“Tyler! Look at me,” Mom said. She held both shirts up for inspection.
“They’re okay,” he said then went back to tuning his guitar.
“It’s just that I don’t like those black T-shirts you and the band insist on wearing,” she said.
I stood by the window, glancing out every few seconds to see when Rosalyn pulled up. She’d planned to go to the concert with us, and I’d already surfed, taken an extra long shower, combed my hair just right, and even put on some cologne.
“What’s wrong with black?” Tyler mumbled.
Mom said, “It makes you look like you’re in a goth group. Like Black Sabbath or something.”
“We like the black T-shirts.”
“Can’t you at least put this nice plaid shirt over it?” she said. “A lot of the cool bands wear flannel shirts. All the surfers too.” She walked over to him and stroked his hair. “And I think you should do something different with your hair.” She scrunched her face up. “Maybe a little hair gel. Make it more curly.”
I couldn’t resist. “Yeah, curly like a girl. That way the guys’ll like him.”
“Takes one to know one,” Tyler said.
“Maybe if you wear that plaid shirt with your board shorts some of the homo’s that hang out downtown’ll ask you out,” I teased.
“Boys, be nice,” Mom said.
Tyler sat up straight, putting his guitar aside. “Who you calling homo?”
I puffed up my chest. “Wanna make something of it?”
He stood up. “Maybe I do.” He jabbed a finger at my chest.
I put my hands up. “Hey, just messing with you, man.”
He glared at me. “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so busy with … Never mind. What do you know about anything?”
Mom said, “What has gotten into you two?”
“Nothing.” Tyler sat down. “Jax thinks he knows everything about girls.”
Mom stared at me, her eyes questioning. Then she said, “Well, this is going to be nice. Dad will meet us at the club, and Rosalyn will be here any second.”
At the sound of Rosalyn’s name, my heartbeat sped up and my palms got sweaty. I glanced out the window again, and there she was.
Rosalyn
When we got to the Bottom Line that night, Troy was already waiting for us.
He waved from a table that was set up in front of the stage.
“Hey!” he said. Seeing Troy in the dim club was like witnessing a flash-forward to what Jax might look like when he was older: tall, same color hair, commanding. Why couldn’t I find somebody my own age? He hugged me. “Cool you could make it. The boys’ve been working on some new stuff.”
Lydia fell into her husband’s embrace, and while they saved the table, Jax and I went backstage to check on Tyler. He sat on the ratty sofa, his guitar already strapped to his chest, elbows on knees, face in his hands, hair hanging like a curtain. When he saw us, his head slowly lifted. “Oh, hey guys.” He gave a nervous smile.
I sat next to him, putting my arm around him. “You’re going to be fine.”
“But what if—”
I kissed his cheek. “They’ll love you. They always do.”
He stood up and paced. “What if I forget the lyrics? What if I mess up like I did the other night? And what if …” He stopped pacing, looked at me, and smiled. “There is one thing I’m excited about.”
“What’s that?” I said.
His eyes lit up, and he broke into a wide grin. “I wrote a song for you.”
“A song? For me? You did? How sweet. Nobody’s ever written a song for me before.” My body flooded with happiness. Tyler must have liked me more than I thought. Maybe if my affair with Jax ever came out, Tyler would be in our corner. “Jax, has he ever written one for you?”
Jax punched his brother on the arm. “Nope. When you going to write about the star of the family?”
Tyler said, “When you do something cool for a change.”
“Everything I do is cool.” Jax looked at me and smiled. I blushed.
We said good luck to Tyler and pressed through the crowd to sit with Lydia and Troy.
The house lights went down, the room became quiet, and the stage lights came on with a spotlight on Tyler. He went through his usual routine of adjusting and readjusting the mic stand, stomping on each of his pedals, checking and re-checking his set list. Then he smiled at the crowd and stammered, “Hi everybody. I’m Tyler Priest, and this is Love Bone.” He raked a hand through his long hair and smiled his easy smile. “Let’s try not to wake the neighbors.” He nodded at his bass guitarist. “One two three, one two three…” The small club came to life, vibrating with the sensuous sound of Tyler’s deep, gravelly voice, the bass thrumming through my chest. The band performed many of the songs I’d already heard, lovely ballads followed by kick-ass rock and roll.
