Sex, Desires & Rock N Roll

by Michelle Lee

  An eerie quiet blankets the house as I walk up the path to the front door. As I get closer, I vaguely hear what sounds like a piano being played. I stop my steps and listen intently. The sounds created are painful to listen to. A tear slips down my cheek as I approach the front door, the sounds growing louder more violent, more urgent. It sounds as though he’s just pounding on the keys in any random order. The wailing music created assaults my ears, and my heart becomes heavier with emotion. Dash. I need to get to Dash. With a trembling touch, I reach for the doorknob, hoping and praying it’s unlocked. It turns in my grasp and pushes open. I step inside, the house dark except for some outside light streaming through the windows. I navigate my way through the empty space, letting the heart-wrenching notes guide me. Louder. Louder. With each step I take, with each step I get closer, my heart breaks a little more. And then I see him.

  He’s sitting at the slick, black piano, bathed only in moonlight streaming through the large window. My heart stutters in my chest. Dash’s eyes are squeezed shut, that usual smile I’ve come to love is nowhere to be found. In its place is a hard, thin line—his lips pressed together so tightly. His brow is furrowed in concentration and grief. His fingers make quick use of the keys, playing a song that rips at my heart and bares his soul. The muscles in his arms and his naked back are taut and straining against some imaginary burden. The wings sprouting out of the man’s back of his tattoo look as though they are thrashing in time with the song. The strong and confident rock star I’ve come to know and fall for is nowhere in sight; before me sits a man broken and burdened. A man I desperately want to save, just as he’s saved me—to be his light in the dark. I take hesitant steps toward him. My heart pounds with such ferocity in my chest it feels as though it will burst through at any moment. My legs tremble with each step. My body is a live wire humming with a need to comfort him. If he knows I’m near, he doesn’t acknowledge it. His deft fingers continue to pound against the white and black keys, flying across the length of the piano. The song grows—the crescendo approaches. Beads of sweat stream down his back, his arms. My heart cries out to him—he doesn’t hear me. My trembling limbs halt beside him as he continues to play, his knuckles white. His fingers beat and pound the straining keys, the crescendo agonizing to hear. This song is so unlike any song I’ve ever heard Dash play. So different from the song he wrote for me. I swallow the lump of emotion that has lodged itself in my throat. If there was ever a time I needed to be strong, it was now. Dash needs me. I need to be strong for him—stronger than I’ve ever been in my whole entire life.

  The notes begin to soften and fade, his fingers slowing. Then silence as the last note Dash plays fades into nothingness. His fingers still, hovering over the keys. His chest rises and falls rapidly with his breath he pulls and pushes from his lungs. The expression on his face hasn’t changed, hasn’t softened. I reach my hand out to touch him, to let him know I’m here. Here for him. With my fingers mere inches from Dash’s shoulder, his fists come slamming down on the keys, and he lets out this primal, guttural scream out into the room. My body responds with a startled jump back, my hand hovering above his shoulder as it shakes. Swallowing the lump down again, I find my voice. “Dash?”

  His head whips toward me, his eyes flashing so much pain and grief it crushes me. Dash stares at me, his labored breathing the only sound in the room. His mouth twists in concern and then his eyes flash recognition. “Sun… Sunshine?” Dash’s voice cracks—broken, pained. My hand reaches out, my fingers finally touching his sweat-ladened skin. He’s trembling, or is it me—maybe it’s both of us.

  “I’m here, baby.”

  “Sunshine?” His eyes bore into mine, searching.

  Before I respond Dash’s arms wrap around my waist pulling me to him, burrowing his face into my stomach. My fingers weave into his hair holding him tight against me. His body shakes as sobs overtake him. Silent tears find their way down my cheeks. It’s too much… too much. I want to take away his pain. I want to do that and so much more, but I have no idea how. So I hold him to me, giving him what he needs. Being there for him the only way I know how.

  “I couldn’t save her. I should have saved her.” His muffled voice vibrates against my stomach. “I should have saved her.”

