“I call bullshit Johnathan. I’ve worked with you for four years. Don’t think I don’t know what you do. You claim to have never felt this way before. You play the love card. You play the innocence ‘I only want to touch you baby just let me please you.’ Shit. It works, I know it does. You’re a pro. That’s why I’m not surprised it worked on the most wonderful woman on the planet.” He looks at me and there goes my heart again into the vat of saltwater. Stacy knows the dick wad.
I fucking knew Johnathan played dirty. I knew he did this. God, why didn’t I listen to my brain and not my pussy? She’s in so much trouble. Stupid horny bitch. I think I might have fallen in love with him last night. I know that sounds completely irrational and when I think it. It sounds like I need a straitjacket and locked into a white padded cell. But I seriously feel that way. Now all I can do is mend my broken heart. Pull it back together and hope it works again in twenty years when I decide sex and love is okay again.
Johnathan is staring at me horrified. Yep I checked out again and it wasn’t in his favor. Serves him right.
“It’s not like that this time.” He murmurs staring at me. His lips are pouty and sad.
“Sure it’s not Johnathan. You do this all the time. You meet a hot feisty chick on the road and she fires your engines up for a while. Two, three weeks of heavy fucking and I love you’s. You swear you’ve never felt the way before and then you get bored when you realize it’s just one-dimensional. There is no future. Then you do the super nice thing and buy her a plane ticket back home, slip her a couple thousand for her troubles and send her on her brokenhearted way. It’s not like I blame you dude. You were never loved right as a kid. You can’t know how loving is supposed to feel like. That’s not your fault. And frankly as long as your cool and the band is good I don’t mind helping take the woman to the airport or being a shoulder for them to cry on when you dump them. But this time is way different. You can’t do this to Emily. I won’t let you. She is fragile when it comes to love and relationships and I will NOT allow you to hurt her like you’ve done to all those other nobodies. She is somebody and my best friend. This ends today. You say you’re sorry and you promise me and her both that you will never ever try to fuck her again. No more I love you’s, no more I can’t be without you. And if I see or hear another over-the-top primal man protective bullshit come from you. I will seriously quit. The only thing she needs is distance from you and support if she ever asks for it. But SHE has to ask for it. You’re not crawling between her legs again. I better not hear anything else. DO YOU GET ME? MY FRIEND!”
Wow! Did this just happen? Did my best friend seriously put the hottest rocker on the planet in his place? I know he’s just looking out for what’s best for me. So I’m just going to sit here and shut up. I’d rather not argue anymore and my heart is shredded. The only person to help me now is Stacy. The best man in my life.
I look down at Johnathan and his face has lost all color and he looks lost. I want to pull him into my arms and tell him it’s going to be alright. Even with a broken heart I want to help him. I want him to be okay. But I have to let him go. I can’t let this go on. Stacy is right. If he’s seen Johnathan play this routine time and time again. I would just be another to add to the list. Thank god for best friends.
Johnathan turns his head mechanically towards me. Retracts his hands from my legs, stands up. “I am sorry short…. Emily. I didn’t mean to hurt you or break your heart.” Tears are filling my eyes again. “Please don’t cry baby. Stacy is right I am fucked up. You deserve better than me. You need a man who can love you and give you lots of babies. Who isn’t screwed up in the head.” He smacks himself in the head. “I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt many others.” He turns and walks away.
Now it clicks. The others. Then ten women he was talking about last night. That must be what he is talking about. He’s done this with ten other women. That makes sense now. I’m number eleven or would have been. Shit, I dunno. Maybe I’m in maybe I’m not. That’s confusing and it doesn’t matter anyhow.
“Yeah I saw the whole thing. J had this hot blonde with a smoking hot bod, big juicy tits and a pussy to die for. He was naked. Well his shirt was on but that monster cock of his was out. I was just hoping that my lady didn’t see it because she’d be all over that. So… I’m watching him sit on the kitchen table and this chick is between his legs, playing with herself. Moaning rather loudly. He’s got his hands in here hair and shit. She’s got his dick in her mouth and she’s sucking and pumping his hard with her hand. Really going at it, ya know? When she takes it out of her mouth coming up to the tip the fucker is seriously flaccid. I don’t think there was any blood in that cock of his. He is broken dudes. I mean seriously fucking broken. I don’t know if it’s his past fucking with his head or what. But I’ve never seen this man go so long without fucking and he’d never pass a BJ up or five in a damn night.” D added.
