“Eh?”
She peeked through the door and busted him snooping through her stuff. “I see you’ve found my gonorrhea cream.”
He read the instructions on the tube. “Think it’ll take care of this pesky erection?”
She yanked a towel off the rack and tucked it around her. “If you put that on your penis, you’ll never get another erection again.”
He shoved the medicine back in the drawer.
“I’m kidding.”
“I know.”
“Everything in there is for arthritis.”
He unfurled her fingers then kissed them. “For your hands?”
Her stomach fluttered. “Hands, wrist, neck, shoulders, elbows.”
“I have a good doc who works with musicians. She can hook you up with steroids and some pain pills.”
“No pain medicine!” She closed her eyes and counted to three. “I’m . . . they make me sick.” That was only a half-lie, considering codeine had started her slow descent into addiction.
“You should try acupuncture.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t afford acupuncture.”
“My mom’s an acupuncturist. I’ll call her later.”
Aw, he was worried about her. And! He wanted to introduce her to his mother. In the mirror, her cheeks glowed as pink as the cherry trees, bursting with new life.
A new life.
It all made sense now. That’s why she’d moved there—to meet this man.
Everything had led up to this moment. This moment, with this man, and his pretty muscles, and long wet hair, and bronze treasure trail.
Her metaphorical chastity belt tightened.
How long did she have to hold off? How many dates did it take to fall in love? Four? Five? When would she know for sure? Was there an online test somewhere? Because, man oh man, she was so in love with the idea of falling in love with him.
They could make music before, after, and during sex. How cool would that be?
What if he was the “one?” What if he stayed with her forever?
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked.
Her smile deflated. He wanted to leave. “I do, but . . .”
“But?”
“But I don’t want to go.”
“How long is your lesson?”
“An hour.”
“I could come with you,” he said.
Too bad her mother never let her try out for the cheerleading squad, because her routine right then—with the jumping jacks and sky punches and loud whoops—would have won the gold medal in team spirit. Go team Effie and Elias!
“Could you do that again?” He leaned against the sink and rubbed his scruff. “But with pigtails in your hair and without the towel?”
She tossed him a teasing glance. “Maybe after the lesson.”
“Let’s go. Let’s go.” He clapped. “Vamos.”
“I’m joking.”
“I know.” He blew her a kiss. “Go get dressed. I’ll stay here so my dick doesn’t get any ideas.”
She gasped. “My good-sex virgin ears!”
“Better get out of here before I bust your good-sex cherry.”
“La la la!” She stuck her fingers in her ears. “I can’t hear you.” But I can feel you, she thought, and you feel so good.
8
Virtuoso
Soundtrack “Souvenir de Florence; d moll, op 70,” Tchaikovsky
Overnight, Elias had received one hundred text messages, forty-two voicemails, and three hundred and two emails. His real life tightened like a noose around his neck. Just one more day. Just one more day of normalcy. Just one more day with her.
The only text he returned was Annie’s, asking her to swing by his place and grab his new card. “Mind if we meet my mom for dim sum later?” he asked Effie.
She grabbed her throat. “You want me to meet your mom? Already?”
Mierda. It wasn’t like that. He’d hired his mom, Annie, as his new personal assistant. Even though she was the worst employee ever, his adoptive father had passed recently, and Annie needed something to take her mind off him.
“If we’re getting married, you need to meet mi mama.”
She dropped her violin case, picked it up, and dropped it again.
“Let me get that for you.”
“No, no, I got it.”
“Sure?”
“Frrrrrgh.” She closed her eyes and started over. “It’s an heirloom.”
“You don’t trust your soon-to-be husband?”
She rubbed the wrinkles off her brow. “If anything happens to this, we’re getting a divorce.”
“I’ll guard it with my life.”
They strolled for at least half a mile until piles of garbage and old mattresses replaced the spring landscaping of Park Slope. A drug runner darted off his stoop and did a drive-by deal. Her pace quickened.
“You don’t come here by yourself, do you?” he asked.
“Who else would I come here with?”
“This isn’t a good neighborhood. It’s not safe.”
“I’ve been in worse places.”
He glanced around at the graffiti-covered buildings with broken windows. She’d seen worse than the projects? “Where’d you grow up?”
“Los Angeles.”
“Then you should know better.”
She stopped and gave him a bright smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For caring. It’s very chivalrous of you.”
If that were the case, he’d have called a limo. But El Love wasn’t who he wanted to be. He wanted to be an average guy, walking his beautiful girl to her violin lesson in the ghetto de mierda.
They rounded the corner and entered an elementary school. In the gymnasium, six kids with violins awaited her in foldout chairs. “Hello, my little stars.” Effie set down her case. “This is my, uh, friend, Elias.”
A small boy in a giant football jersey glared at him. “Damn, shawty, why you so late?”
“Aw, did you miss me, Antoine?” She took out her violin.
“I missed your sweet tits.”