  I know he’s talking about his sister, but I don’t totally understand. Bits and pieces of what he’s told me float around in my head like pieces of a puzzle that don’t yet fit together. All I do know is Dash feels responsible for his sister’s death. And knowing that, a deep pain in my chest twists and turns. I run my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, offering him comfort any way I can. The sobs that were wracking his body have subsided. His hot breath warms my tear-soaked shirt and skin. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.” My voice a raspy whisper.

  Dash squeezes me tight before pulling away. He looks up at me, the moon’s light cascading on his face, lighting up the tears that have stained his cheeks. My heart breaks, and the pain intensifies. My beautiful, confident rock star is nowhere in this room. Before me is a man hurt and broken—fighting his demons. I swipe a few wayward hairs off his forehead before leaning down and kissing him as he has kissed me before with such reverence and comfort. A simple kiss on his forehead conveying everything I am feeling and feel for this incredible man. When I pull away, Dash stands from the piano bench, his eyes solely focused on mine. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me close to him, his heart beating loudly in my ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump in rapid succession before it tapers off and calms. Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump…

  Dash pulls away, and his hands come up to cradle my face. His brilliant blue eyes are still dulled, glistening with the tears he’s shed. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine. The touch is faint but holds so much power, expresses so much more emotion than any passionate kiss I’ve shared with him. He pulls away, his hands still cradling me as his thumb caresses my cheek. “You’re really here.” His voice is a throaty whisper between us.

  “I’m here.”

  Dash releases me, his right hand finding mine, lacing our fingers together. He pulls us away from the piano toward the sofa in the room. He sits and pulls me into his lap. Silence blankets us. I’m giving him time. I have so many questions I could throw at him, but I know that’s not what he needs. Dash needs time, and I’m willing to give him as much as he needs and more. The silence carries on, for how long I don’t know. The only sounds in the room are our breathing and the ticking of the clock on the back wall. Dash’s grip on me hasn’t loosened since we sat down, nor mine on him. He takes a deep breath, and it washes over my neck, leaving shivers in its wake. Dash nuzzles me, dotting my skin with tender kisses.

  Another breath, and then the silence is broken. “She was dating this guy I didn’t approve of…” He trails off, giving me another kiss. “She was so fucking stubborn, and of course, no matter what I said or did, she… she wouldn’t listen. Anyway, Tegen was dating Carver for a few months when I first noticed a bruise on her arm. It wasn’t your average bruise, but when I questioned her about it, she attempted to cover it up and shrugged it off, saying she was clumsy and bumped it into the granite counter top…” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “She was fucking clumsy, but she never… I had my suspicions and let her know, which of course pissed her off even more. Telling me I was an overbearing big brother. That I hated Carver and would never give him a chance. That I only saw her as my little sister and always would. She stopped talking to me for at least two weeks.”

  I sit silently, waiting for him to continue. “Mom and Dad were concerned but didn’t ‘attack’ Carver’s character or their relationship like I did. My mom told me about another time she saw a bruise on Tegen… another clumsy accident. It was about going on the third week of the silent treatment when I made my way over to her place… their place. Tegen was just finishing up her senior year and had moved in with Carver. They were planning their future, she would say, and moving into together was the next logical step… anyway, when I got there
, I heard arguing. Tegen was yelling something I couldn’t make out, and then I heard something crash. I busted open the door and Tegen was cowering in the corner, Carver hovering over her, his hands raised. I saw red. I beat the shit out of the lousy excuse for human being…”

  Dash stops and sits up. Before there was nothing but pain and hurt in his eyes. Now there’s that, but with a mixture of anger. No, rage. “He fucking pressed charges. Tegen took his side. His fucking side…” He squeezes his eye shut before continuing. “That was the beginning of the end. I didn’t see Tegen that often. Every once in a while, I would get a quick phone call or text. Mom and Dad tried to intervene, but she told them to butt out too. She was an adult, in love, and was going to lead her life the way she wanted to no matter if they approved of Carter or their relationship or not.”

