Hot for Talia

by Julian Bloom

  What could he say to that? It was the truth. So he remained silent.

  “God,” Linda continued, “and I was about to be angry at her for dumping you that way. You’re so…you’re such a…such a loser, JD.”

  She hung up without even saying goodbye.

  JD sighed. His girlfriend had been gone for one week.

  And he had not even noticed.

  It would have been hilarious—if it wasn't so pathetic.

  The heavy metal rock music inside The Club was blaring and he welcomed the auditory adrenaline and energy it gave him. He worked his way through the sea of people to the bar at the back, where his comrades, his brothers in arms, his fellow band members were having their monthly reunion. It should have been band practice instead of drinks at the bar but, well…JD filed the rest of that thought in the” not now” folder of his brain.

  Abe, bass guitar, and Simba the drummer were seated at the bar, a bottle of Whisky positioned strategically between them.

  “Where’s Caitlyn?” Joe, the guitarist asked as JD moved past the table where he was seated.

  JD didn’t stop. “She’s not coming. She’s already flown to France for her next project.”

  He sat on the stool next to Abe, trying to feel sad, trying to care that Caitlyn was gone. But the only emotion he could muster up was a far-off sense of frustration. And maybe a pinch of envy. Caitlyn had another project to go to. So far he had absolutely nothing lined up yet. He was shocked and disturbed to discover that Caitlyn had another project lined up and he didn’t hurt even more due Caitlyn leaving him!

  He looked deeper within himself as he stared into the shot glass filled with golden brown whiskey that Abe had pushed in front of him, determined to dig out even one appropriate emotion that he felt towards Caitlyn’s leaving. Shouldn’t he feel sad? Angry? Betrayed? He looked deep in the corners of his heart but he still felt nothing more than a profound sense of relief.

  He sighed. Caitlyn had left, which meant that he no longer had to worry about breaking her heart. He knew that she had genuinely cared for him. And he … well, the sex was good.

  But whiskey was way better.

  He picked up the glass of liquid temptation and brought it up to his nose, breathing in the seductive aroma. He closed his eyes, anticipating its smooth taste against his tongue and the welcomed bite as it hit the back of his throat, the heat that would rush through him, down to his stomach and outward, all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.

  A memory, and several images that had been repressed for two decades suddenly came back to the surface.

  ***

  At 3 a.m. three ex-Army-looking guys burst into JD’s room, grabbed him, and shoved him into a van. They told him that his parents had signed their rights away as his guardians and had given the three men complete authority over him till the end of his stay at the “rehab camp”.

  The "camp" was a desert. Not figuratively a desert. Literally a desert. There were no buildings, no plants, no bushes, no animals, nothing. He was given a set of clothes and a tarp then was introduced to his group. Each group in the camp was led by one male and one female counselor, in their late teens. JD found them to be extremely unhelpful in answering his numerous questions about basic desert survival skills

  The diet was monotonous, unimaginative and… gassy. There was no showering. After a while JD got used to the awful smell that clung to his person. But he never gave up his passion for escaping.

  So one day, he escaped. It was difficult, gruesome, dangerous and downright stupid. But JD had weighed the pros and cons of staying at the mind numbing rehab “camp” and had decided to go with dying in the desert rather than dying from boredom and psychoanalysis in the rehab camp.

  He didn’t die. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He escaped from “rehab camp”. And years later, he found out that he was the only sixteen-year-old - in fact, the only teenager - who had ever successfully escaped from that rehab camp.

  ***

  It was that same kind of determination that had helped him to transform from a rebellious, homeless-yet-still-spoiled-not-so-rich-kid trying to make his mark in the world with three chords and some rock ‘n’ roll attitude to a successful world-famous rock star with nothing left to prove. He had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone.

  “Are you going to drink it?”

  JD opened his eyes to see Frank sliding onto the stool on his other side. Frank was a brilliant band manager, and one of the shrewdest guys in the music industry. He had gotten it into his head that he would have stood a chance with Caitlyn, had JD not come into the picture and ruined the possibility of a romance blooming between Caitlyn and himself.

  “Are you?” Frank asked again.

  JD couldn’t answer. He never knew for sure if he was going to swallow the seductive contents in the glass or not. He never knew right until that moment when he got up and walked out of the bar. So far he had always walked away.

  He sidestepped the question, giving Frank his rock star crooked, cheeky smile that always infuriated Frank. “I just like to smell it, Frank”.

  “Smell it, huh? Tell me JD, you have not touched a drink for … how long?” Frank asked.

  “It will be four years’ end of this week.”

  Frank whistled in mock wonder. “That’s a long, long time JD. You must want to drink what is inside that glass so bad, am I right?”

  JD just gazed into the shot glass. When Frank saw he could not easily get a rise from him, he changed tactics.

