Rock God_Book 1_A Contemporary Harem Fantasy

by Michael-Scott Earle

  “Awwww, just come get me. I really don’t feel comfortable making the drive through the canyon late at night. Also, I want to have something to drink while I am at the bar.” Her voice was pleading, more than mine was.

  “Just take the 405 up, instead of the canyon. It’s an easy drive. You don’t have to drink that much tonight. Does Jack know you are going out with us?” Maybe if I asked her about Jack, she would lay off of me.

  “Yeah, Jack has his LSAT course. He knows we’re going to see a band play. I really don’t want to drive myself. Come get me. I’ll give you a tour of my house, it’s pretty nice. Um, also, maybe we could take one of my parents’ cars to the bar? Oh, and my sister is going to be home, so maybe you can meet her. We can also have dinner here. We have a cook. We’ve also got a great art and music collection. Just come okay? Pleasssseeee?” She was throwing everything she could think of to get me to come over. I felt my willpower cracking at the sound of her voice. I would like to see her house. I imagined it was pretty impressive. Also, it would be interesting to meet her sister. I’d never met a genius before.

  “Okay I’ll come over-” I started to say.

  “Yayyy!” She almost screamed in pleasure.

  “But, you have to promise me something,” I continued.

  “What?” she said, sounding suspicious.

  “This isn’t a date. You are dating Jack. Who happens to be my best friend. You and I are just friends going to see a band together, with some other friends.”

  “Haha, okay, fine. I’ll pinky swear when you get over here. So, how soon can you be here?” she blurted. I tried to figure out how long it would take me to get home, change, and then fight through the traffic on the 405 to get into Bel Air. Could I even drive through there without some sort of pass code? Was there a gate on the entryway?

  “Maybe an hour and a half, depending on traffic.” It was only five in the afternoon now. Did I even need to get over there that early? “Why don’t I just come over at nine or so to pick you up, and then we can head over to the bar?”

  “Icky, no! We can have dinner here, and I’ll show you around. It’ll be fun! Just come over as soon as you can. I’ll text you my address and directions. Bye!” Then she hung up before I could get an objection in.

  I pulled into my parking spot and killed the engine. As soon as it was off, my phone beeped with a text, and I looked at it to see Aimee’s address, followed by a smiley face. Then I realized what had just happened.

  “Fuck!” I yelled in my car. Did she just “Jedi Mind Trick” me across the phone? Why was I going over there? I groaned in frustration. Why was she doing this? I struggled for a while thinking about what I could do, but I didn’t see any way out of it without just “forgetting” to pick her up. Maybe Brent would believe me if I told him Aimee and I couldn’t get a hold of each other, or maybe I couldn’t find her house. It was unlikely in the age of cell phones, GPS units, and internet map sites. Also, Jack would be pissed with me. Ugh. Did she really tell Jack?

  I pulled into my complex parking lot and stumbled into my apartment. I decided I needed to talk to Jack. It was the best decision, because then he would know what was going on. I figured if Aimee hadn’t told him, and he found out, he may get mad at me. Sure, I could tell him Aimee told me that she told him and yadda yadda yadda. But then it would be my word against hers. Jack was practically my brother, but Aimee had him wrapped around her finger. I didn’t want those odds.

  I waited impatiently as the phone rang and then beeped to his voicemail message.

  “Hey dude, it’s Eric. I know you are probably in your LSAT class right now, but I just wanted to talk to you about tonight. Brent, Sam, Aimee, and I are going to see some band in North Hollywood. I just wanted to make sure you knew and that things were cool. None of us have anything going on tonight so… yeah. Anyways. Hope class is going well, and give me a ring tomorrow.”

  I felt better. Now I just had to worry about Aimee for the rest of the night. I took off my work clothes and contemplated what I would wear. Then I decided to take a quick shower.

