Rock God_Book 2_A Contemporary Harem Fantasy

by Michael-Scott Earle

  Chapter 11

  I miss you.

  It was a text from Aimee Thursday night. I had been in the middle of some piano playing when it came, and I stopped to stare at the phone.

  You’ll see me on your birthday!

  Too far away. :-(

  Sorry.

  I turned off the phone and checked the time. It was a bit past eight, and I hadn’t made dinner yet. I hadn’t even changed out of my work clothes. First thing I did when I got home was sit at the keyboard that Beth gave me and start to play. It felt wonderful to be making music again, but I also suspected I was using the instrument as a way of escaping from the situation with Aimee, Beth, and Jack.

  “Ugh. Beth shouldn’t even be a problem,” I said out loud to myself. Fuck, I was going crazy. I got up from the keyboard and decided to do a quick work out. I quickly did a bunch of pull ups, push ups, dumbell curls, and sit ups. Then I put on my iPod and did my usual three-mile run around the neighborhood. When I got back, I was sweating a good amount, and I actually felt hungry.

  I opened the fridge and remembered that I had the steaks from last night wrapped in foil.

  Then my phone buzzed.

  Hi. Can I come over?

  It was Beth. I was glad it was a text because it would be easier for me to say no.

  Sorry. Have plans. See you Saturday.

  My stomach knotted slightly when I thought about my plan for Saturday. It was pretty chickenshit, I had to admit, but I didn’t see any other way of getting out of the situation. I planned on calling or texting her that morning saying I was sick. Yeah, I know, totally lame, but the attraction that I felt toward Beth was dangerous, and I didn’t want to see her until whatever spell she had cast on me had faded.

  What plans?

  I should have known that she wouldn’t have given up easily. I debated not responding, but she might have tried to come over anyways.

  Just finished exercising, about to eat dinner, and then I’ll shower and head to bed.

  Do you like ice cream?

  I felt like this was some kind of trap, but who didn’t like ice cream?

  Yeah. Do you want to get some on Saturday?

  There was suddenly a knock on my apartment door. I looked away from the wrapped steaks and wondered who would be at my apartment now. I stepped across the room, and the realization hit me before I even opened the door.

  “Ice cream?” Beth was wearing a dark-red cocktail dress with darker crimson floral embroidering on the top part that covered her chest. The skirt of the dress fell just above her knees, and a matching pair of heels elongated her already perfect legs. Her hair was loose and fell over her shoulders like a black silk ribbon. There was a choker on her white neck made of black lace-like material, and I wondered again if the girl somehow knew I had a thing for that type of accessory. In her left hand, she held a white plastic shopping bag that conformed to the shape of an ice cream carton.

  I struggled to overcome the shock of seeing her. I should have known that she would have done something like this, but the sight of her still smacked my mind and left me dumbfounded. She couldn’t be here. I needed to close the door right now, lock it, run into my room, and hide until the world ended.

  “Invite me in?” She licked her lips slightly, and I felt my breath leave my body. Don’t invite her in. Don’t invite her in. Don’t invite her in, you fucking idiot.

  “You really can’t be here” is what I heard my voice say.

  “But I am here.” She stepped toward me, and I found myself turning slightly so that she could pass into my apartment. She smelled of gardenias, and my mouth began to water. I quickly closed the door behind her, and I tried to keep my mind from spinning.

  “You really have to leave,” I choked out the demand.

  “After ice cream!” She had already walked into the kitchen. “You didn’t eat the steaks last night?”

  “My friend ended up not coming over.” I struggled to come up with a lie, but I couldn’t think fast enough.

  “Oh. That was unfortunate for her.” She took the ice cream out of the bag, and it was some brand I didn’t recognize. There was Spanish writing on the carton, but it looked like vanilla. “And for me too! I could have stayed and eaten dinner with you. Then you could have played piano for me.”

  “I’m really gross though. I just finished working out, and I haven’t taken a shower.”

