by Hazel Jacobs
“But I was right about him being a dog, though,” Slate says.
“Yeah, that part was true,” replies Sersha. Logan snorts and Mikayla goes pink.
“Maybe I just thought he was quick off the draw compared to me,” Slate adds.
Dash throws him one of those ‘bitch please’ looks that makes everyone start laughing again.
It feels so good to be laughing with these people. It’s in moments like this that Sersha realizes how close she’d come to losing all of this. When she and Tommy had returned to New York after a couple of days in Galway, Black Lilith had been waiting for her at the airport. She’d had a moment as she’d walked toward them where she wasn’t sure how they would react. Whether they would be angry at her for leaving and scaring them the way she did. But then Mikayla had rushed forward and thrown her arms around Sersha’s neck, and Sersha had felt all of the tension and anxiousness escape her.
“Next time, call me first,” Mikayla had said into Sersha’s ear. “The amount of drama these guys go through, I could have told you that there was a reasonable explanation!”
Sersha had just nodded because the lump in her throat had made it tough to talk.
Dash, Slate and Logan had tackled Sersha and Mikayla after that, sending them to the ground in a pile of limbs. There’d been paparazzi lingering around the airport, and Sersha had seen the flashbulbs going off as the men had laughed on top of her. Tommy had just watched with a small smile, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He only had the backpack. He, like Sersha, hadn’t thought to pack much before running to Galway to see her.
Days later, Sersha still thinks that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her.
When the pizza is finished, Logan cracks open a can of beer and grabs a guitar. He starts strumming an easy chord progression. He doesn’t seem to be playing a specific tune, he just wants to give them some music to listen to as they lounge around, letting the pizza coma do its thing. There’s no television in the living room. They’ve set up a games room in the basement, but Mikayla had insisted that they have a ‘family dinner’ without one of them sitting on one of the others because they got their ass kicked in Mario Kart.
Sersha’s a part of the family now. She gets a warm feeling every time she remembers that.
“Hey, Sersha?” says Dash, leaning over to talk to her so that he doesn’t disturb Logan’s music. “You’re good, yeah?”
She smiles at him. Dash has been particularly attentive to her since the day he’d found her sobbing at the studio.
“Yeah, sweets, I’m good,” she says.
Beside her, Tommy stretches out his thigh so that it touches hers. Just a small touch but it reminds her that he’s there and that he’s not going anywhere. Sersha still thinks about the way he’d looked kissing Danielle, and the thought sets her teeth on edge, but whenever her mind conjures those images she deliberately thinks about the video he’d showed her. The look of surprise and horror on his face when he’d realized who he was kissing is enough to prove to her that he’d thought that he was kissing her. That kiss, the little smile on his lips, the playful way he’d talked—it was all meant for her.
Dash gives her a wink and settles back on the ground. He’s easily the best little brother she could have hoped for. Slate gets up to grab a couple of cartons of ice-cream from the kitchen. The couples share a spoon, while Dash and Slate share another.
“So what kind of girl are we looking out for?” Sersha asks. “If you two are looking for steady girlfriends now?”
Slate seems to give it a thought. “Yoga instructor,” he says.
“You’re despicable,” Mikayla tells him fondly.
“I’d like someone who’s into Star Wars,” Dash says. “But, like, the original trilogy. Not the prequels.”
“What about the latest movie?” asks Sersha.
Slate, Logan, and Tommy groan in unison as Dash’s eyes light up.
“Oh my Lord that was awesome!” Dash says excitedly. “Kylo Ren is pointless, but Rey is a queen. Plus Stormpilot.”
“What—” Sersha begins.
“Don’t—” Tommy says.
“I’m glad you asked,” Dash says, making the boys groan again. Sersha shares a look with Mikayla, who looks just as amused by this scene. “Stormpilot is the ship name for Finn and Poe. And a ship name, because I can see your confusion, is the name you give to people that you want to be a couple. So you two…” he gestures at Sersha and Tommy, “…would be Tersha. Or Lyrics Babies.”