  When I was done, I threw on a pair of blue jeans, the leather shoes I had worn over the weekend when the group went dancing, and one of my favorite, nicer-looking shirts. I realized it was the same shirt I wore when I first met Aimee at Jack’s party, so I switched it out with another one. I paused when I realized the new one was purple. Her favorite color. I threw it back in the closet in disgust and then grabbed a blood-red, long-sleeved one. I normally didn’t like it because it attracted attention, but I was running out of options. It did look good on me. For a second, I could understand how long it took girls to get ready to go out, and then I realized the decision process still only took me less than a minute. No, I still didn’t understand why it took girls so long to get ready.

  I paced between my doorway, kitchen, dining room, and living room for a few minutes, agonizing about leaving. To kill time, I walked into the bathroom and absently brushed my teeth and combed my hair. I realized I was nervous. I didn’t want her to pull anything weird on me, again. She promised she wouldn’t, but I didn’t trust her. Also, the thought of traveling to Bel Air was giving me anxiety. Finally, I ran out of reasons to stay in my apartment, and I walked down to my car. It was a dirge march.

  Chapter 21

  The traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, so I ended up making it to the front gate of Aimee’s house within forty-five minutes. I drove slowly through Bel Air, looking at the houses. Most of them were obscured by trees and gates, but I could make out a few, and they looked impressive. There wasn’t a gate outside the community, but most of the houses had them. Soon, I was at Aimee’s place.

  I could only see a long cobblestone driveway from the gate at the street. I hit the button at the call box, outside the massive portcullis, and heard a voice come across it. It was a woman’s, but I didn’t recognize it.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Eric, here for Aimee.”

  “Ahh, good. Please, park near the fountain,” she said as the gate started to open.

  The driveway went back about fifty yards before I could make out the mansion. I was surprised because I pictured something out of a European movie, but it looked pretty modern: smooth, gray concrete with lots of glass and green ferns. The further I got up the driveway, the more I could see a slight Asian-influence in the design. The roof definitely looked to be the same style of tiles I recognized from various Japanese architecture. Most of the driveway I had driven up was surrounded by pristine fields of grass that seemed to emulate a jade-green ocean. As I got closer to the house, the grass slowly gave way to manicured juniper trees, rock formations, and bamboo forests. Definitely Japanese influenced.

  The driveway formed a loop and then forked. One path went back to the street and the other went behind the side of the house. I saw a large statue off to the side that looked to be made out of copper, koi fish. Water flowed elegantly from the mouths of the fish, down rocks, and into a large pool. I figured this was the fountain and found a spot next to it to park. I didn’t see any other cars around.

  I took a deep breath and walked toward the door. I could hear the trickle of water coming down the fountain and the sound of the breeze through the trees. I hadn’t been paying attention during my drive, but the house was pretty far up on the hills of Bel Air. I saw parts of the Los Angeles Basin as I looked past the house. The sun was starting to set, and a golden, blanket of smog filled the valley.

  The doorway was framed by dark wood, and it reminded me of some pictures I had seen of Japanese shrines. It looked really cool. As I thought about getting a tour of the place, my fear turned to excitement. From the entryway, I could hear a small fountain concealed in the ferns and juniper trees to my left.

  About half a minute after I rang the bell, Aimee opened the door with a huge smile on her face.

  “Hi! I didn’t think you would make it here so quickly. Come in!” She opened the door wider and gestured for me to enter. He
r hair was in a bouncy ponytail that swung around athletically as she turned her head from me to the inside of her home. “You look nice!” she said, innocently.

  I avoided her eyes and tried not to be pleased by her compliment when I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the dark tile of the entry, followed by the very dark wood flooring that spread through the rest of the house. The entryway had a stone bench off to the side and a small shelf to store shoes. I saw a few cotton slippers in packages near the shelf. Then I noticed Aimee was barefoot. Her feet looked perfect. Beautiful high arches that would make a dancer jealous and dark, purple-painted toenails.