  “I am fine with you taking a shower,” she said, without smiling. Shit, that was a bad conversation topic.

  “Did you like the sushi?” I tried to change the subject.

  “It was great. Is the restaurant near here?” She opened my freezer and put the ice cream inside.

  “Yeah. Ten-minute drive.”

  “I can heat this up for you,” Beth turned in the kitchen like a ballet dancer and bent to get my cast-iron pans from their spot under the oven. The sight of her body folded in the dress made my heart skip a beat and my penis throb.

  “No. No. That’s okay. I can do it.” She had already grabbed the pan, and our hands touched briefly when I took it from her.

  “Can I help you cook?” She was standing a few inches from me, and my kitchen was already pretty tiny.

  “It is just reheating. I can do it. I can’t have my guests working!” I laughed nervously and tried to think of words I could say to get her to step away from me.

  “Did you eat dinner?” I asked while I opened up the fridge door between us and looked for the vegetables she had cooked last night.

  “Yes. I was at a dinner in Burbank. Some movie-studio thing.” I nodded at her words even though she couldn’t see me. The fridge-door barricade and the cold air were helping me come to my senses. Beth turned on the faucet, and I guessed that she was washing her hands.

  “Which studio?” I didn’t know anything about the studios in Burbank, but it was only a fifteen-minute drive from my apartment, so it explained why she was in the area.

  “Warner Brothers, I think. I didn’t pay a lot of attention. I was thinking about you and coming over afterwards, and my imagination distracted me. I left my watch at home...” Her voice trailed off, and I looked over the fridge door. The beautiful girl seemed lost in thought and was staring at water cascading onto her hands. Her dark hair had fallen away from the right side of her neck, and the sweep of her skin by the choker made my mouth water again.

  “Why do you wear the watch?” I noticed the giant contraption was absent from her slender wrist.

  “It helps.” She shut off the water and then turned to me with a smile. I wondered what someone so beautiful was doing in my apartment.

  “What does it help with?” She narrowed her eyes a bit, and I sensed that she didn’t want to talk about the watch.

  “I have little patience and get distracted easily.” She shrugged her shoulders and pointed to the foil-wrapped steaks. “Can I put those on?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t stand behind the fridge door all night, so I slid away and closed it.

  Beth grabbed the meat and laid the two steaks on the pan. The iron sizzled, and she pulled another pan from below the burners.

  “Butter please,” she commanded, and I opened the fridge to hand her what she wanted.

  “How did you learn how to cook?” I asked. Beth cooked all this stuff last night and didn’t seem to have a problem handling the food now. I hadn’t actually eaten any of her food, but it smelled delicious last night.

  “Loretta has shown me some basics. We often cook together and practice our Spanish.”

  “It feels weird having you cook if you aren’t going to eat.” I wanted to keep the conversation going, so now I was just saying whatever flew into my brain.

  “Don’t worry, Eric. I will be eating something later.” She turned her gorgeous face to me and smirked. Our eyes met, and I felt my penis struggle inside my underwear. Damn it. I was so hard that she had to see my erection through my loose gym shorts.

  “Ice cream!” She tilted her head back slightly and let out a laugh
. “Or did you forget already?”

  “No.” I smiled and felt my body relax.

  “And I want to hear you play. Then I’ll go home. I’ve got a big project I want to finish tomorrow so I can be free to think during our trip to the museum.”

  “What project?”

  “Another painting.” She flipped the steaks. “It is too bad that we didn’t eat these yesterday. They will still be good, but they were perfect yesterday.” I realized that I couldn’t possibly eat both of them yet she was cooking the pair.

  “I’m not very picky.”

  “I am.” She turned her face over her shoulder to stare at me again. There was no hint of humor on her face. Her unearthly beauty combined with the light-blue color of her eyes made me think she was staring into my soul.

  “Then I’m guessing that you brought over some high-quality ice cream?”

  “Of course!” Her eye lids fluttered, and she flashed me her perfect teeth. “It is the kind Loretta always gets us. You will love it.”

