Unsocial

by Dykes, Nicole

  After being served margaritas with chips and salsa, Alex begins, “So, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  I look at her, “Should I be worried?” I ask taking a long pull on my drink. Mm, mm, mm, tequila. Uh, oh, this can’t be good, she’s got her worried look. “Okay, Alex, what’s up?”

  “Okay, so Trevor and his band are going to be in Kansas through Thanksgiving before they start a new tour.”

  “That’s awesome, Al. Are you going to tell me why you look like you have something stuck in your throat?”

  “Well, Mindy isn’t going to be with him. When he called he told me he and Mindy are separated, so…..” She trails off.

  “So what? Are they getting divorced?”

  “Yeah, they are. But…okay, here’s the thing. He doesn’t want to hole up in a hotel room while he’s here. Plus he’s got some gigs lined up while he’s here and doesn’t want to be coming in at all times of the night.”

  “Sounds smart, and” I look at her with a curious look, “what else?”

  “He was wondering if he could crash with us while he’s here.”

  I have to think about this before I answer, unbeknownst to Alex, her brother, and I have…history. It’s brief, but there it is. “Trevor here?”

  She looks hurt. Maybe that didn’t come out right.

  “Yes, Trevor, my brother, the guy you grew up with. I mean, he’s kind of like your brother too. Would it be so bad if he camped on our couch?”

  I snort. Trevor hasn’t been “like my brother” to me since I was 16. Well, we did agree after that night to be friends, and the years since haven’t been that awkward. That being said, we hadn’t had to share a living space. That could mean all kinds of awkward, but I can’t tell Alex that. It seems I’m going to have to pull up my big-girl drawers and ease her mind. “Of course, he can stay with us. I’m sorry though that his marriage didn’t work out. I thought they were made for each other. That’s awful because Trevor deserves someone willing to put up with his crazy career.”

  “I know. I feel terrible for him too. I don’t exactly know what happened because he didn’t go into detail. To be honest, though I’m excited to have my big brother around for a while. It’ll be awesome B, all three of us together again.”

  Yeah, awesome.

  “Okay, okay, okay. I’m going to get shots, any preferences?” Roscoe asks. He plays base in Trevor’s band, Days of Crazy, or DOC as their groupies like to call them.

  “Tequila.” Alex and I call out. We’ve always had a drinking rule, “end with what you start with.” You’re less likely to get bit in the ass the next morning. Everyone agrees with us, and Roscoe disappears through the crowd to get round two while we sip our beer. It’s been fun catching up with them after nearly a year. Listening to all their stories has been a riot. It seems they’re living every rocker’s dream. Lots of parties and women. I think I understand why Trevor’s marriage met an early demise.

  When we met Mindy last Thanksgiving, we had been surprised. But as the week went on, it became apparent that they were truly in love. We knew they had only been together for a couple of months and probably didn’t know each other that well. So far everything that’s been said about her tonight boils down to how jealous she was, blah, blah. It’s pretty clear she didn’t really know Trevor before they married, or she would have known he’s a chronic flirt, and he’s very good at it.

  He had my teenage heart swooning when he would direct it at me, thus canceling out all feelings of brotherly love. Take for instance, right now, Trevor is sitting close and has his hand resting on my leg just below the hem of this short skirt. Total flirt if you add that to the fact that he keeps telling me how good I look. You know the usual lines. Thankfully I feel comfortable enough with him to know that it doesn’t mean anything, but it feels good. I can’t lie about the fact that Trevor is the real deal for being a sexy rocker with his bad boy, brooding looks and a voice that’s as smooth as silk. Makes a girl lean closer just to get the total effect, which is exactly what I’m doing.

  Roscoe returns with shots, and on the count of three, we slam them back before crashing the glasses to the table. I’ve entered the zone of feeling free and easy, enjoying good times with good friends. “So, Brooke baby, now that you’re rid of Limp Dick Will, who’re you spending your time with?”

  And, way to kill a buzz.

  I shoot a quick look over at Alex who seems way interested in my answer, judging by the way that she’s sitting up in her chair. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “No one. It’s just me, And. My. Best Friend. Alexandra.”

