INSIDE THE BAR, a group of college guys were on the stage, playing covers. They weren’t half-bad.
“Who’s the band?” I asked our waitress when she returned with our order.
“Steele Strings. They’re pretty good, right? They’re not LO. But they keep the crowd coming back on their nights,” she said as she passed out the glasses and bottles.
For a few minutes, we all listened to the young talent. I imagined we were all thinking back to when that used to be us.
As we sat around a table in the corner laughing and catching up on what had been going on since we got off the bus, a feminine voice called from behind me, “Is that Dawson Anderson?”
I hunched further down in my seat. We’d been hoping for a low-key evening, which meant not getting recognized. A slender hand tipped with red nails trailed across my shoulder and down my arm. “Hey, boys,” a familiar voice said.
When I glanced up, my vision filled with huge tits. The Dawson that Cleo knew best would’ve stared at her assets for a long time, appreciating them. The pre-Izzy Dawson. My gaze didn’t pause, but rather it traveled right up to her sparkling eyes and pink tipped hair.
“Long time no see, Cleo. Nice hair.” Her dark colored curls were tipped in hot pink.
“Thanks. You always did like the girls with colorful hair.” She smirked and patted her springy locks.
“Not girls, plural. Just one,” I growled.
“No matter. You’re looking good, Dawson.” She sidled up next to me, squeezing between me and Brooks.
“Why don’t we all shift down a seat, so you can have a chair,” Brooks said with mild sarcasm.
I shot him a murderous look, but he just shrugged.
“That’s so sweet of you. And they say chivalry is dead,” Cleo responded. After she sat, she leaned closer to me and rested one hand on my thigh.
“So, what brings you to LA?” I asked to be polite. My fingers spun my thumb ring around in an absentminded way.
“My agent got me a modeling contract out here for a little while. And I got a lead on a music video looking for sexy dancers. You know I play that part well.” She preened like a peacock.
I didn’t want the reminder of the last music video we shot.
“Anyway, New York’s still home, but LA is starting to grow on me. It wouldn’t take much to convince me to move here permanently.” Her hand drifted a tad higher, and she gave my leg a seductive squeeze.
The action did nothing for me.
“LA is a nice place to live. It’s not home yet. But I like it. Surfing’s good,” I offered with a shrug.
“I’m going to go grab us another round. Do you want anything, Cleo?” Maddox asked.
“A Cosmo, please.” She smiled up at him.
Jett and Wilder excused themselves to help him grab the drinks. I didn’t appreciate their abandonment.
I met Cleo when I was young, stupid and cocky as hell. We were nineteen and had just moved to New York to record our first album. She’d just been trying to break into modeling, with aspirations of acting too.
Cleo came backstage after one of our first shows at a club in Brooklyn. The busty brunette captured my attention right away. Could’ve been her looks or the way she sucked cock. Couldn’t say for sure.
We never had a relationship or anything. But we did hook up every few weeks during the time I lived there recording. Until I decided to pursue Izzy. Cleo and I did have a lot of fun before. She never had expectations. She was pretty, funny and liked my music. And she loved sex. Huge bonus for a nineteen-year-old guy. Then Izzy and I took our friendship beyond the confines of friendship, and I never looked back at that old life.
Cleo had actually helped us out with one of our music videos a few years ago. It was the last time I’d seen her. I wasn’t in a good place back then. I don’t remember much of her visit. Except she was frustrated with me. So were the guys and the director and cameramen and Lila, and the list was endless. I couldn’t give any of them the performance they wanted for the video. I shook off the memory.
“Going to use the can,” Brooks said, leaving me alone with Cleo.
She leaned towards me, giving me an unobstructed view of her cleavage. Her finger started to draw little circles on my denim-clad leg. “You know, I never believed in fate. Yet of all the places in the world, I just happened to run into the hottest lay of my life. I might be a believer now,” she purred.
“LA’s not that big. And it’s no secret that the band moved here.”