“I like Lyrics Babies,” Sersha says. Tommy nods beside her.
“So you want Finn and Poe to be a couple?” Slate asks. Dash nods emphatically and Slate seems to give it some thought. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Logan and Mikayla nod thoughtfully.
That conversation leads to the group adjourning to the basement so that they can watch Star Wars on the big screen. The games room is, surprisingly, the only room in the whole house that doesn’t have instruments all over the place. Black Lilith seemed to have made a collective decision to keep this room purely for leisure. A massive television takes up one wall, and instead of couches the floor is covered with massive pillows and futons. The games system is one of the most advanced that Sersha has ever seen. They’ve got different consoles for different games, and the games themselves seem to have been organized almost obsessively—probably by Dash. Mikayla and Logan take up a pillow for themselves. Sersha puts her head in Tommy’s lap and her legs on Slate’s. Slate pats her on the calf and sends her a wink, reminding her of the joke she’d just made about the threesome.
Sersha looks up to see Tommy giving Slate a considering look. When their eyes meet, Tommy and Sersha share a grin.
Dash roots around in his Blu-ray collection for the movie, puts it on, then shushes everyone so that they can see the moment when Poe and Finn meet for the first time. The room obediently quietens down so that they can give the appropriate respect to this scene. Afterward, Dash pauses the movie so that they can all agree that Poe and Finn are definitely in love. They watch through to the end and Sersha gets excited to see Skellig Michael in the final scene. She’s never been to the tiny island near the coast of Kerry in person, but it’s hard to miss the funny little rocks and bright green grass can only be Irish.
“You miss home?” Tommy whispers into her ear as the credits roll. Dash is so entranced that there could be an explosion in the room and he wouldn’t notice. Mikayla and Logan have slipped away, probably to Logan’s bedroom. They really are like rabbits.
“I was just there.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t miss it,” he says.
Sersha shrugs. In truth, she does miss it, but she’ll always miss it. No matter where she goes or how much she begins to feel at home in a new place, her heart beats for Galway. Her blood will always be shamrock green.
“I like it here, with you,” she says.
Tommy kisses her on the forehead. “Come on,” he says, tugging her to her feet.
“Someone’s getting lucky,” Slate says, craning his head to leer at the two of them.
“Have fun watching Star Wars with Dash,” Tommy shoots back.
“Original series next!” says Dash.
Slate groans.
Tommy leads Sersha upstairs to the bedrooms. They pass Logan’s room, ignoring the muffled moans from inside. The boys had gotten most of the walls between the rooms thickened so that they can’t hear each other when they’re trying to sleep, but the hallway is fair game.
Tommy’s room is a bit cluttered. This is the space where he can let his active mind spill out. Clothes are on the floor. Clean ones that need to be put away, because the dirty ones go in the hamper in the bathroom. There’s an electric bass mounted on the wall and an acoustic propped up in the corner. Notebooks and music scales are piled up all over the room. There’s a short green bong on the table, but thankfully Tommy’s room doesn’t smell like weed. He’d told her that he only smokes when he’s anxious or upse
t. She hadn’t asked him if he’d needed to light up when she’d gone to Galway.
As soon as the door is closed behind them, Tommy presses Sersha against it.
“You can confirm my stamina, can you?” he asks, nipping at her ear and hoisting up her hips.
Sersha takes the hint immediately, jumping up to wrap her legs around his waist. “I’d be happy to help you go for a personal best,” she says.
He’s not hard yet, but he seems more interested in getting her fired up than enjoying himself. Sersha supports that endeavor. She threads her fingers through his hair and grinds into him, drawing out a soft groan.
They didn’t have sex in Galway. It was too weird with her mam in the house, possibly being able to hear. At least when they’d been in the basement in Jersey, Tommy had been confident that his mother and brother wouldn’t hear. Of course, as soon as they’d gotten back to Manhattan, Tommy took Sersha back to her Airbnb and ravaged her. Now, it seems like he’s planning on a repeat performance.
He carries her over to the bed and tosses her onto it. Sersha scoots up to the pillow and watches him practically rip his shirt off. Then he prowls up the mattress and draws her into a hot, passionate kiss.