I had never heard of such a terrible thing but the fact that Johnathan couldn’t get hard that night kind of made me feel triumphant in a strange, very fucked up way. Not that my pussy is made of gold or anything but on the off chance that he couldn’t get it up because of it. Makes me feel super sexy and awesome on the inside. Sad for him though because that’s gotta be a pain not to be able to get off with a sexy woman sucking on your manhood. Not that I like the thought of anyone sucking his cock. Deep down I wish it was me. Pathetic? Yes. But that’s the sad truth of it all.
So now the tour break has taken over and we all have split our separate ways. I am back here at home with Stacy in my old bedroom. We are sleeping together in my old full sized bed with the bright pink comforter and I am seriously staring at my old ceiling that has Justin Timberlake plastered all over it. The young J.T from Nsync. I was such a damn girl back then. Boy crazy as all get out. Stacy always hated these posters. But I still love them. I bet some of them might be worth a pretty penny or two for the right buyer. But for now I am going to let my parents keep this bedroom the same way it was when I moved out and went to college.
Nothing like being back in good ol’ Bettysville. Named after some lady, two hundred or some years ago who baked a damn good pie and they named a town after her. Or some stupid shit like that. A town that if you blink you’ll miss it. One mom and pop grocery shop, a pizza joint, gas station, bank and a little diner. That’s all you’ll find here. You even have to go to the damn post office to pick up your mail. Which I always hated. My parents find it charming. I find it inconvenient.
Lots of people who grow up in smaller towns either love them and want to stay in them or are the opposite and crave the big city lights. I’m the latter. I love cities, the bigger the better. I’ve only been to LA once to visit Stacy for five days and I loved it then. He took me all over, we hit up the walk of stars, the Chinese theater, Rodeo Drive, Malibu at the beach and about ten other fun and memorable places. I would love to live in LA or anywhere along the coast. New York City is my home now. Or until I get tired of it and move to someplace warmer. I need warmer. Don’t get me wrong I love the whole four seasons. Where there are long summers that run from the beginning of June with nearly a hundred degree heat with the humidity so high it’s like your breathing in water. That lasts until September. October you hit the cool down point and the leaves fall in such beautiful colors. People have big colorful trash bags stuffed with leaves in their front lawn in the shapes of pumpkins and spiders for Halloween. Then by the middle of November its frigid cold and you wonder where the hell fall went. The winter trickles in leaving us cold quickly and the snow starts whenever it wants. There is no rhyme or reason to it. Many times it snows steadily from December through April. Other years we get a light dusting in January and it’s a mild winter after that. I can’t begin to understand my life let alone mother natures fucked up hormone cycles. Then we hop into spring which is probably my favorite part of the year. You have Easter and flowers and thunderstorms. Spring would be the only reason why I wouldn’t want to leave the northern states and take
up in some place like Texas, Florida or Southern Cali.
Lying next to handsome lightly snoring Stacy I can’t help but feel a little grateful for where I am in life. Sure my life as of late has kind of sucked and my love life has always suffered. But I have the best mom on the planet who when we came in late tonight off a red eye flight out of North Carolina she had my bed freshly laundered and her famous butterscotch cookies on a plate in the kitchen. Stacy could probably eat his weight in them. I love them but I think he loves them more. Probably has something to do with the fact his mom never baked a day in his life?
I quietly slip out from under the covers and tiptoe in my orange pajama short set into the hall and shut the bedroom door behind me. My bedroom is on the second story facing the road in my parent’s three bedroom one and half bath Victorian. My mom has always had a night-light in the hall since I was a kid so if I went downstairs late at night I wouldn’t trip and fall down the stairs. It must have worked because I never did. The stairs creek as I walk down them. They’re hardwood and well maintained for a hundred and thirty year old house. I tiptoe my way into our sizable living room. Well one of the living room spaces. We have three. Houses like this one are always broken up for social events in the eighteen hundreds.