She chuckled. “True. But I still didn’t expect to run into you. I think it means something. Maybe we could go back to your place for a roll in the hay. Or if you can’t wait through the LA traffic, I’d be willing to have a go in the alley against the wall.”
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but this wasn’t going to happen. I’d let her down gently. “Not tonight.”
“How about a quick blowjob? You used to love those after your shows. Until you stopped letting me come backstage after your performances. What was up with that, anyway?” Her lips poked out in a pout the old me would’ve nibbled on. The new me couldn’t imagine putting my lips anywhere on her.
“Trying to keep our noses clean. Didn’t want the label to think we were too wild.” Hopefully, she didn’t see through my lie.
“Hmmm. You sure it didn’t have something to do with that time your other friend with pink hair busted in on us?” She pressed her finger to her lips as she considered it.
I ignored her. Steele Strings was taking the tiny stage again after a break. Maybe if our record label was a success, we could help out guys like them one day.
“Anyway, I know you didn’t perform tonight, but we can still sneak into the storage room. I’ve learned some new tricks.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
I had to be an idiot to not take her up on her offer. I’d been flying solo for longer than I cared to admit—not for lack of trying sometimes. I just wasn’t able to go through with it.
“Maybe another time, babe.”
She pouted and considered me for a moment. Before she could speak, the guys were back with our drinks. Cleo hung out for a little while longer, shooting the breeze with the guys.
“Got a pen?” Cleo asked.
Everyone reached in their pockets to produce a pen. Laughter erupted from her lips. “I just need one.”
“Musicians are always prepared. Never know when inspiration might strike,” Brooks explained.
Cleo scribbled onto her napkin. Then she stood up and slipped it into my shirt pocket. Leaning down and pressing her breasts against me, she whispered in my ear, “We were really good together once upon a time. I know you remember that. I’m not looking for a ring or anything. Just some sweaty fun and a few orgasms. Call me if you’re up for it.” She pressed a kiss to my cheek, then sashayed away.
“Da-yuum, why aren’t you following her?” Wilder asked, his tongue half-hanging out of his mouth.
“You know why, idiot,” Brooks said, smacking him on the shoulder.
“I’m outta here, guys. I got stuff to do.” I took a hefty swallow of the dark, syrupy soda they’d brought me back from the bar. After I set the glass back on the table, I pushed to my feet and stalked out of the recently shut door.
CHAPTER 13
IZZY
I managed to ignore the CD Dawson had sent me for a couple of days. But only because I immersed myself in photoshoots and the follow-up editing. I sat at my computer until I could barely keep my eyes opened. And once I hit that level of exhaustion, then I combed through the images in my cloud, trying to select edited images to show Charles. Most of my selections were ones from the few months of travel before my relapse and the months I spent abroad afterwards.
Ruby Falls in Tennessee. Mingus Mill in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Looking Glass Falls in North Carolina. Cumberland Falls in Kentucky. Angel Oak and Lake Jocassee, both in South Carolina. Cumberland Island and Tallulah Gorge in Georgia. Devil’s Den in Florida. Cinque Terre and Riomaggi
ore in Italy. St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Capri in Italy. Santorini and Athens in Greece.
For variety, I did throw in a few concert photos, and some from when I was first starting out, so Charles could see the progression of my work.
The car was packed with everything, so I could hit the road first thing in the morning and drive to Columbia. Irrationally, I decided the car ride would be the perfect time to listen to Dawson’s CD, so I pulled it from the drawer where I’d stashed it. My intention was to drop it in my purse, then go to bed. Instead, I found myself tracing the drawn lines on the cover. Remembering every slide of my pencil against the paper, bringing the memory of our first kiss into reality all those years ago. That first kiss was nothing, really, but somehow it was everything. We were eleven and in the sixth grade…
♪ 2002 by Anne Marie
“DID you get invited to Brittany’s birthday party?” I asked Dawson as we lay, waiting for sleep to pull us under in the treehouse.