“I’m so glad I have you here,” Tommy says against her lips. Sersha feels herself melting at his words. “I came so close to losing you. I promise I’m not going to fuck this up.”
Sersha runs her hands down his chest, enjoying the warmth, her hands drifting down to his belt buckle as she leans up to deepen their kiss.
“I believe you,” she says, and that’s the last thing she says for a while.
The next tour stop is the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco. Sersha has a minor freak-out when she remembers that Hendrix, Zeppelin, The Doors—they’d all walked that stage. Sersha was going to be walking the same halls as bands she’s been listening to since she was a baby.
“It’s sweet that you’re so excited about this,” Tommy says, grinning at Sersha from across the aisle as they fly toward San Francisco.
Sersha might think their weird little week breaks between tour stops are unusual for a tour, but she can’t deny that it’s nice to not have to deal with daily performances and sleeping on a tour bus. As the lyricist, Sersha probably wouldn’t even have been invited to the shows if the tour had been one of the back-to-back shows variety.
“Yeah, I’m excited,” Sersha tells Tommy. Beside her, Slate is watching some Jennifer Lawrence movie with his first class champagne held loosely in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re not excited!” she says.
“Oh, I’m very excited,” Tommy tells her. “But I’m not as cute as you are.”
When they land, they head straight to the venue. The band, Mikayla and Sersha climb into a limo, laughing at Slate because he’d managed to woo the flight attendant on the plane. Dash tries to fix his hair so that it looks like Slate’s, claiming that the hair is Slate’s secret weapon, but Dash’s hair isn’t greasy enough to make the look complete.
They arrive at the Fillmore, Sersha is practically vibrating with bubbles. They pass a huge crowd of people who have lined up to get into the show, heading for the back entrance which is being guarded by security. When they arrive there, Sersha runs out of the limo. Black Lilith follows at a slightly less frantic pace, with Mikayla bringing up the rear with her phone in her hands and an indulgent smile on her face. She acts like their mother, wrangling them and making sure that they are where they need to be when they need to be there. Sersha wonders how the band would have survived without her.
Once Sersha and the band get through security, they go straight through the green room to the stage. They stand for a moment at the edge of the stage and bask in what they’re seeing.
“Holy shitballs,” Dash says quietly.
There are three tiers of seats, gilded with gold. The stage is tiny compared to the room, which is so big that Sersha feels dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of what she’s seeing. She can’t imagine all of the seats being filled, but she knows that they will be—the tour stop sold out within a few minutes of the tickets going on sale.
“This is gonna be awesome,” Logan says.
Behind them, roadies are setting up the stage for Lost in Time, who will still be opening the show. Mikayla had offered to get the band replaced, citing creative differences, but both Tommy and Sersha had stopped her. Neither of them wanted to punish the band for the actions of their manager.
They go back to the green room to find Lost in Time chilling out with beers and smiles. The women are all really cool. Sersha gets into a long conversation with the drummer about the vacation she took to Dublin a few years ago. Danielle isn’t there. Although Sersha and Tommy hadn’t allowed Mikayla to get the band replaced, Tommy had allowed Logan to reach out to the lead singer of Lost in Time and tell her about the problems that Black Lilith had with Danielle. He’s still got the evidence that he’d used to convince Tommy all those months ago. Tommy’s video of the assault helps as well.
So now Danielle is nowhere to be seen. And the ladies of Lost in Time don’t seem to miss her. Luckily, Mikayla has organized the tour so well that Danielle had been pretty much irrelevant anyway.
A part of Sersha wishes that Danielle had been there so that she could look her in the eye and stare her down as she reaches to grab Tommy’s ass. Someone as possessive as Danielle would hate that, and Sersha would have loved to see the expression on her face when Sersha publically staked her claim on the man. But on reflection, Sersha is gladder that Danielle isn’t there. Her presence would only make Tommy uncomfortable and ruin the mood.
