“Or we could make out for an hour and twenty minutes?” he grins.
“Not sure I’m ready for the whole PDA thing just yet,” I say.
Pulling out his phone and hovering over the Twitter app, Slater says, “Well, according to the twenty or so thousand people in attendance last night, they’d disagree,” he says. I feel my cheeks heat, and swat his hand.
“Slater! I do not want to know what they’re saying.”
“Trust me, it’s all good. They love my girl almost as much as I do. Almost.”
“You make it really hard not to climb you sometimes, you know that?”
“Jesus, Ali,” he says, palming his dick through his jeans, and I giggle. God, this feels good.
“I’m sure you can wait until we’re home,” I say, leaning over and kissing him.
“Friends it is, I guess, eh?” he says, and I clap my hands with glee. He passes me an earbud, and I tip my head back, laughing.
“You better stop that shit,” he says. I look back at him. I see the heat in his eyes as they shift from my neck to my mouth, before landing back on my eyes.
“You better turn it on before you make me the Queen of PDAs, Slate.” Now it’s his turn to bark out a laugh.
I’m going to miss our time together on these flights with him. I’m not sure what life after the tour will look like, but I know Slater and I will have a few opportunities during our downtime to watch the rest of the funny movies on his list. It might take us a really long time, though, which makes me smile, knowing this really is just the beginning.
Leaning my head on Slater’s shoulder, he pulls me in, dropping a kiss on top of my head.
“So, are you going to tell me what you and Zack were all huddled up about?”
“Nope. It’s for me to know, and you to find out.” I grin when he goes on about me being something akin to Yoko Ono again, but it makes me laugh so hard, understanding now all about his Yoko mumblings, both of us knowing full-well I’d never come between him and his band.
“You’re lucky I love you, Slater Jenkins. A girl could take offence to that.” I elbow him in the side.
“Good thing you’re not one of those girls, then,” he winks, pulling me back in tight to his side as the Rembrandts start singing “I’ll Be There For You” in our ears.
“Oh, I forgot to give you these,” Slater says, handing me two folded pieces of paper. Opening them, I smile. They’re the ticket stubs from when he took me to the Rio Tinto Alcan Planetarium for a private tour this morning before we had to head to the airport. Lucky and Teresa came too, it had been a surprise for all of us. A surprise for which he woke me super-freaking early so we could fit it all in, but the awakening was by way of orgasm, so of course I forgave him. He really is the sweetest.
Not only did Slater fly Lucky in for the show, he made time to sit down and thank Lucky for helping him when Slater wasn’t sure what he could do to help me on his own. And, after today, I think the two most important men in my life have forged a friendship of their own.
Thanking Slater, I place the tickets inside my bag so I’ll remember to add them to my self-soothe box.
“Why do I feel like this song will be in my head all day now?” he groans, before adding, “We’re gonna lose fans if I end up singing this pop shit tomorrow night, Alina. I hope you’re happy.” He squeezes my knee before resting his hand there.
“The happiest,” I beam, as Rachel bolts through the doors of Central Perk.
63
Slater
“I’m falling above the stars where nobody can see me, but I know you’re there waiting to catch me. ’Cause we both know I’ll fall, I always fall…”
Paisley sings the final note, and I smile, feeling a sense of pride watching Ali as she commands the stage. She was always captivating, but since she’s been back, she’s been downright magnetic.
“Thank you, Toronto!” Paisley shouts, and the sold-out crowd at the Rogers Centre goes apeshit. Happenstance has made a name for themselves over the last few weeks, and not just because Ali is mine. Our label, Fallen Sound, has offered them a recording contract that they’re currently having a lawyer look over before signing. I couldn’t be happier; they really are damn talented at their craft.
Paisley sashays her way to the edge of the stage. “But before we make way for Douse, we have one last song we’d like to perform for you. Would you like that?” The audience whistles and hoots.
“What the hell, Tommy? That was their last song,” I say, confused.