  “Miranda called me.” Frank said.

  JD inwardly sighed. Here it comes he thought as he steeled himself for the verbal acid rain.

  “She wants you at the record company offices at 9am on the dot and not a second later. Or the whole deal is off.”

  JD felt a slither of panic sliding up and down his spine. He needed this deal desperately. The indie record label founded and run by Miranda was his big break and only chance to make it back into the music industry. No record label wanted to sign a band with a lead singer who was…unpredictable. Despite his being sober for over three years, the record companies had not yet forgotten the alcohol-induced, PR nightmare escapades that JD had reveled in.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

  “You better be, JD. This is your last- “

  “Last chance. I get it.”

  JD had had enough of the conversation. He wanted to get up but Frank stopped him with a hand on his dragon tattooed arm. Frank was holding JD so tightly that he would have had to really pull to escape from Frank’s grasp. This was the way bar brawls begun. He knew because he had been in enough of them in the past.

  He briefly closed his eyes. “Frank, I’m sorry about Caitlyn. I honestly did not know that you were interested in —”

  “Forget Caitlyn.” Frank said as he laughed harshly. “Actually, you already did that, didn’t you?”

  JD could feel liquid anger boiling to the surface, about to erupt.

  “Let. Go. Frank.”

  Frank must have seen something on his face or heard something in his voice that he quickly let go of JD’s arm.

  As JD walked out of the club, he admitted to himself that he would have given anything to have just one drink. But he knew very well that today particularly, “just one” would not be enough. So he quickly walked out of the club, Frank’s words following behind him.

  “Remember, it’s your last chance JD. 9am sharp.”

  CHAPTER 2: Last Chance

  Cast in this unlikely role/Ill-equipped to act/with insufficient tact/One must put up barriers/To keep oneself intact” – “Limelight” Rush.

  JD was proud of himself. 8. 45 Am. Fifteen minutes early. Five minutes later though, he begun to regret his punctuality.

  Chantal, the receptionist was…enthusiastic towards him. Apparently, she was a big fan and she told him, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted to show her “appreciation” for the good music he had given her and the whole world in general. He thanked her
, and then very diplomatically attempted to resist her advances. That’s when she dropped the subtle approach.

  “JD, I want to taste your dragon tattoo and follow its path…” She breathed, looking directly at the region around his groin.

  “I...err…” he was literally at a loss for words.

  “You know; I love reading Celebrity Ink magazine… I adored your dragon tattoo and the way it snakes below your waist…”

  He laughed nervously then, hoping his question would distract her from the dangerous path her hand was taking towards his waist, he asked: “Do you have any tattoos?”

  “I have many tattoos. All over my body. I have a tattoo of a daffodil. I want your dragon to breathe fire onto my daffodil…”

  JD would have found the situation funny if it wasn’t so scary. Scary because Chantal was dead serious. He was no stranger to women offering themselves up to him. It simply came with the territory. Even after five years of being persona-non-grata of record companies, his former-rock-star status still managed to get women all hot and bothered. He remembered something one of his band members had said:

  “You can take the rock star out of the rock star business but you can’t take the rock out of the rock star.”

  He had never understood the pull that his career had on women, or to be more specific, on women’s libidos. He had just accepted it as part of his job and had grinned and bore it, even enjoyed it most of the times. However, there was no way he was going to accept Chantal’s advances. She scared him. His instincts were screaming that something wasn’t quite right with her.

  “Don’t be scared JD. I won’t bite…unless you want me to.” She giggled.

  He tried to move away from her without making it too obvious. “Chantal, will Miranda be long?” Please, please let her be on her way here right now!

  “Oh she’s on her way. She’ll be here in five minutes.” A smile slowly appeared on her heavily made-up face and it was all JD could do not to run out of the room. “You know; five minutes is enough for me to make you very happy.” She wiggled her trimmed eyebrows suggestively. “And you don’t even have to worry about making a mess. I will swallow it all.”

  JD swallowed convulsively. Chantal was not kidding. He could see it in her eyes that she was very willing and very eager to deliver on her promise. The thought of her mouth on him made the meager contents of his stomach threaten to travel back up his esophagus.

  ‘Your shyness is so hot!” Chantal was mistaking his resistance for shyness.

  “Don’t be shy pretty boy!”

  Due to years of practice, he used his will power to keep the contents of his stomach in his stomach and a disturbing memory of a hot night in a dark alley with two street bullies in the “not now” file in his head.”

  “Chantal, stop!”

  “Oh! I love a man who is playing hard to get!” She suddenly dropped on her knees before him and begun fumbling with his belt buckle.

  JD couldn’t help the fear-filled f-word expletive that exploded out of his mouth.

  “Not in my office you won’t.”