“Yeah. It’s weird, right? I mean, this is the first time in years I’ve been invited to a girl’s birthday party besides yours.” He frowned as he rolled to his side, facing me.
My nose scrunched up in response. “I thought so too. Our first boy-girl party. I heard the girls talking. I’m kind of worried about going.”
“Why? Brittany isn’t mean to you or anything. Is she?” Dawson was much more protective of me once he became my secret boyfriend. Brittany was in my dance class. We were sort of friends. Not as good as me and Dawson. Nobody would ever be as good of a friend as Dawson.
“No, nothing like that. I just heard… well, I heard they’re gonna play spin the bottle,” I whispered.
“OK,” he said with a shrug. Of course, he wasn’t worried. He was a boy.
“I’ve never kissed a boy before. I’m worried I won’t do it right. I’ve seen the movies. It looks complicated,” I confessed.
“How many of the people coming to the party do you think have kissed somebody before? They’re all our age.” He propped his head up in his hand, so he was a little above me. His eyes sparkled in the dark.
I chewed my lip as I decided if I should tell him what I was really worried about. “But what if nobody wants to kiss me?”
“Well, it’s not like they have any choice if the bottle points to you.” He didn’t get it. Boys were so clueless sometimes. Even Dawson, who was much better than most boys I knew.
“Yeah, but they could be mean and tease me.” I turned my head away from him and stared out the window, so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.
“Don’t worry. Somebody will want to kiss you,” he murmured from behind me.
I spun around in a huff. Dawson was my secret boyfriend. I probably shouldn’t be worried about other boys wanting to kiss me. And it’s not like I wanted to kiss any of them. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want them to want to kiss me. “All the boys in our class either pick on me or pretend like I don’t even exist. None ever look at me.”
“That’s ‘cause they know what’s good for them.” His head rested on my bean bag chair.
Huh? “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry so much.” Dawson’s lips pinched together in that way they always did when he was almost done talking.
“Well, what about if the bottle points to some boy and I have to kiss him? Doesn’t kissing someone else make me a cheater in our secret relationship?” I didn’t want to cheat on Dawson, game or no game.
“Naw. It’s not considered cheating ‘cause it’s a game. The kisses won’t mean anything since everybody will have to do it.” He rolled over, and our discussion was over.
I STRESSED about the party for two whole weeks. I didn’t bring it up to Dawson anymore. He just didn’t get it. The night of the party finally came, and I thought I was going to be sick. Dawson’s mom drove us to the party, and my mom would bring us home later.
When we entered the basement, the boys lined the far wall, and the girls were on the opposite side. A sigh of relief slipped out as I joined all the other girls. I could spend the night staring at the boys across the room and sneaking peeks at Dawson. But after we’d been at the party for a little while, Brittany made everyone gather in the center of the room, intermingling the boys and girls. Someone produced a green, glass bottle and settled it in the center.
As the birthday girl, Brittany got to go first. She wound up kissing Chris. After several spins, it landed on Brittany again, giving her another spin. Her spin landed on Dawson. My heart stopped. I’d hoped nobody would land on me or Dawson.
Brittany giggled like an idiot. She’d had a thing for Dawson all year. Like all the previous kisses, her kiss with Dawson in the center was quick. He settled back in his seat and gave the bottle a whirl. It seemed to spin forever. I held my breath, waiting to see who else he was going to lock lips with. Part of me wanted to squeeze my eyes shut until it was over. But I didn’t.
What if he decided he liked one of these girls better than me? What if he didn’t want to be my secret boyfriend anymore and would rather be a real boyfriend to some other girl?
The bottle finally stopped and pointed directly at me. My heart thudded in my chest. Saliva pooled in my mouth. My palms grew damp. I stuffed my nerves down and stepped to the center of the circle. Dawson walked up to me and smiled down at me. One of his hands went to my hip, while the other brushed my cheek. As he leaned towards me, my eyes fluttered closed. Soft lips landed on mine. I’d been imagining what his lips would feel like for the past year. My imagination hadn’t done them justice.