  Alex relaxes back in her chair, “Gross, Brooke. I may have made you hotter than hell tonight, but I still am not into you that way.” Everyone around the table enjoys a good laugh as Alex and I go back and forth; me trying to convince her to be my girl, and she telling me…no way.

  The lights flicker a couple of times signaling that it’s time for the band to take the stage. Trevor stands up next to me. “Well, ladies. That’s our cue.” He bends down and lands a loud kiss on my cheek then follows the rest of the guys to start playing.

  I’m suddenly very tired. The long, hard week, too much to eat at dinner, and drinks have caught up with me. I need another shower and my bed. Alex looks over at me. “As soon as their set is over I want to leave. I can’t handle much more tonight without face planting.”

  “Alright. You are looking a little tired. But you promised we’re coming back tomorrow, and I’m not letting you back out. You have to admit that this was fun, and you needed it.”

  “Yeah. And I owe you a thank you. It’s exactly what I needed. Now hush and let’s listen to music.” We settle back for an hour and a half of Trevor’s music mixed with some 80’s cover music. They rock the place, and everyone in the club is in full-on party mode. Dancing, drinking, and way too naughty clutches between men and women are happening all around us while the music plays on. Then thankfully it’s time to go after we tell the guys and promise we’ll see them the next night.

  The next time I open my eyes, sunlight is pouring through my window. A look at my clock which lets me know I’ve slept in late this morning. I feel rested and ready to start the day, which will consist of watching TV and lounging in pajamas. Last night was wonderful and after I had thought about it, I was excited about going back out tonight. And tonight I don’t want to go home early. That’s why I’m planning a late afternoon nap.

  In the living room, Alex is already searching for a rom-com on Netflix, that’s her addiction. I drop on the couch and put my head on her lap so she can play with my hair. Don’t think we’re weird. She loves hair, and I’ve always loved having my hair played with. It’s how my grandmother used to put me to sleep. “You excited about tonight, B?” she asks.

  “Absolutely. I had a good time. And please tell me you have another dress for me, because I don’t want to go shopping, and I doubt you’ll let me show up in jeans.”

  “Need you even ask?” She says, sounding affronted.

  “No. Kidding. I’m sure you’ve checked out the latest on-line sale of Hos-R-Us.”

  “Yup, and don’t worry, my last spree I kept you in mind, and I have just the thing.”

  I settle my head deeper in her lap. “I’m not even going to pretend I’m not worried, but right now I don’t even care.” We settle down and watch movies, snack on popcorn, and drink ice tea for the next few hours. It turns out this quiet day is what we need to get through the night.

  Six o’clock, and Alex is back in her closet digging through dresses like it’s a Black Friday Sale. I just lay there and watch stuff fly. Alex shops and shops, she’s pretty much made it a religion. Me, not so much. I borrow and borrow, out of necessity. There is nothing in me, even being a young modern female that says girly-girl. Jeans and t-shirts, that’s all I need in my closet.

  “Here we go,” I look up and find Alex at the door of her closet holding a black dress, I think.

  “Here we go, what?” I ask. It’s gettin
g hard to hold back the laugh. She looks like she just walked through a wind tunnel after fighting the contents of her closet.

  “You’re dress,” she says impatiently giving the contents of her hand a shake.

  I take another look at it. The top ties around the neck like a halter. It’s a deep purple with black lace overlaying it. Pretty. I’m suddenly wondering what the skirt looks like. “It’s pretty; I want to see the skirt,” I tell her.

  She glares at me impatiently. “Brooke, there is no skirt.” Then she shakes the thing at me again.

  Okay, pants it is tonight. I find this odd because she’s all about sexy when it comes to clubbing. Hmmm, shorts? I can see that, plus shorts are way sexier than pants.

  “Okay, where are the shorts or pants or whatever. I can’t wait to see them.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. I’ve never been good at this little move and usually has her rolling. She told me once that it looked like the muscles in my forehead were in a spasm, oh, and to please never do it in public. She didn’t hurt my feelings at all with that request. But now I notice she’s not exactly laughing. Now, what?