  “And then you’ll go home?”

  “After you play me some piano. You played for Aimee. Grab me a plate, please.” I gave her the dish, and she put both steaks and the vegetables on it. There was way too much food for me to eat, but I didn’t correct her.

  “I normally eat in front of the TV...” I trailed off. There was a small four-chair table in the dining room, but I thought it would be weird for Beth to just sit there and watch me eat.

  “Sounds good. Oh, I forgot something. I’ll grab it while you find a show.” She twirled around and walked back into the kitchen. I heard the fridge open, and I forced myself to turn on the TV and surf through the shows.

  After a few channels, I ended up on South Park. It was a repeat of the episode that must have aired yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to watch it. Beth opened up and closed a cupboard in my kitchen and emerged a few seconds later with two wine glasses and a bottle. I didn’t recognize the bottle, and I figured that she must have brought it with her yesterday.

  “This is a good wine. Silver Oak Napa Valley. Have you had it?”

  “No.” The bottle was from 2000. I didn’t think I’d ever had a wine that was five years old, and I wondered how much it cost.

  “Can you open it please?” She had found my corkscrew, and I used the tool to pop the cork. It was a Cabernet Sauvignon, and while I wasn’t anything close to an expert, the red liquid did smell wonderful.

  “I’ll pour. You eat, please.” She took the bottle and started to fill up our glasses.

  “Should you be drinking?” It was a dumb question, but I felt that not saying anything would mean that I was okay with someone underage drinking.

  “I’m not driving anywhere. How is the steak?”

  I cut into the beef and took a bite. Even though it had been cooked a second time, it still tasted amazing. Beth had used a little smoked paprika with her salt and pepper. There were also a few other light spices that made me think of a time I went to an Argentinean steak house with my parents a few years ago.

  “Wow, this is really good.”

  “I’m glad you like it. What shall we toast to?” She raised her glass, and I could see that she had poured us most of the bottle.

  This was a bad idea.

  “To friendship.” I had thought of a dozen other sayings, but they all could have had a sexual theme.

  “To friendship,” she agreed, and we touched our glasses before drinking.

  It was like liquid ambrosia. The stuff tasted like wine, of course, but it was as if all other wine I’d ever tasted before was really watered down. This was full of complicated grape, cherry, and smoky flavors that were hard for my tongue to understand. I took another sip, and the flavors seemed to blossom more in my mouth.

  “It changes as it gets more air. What show did you turn on?” She pointed to the TV with a graceful finger, and I noticed that her nails were painted the same dark red as the embroidery on her dress.

  “South Park.” The intro had already played, and the show was starting. Cartman started to do a school presentation on how horrible kids with red hair are.

  “It is a cartoon?”

  “You’ve never seen South Park?”

  “I don’t watch much TV.” She shook her head.

  “This might not make that much sense to you then.”

  “I’ll try to keep up.” I nodded and continued to eat. The episode was good, but Beth understood almost none of it, and I had to fill her in on most of the humor during the first commercial.

  “Can I have a bite please?” She looked down at the steak. I’d only eaten half of the first filet, and I was probably going to have a problem finishing it.

  “Sure. Let me get you a fork.”

  “Just give me yours. She had been sitting on the far side of the couch, and she scooted closer so that she could grab my fork. She also took the knife and cut a small piece before putting into her mouth. Her right shoulder was touching my left, and she had taken off her shoes at some point during the first part of the show.

  “I am a good cook.” She sat back into the couch and took a sip of wine to wash down the food.

  “Do you want any more? I can’t finish everything.” I pointed to the steak, and she shook her head.

  “I’ll save room for dessert.” She stared at me intently, and I was all too aware of her smooth skin touching my arm. Fortunately, the show came back on, and we directed our attention back to it.

  “I like this show.” She hadn’t laughed the entire time, even after I explained the humor, so I guessed that she was trying to please me.

  “Why?” I took the last bite of veggies and steak after I asked so that I wouldn’t have to look at her.