At the end of a set, Tyler said, “Thanks for coming out tonight.” He leaned into the microphone. “Me and the band have been working on some new stuff. Hope you like it. This next one’s a song I wrote for a friend of mine.” Tyler’s green eyes bored into mine, and winked. “It’s called Poison Temple.”
Jax slid his hand down my leg and squeezed my knee.
Lydia and Troy stared straight ahead at the band, their eyes filled with pride.
Tyler counted down the band. His guitar cried out the opening chords to his song and he sang directly to me. Leaning into the microphone, his voice growled and keened as he launched into the lyrics.
She walks naked into her temple
And he’s waiting for her
Her smile seduces and
A young man is poisoned by her perfume
She spreads her legs
Are you ready?
A young man thinks he’s in love
In the poison temple
My smile faded, and all the blood drained out of my head as Tyler’s haunting voice permeated my soul. He toyed with the microphone, stroking it with his long fingers. His body swayed, jerked with the music as he sang.
My body sank lower into the chair. Jax touched my leg, and I slapped his hand away. Tears filled my eyes as my throat tightened. I swallowed. As he sang, Tyler’s gaze wandered to some of the star struck girls in the audience, then drifted back to me, his eyes piercing. I stole a glance at Lydia and Troy who sat hypnotized by the music. When I looked sideways at Jax, he was looking at his brother, and catching me looking at Jax, Tyler smiled. The song reached a crescendo. A young man thinks he’s in love. In the poison temple. Mercifully, the song ended. Tyler pushed his long hair out of his face, his eyes not leaving mine, and beamed as the crowd broke into heartfelt applause.
“You like it?” Tyler asked the crowd. They roared in response. “Sometimes,” he said in a low voice, “art imitates life.” Before anyone had a chance to ponder that statement, the band continued their set, this time an especially loud rock and roll song that brought the crowd to their feet.
When the band took a break, the house lights came up, causing me to blink.
Lydia said, “Where does he get his ideas?”
Troy smiled, put his arm around Lydia, and said, “Kids today, they know too much.”
Jax said, “Well, I really like the new stuff. How about you, Rosalyn?”
I wanted to die. “Umm, yeah, it’s groovy.”
“Groovy?” Troy said. “Rosalyn, you’re sounding old.”
First Troy and Lydia laughed, and then Jax joined in. Finally, I started, and we all laughed like we’d smoked some especially good weed.
When the laughter died down, Jax wiped his eyes and said, “I like the way Rosalyn talks. In fact, I like lots of things about Rosalyn.” He made strong eye contact with me, without blinking, and licked his lips. What was the matter with Jax? Did he not get it? A deep warmth crept across my cheeks and I felt like slapping him.
Lydia and Troy who were still giggling, stopped.
Lydia touched her throat.
Troy tipped his head to the side.
Jax
The day after Tyler’s gig, I rode my skateboard to Rosalyn’s when school was out. I used my secret knock (which was really just a goofy thing I made up), and sauntered in. Rosalyn was in the kitchen, wearing a white T-shirt, which had been washed so many times you could see right through it, and a pair of panties. Rosalyn stood there eating a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream straight out of the carton.
“Hey!” I swaggered into the living room and jumped on the sofa, like I’d done so many times over the past few months. “You ready for your lover boy?”
She stalked into the living room, her wild, curly, blond hair looking like a medusa cap, her eyes wild. She sat on the other side of the sofa, as far away from me as possible. “What the hell was that song about?”
“What song?” The only thing I was in the mood for at that moment was sex with Rosalyn, not a fight.
“Don’t act dumb, Jax.” She pointed her spoon toward me. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I was so embarrassed last night.”