  She speaks, slow like I don’t have a lick of sense. “This. Is. The. Dress.” Then she shakes it at me again.

  Wait a minute. That’s the dress?

  “My friend, you’ve clearly been duped here. There’s not enough of….whatever that is to constitute a dress. Sorry.”

  “Brooke, don’t fuck with me. I’ve just spent 30 minutes rooting through my designer war zone to find this, and you are going to wear it. Capiche?” She can’t be serious.

  “You can’t be serious,” I say in astonishment.

  “I’m very serious. Now don’t argue and do what I said. And hurry, we still have to do your hair and makeup.” She kicks a pair of black spike heels across the floor at me. “And wear these with it.” She orders.

  “Wait, Alex. We need to talk about this.”

  “Discussion. Closed.” I watch her disappear into her designer war zone again, clearly in shock.

  I pick up the yard of purple material covered in a yard of black lace. I do not think it’s so pretty anymore. I’m thinking about how much money I could bring in if I just stood on a stage and wiggled my ass for dollars while I circled near a pole because there’s no way I would have the guts to get on a pole. But I’m willing to bet I’d make enough to make a dent in my student loan debts.

  Oh, well, if tonight turns out to be a flop, this dress guarantees an option two—stripping.

  I hear hangers clacking, shoes thudding, and some very colorful cursing coming from Alex’s closet. I shrug my shoulders and go shower. Hopefully, by the time I’m out, she’ll have fought her way back out, victorious of course.

  After my shower, I’m back in Alex’s chair going through my transformation. After what she’s suggesting I wear for a dress, I should probably be worried about my makeup and hair, but I don’t want to stir her up. I really should just trust her. I take a deep breath and let it out. I’m in her hands.

  Once again, I’m in awe because I’m staring at a freaking miracle. My eyes look seductive, or maybe that’s secretive….I’m going with secretly seductive. Ha, this is so not me, but I’m going to go with it and just have fun.

  “Okay, Dress. Now.” She orders.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I salute.

  In my room, I take the dress off the hanger and step into it. It pulls tightly over my hips and up to my breasts. There’s a built-in bra, of sorts, that keep things just barely covered. After I tie it behind my neck, I turn all the way around and study my image from every angle. The first thing I do is make a mental note, do not, do not, do not bend over….or raise your arms (which will seriously suck if I’m dancing). But damn. The thing straddles the line of decent. I slip on the heels. I do look good, great…..no, I look fucking hot.

  The ladies are showcased perfectly by a deep V. The color makes my skin tone pop. The skirt hugs my ass just right because it fits tight and ends just far enough to keep me covered properly---providing I don’t make any sudden movements. The heels help the whole picture by lifting my butt, tightening the muscles in by calves and thighs, and making my legs look like I belong up there somewhere with a runway model.

  “Brooke, come here.” I give myself one last look and head to find out what my fashion guru wants. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. The image of myself in the mirror makes me happy.

  I walk in Alex’s room. “What’s up, slut?”

  “Come over here, I want to spray some of this on you.” I walk toward her, and she holds up a can.

  “What the hell is that, because it doesn’t look like perfume?” I ask eyeing the contents of her hand.

  “It’s a scented body glitter. I got it online. I’m going to spray it all over you. It makes you shine under the lights on the floor.”

  I hesitate. Oh, what the hell. I walk over and let her do her thing. Shit that’s cold. When she’s satisfied, I look in the mirror hanging on the back of the door.

  Well, now. This just keeps getting better.

  “Okay,” I say impatiently, “Let’s go.” I’m suddenly anxious to get this night started.

  Once again we’re seated right in front of the stage. Camden, the drummer, and Trevor are the only band members sitting with Alex and me tonight. Apparently Roscoe and Toby hooked up with a couple of groupies last night and are partying backstage before their set begins. They don’t go on until 10, so we’ve got a couple of hours to kill. Drinks are flowing, but I’m taking it easy. I want the night to last before another work week sneaks up on me, so I’m nursing a beer because I love my Corona and lime. I lean over to Trevor because I decided I want to dance.

  “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom, and when I get back, you and I are dancing.”