“Chill out, man, I told them it was fine. We’re breaking curfew tonight,” Zack says, referring to the arena’s noise control policy, which basically means all must be quiet by eleven p.m.
“Give it up for my girl, Ali,” Paisley says.
I hear her name called and my attention is drawn back to the stage. But before I can see her, the lights go dim.
“I’d like to dedicate this song to a man I consider the light to my shadow. I couldn’t do this without you, Slater. This one’s for you,” Ali says from the dark stage, her voice sultry over the microphone. A soft amber light turns on, illuminating her where she stands in the middle of the stage, holding a black acoustic guitar which has a few silver stars twinkling on its mirrored face. “This one’s called ‘Dream Catch Me’, and it’s originally by Newton Faulkner. I’ve put my own spin on it. I hope you’ll like it,” she says, as the crowd loses their shit.
“Fuck me, she’s breathtaking,” I utter, as she starts to sing softly, referring to the place she goes when she’s alone.
“You’re a lucky man, brother. Cherish this one,” Fife says, clasping my back. I’m rooted in place as Ali belts out lyrics about someone who does so much, yet they don’t realize it.
“I intend to do much more,” I say out loud as my eyes land on Ali, even though there’s no way she can hear me. She’s strumming her guitar, expelling the most meaningful words that are like a punch to the solar plexus. They steal my breath with each line as she smiles and sings about falling, and that it’s a good fall. It’s falling in love.
I can’t take my eyes off her, loving the sound of her voice and her movements on the stage. Everything that makes her, her.
“Slater, you’re my dream catch, yeah…” She laughs after this last line, one I know she’s added just for me, and I feel like a fucking god having this once unsure-of-herself girl give me this, in front of our friends, family, and half of Toronto. So fucking strong and brave.
“We’re really gonna be breaking curfew tonight. I need at least fifteen minutes. Get Ullapool or someone else to go on for an encore or something,” I tell Tommy as I stalk onto the stage, not bothering to wait for a reply. I can hear Fife and Zack laughing behind me.
Ali’s thanking the crowd, and as soon as I’m spotted, they really go wild. Ignoring them, I reach Ali, scoop her up, place her over my shoulder, and carry her offstage firefighter-style.
“Slater!” she calls, as I walk us right past the stage crew and a none-too-impressed Tommy.
“Slater, where you going? Sicken Union’s up next,” he yells.
“They can wait. Stall,” I call over my shoulder, heading straight for the greenroom. I lock the door behind us with one hand.
Putting her down, I take her face in both my hands. “I can’t believe you just did that.” My hands shake with so much pride and love for this girl.
“Slater, you have to get back out there,” Ali tries, but I cut her off, smashing my mouth over hers. I win her over, and she wraps her arms around me, pulling me closer.
“That was incredible,” I say, looking into her blue eyes. “You amaze me.”
“I wanted you to know how much you mean to me, how much you’ve helped changed me for the better,” she says. “You know, helped me to step out from the shadows.”
“Baby,” I say, barely audibly.
“I mean it, Slate. You’ve given me so much. I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much.”
“Jesus, Ali. Seeing you up the
re, singing…singing for me. I’m so fucking hard right now. Hard and overwhelmed,” I say, tugging on her bottom lip. “I love you so much right now. Let me show you, Ali. I need to be inside you. Please, I just can’t wait,” I beg. She nods, and before I know it I’ve got her pinned against the wall, my knee between her legs to support her as my hands roam her body. Both of us are panting, our chests heaving as I palm her ass while licking a hot trail down her neck with my tongue. I taste her sweet scent as I nuzzle my face between her tits. “Shirt off, Ali. Take it off, before I rip it off you.”
“Slater,” she moans, grinding her sweet pussy on my dick, and I can feel how hot and ready she is through the denim.
“Take it out. Get it ready,” she huffs, whipping her shirt off without a moment’s hesitation. Too impatient to wait, I move my hands off her ass and pull the pink cups of her bra down with one hand. I latch my greedy mouth onto her nipple, biting and sucking it as she grinds down harder on my still-covered length, and I swear I could come like this.