  I can feel the agitation coming off him in waves. Dash sets me down beside him before getting up. He starts pacing back and forth, his hands wreaking havoc on his hair. “I should have done something. I should have gone over, threw her over my shoulder, and carried her away. I should have taken her away and locked her up. I should have…” He stops. His hands fall to his sides in defeat, his head hung low. “But… but I didn’t do any of that. I was too pissed that she cut me out of her life. I was too busy becoming Dash Ford of Redemption… Fuck!”

  I’m off the couch in a heartbeat and beside him. Standing behind Dash, I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my lips against his back before settling and resting my cheek against his back. “I’m here.” His hands find mine, giving them a squeeze before lacing our fingers together.

  “After a few months of no contact, Mom and Dad got a phone call…” His voice cracks. “Tegen was in the hospital… she’d been beaten. When… when we got there… Oh my God, Sunshine, she was so battered and bruised. Her left eye was swollen, her lip split open, bruises marked her arms. But the worst part was… the worst part was her spirit was broken. There was no life left in her eyes. She was broken—a broken version of her former self. The police had questioned her, and apparently she was attacked in her apartment’s parking lot.” He huffs in disbelief.

  Carver. Carver did it to her. I know this for a fact without Dash having to say so. Tegen’s actions are so in sync with what mine were when I was beaten by Blake. Now it’s all starting to make sense. All those random puzzle pieces are fitting together. The abuse Tegen indured at the hands of Carver escalated and ended in her death one day. Dash feels responsible because he was the big brother and should have protected his little sister. His tattoos make so much more sense now. The name of the band… his lyrics… it’s all for his sister and the guilt he feels over her death.

  Dash interrupts my inner thoughts. “She wouldn’t say it was Carver, but I knew. Mom and Dad knew. We tried to get Tegen to come home once she was released, but refused. And since she was an adult, there was nothing the police or doctors could do. Again, she cut us out of her life, until… until about six months later when the three of us decided to confront her and bring her home no matter what. But… But…” Dash voice cracks, his hands grip mine tighter. “But when we got there, I felt like something was wrong. Dad, on a hunch, turned the doorknob anyway, and as if it were meant to be, the door opened. I knew something was wrong. We… we found Tegen alone in her bed—dead. Her lips were a bluish purple, and finger-like marks lined her throat. That fucking bastard killed my baby sister. He wrapped his fucking hands around her throat and took the life and breaths right from her.”

  My heart stops. I can’t imagine the insurmountable pain he and his parents must have experienced finding Tegen. I attempt to keep my emotions silent, but tears stream down my cheeks, wetting his skin. Dash turns in my arms, resting his hands on my hips, holding me to him. He looks right into my eyes, right into my soul. “They found him, he’s in jail, not doing enough time if you ask me…” A tear streaks his cheek. “I couldn’t save my baby sister, Sunshine. I couldn’t save her.” More tears stain his cheeks, and now it’s my turn to erase them. My trembling thumb does just that—erases the pain Dash is letting go of.

  I take a deep breath, getting my words straight in my head. “Dash, baby, I know… I know you feel responsible, but Tegen wasn’t yours to save. I… I know that better than anyone…” I hold my tongue waiting for him to lash out, but he doesn’t. He nods his head for me to continue. “It’s terrible what happened to her. What happened to your family. She… she had to save herself, and only then could you help her. Val… Val was there for me when I decided to save myself. But sometimes, sometimes victims of domestic abuse can’t see a way out. Obviously Carver helped in isolating her from you and your parents; that wasn’t her choosing. He was more than likely filling her head with ideas that he was the only one that knew what happiness she needed and it was wrapped up in him. He made himself the center of her world. He made you all out to be the bad guys, Dash. Tegen didn’t do that on her own. I’m sure she wanted to get help and break away from him, but didn’t know how. Being in isolation, having to rely on your abuser for everything is very powerful, and it’s a power they hold onto with everything they have. Don’t you see? You couldn’t save Tegen. As much as that pains me to say, you just couldn’t. No one could.” My heart is beating so fast I feel like I could pass out. I hope with what I’ve said, I haven’t put a wedge between us. I hope I haven’t overstepped.