  “Should I take my shoes off?” I asked

  “Please. The floor is kind of slippery, so I normally walk around barefoot. You can use those slippers if you want.” She stepped down from the entryway to give me some space while I sat down. Not that the entryway was tiny, she really didn’t need to move, but I was glad she did. I guess I was expecting her to hit me over the head and try to rape me as soon as I walked into her house.

  I opened up a package of larger slippers, slipped them on my sock-covered feet, stacked my shoes on the shelf, and stood up to admire the rest of the house. Even though the mansion was magnificent looking, I couldn’t help but admire Aimee, even though I didn’t want to.

  I was surprised at how casual she was dressed, but then I remembered it was her house, and I was earlier than expected. It didn’t really matter that she was dressed casual though; she could be wearing a burlap sack and would still look hot. She had on a pair of tight, little khaki shorts that only came down her thighs a few inches. Her long, lean legs seemed to stretch on forever. She wasn’t as tall as Katherine (definitely not Kelly) but she was still taller than an average girl. Maybe 5’7” or 5’8.” Most of her height came from her legs. She was wearing a tight-fitting, light-purple tee-shirt with cute cartoon bananas and strawberries on the pattern. The fruit had smiles on their faces, and I couldn’t help but grin when I looked at it. At least she was wearing a bra, so while I did get a good impression of her perfect breasts, I wasn’t distracted by their exact shape or the nipples pushing against the material.

  “Let me show you around the house,” she said, looking up into the entryway into my eyes. She’d caught me admiring her body, and I cursed to myself. I hope she didn’t think I was undressing her with my eyes. Hopefully she didn’t think my look meant more than it really did.

  The house was large and impressive, but it didn’t feel sterile. The dark-wood floors looked extremely expensive. They were made out of long planks that looked carefully aged. They butted up against dark-gray, stone-tiled walls and various fireplaces that were scattered around the ground floor. The floor plan on the west seemed more open. Aimee led me past the foyer, where a large chandelier hung between a beautiful wrought-iron-accented staircase leading to the second floor and a large room with an ancient-looking fireplace as the focal point. With large leather couches, ottomans, and dark-colored coffee tables, the room felt like it belonged in a ranch-style home. To prevent anyone from thinking it was a destination for cowboys, there were African-looking spears, shields, and masks placed strategically throughout the room. I noticed audio speakers concealed in places amongst the dark-wood molding and end tables.

  On the walls of the room were several large canvas paintings of deserts and grassy plains. They were rich in orange and yellow hues and complemented the furniture perfectly. On the wall opposite the fireplace was a very interesting piece. Like the other art in the room, it first presented a calm feeling of serenity. But this piece seemed to be set on a beach wetland as dusk set; a purple glow from the setting sun reflected off what looked like a futuristic oil tower, now dilapidated with age. Small footprints led from the tower toward the far center of the painting, where a lone figure walked away from the tower into the endless gray of the sands and water pools. It made me feel calm, but also terribly sad and lonely. Like there was no hope.

  “Wow. This is a really, cool painting,” I said, with awe.

  “Yeah. Beth did it. She did most of the stuff in the house, actually. Let me show you over here.” She tugged on my arm to lead me into the next room.

  The transition from the leather sitting room to the next room was done pretty smoothly, considering how different the rooms were. This new room was very Japanese-style, with straw mats laid out below a long, low table made of smooth marble. Off to the side were smaller tables, with what looked like bean bag chairs spread out. A fountain on one side of the wall lapped down some smooth river rock into a stream bed that led across one side of the room.

  “This is kind of like our informal dining room.” Aimee said in explanation. “We normally don’t use it though. There is a small kitchen nook where the four of us eat dinner normally. But sometimes we may have some extended family over, or Dad and Mom’s close friends, and we’ll use this. Sometimes they will stay up all night and drink with their friends and lounge around the room. Check this out!” She went over to the wall by the fountain and flipped a small switch that I couldn’t see. A large TV rose up from the wall area behind the stream. “Pretty cool, huh? Sometimes, we’ll watch TV and eat too, or just hang out.”