“Please, Slater. I want you so bad.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
“That’s my dirty girl,” I grin, making sure she’s secure, pinning her up against the wall with the help of my leg, and the weight of my body. I move a hand down and run it over her bare leg, hitching up the black leather skirt she chose to wear onstage tonight.
“You wear this for me, baby? Knowing I’d need inside you after your song?”
“Yes!” she cries. My hand finds her flimsy panties and pulls hard, ripping away the material separating her pussy from my touch.
“You’re such a good girl. Thinking of me like that,” I tell her, rubbing my hand along her smooth skin. “You want me bad, don’t you?”
“God, yes!” she cries out, as I dip a finger inside her. Grabbing onto my neck, she hoists herself up, using the wall for friction and support. “More, give me more,” Ali says, arching her back. Her luscious tits bounce in my face while she moves up and down on my finger, and I quickly oblige by adding a second.
“You’re so fucking wet for me. Ready to take me?” I growl into her ear, her murmurs of pleasure and the wet, smacking sounds of her arousal driving me outta my mind.
“So ready. Fuck me, Slate.”
“Take my cock out.” Her hands make quick work of my jeans. She struggles at first, but finally manages to free me, positioning my cock at her entrance before I push up into her warmth. I am home.
Although there’s a stadium full of cheering fans just outside the greenroom door, Ali and I manage to shut everything out while we work in tandem to give each other what we need. Each other.
“I love being inside you.”
“I love everything about you,” she replies, and I close my eyes as she clamps around my cock, pushing us both over the edge.
“I’m so completely yours, Alina,” I say, as Tommy frantically pounds on the door, yelling for me to hurry the hell up.
64
Alina
“Why, Miss Alina, don’t you look beautiful this morning,” Mrs. Vasquez says in a sweet voice, a wide smile crinkling her face as I approach the bus stop bench.
Despite Slater’s incessant teasing, I still prefer the bus to the thought of driving. I think it’s because I’ve always found it relaxing, and so much less of a hassle when living in a big city. But I did agree that if Happenstance continues to grow in popularity, I’d either learn to drive myself, hire a driver, or at least take Oliver, Slater’s main security guard, with me when I go out (a thought that makes me giggle, picturing that brooding hulk sitting with me on the TTC). Either way, even if it’s only to appease Slater’s worries, I’ll do it if it makes him happy. Luckily, my identity hasn’t been compromised so far (probably because I still mostly hide my face behind my hair onstage) and I haven’t had to make those decisions yet, so here I am, still happily waiting for the bus.
“Thank you, Mrs. Vasquez,” I reply, smiling back and accepting her compliment rather than fluffing it off like I have so many times in the past.
“It’s so nice to have you back, dear.”
“It’s nice to be home, I’m not going to lie.”
We’ve been home for two weeks now, and things have been going great. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Aside from working at the salon—a job I’ll be keeping until we officially sign on with Fallen Sound—I’ve also been writing a lot of music. Right after the tour, I was approached by Tommy, who’d asked if I’d be willing to write a few songs for Sicken Union’s upcoming album. Apparently, the guys really do like my lyrics, and they asked if I’d be willing to co-write a few songs with Fife, as well, something Fife and I had talked a lot about doing together while on the tour. Of course I said “yes”, then made fun of them for not having the balls to ask me themselves. I quickly learned that wasn’t the case at all, Tommy had just gotten ahead of himself, too excited. So between writing more, cutting hair, waiting on the final contract, and spending time with Slater, life’s been a whole lot different since the tour ended. I’m soaking in each new experience.
“Headed to meet the band?” Mrs. Vasquez asks from beside where I’ve sat next to her on the bench.
“Yes, we’re meeting at Rusty’s,” I say, then spend the next fifteen or so minutes telling her all about my songwriting, how Happenstance is waiting to hear if the Fallen Sound label is willing to meet the terms we added into the contract, and how I’m hoping this is the reason Paisley has summoned us this early on a Sunday.