  JD looked up to find Miranda, his new boss, looking at the compromising situation he found himself in, with a disapproving look on her pretty face.

  “Miranda, I can explain. This is not what it looks like.”

  Miranda looked at Chantal who was still kneeling before JD, her hand still on his belt buckle, an unrepentant look on her face. Miranda sighed.

  “Chantal, how many times have I told you not to welcome our clients quite so…enthusiastically?”

  Chantal giggled and finally, mercifully stood up. “Sorry boss. But I couldn’t help myself. It’s JD. The JD!”

  “I am perfectly aware of who he is. All the more reason for you to behave yourself. Now get us some coffee.”

  “Right away Ma’am!”

  Miranda looked at JD. He was still frozen in the same position, totally at sea, not knowing what to do, what to say. Then Miranda smiled and something in JD melted. Her smile totally transformed her face from pretty to absolutely gorgeous.

  “Sorry about Chantal. She has a thing for rock stars.”

  “What about you?”

  CHAPTER 3: Miranda

  “Music executives develop and sell music. They oversee virtually all aspects of the recording process. Their influence is wide, but their tenure is short-lived if they fail to deliver chart-topping hits. It’s a tough competitive business.”

  “What about you?”

  It was not just the highly inappropriate question that got Miranda off balance. It was the way her new client was asking it; with that sexy voice of his that hinted at hot, sweaty, passionate nights; with that intense look on his face that seemed to be riveted on her, like there was no one else on the planet but her.

  Miranda had heard stories and read interviews about this man’s magnetic personality, about the way he unconsciously sucked someone into his orbit and all one could do was orbit around him, be a satellite around him, held to him by his own unique brand of gravity. Experiencing it first hand was disorienting, exhilarating…frightening.

  She shook her head to clear the fog of lust that had suddenly engulfed her. He interpreted her shake as her answer to the question he had asked.

  “No? Pity.” He spoke in a low, soft voice that made Miranda think of a secluded beach, a blanket under the stars, hard masculine tattooed body on her…

  She cleared her throat and briskly walked towards her office, suddenly needing to be behind her big oak desk, to place that barrier between this magnetic man and herself. To restore the balance of power. She was in charge of his career so she was the one with the power. She silently chanted that as she sat down behind her desk.

  ***

  1 year later

  The music got louder as Miranda got closer to the recording studio. She opened the door and stepped inside. JD and his band – Abe, Simba and Joe - were behind a glass screen, with him shouting out instructions and his band members nodding their acknowledgement. On tour, there would be a much bigger team including backup singers, sax players and violinists, but what was being recorded was more of an acoustic set.

  Miranda was proud of her accomplishments for the past year. It had been a hard year of hard work to get to this point; keeping things strictly professional between her and JD despite the mind-addling mutual attraction; keeping an eye on JD so that he wouldn’t relapse, making sure he attended his AA meetings, talking to promoters, radio show hosts, social media strategists, photographers, album cover artists….

  She was exhausted but in a good, satisfying way.

  Collins, one of the recording studio staff who happened to also be her ex, pulled out a chair for Miranda behind the mixing desk and sat down beside her. She looked down at his notepad in front of him which was full of scribbling then she looked up at JD’s side profile as he talked to the band members, his guitar strap stretched across his chest. He was wearing a tight, short-sleeved black t-shirt emblazoned with the name of a popular heavy metal band at the front. A part of the dragon tattoo that, thanks to Chantal, Miranda now knew was inked all over his chest and…below, could be seen on his forearms.

  A cord trailed from the acoustic guitar, hanging behind him, leading to an amp. The band members nodded at whatever he was saying and he turned to face the glass, as he swung the guitar around in his hands. He started to strum the guitar and Collins turned up the sound on one of the dials in front of him.

  Miranda recognized the tune. It was an acoustic version of one of his earlier hits. JD stepped up close to the microphone, his lips touching it as he started to sing. His voice filled Miranda up, warm and soulful. She became mesmerized, frozen, unable to tear her gaze away.

  Then JD looked up and it was like an electric shock as his eyes penetrated Miranda. They became locked in a stare with each other.

  Then JD suddenly looked down, back at his acoustic guitar and Miranda could tell that he was purposely avoiding meeting her eyes again. The song finished and JD turne
d back to his band members, as though Miranda was never there.

  Miranda suddenly felt overwhelmed. Tears pricked her eyes. She glanced at Collins and was surprised to find him calmly watching her.

  “Miranda, it’s been one year. When are the two of you going to admit that you have feelings for each other?”

  Miranda stood up, nervy with embarrassment. “I should get back to work,” she said, fidgeting.

  “Right,” Collin replied, shrugged and looked down at his hand, his pen hovering over a blank sheet in his notepad.