There’s a parlor off the front door that’s mauve and very feminine with Victorian era rose prints everywhere. That’s where the book shelves are and my mom’s chunky executive desk. That I spent years doing homework on. The living room is across from that and is less stuffy. With its cream leather sofa and love seat and a big screen T.V for my dad to watch his monster truck rally’s on. It’s sitting on top of a dark brown electric fireplace. It’s elegant, I suppose but way more modern than the house itself. I always loved growing up in this place. It seeps history into your bones when you sleep.
I drop onto the sofa and the leather welcomes me with a crunch. That air con is blasting high in this heat wave Indiana is consumed by. Mom said the farmers are mad because there has been less than adequate rain and it’s a stifling one hundred and two with high humidity most days. That’s an Indiana summer for ya. Hot as hell. At night as a kid I loved sitting and gliding on the porch swing. Now I would rather relax inside. Five minutes in this heat and you’re breaking a sweat.
I click on the TV. It feels like months since I’ve watched anything on the boob tube, as my dad calls it. The TV on the bus is hogged by Xbox junkies and we don’t have cable anyhow. The movie choices the men own are just as bad. Mostly slasher films mixed with a little Godzilla and the only seasons they have are the complete collection of Family guy. Which I hate! Apparently Keith and D love it. No wonder they lose so many brain cells.
Don’t get me wrong I’m not opposed to brain-dead comedies they do have some value but I think I’d rather stick to shows like the Big Bang Theory and Friends to get my share of tummy rumbling humor. Hell, I’d even watch Archer. That’s downright hilarious at times for a comedy cartoon with a sexy main character. Sounds off-the-wall, I know, to have a crush on a cartoon but if you’ve watched the show he’d be the wallpaper on your cell, computer and tablet. He’s not mine but I think that might come to replace The Rock that I have on them right now. Well, my cell is a picture of me and Stacy but the other two are of Dwayne THE ROCK Johnson. I just love him. Probably because I grew up eyes glued to the T.V watching him wrestle. It was love at first sight for me. And when he’d ask if I could smell what he was cookin’, I’d be starstruck and feel like he was talking only to me. Yep, I was drunk on The Rock love all the way back to the time of WWF, WCW and NWO and the Macho Man Randy Savage “Ooh Yeah!”
I change it to Nick at Night and Friends is on. Most likely the only good show on at three in the morning. This is the episode in season one where Joey teaches Ross how to dirty talk. So funny and brings me instantly back to the dirty talking with Johnathan. Oh that was such a sensual and meaningful night that happened two weeks ago. After the initial heartbreak I think I am doing fairly well for myself. I’ve come to accept the one-night stand for what it was and lock it away in a special place in my heart and my mind. It’s painful to draw back on now but I think as a few months pass and the tour is over I’m sure it will become more of a fond ‘What if’ memory instead of the ‘he lied and has done this with ten other girls’ memory that it’s at right now.
I toss the blanket down over my off the back of the couch and snuggle myself in for a good twenty more minutes of friends and probably another episode after that. Maybe I can fall asleep but my mind my racing with so much since I’ve been back home. Tomorrow I need to call my gyno and set up an appointment this week. It’s been fifteen months since my last check up and I am sure he’ll need to re-examine my endo and run a panel for STD’s. I just pray that I don’t have any. Stacy swears that Johnathan was tested six months ago and all came back clear but that means he’s had six months to accumulate all those not so fun STD’s. Maybe one of the five women he fucked the week before I got there gave him something. Fuck I have to stop thinking about that. I have to stop thinking about the fact that a woman was sucking his cock five whole days ago. She might not have gotten him off according to Deacon but she was sucking it. That’s bad enough. Jesus, listen to me. I have got to stop this obsession. My pussy has one overly fantastic sexcapade and she can’t help but make me think about him. It’s gotta stop. Now!