The hours pass. Tommy and Logan disappear to talk about music stuff, and both bands go outside to sign autographs for the fans who have been waiting in line. Then Lost in Time goes to perform, leaving Black Lilith alone in the green room with Sersha and Mikayla. Sersha doesn’t go to watch them, she’s more interested in seeing the band build up their excitement. Logan has his arms wrapped around Mikayla, scribbling on a set list that’s resting on her lap while she texts. Dash and Tommy are jamming, loosening up their fingers for the coming performance. The roadies move around them, preparing the next batch of instruments and cables ready to move onto the stage after Lost in Time’s set.
Slate slides into the seat next to Sersha.
“Quick question?” he asks.
His purple shirt is so tight that it looks painted on and she can see the edges of a six-pack beneath it. She likes that Slate’s so ripped—nobody could complain about such a beautiful man—but she prefers Tommy’s lean, toned body. Tommy is all understated power and authority wrapped within a sweet exterior.
“Quick question?” she asks.
“What are you doing on the weekend of March 13th?” he asks.
Sersha doesn’t need to think too hard about it. “I’m going home… it’s my mam’s birthday.” Which reminds her—she should ask Tommy if he wants to come with her.
Slate makes a frustrated noise. “Balls,” he says.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“I need a date to a wedding.”
Sersha has many questions. “Whose wedding?” she asks, which is admittedly not the most interesting question, but it’s the one that she asks first.
“My cousin,” Slate says. “I’ve got to go all the way back to Iowa for the damn thing, and I promised my mom and dad I’d bring a ‘respectable’ date.” He makes air quotes to show how he feels about that.
“Back to Iowa?” Sersha says. “I thought you grew up in Jersey? Didn’t you and the guys go to school together?”
“Yeah, we did, it’s a long story.” Slate huffs out a sigh and sinks into the couch. “I promised that my date wouldn’t be a groupie. My parents are apparently getting a lot of shit for their heathen son.”
“That sucks,” Sersha says, patting his knee supportively. “Have you asked Mikayla?”
“This may surprise you, but Logan can be a bit possessive and jealous.” The two of them look over to see Logan, wrapped around Mika
yla like a squirrel protecting his nut. “He tends to freak out when I hang out with his girlfriend without him around.”
“That’s a bit uncool.”
“Yeah, he’s working on it,” Slate assures her. “But I think it might be a while before he can bring himself to be okay with Mik spending a romantic weekend with me at a wedding.”
“And you think Tommy would have been cooler with it?”
“I could distract him with an empty notebook, he would never have known you were gone.”
They snicker together. Over in the corner, Dash and Tommy are completely oblivious to the looks that Slate and Sersha are sending them.
“So you’re not allowed to bring a groupie? How would your parents even know?”
Slate shrugs. “It’s not so much that they might know, it’s just… I don’t want to lead a girl on, you know?” he says. He grins over at her and pats her knee. “You and Mik are gorgeous, but I don’t have any plans to get my own perfect lady just yet. Taking a groupie with me to a wedding would just get her hopes up no matter how hard I explain to her that it’s strictly to appease the homestead.”
“I still can’t believe you’re from Iowa!” Sersha tells him. “You don’t strike me as a corn-fed country boy.”
Slate winks at her. “I’m a man of many layers.”
“Evidently.”
She hadn’t even been able to catch an accent when he spoke. He must go to some pains to hide it. It makes her wonder what the story is there. Maybe later tonight she’ll ask him, assuming he doesn’t have his hands full entertaining a beautiful girl who doesn’t mind being a one-night stand for a famous drummer.
“Hey?”
Slate and Sersha turn around to see a roadie behind them. Sersha recognizes him—he’s from Manhattan and the band had brought him over especially for the gig. He’s a bit chubby with an unfortunate amount of hair on his neck, but he’s a hard worker.
“Hey, Jerry. What’s up?” Slate asks.
“Couldn’t help overhearing,” Jerry says. He dips his voice down and glances at Sersha, before his eyes flicker over to Mikayla, which immediately makes Sersha’s spidey senses tingle. “You need a date? Try these guys.”