  There were a few art pieces in the room. Just canvas with green, gold, and grays splattered across to complement the colors of the room. I hardly had time to admire them before Aimee latched onto my arm and pulled me into the next room.

  Aimee called the next room the game room, and, once I entered, I decided that coming over early was a good decision. The room was very large. Almost larger than the previous two rooms put together. It was covered with a thick dark-blue carpet, and the walls were a textured brown and dark rust-red color. There were several paintings hung on the wall. All of them ocean-themed. The blue worked with the carpet.

  I saw a wet bar in a corner, next to that a dart board, a comfortable-looking, leather couch with adjoining coffee table, a jukebox, and a few chest-high bar tables, accompanied by stools scattered through the room. My eyes were attracted to the pieces that brought the whole room together: a pool table, foosball table, ping pong table, and poker table.

  The magnificently crafted pool table looked like it was made of hand-carved wood. The cloth was a deep navy color, and it looked like it may have never been played on. I really didn’t play much pool, or know that much about tables, but I could probably spend the rest of the night with it. I spotted a cue stand with half a dozen poles on it, now that my brain had begun to take inventory of the room.

  The foosball table looked solid and hefty. The wood looked slightly out of place, because it was thick butcher block. But the figures were detailed, and the set up reeked of quality.

  The ping pong table was dark navy to match the pool table. I could see a few scratches on the surface, so I figured it probably got the most play out of the tables I had seen so far. The poker table looked like it could seat at least eight people, and it was also a matching blue.

  The best thing about the room was that it just felt comfortable. The tables were spread far enough apart so that you wouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone while you were moving around. You could easily play pool without having to worry about the back-end of the cue slamming into someone’s butt by accident. I imagined thirty or forty people chilling out in the room all night. But, it looked pristine, save for the few scuffs on the ping pong table. Either they never used it or they had an amazing cleaning crew.

  “Haha, boys really like this room! Your face looks like my dad’s when he walks in here. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Aimee said excitedly as she wrapped her arm through mine to pull me to the next room. By the time we made it to the kitchen, I realized each time she tugged on my arm to direct me through the house she had gotten more comfortable with the grasp.

  The kitchen was actually smaller than I expected it to be. It was still huge, with more dark-wood cabinets, stainless steel fixtures, and jade-colored granite counters. The counter extended around the perimeter of the kitc
hen, and I saw stools in a corner so people could eat in the kitchen or interact with the person cooking. There was a large center island with a convertible butcher block, table area, and a spare sink. Expensive cookware hung from hooks, and various herbs and multi-colored tomatoes dangled from an inverted hanging garden. Similar to Jack’s parents’ new home, the entryway to the backyard patio was located next to the kitchen. The sun had started to set in the nearby ocean, and warm oranges and cooler purples saturated the space. There was a middle-aged Hispanic woman bustling between the sink and the industrial-sized fridge; she was carrying a bunch of purple and yellow carrots.

  “Loretta! This is my friend, Eric,” Aimee introduced us.

  “Pleased to meet you.” She smiled nicely. I recognized her voice from the gate intercom. “When will you be ready for dinner?” she asked Aimee. Aimee looked to me and shrugged.

  “I normally eat between seven and eight,” I said. “What are we having?”

  “Salmon with wild rice, carrots, and a mixed-green Caesar salad. Do you eat fish? I can do chicken instead,” she asked pleasantly as she started to wash the carrots.

  “Oh, I love fish. I’m pretty easy going.”

  Aimee and I pulled up stools near the counter and talked to Loretta as she washed the carrots and grabbed more materials from the fridge. From our conversation, I discovered she was from San Salvador and immigrated here with her husband and children twenty years ago. The kids had grown up and moved to the east coast for work. Her husband passed away about six years ago. She originally intended to move across the country, but she ended up finding Aimee’s family and decided to stay and work as the maid/cook/organizer of the house.

  At the end of our conversation, Loretta walked over to a wireless phone dock and hit a few buttons on it.

  “Beth?” she said through the speakerphone. There was no answer.