  “It is clever. I will buy all the other seasons so that I am caught up. Then we can talk about it later. Is it available on DVD?”

  “I think so. Actually, I have some already.” I stood from the couch and walked to the TV. Under the set was a cabinet that had a few of my favorite DVDs. I had three seasons already, and I set them on the coffee table that now separated us.

  “That will get you started.” She was curled up on my couch, and I tried to look anywhere other than her face, or her legs, or anywhere around her.

  My eyes focused on my food, and I decided to take it to the kitchen. The veggies were pretty much gone, but the steak would keep for another day. I wrapped it back up in the kitchen and then put it in the fridge.

  “You are missing it,” she called out from the other room while I enjoyed the coldness of the fridge.

  “Be there in a second.” I was almost done. Just ice cream, a little piano, and she’d go home.

  I hoped.

  Her eyes were focused on the screen, and I took the long way around the coffee table to sit back at my spot. The show was reaching its final few minutes, when the boys kind of fix everything and have their ‘I learned something today’ speech. Then it was over, and Beth clapped a few dozen times with real enthusiasm.

  “I liked it. Are there other shows like this? It is pretty adult in tone.”

  “I can’t think of any shows that are like this. It is one of my favorites.” I laughed and then got off of the couch again. “Ice cream?” I figured the sooner I could get this out of the way, the sooner she would leave and I could devote myself to an ice-cold shower.

  “Yep!” she floated out of the couch with an unearthly grace, and my breath left my lungs. Fucking god damn it. Just a few more minutes and she would be gone. Okay, maybe thirty more minutes after ice cream, the piano, and waiting for the car to pick her up.

  I grabbed the dessert out of the fridge and scooped some into two bowls. Her eyes were on my face the entire time, but she didn’t say anything, she just nodded when I asked her if the amount I gave her was fine. Then we were back on the couch and watching the next show on TV.

  “This is great ice cream,” I said to fill the silence that hung between us.

  “Try it with the wine.” She picked up her glass and too
k a sip. My own glass was about half empty, but hers was mostly full. I had feared that she would guzzle the stuff and we’d have a repeat the night she came over drunk, but it looked like she was being conservative.

  The wine had bloomed with the air, and it tasted more of dark cherry combined with smoke. The alcohol had started to relax my tense muscles, and I guessed I would get buzzed with a few more sips of the dark-red liquid.

  “Can I hear you play now?”

  “Sure!” I said a bit too enthusiastically. With any other girl, this would have been the kind of romantic situation that would have gotten me laid easily, and I didn’t want Beth to think that I was excited about playing for her. Okay, maybe a part of me was excited to play music for the beautiful genius girl, but I was more interested in getting her to leave.

  I turned off the TV and sat on the bench. Then I unplugged the headphones from the keyboard and readied a few pieces I had been practicing. The speakers on the piano were decent, and the notes soon filled the small living room with delightful tones.

  “I’ve heard this before. Is it Mozart?” Beth asked while I played.

  “Yeah, Piano Sonata 12.” It was a bit difficult to read the music, play, and talk at the same time, but I managed to answer her without missing a note. After a few minutes I was done, and I pulled my hand from the keys.

  “Beautiful.” She clapped slightly. “He was quite gifted.”

  “I’m not a very good piano player, but I can do a lot of Mozart’s stuff, and they sound great. You are right about him being a genius. He wrote a great piece called ‘Table Music For Two.’ You can lay it on a table and have two people play the piece looking at it from opposite sides of the table. It plays as a great duet.”

  “Can you play something else?” She had moved to the edge of the couch, and I could smell the scent of gardenias on her.

  “This is what I am working on right now. This keyboard is really great. It can have a bunch of different sounds come out of it. This is a harpsichord piece by Vivaldi.” I hit a few buttons on the keyboard to bring up the right sound pattern, and then I started on Vivaldi’s Concerto for Harpsichord. It was a much harder piece, and I had to take the tempo at about eighty percent of what it should have been. It only took me a few minutes to play the first part.