Chapter Twelve
“Wake up honey.” I feel a nudge at on my arm. “Honey get up and go back to bed.”
I know that wonderful voice. That calming, sweet, loving voice. I stretch my arms over my head and open my eyes.
“Hi mom.” I smile.
“Hey honey it’s early but you should go back up to bed.”
I push myself up into the sitting position tugging the blanket with me. Hum... Guess I fell asleep on the couch.
“I don’t want to mom.” I rub my eyes and clean the sleep out of them.
“I figured you’d say that so here.”
She hands me an oversized cup of Joe just the way I like it. Two teaspoons of sugar, a splash of milk and a sprinkle of hot cocoa on top. I know that must sound strange but the chocolate makes the flavor bolder. I can take it without but the cocoa sets it apart and my mommy is the best and knows me oh so well.
“Thanks mama. You’re so sweet.” I sip the warm cup of heaven and she plops down beside me in her plaid pajama bottoms and white oversized T. I tuck my legs up so she can fit better and she pulls them over her lap. Sitting with my mama on the couch in house I grew up in. I don’t think this morning could get any better. I sigh, with happiness.
“So, I know I was asleep when you two got in last night but how was the flight? How’s Stacy?”
“He’s good. I think. I’m sure he’s nervous about seeing his mom. It’s been like eight or nine months since he’s last seen her. Not that I blame him if I had her as a mom I would probably write her ass off and leave her to the state.” I blurt.
“Oh, Emily! Don’t say such things like that.” She pats my leg hard. “You know that’s not nice. Even though she’s not the nicest woman she’s still his mother.” She scolds but it’s my mom’s delicate way of scolding. It’s like she can make you feel bad without raising her voice. It works well for me and it brings my dad down to his knees when he’s been a bad boy. Many years of practice I assume.
“I know she’s his mother. That’s why I am here for him and to see you. But it doesn’t change the fact she’s a fucking bitch who’d I rather never see again in my entire life.” I say nastily.
“There you go again talking just like your father. That mouth of yours has never changed.” She grins. Like she’d have us any other way? I think not.
“Yep, like father like daughter.” I shrug and sling my free hand around my mom’s shoulder and pull her into a half hug.
I seriously have the best mother on the planet. If Stacy didn’t have us when he was growing up I don’t think he could have survived his last two years as a juvenile and I’m surprised he survived befor
e that. His mother was awful. She was beyond awful. She would binge drink all the time when he was a kid and being an only child like me he was left to pick up the pieces and many of the times that was his mom passed out of the floor in the bathroom sleeping in a pile of her own puke. Or other time’s she’d get hammered and beat him. A grown boy took it like a man when she’d leave welts with a belt or chuck shit at him. All because she blamed him for his father leaving them when he was only four. He doesn’t even remember the man. So his mom worked at the local gas station and fucked just about every trucker and backwoods hillbilly around for a pack of smokes, a case of beer or whatever else suited her fancy. Stacy had to work to buy his own clothes and car and first guitar. Which he can’t play as well anymore because right before he graduated his mother broke two of his fingers and they never healed just right. Now that’s why I hate her. He’d spend many nights sleeping at my house or at Kyle’s a friend of his that just so happened to be my neighbor.
I never cared for Kyle much. He was so possessive over Stacy, it was like if he was his friend I couldn’t be. Which was ridiculous because I never tried to split them two up from hanging out, ever. But either way we were both there for him to shield him from that monstrosity of a woman Stacy calls his mother.
“Can I make you some breakfast?” My beautiful mommy asks me. She is so damn sweet.
Brushing her long dark brown hair out of her face, and tucks it behind her ears. My mom and I look nothing alike. I’m a short, curvy, wavy red head with pale skin and green eyes. My mom is tall like five foot ten, thin as a rail, olive colored eyes, straight long brown hair and pale skin with freckles. She looks ten years younger than she actually is. So half of the time if people don’t know she’s my mother they assume we’re just good friends. It’s creepy but over the years I’ve gotten used to it.
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