Elias stalked over and crouched down in front of the kid. “Disrespect her again, and you’ll be wearing that violin.”
“He’s kidding,” Effie said.
“No, I’m not,” Elias said.
“No, I mean Antoine’s kidding. He’s as harmless as a lamb. Aren’t you, Antoine?”
“I ain’t no lamb.”
She pointed Elias toward the stand. “Have a seat. He’ll shut up once we start.”
A girl in braids waved a sassy hand. “Nuh-uh, he never shuts his fat mouth.”
“Yo momma has a fat mouth.” Antoine gripped his crotch. “And it felt good.”
The girl sprung from her chair and knocked him upside the head.
Elias spun around, ready to give old Antoine another lesson in manners, but a woman in the bleachers shot up and yelled, “I know all your mommas, and if you don’t sit down and shut up, you’re out of the program!”
Their backs snapped straight in their chairs. “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.
“Flip open your books to page seventy-five,” Effie said. “From the beginning.”
He sat next to the woman in the bleachers.
After the first song, she leaned in and whispered, “Good, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, not bad.”
She flashed a proud smile. “I’m Ms. Matthews, the principal.”
He shook her outstretched hand. “Elias.”
“It’s my day off, but I love seeing these kids play. I busted my behind to get the grant for this program. You wouldn’t believe the difference it’s made in their lives. Thanks to Miss Murphy. If she didn’t volunteer her time, they’d be out on the streets.”
Music had kept him off the streets, too. “She does this for free?”
“Effie didn’t tell you? She’s got a big heart.” She paused and listened for a moment. “Antoine, the kid with the big mouth?
His older brother was killed in a shooting last week. His momma works three jobs. I leave the gym door unlocked so he can practice after school.”
“Feel where the bow changes strings?” Effie said. “Don’t move your arm too much, or you’ll overshoot the A-string on the way to the E-string.” She went around the circle and adjusted their elbows. “Keisha, speed it up. That’s it. Good.”
Toward the end of the lesson the principal stepped down from the stands. “I promised I’d check in on a student. Nice to meet you, Mr. Elias.”
“Hold on a sec. Let me get your email.” He’d send her a fat check so maybe she’d pay Effie.
She gave him a card and tossed a pointed look in Effie’s direction. “Hold on tight to that one. She’s super special.”
The stranglehold around his neck tightened. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep her. One more day, and he’d have to turn back into El Love.
9
Grazioso
“Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh.”
Soundtrack “Slipped, Tripped, and Fell in Love,” Ann Peebles
At the entrance of the dim sum restaurant in Chinatown, a middle-aged Asian woman with white spiky hair and a sharp chin jumped out from behind a giant lucky cat statue and shrieked. “Aieee! You late!”
Elias flinched and clutched his heart. “Mierda, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
The woman doubled over and cackled. “Wha? You think I was reporter, lao ban?”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your boss.” He grimaced. “What did you do to your hair?”
She fluffed her hairdo. “You like? I look like a rock star?”
“More like an anime character.”
The woman muttered something in Chinese. He replied in Chinese.
“Bah! Who’s this?”
“Effie meet Annie, my mother.”
It took her a minute to wipe the shock off of her face. “Nice to meet you, Annie.”
“We look just like each other, eh?” Annie elbowed her in the side and cracked up.
“Annie adopted me when I was thirteen,” Elias said.
“He ruined my life,” Annie said with a dramatic head roll.
Effie jerked back in horror.
Through a razor-thin squint, his mother inspected her. “Your friend has no sense of humor.”
“My sarcasm meter must be off.” Her own mother had said the very same thing about her. She didn’t find that funny at all.
Annie gave her another once-over then sprinted to an empty table.
The restaurant looked like a Vegas casino. Blue and pink neon ceiling lights cast a cartoonish light on the patrons, and the servers doled out food from their carts like dealers.
“You been here before, girl?” Annie asked.
“No, I just moved to New York.”
“I’ll order for you, then.” Annie called for the server and ordered in Chinese. The waitress set several steaming baskets on the table and Annie dished a little from each onto Effie’s plate.
She pointed to the fried claws. “What are those?”
“Chicken feet.” Annie said, digging into her rice. “Make you run faster.”
Elias unwrapped his chopsticks. “Don’t eat those. She tells everyone they’re a delicacy.”
“Everyone?” Her appetite vanished. Just how many women had he taken to dim sum with his mother?
“My band comes here a lot,” he said.
And her appetite came roaring back. She picked up a foot and took a tiny bite.
Annie stared at her while she chewed.
“Hmm, tastes like chicken,” she said with a broad smile. “And suddenly I feel like running.”
“You’ll be running to the bathroom if you eat any more,” Elias said.
Despite his frequent warnings, she tried everything on the plate—the jellyfish, the pig’s ear, the cow intestines, and the duck blood—and afterwards, proclaimed everything delicious.
Annie scrutinized her every move. It was clear this was his mother’s Princess-and-the-Pea test—if she didn’t complain or barf, she passed.