I moved toward her, but she jerked back, drawing her legs up against her body. “Don’t be mad, Roz. That’s Tyler. It’s what he does. The guy’s always writing songs.”
She slammed the ice cream carton down on the end table. “Did he really have to write a song about me?”
“It wasn’t just about you.”
She jumped off the sofa and stood over me, hands on hips. I tried not to stare at her breasts, which were clearly visible through the flimsy T-shirt. Her nostrils flared. “This is all your fault. I can’t believe this. Did you see the way Tyler looked at me while he was singing that … that, song?”
“Nobody noticed,” I said.
Her lips flattened. “They did! And even if they didn’t you sure crossed the line when you told your parents you love so many things about me. Jax, are you insane?” She said this in a voice that was high pitched, and I started to feel bad that I’d hurt her. She whirled around and stormed into the kitchen, taking her empty ice cream carton with her and slamming it and the spoon into the sink. She buried her face in her hands. “Tyler’s mad at me.”
I sprinted into the kitchen to soothe her, but when I tried to touch her, she wrenched away. “He’s not mad at you.”
“Then why’d he write that song? Did you listen to the lyrics? He thinks I’m poisoning you.”
“It’s not like that. He just writes stuff. He does this all the time. It’s all just dumb material when he can’t think of what else—”
She turned on me, her eyes burning with rage. “It’s personal! He said he wrote it for me. If your parents figure it out, all hell is going to break loose. Do you get that?” She removed a glass from the cupboard and slammed the door. “If we’re not careful, everyone’s going to know.” She placed the glass under the tap.
“Let me get that for you.” Rosalyn was upset and I felt awful. Wanting to help with the drink, I tried taking the glass from her hand so I could fill it but she pulled away so hard that the glass slipped and shattered in the sink.
“Leave me alone!”
I turned the tap off, turned her to face me, holding her elbows. “Rosalyn, look at me.” Her brown eyes met mine. “It’s going to be okay.”
She buried her face in my chest. “We can’t …”
“We can.”
Slowly she lifted her eyes to mine. “You really think Tyler’s not mad at me?”
“No. He writes songs. About all kinds of stuff.” I wanted to convince myself that Tyler didn’t think what I was doing was wrong.
She pulled away, walking into the living room and sitting on the sofa. “Jesus Christ, Jax, one of us has to be the adult here.”
“So let’s both be.”
She spied her bong, but I was already ahead of her. I filled it, handed it to her, and flicked the lighter while she took a toke. Rosalyn needed to calm down. She gazed at me. “Here’s how it’s going to go. You and I will not be seen in public together. Ever. Especially around your folks. If you want to keep doing this, then you’ve got to follow my rules.”
I would’ve done anything she told me because I was in love with Rosalyn. “Great. What’re the rules?”
“No more of Tyler’s concerts, no more surfing together—”
“No more surfing?”
She leveled her eyes at me. “No more surfing together.”
“What else?”
“I’ll see your mom on my own time, either here or somewhere else. Don’t be expecting me to come over anymore.”
“Okay.”
“You can’t ever call me, or mention my name around your house.”
“Fine.”
“And lastly, you can come over here a couple times a week, maybe three times, but you have to promise me it’s when your mom and dad are at work. No more weekends.”
“Great.”
“We deadbolt the door and don’t you dare leave your skateboard or surfboard outside.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“And we draw all the curtains.” She folded her arms and stared at me. Then she went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I followed her like some lovesick puppy dog.
Rosalyn stood with her back to me, drinking the water. I moved her hair aside and gently kissed her neck. She tasted of the ocean. “I promise, I’ll follow your rules.”
“You’re already breaking them!”