  “Well, damn, girl. Don’t keep me waiting.” I laugh and hurry so I can get back. I love dancing. Since last night was mostly about catching up, tonight’s going to be about music and dancing.

  Back at the table, I grab Trevor’s hand and start pulling him to the floor. The place is packed, so we have to slide in between couples on the floor. Alex and Camden have followed us, and we just kind of form a small group and move. Arms are raised high, and I don’t even care if people know I’m wearing a black lace G-string---okay, maybe I do---but not enough to stop dancing. Trevor and I sway and roll around each other while song after song play. People are pushing us closer. Camden and Alex are flat out body to body grinding next to us. Panic! At the Disco is pumping Victorious through the speakers. Chaos feels so close but still retained. I miss this. I miss this letting it all go at the door and disappearing in the music with strangers out to do the same thing. Hard beats, loud sounds, sweating skin, bodies moving, hearts racing, this is being young and having fun.

  Trevor turns away to listen to something Camden and Alex are saying just as I Like by Jeremih ft. Ludacris fills the air. And who can resist this song. My body takes over, channels the music, and I close my eyes and just move. I feel strong, muscular arms circle my waist and pull me back against a tall, equally muscular body. God, that body feels good. I lift my right arm and reach my arm around the neck of the body behind me, and just relax into the hard solid form that’s pressed to me and moving his hips in sync with mine. His head drops to my shoulder, and lips press against the skin there before they begin moving toward my ear just as his left hand moves to the hem of my skirt where it starts tracing sexy shapes on my hip, the touch is burning my skin. I’ve never been this aware of a body in my life.

  I take a deep breath and the scent of only one person that I know assaults my nose. No way. I crack my eyes open to a slit and notice Alex and Trevor watching me. Trevor looks a little stunned and curious. Alex, however, kind of looks a little pissed off. She looks back at me, starts to speak, but I know. There’s no need for her to say it. Dylan Monroe, out of every club in Kansas, let alone Kansas City, is here, holding me close enough to feel everything he’s pressing against me. He’s overwhelming my good sense. I
momentarily stiffen.

  “Finish the dance, Brooke,” He whispers in my ear.

  I turn in his arms and raise my arms around his neck while his hands drop to the top of my ass to keep our bodies touching. Just this dance. Our hips continue to sway and meld together as the music plays on about taking the time to love your body….and like hell if I have the willpower to pull away from him. For this song, I’m not going to think about unsocial-like conduct with my hot-as-hell client who’s whispering the lyrics of the song in my ear. My bodies hot, but goose bumps cover my skin. I relax and let him guide us through the next several minutes of the most erotic moment ever to happen in my life. “Okay, Dylan,” I whisper just below his ear, tasting the skin of his neck.

  I’m just going to feel the moment while it lasts.

  Chapter 13

  Dylan

  Holy shit, am I dreaming? I raise my hand slowly from the top curve of Brooke’s perfect ass, up her back until I encounter her soft skin. I’ve never felt anything like this. I take a minute to explore with soft strokes of my fingers, left to right then up and down. But it’s her hair that I’m aiming for. It’s down, just like I’ve been dying to see. I run my hand through it, just once, to get a feel of the silkiness of it as it falls through my fingers. I move my hand again, so slow because I don’t want to spook her, and cup the side of her head. I take her earlobe between my teeth and give just the smallest of tugs, then whisper, “Do you know all the sinful things I want to do to your body, Brooke.” She gives the smallest negative motion. Of course, she doesn’t know. She has no idea the affect she has on me, my body or my mind. “They’re dirty. They’re probably illegal in all 50 states and most countries. But I don’t give a shit because I won’t stop wanting you until I do them.”

  Her hell-on-heels shoes put her lips right at my throat where she says my name, “Dylan.” And damn, just damn. She’s receptive, and that just encourages me to carry on. I’m not going to fool myself into thinking this isn’t due to the drinks I’ve watched her drink. Not enough to get a person drunk, but enough to let inhibitions take a backseat for a night. I slide my hand down her back, over her ass, then grip the outside of her thigh and lift, just the slightest movement, because any more and it would be way past public indecency. She sighs and her hands tighten in the hairs at the base of my skull. She’s still with me.