  Dash kisses me, taking me by surprise. I would have thought he would have been angry. His lips tease mine, his tongue sweeping against my bottom lip. The kiss doesn’t get any further when he stops, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re amazing, Sunshine, thank you. I don’t think…”

  I stop him with a quick kiss. “I know, Dash, I know. It will take time. You’ve been holding onto this guilt, blaming yourself for so long, it’s going to take time. And I have all the time in the world.”

  Dash pulls away so we are eye to eye. “You surprise me more and more. How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

  “Oh, I don’t know… it must be your rockstar voodoo.” I realize too late what I just said.

  “My rockstar voodoo? I have rockstar voodoo, huh?” Dash’s tone is playful, and I’m thankful for the change in the mood. And if I had anything to do with it, I’m happy I was able to.

  “You know you do, Dash Ford.” I feel my cheeks heat up. I’m thankful it’s too dark in the room for him to see, but knowing Dash, I’m sure he doesn’t know, no matter what the lighting in the room is.

  “If I have rockstar voodoo, it’s only because of you.” He throws his head back, letting out a laugh that warms my heart, his arms tightening around me. I seriously doubt his voodoo abilities have anything to do with me. I’d bet Dash Ford had voodoo since the day he was born.

  His laugh dies off, and when he looks at me with such seriousness, it makes me nervous. Dash’s eyes roam my face before settling on my eyes. I see my feelings reflected back. “I love you, Jules.”

  I’m momentarily stunned as Dash just stares at me, that crooked voodoo smile on his lips. “I love you, Dash.” As the words leave my lips, I feel freer than I’ve ever felt.

  DASH HAD ASKED me to meet him at the warehouse. I keep my head down as I make my way past the paps that have been camped outside since the guys started rehearsing here. Since I’ve been seen a few times with Dash, I think they’re starting to put two and two together. I’m not some random girl. I’m someone important in the life of Dash Ford. A few of them say nothing as I make my way past, while a few others yell out questions about my relationship with Dash. I ignore them as flash after flash goes off around me. I feel a muscular arm grab my shoulder and before I can fight it off, a familiar voice settles my nerves. “Come on, Jules.” Russell, a man of few words and more action. He helps guide me the rest of the way until we are safely inside.

  “Thanks, Russell.” In true Russell form, he nods and takes his stance by the door.

  I make my way into the heart of the warehouse and notice it’s practically empty—devoid
of all equipment that is usually cluttered around the large space. Everything is packed in metal containers that line the walls in an organized fashion. Labels on them indicating Dash and the band are leaving tomorrow. Dash and the guys are practicing a new song they are adding to the set. Roland wasn’t happy with the way they were performing it, saying it was missing some of its original raw power and grit. I thought it sounded amazing, but as Roland pointed out, what did I know—nothing.

  I take out my phone and start looking over some emails from work. To say I’m still disappointed that Rachel got the piece on Chef Becc wouldn’t be far off. I know that I’m busy with the Enzo Vencini piece, but I really thought Hank would let me do the interview. He wouldn’t concede no matter how much I begged, and pointed out that I’ve eaten there already and know what a genius Chef Becc is in the kitchen. I wish I could have met him that night. Roland was surprised we didn’t. He actually seemed a little upset that we hadn’t.

  After a few more emails that don’t need my immediate attention, I glance up and realize rehearsal is finally over, and the crew around the warehouse is organized chaos loading up the group’s gear for the tour. I’m amazed at how much stuff, because I have no clue what half the stuff is, it takes to put on a concert. Here I thought they had some speakers and microphones and just played. Little did I know the extensive amount of equipment and stuff that was required. I look around for Dash, but he’s nowhere to be found. I easily spot Vic, smiling like he knows something I don’t. I suddenly feel an electrical charge in the air swirling around me, and I know he is near without hearing or seeing him. Before I know it, Dash is at my side.

  “Hi,” he says, nudging my side.

  “Hi,” I reply.

  “So…” Dash is usually very expressive, a man of many words, but at the moment not so much. His lack of words puts me on edge. I’ve been avoiding the day leading up to tomorrow.