I strolled to the windows, drew the curtains, walked to the door and secured the deadbolt, then returned to the kitchen. Rosalyn turned around, set her glass on the counter, held my face in her hands and kissed me deeply and passionately. Our tongues met with warmth and urgency. She pulled away. “Just make sure you follow the rules, baby. You don’t want me mad at you.” My hands trailed down her back until I was cupping her sweet ass, my fingers caressing, making their way underneath the fabric of her panties until I felt her soft skin. I pressed my hard-on into her pelvis, and her gaze fell to my crotch. “Sometimes you’re a bad boy. Now, let me touch this sexy cock, and maybe we can figure a way for you to make it up to me.” I nodded, and she unzipped my jeans, my cock straining against my boxer briefs. Her hand moved to my penis, gently stroking. I moaned. Looking into her wide brown eyes, I lifted her T-shirt over her head, exposing those luscious tits, then bent my head to suckle one pink nipple while making slow circles with my fingers around the other. Her hands went to my hair, softly caressing.
I dropped to my knees and kissed the front of her panties, the heat of her body nearly searing my lips, my hands running up and down her inner thighs. She spread her legs slightly. “I want to lick you, Roz. Can I?” She nodded, and I tugged her panties to one side, exposing her delicious pussy. The scent of her female musk was almost enough to make me come, but I forced myself to concentrate. “You’re swollen.” I slid two fingers inside her. She was so wet that I could’ve slipped three, even four fingers inside her. Her pelvis was already contracting, and I felt her squeeze hard around my fingers as I kissed her clit just the way she’d taught me. Holding her panties to the side, I spread her wide and massaged her clit with my thumb, then made gentle lapping motions with my tongue. Then a little harder. She begged me to suck harder. I felt her desire building as her pussy squeezed around my fingers. Glancing at her face, I saw that her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her breathing getting really jagged. “Keep your eyes closed.” I teased her clit with my tongue and felt her tremble. She gripped my hair in her fingers, her pelvis bucking. “You’re so wet and swollen. Damn, you taste sexy.” Her legs tensed, and when I thought she was ready, I squeezed one of her nipples hard and she came, twitching and moaning and pushing into my face, her hands gripping the back of my head, pulling my face into her wetness.
“Oh Jax, that’s good. Oh, my God … I’m coming. Really hard.” She smiled at me, her eyes glazed over.
I stood up. “Let me have you. Right here. Turn around.” She turned around, and I
pulled off my jeans and boxers, stripped my T-shirt off, and threw it on the floor. Then I yanked her panties down. “Bend over.” Rosalyn leaned over the kitchen counter and seeing her pink wetness staring me in the face, my heart beat so hard I didn’t know if I’d even make it inside her without coming. My hard-on stood at attention and I stroked it once before plunging into her with the most exquisite sensation. She was dripping wet. “Oh Roz, I can feel you coming.” I moved slowly because I wanted to last. In, out, I felt the warmth of her squeezing my cock. “Let me touch your tits.” I reached around and felt her soft breasts, her nipples hard as erasers. I pinched one nipple and she let out a little yelp. I moved faster, her ass moving against my pelvis, her head thrown to one side.
“Pull my hair!” she said.
I gathered her long hair in my hand and pulled.
“Harder!”
I moved in and out faster, pulling Rosalyn’s hair until her head was bent so far back, I could see her forehead and a few beads of sweat. I fucked her hard, right there in the kitchen, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oh, my God, Roz, I’m gonna come.” With one hand, I pulled her hair, with the other, I dug my fingers into her creamy ass. And then I came inside Rosalyn, this woman who was everything I’d ever dreamed of. Flashes of light danced around my eyelids when I closed my eyes, surrendering to the spasms that must’ve lasted a full minute.
When I opened my eyes, Rosalyn looked over her shoulder, smiling. Her voice was hoarse when she said, “Oh, Jax. What am I going to do with you?”
I pressed my sweaty chest against her back, kissing the back of her head. I wanted so badly to tell her that I loved her. But I didn’t. I figured I’d have a whole lifetime.
Rosalyn
My pussy was still twitching when I curled up on the sofa with my bong after Jax left. Damn, that guy was a hot sex partner.
Leo curled up on my lap, purring when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Rosalyn, how’s the surfer boy?” No time for a preamble from Carissa.
“Hi, Carissa, is that what you called to ask?”
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 21