“You need to bring that man of yours over for dinner again soon. He’s such a good eater,” she beams, leaning in, “and I really like him for you, Alina. I can tell he’s crazy about you.” Alejandra slaps her knee while laughing with her whole body like she always does, and it makes me smile. What a difference a few months can make, and yet, how much certain things stay the same.
“I’m sure Slater will have no problem coming over for dinner again soon. He loved your cooking,” I say as the bus pulls up, remembering how much fun he had trying to learn some Spanish while having a few drinks and eating the mountains of food the Vasquezes served us just a week ago when they invited Lucky, Teresa, Slater, and me over for a barbecue to celebrate my return. It was adorable how they both pretended to know who Sicken Union was.
The bus stops in front of us before she can carry on any further.
“You pick the day, and we’ll be there. Slater went on and on about your paella,” I say, as we grab seats at the front of the bus.
“I do like a boy who can eat,” she says, patting my leg, then adds, “and I especially love ones who make you beam like that, mija.”
*
“Hey, Rusty!” I grin at the familiar, grinning face of the man working the grill behind the breakfast bar.
“Hey, Ali, nice to have you all back. Your girls are already here, in your usual spot.”
“Perfect,” I nod, as I pass the lines of well-worn, red pleather stools, the smell of coffee and grease permeating the air as always. I stop to look at the selection of Rusty’s homemade doughnuts, making a mental note to ensure that Slater tries the Bavarian Kreme when he comes to meet me later. I might even suggest we grab a half dozen for tonight when we’ll continue our Friends-a-thon. Since we’ve been back, Slater and I have spent every minute of our downtime watching Friends. The guy’s become a bit obsessed. I swear I have more fun watching him watching it than I do the actual show.
“Hey, ladies. Sorry I’m a little late. Sunday schedule,” I laugh, because I tell them the same thing every week.
“No problem. We just ordered coffee. I got yours coming,” Roxie smiles, as I take the seat next to her.
“So, what did Fallen Sound say?” I ask, unable to wait for Paisley to start.
“Well, ladies, Tommy texted me this morning, and we got it!” Pais squeals, and we rise as one, jumping up and down.
“Holy shit, we did? And they agreed about the touring thing?” Shiv asks.
“Yep. And it’s a three-record deal, wi
th an offer to opt in for more if we’re happy.”
“No way!” Roxie says in disbelief.
“Uh-huh, just like we wanted. And, Ali, you are welcome to write songs for other bands, but Fallen Sound are asking for the first look at your lyrics for their own artists.”
“That’s fantastic news, Al,” Siobhán says, coming over to hug me. “Such a talent. Look at everyone trying to get your songs. Good for you, sister. I’m so freakin’ proud of you.”
“What about the benefit for Covenant House? What did they say?” I ask, knowing that was going to be a harder sell—being the newbies we are—and the amount of money the label would need to invest in promoting it. But it means a lot to Shiv and the rest of us.
“That’s the best part!” says Paisley. “They loved it, and said they’d like to hold it annually, if all goes well, and in November, so Covenant House will have money to help people out in time for Christmas. And Sicken Union, Ullapool, and Douse, have all put in bids for spots.”
“We did it, guys. Holy shit. We did it,” Roxie says, just as Nelle comes over to take our orders.
After ordering myself French toast and a side of fruit, we spend the rest of the time talking and giggling, reminiscing and making new plans, and discussing everything from Zack and Roxie—who are slowly admitting to being more than friends—to Tristan and Paisley, who haven’t really hung out since we’ve been back from the tour. Time flies by, and I don’t even realize Slater has walked in, with Oliver trailing stoically behind him, until he’s sitting beside me eating a Bavarian Kreme.
“I barely recognized you, hot stuff,” Paisley says, laughing at the Blue Jay’s baseball cap and dark sunglasses he’s wearing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a hat before. I like it,” she says, and raises her eyebrows up and down. We all laugh, shaking our heads.
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