cup my junk and wipe off the wetness from her. The remainder of the ladies in the line have wide eyes and their hands over their mouths, while looking back and forth between the accoster and me. I look past them, looking for Leslie, but she’s nowhere in sight. I look up at the front door and see the front door closing.

  My eyes revert back to where she was sitting, hoping that she just didn’t witness that epic blunder, but internally, I know that she did.

  Fuck! That’s not the experience of my life that I wanted her to see. I wanted her to see how much the fans love us, how fun it is to be in the spotlight, and how normal my job can be.

  Fuck! I didn’t want her to see how some of the groupies can be.

  Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine

  I had Wyatt close the line after that spectacle. With upset women in line, we made sure they got a free drink, but I was done for the night. I needed to chase after my gi
rl. I needed that as my top priority to show her I meant it.

  I left the guys to pack everything up and jumped in my car.

  I drove ten over the speed limit to Lincoln, to make sure that I didn’t leave too much time between when she got home and when I would get there. I needed to talk to her, to ease her mind and hope that because of one groupie, she doesn’t decide that she can’t take being with me.

  I arrive at her house and park my truck besides hers. I bolt up the steps of her porch and pound on her door.

  I see her shadow behind the orange glass on her front door and watch her hesitate to answer, but a moment later the door creaks open and I see a tear stained face.

  She steps out, crosses her arms and does nothing to hide the fact that she’s upset.

  I don’t say a word but pull her to me. It takes a minute for her body language to ease and for her to unfold her arms and wrap them around me.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” she says against my chest.

  “Tonight is not how it usually is,” I say, hoping that will ease her mind.

  “What, is it worse? I’ve heard horror stories of groupies and how things get out of hand backstage, and how much partying happens.”

  “Les. That would have been us maybe at the very beginning, I’m not going to lie. We used to be all into that lifestyle. But now, we’re older and we know better. Sure, there are people like that chick who will try to take things on a different level, but that’s where you’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to believe in me, in us that I won’t let shit like that touch us. I will always shut it down.”

  “How often does that happen?” she asks pushing away from me and out of my arms.

  “It could happen once a show, but for the most part, we’ve got tight security that won’t let anything happen at all.”

  “And you used to hook up with groupies?” she asks looking at the floor.

  “I have in the past, but I learned that wouldn’t amount to anything. Like I said, at the beginning, when all the attention was new, there were a few. But groupies aren’t my thing. You are.” I step forward as she steps back.