Elias excused himself to make a call and Annie leapt in for the kill. “How long you known my son?”
“Since ‘Nam,” Effie said.
The restaurant grew eerily quiet. “You funny girl,” she said straight-faced.
Didn’t China have something to do with the Vietnam war? Good grief, she’d probably offended the entire restaurant.
Effie shifted in her seat. “Well, um, thanks so much for lunch. How do you say ‘thank you’ in Mandarin?”
Annie shot her a pointy-chinned smile. “Joan ren.”
She repeated the phrase several times. “Joan ren?”
Annie gave her the thumbs up.
Another wall of silence stretched between them.
“Did my son tell you about the hoopies?” Annie asked.
“Hoopies?”
“Genital rash.”
“Oh! You mean herpes!” Effie flapped a hand. “Yes, he told me all about them.” His mother was lying of course. At least she was about sixty-seven percent certain. “It’s amazing he’s able to sit down.”
Annie reared back and roared.
Right then, Elias came back. He narrowed his eyes. “What was it this time? Syphilis?”
Effie answered for his mother. “Herpes.”
Annie refolded her napkin into a neat square and placed it on the table.
“At least that’s treatable,” Elias said. “Last time, she made up an incurable disease. She likes to torture my dates.”
“Dates!” Annie cried. “What dates? You don’t date.”
Effie did an imaginary cheerleader routine in her head.
“All right, time to go.” He pushed out his chair. “You have my bank card?”
“Yes, lao ban.” Annie slapped the card in his hand.
“Don’t call me that.”
She bowed her head. “Yes, lao ban.”
He helped Effie up and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. “You staying?”
“For a bit,” his mother said. “I want to finish my tea.”
Effie waved. “See you later, Annie.”
His mother propped her cheek on a fist and frowned. “I doubt it.”
Geez. That woman would make the worst mother-in-law. But that didn’t deter her from daydreaming about her future husband.
“Am I winning the award for the worst date ever?” her future husband asked on the way up front.
Since that was only the second date she’d been on, she didn’t really have a good benchmark. “Not yet,” she said. “But you still have time.”
He handed the cashier his card. “Next, we’ll swing by the portable toilets up the street and see if I can’t clinch the deal.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Did you enjoy your meal?” the cashier asked.
“Yes,” Effie said cheerfully. “Joan ren.”
The cashier’s mouth fell open.
Elias apologized then rushed her out the door. “Why’d you tell that lady to fuck off?”
“What? No! I said thank you, didn’t I?”
“Did Annie tell you to say that?”
She wince-nodded.
He sighed. “I’m not related to her. In case you were wondering.”
“Your mom hates me.”
“Nah, she would have ignored you then.”
“Sheesh.”
A man popped up behind a parked car and aimed a camera in their direction. It was the third time she’d seen him. “That guy’s following us.” She pointed over Elias’s shoulder.
He spun around. “What guy?”
“He just ducked behind that red car. Look! There he is again. The guy with the camera. See?”
Elias tore off his coat and threw it over them.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Do me a favor. Meet me around the block in front of the teahouse. I’ll wait for you there.
”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Yes. No. I’ll explain everything in a minute.”
“You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?”
“No! Shit, there he is again. See you in a minute.” He smiled and waved for the photographer’s benefit and took off in the opposite direction.
Wind whipped through the trees and rained pink blossoms down on her. “Nice meeting you, Elvis!” she shouted. “Joan ren!”
10
Fermata
Soundtrack “Wild Love,” Cashmere Cat, The Weeknd, Francis & the Lights
Elias paced in front of the teashop. Effie should have been there by now. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she didn’t show up. No sane person wanted to be hunted down like an animal.
With their hidden cameras and telephoto lenses—the paparazzi were an elaborate network of spies. They’d stop at nothing to get a juicy bit of gossip.
They trailed him constantly, which was pointless since he led a pretty boring life. All he did was play music, work out, and sleep. Once in a while, he shared a purely physical relationship with a woman who’d signed the non-disclosure, but other than that, he wasn’t the slightest bit interesting. That didn’t stop them from making up shit though.
In a matter of hours, those pictures of Effie would be splashed across a web page with a new bullshit headline.
Losing the wild genius he’d known for less than a day shouldn’t have upset him. But it did. He felt like driving a nail into someone’s skull. “Fuck!” he shouted.
“Not on the second date.”
He crushed her into a hug. “Where have you been?”
“I stopped at the Chinese medicine store.” She shook a paper bag. “They gave me something for arthritis. No idea what it is, but I maxed out my credit card buying it.”
He took out the bottle and pretended to read the label. “Dragon balls. Good for enhancing sex life and curing carpel tunnel.”
She grabbed the bottle, ripped off the cap, shook two pills into her hand, and downed them dry.
He laughed and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re the bomb, F-bomb.”
Head-Tripped: A Sexy Rock Star Romance (Ad Agency Series Book 2) Page 5