Our kiss was just lips, as had been all the previous kisses in the game. But where the other kisses had been quick, ours seemed to last longer—long enough that the guys started hooting at us. When we finally parted, I was breathless and blushing. Dawson winked and took his seat. Brittany glared at me. She might not be my friend anymore now. I should be sad. But I wasn’t.
It was my turn to spin. I prayed for some act of God to interrupt, but I was destined to spin and kiss Jessie, the neighbor boy who’d made a career out of tormenting me over the years. I gave him the world’s fastest kiss and sank back in my spot across from Dawson.
“Come on now, Isabelle. That kiss was so quick it shouldn’t even count as a kiss,” Jessie complained.
Before I had to respond, Brittany’s mom yelled down for me and Dawson to come upstairs because our ride was there. Maybe God had been listening to my prayers after all.
Mom chattered the whole way home. She didn’t seem to notice that both Dawson and I were extra quiet.
For weeks, things continued as they always had. We never talked about the kiss. It had to be because I sucked so much. It didn’t help that Jessie had started waving at me every time I was outside in my yard. Maybe Dawson had changed his mind and decided that me kissing Jessie did make me a cheater. Part of me wanted to talk to my mom about it. But then I’d have to confess about my secret relationship. And I was a great secret keeper. I wouldn’t betray Dawson or what we had.
Finally, I decided to leave him a note about it.
D,
Do you think I’m a cheater because of the game?
I
THE NEXT DAY, scribbled across the bottom, he wrote,
I TOLD YOU, THOSE KISSES DON’T MEAN ANYTHING.
THAT HAD to mean I sucked at kissing. I guessed I needed to practice. I had no idea how I was going to get practice without Dawson’s help. Everywhere around school, couples had popped up. Kids who kissed at the party were now boyfriend and girlfriend.
And my former friend, Brittany, had been sticking notes in Dawson’s locker ever since her party. I really wanted to know what they said and if he ever wrote her back. But I was too chicken to ask him. I just saw the pink paper with hearts drawn on the outside as he emptied his locker each afternoon. The folded paper always got shoved into his backpack with his books.
Ever since I asked him about cheating, he’d become very quiet. He still spent most nights sleeping in the treehouse, but
he didn’t tell me as many stories or write as many songs.
Something was wrong. It had been days since I’d seen him smile. Maybe he didn’t want to hang out with me anymore. Maybe he liked Brittany and wanted to be her real boyfriend instead of my secret boyfriend. Maybe I should let him go…
♪ Letting Go by Mayday Parade
AS I REMINISCED, I fell asleep and dreamed of first kisses and hearts destined to break.
CHAPTER 14
DAWSON
T hings went so smoothly with Brooks yesterday that we booked studio time in a week to lay down the track with the rest of the band. The rest of the guys would be over later today to start learning “Dear Universe”.
As I wandered down to my music room, I pulled out my phone. A quick check of our social media accounts revealed that my posts, both of them, had officially gone viral. Fans were clamoring for more of the song, and overwhelmingly they seemed to support me making some grand romantic gesture to win back the girl. Their support of seeing me in a relationship was a hollow victory. I’d argued with our old label’s PR group about the perceived negative impact on the band if I was in a relationship. The Loyals had proven them wrong. Too bad it was about seven hundred days late and a relationship short.
Now, I had to figure out some grand romantic gesture. I hadn’t been romantic in over seven hundred days. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to be. Words and song alone wouldn’t be enough.
But they were a start. I picked up my very first guitar, a Seagull S6 acoustic guitar, from where it rested in the corner. Though I hadn’t held it in years, it still felt like an extension of me when I settled it across my lap. The memories wrapped up in this work of strings and wood flooded me as soon as my fingers began tuning it. I’d had this very guitar since I was eleven years old…
♪ Raine by Bret Michaels
Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Page 16