“Yeah, yeah, of course I am. Santos told me about that record deal you signed. Don’t try to play like you’re some small fry,” he says, steering the conversation away from himself again.
Record deal? What the fuck? I would never take this shit that far. Why the fuck would Santos say that? And then I realize Gabriel must have misunderstood my cousin. “Shit, Pops. You need to go get a set of hearing aids. I ain’t signing no record deal. Some shitty local station is putting on a show for us and recording the thing… making a dvd and audio recording. It’s no big deal. I’m not trying to make anything huge out of this.”
“Why not, niño? If you can be some famous mo fo straight out of Oakwood, then make that shit happen. Represent.”
“You don’t get it, Gabriel,” I tell him, looking down at Jessa’s profile, her open lips, her silky hair. All I need is Jessa and a means to support us. What I got going on now is plenty. I’m not interested in changing that. “Listen, it’s late here. I have to go. Stay straight, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah, okay kid. We miss you. We want to see your pale face and meet your woman. You come home soon. I need to see you.”
“I’ll catch you later, Pops,” I tell him, hanging up the phone, running my hand through my hair. I don’t miss Venice unless I’m on the phone with my dad, cousin or uncle, so talking to my dad ain’t easy. I should be there with him. I wish Jess and I were there with him, watching out for him.
But things in Chicago are smooth. Things with Jessa are unreal. I don’t want to miss home. I don’t want to think I made a mistake telling Jessa this is where we belonged when she wanted to go to Venice.
That was three months ago. Jessa was strictly generals. But now she’s all into her fashion design major and it makes her happy. She’s finding people outside my life that ‘get her’. She’s figuring out her future, and I’m figuring out how to have one too. I can’t start getting homesick. All that matters is that Jessa is happy.
I close my eyes and try to picture us there – in Venice. An image of Jessa in her pretty clothes, all done up from head to toe on a skateboard pops into my head and I laugh. “Shit,” I mutter to myself. That’s never gonna happen. But her, in a bikini, laying on the beach… yeah, I can definitely wrap my head around that picture.
I turn my eyes on her, looking at her in the almost non-existent light. I’ve spent so many hours staring at this face, even when it’s sleeping, that I don’t need light to see it. She is my angel. She is the thing that is making my life- that has never been anything but chaotic at best- good. Calm. Easy. Perfect. Complete. This girl is everything to me and sometimes I worry that I can’t return the favor. That I will never be able to make her happy and full and alive like she makes me.
But even with Jess, sometimes I still feel unsettled, like Chicago is not where Jess and I belong. If I were home right now I would get on my board and let the world disappear around me. It’s the only time I can really think clearly – on my skateboard or my surfboard.
I get out of bed and grab my guitar because it’s a close third.
I creep over to the other side of the room where the other twin bed is. This side of the room is like a ghost town – we never come over here. I sit on the bed and quietly run my fingers over the strings, trying to latch onto it and forget about the shit in my head. I’ve banged out a lot of new material in the past few months, but I haven’t performed any of it. The lyrics are right, but the music ain’t. And these songs, unlike the shit I still gotta perform on stage, are important to me. I don’t want to play them half assed.
The guys and I have been trying to change shit up- even added a rhythm guitar player to the mix so I wouldn’t have to cover it and the lead. Turns out Jimmy had been holding out on us. He let us sit through an hour of auditions before I noticed he was air guitaring the songs and called him out. That motherfucker is good and I really didn’t want to be doing this with some stranger off the street. Plus, the kid’s got connections in this town and hooked us up with a warehouse space on Michigan where we’ve been practicing. The biggest plus with Jimmy though is his knack for intervening when Billy and I start going at it, which happens about every day. It’s all good, but I still can’t get any of this shit nailed down properly.
My eyes are closed and I’m lost in my thoughts. When I feel a hand on my thigh I open my eyes and see Jessa sitting on the bed with me.
“What are you doing, baby?” she asks me in her sleepy voice.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I couldn’t sleep.”
“I don’t mind,” she tells me, reaching over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. “Why can’t you sleep?”
“Gabriel called,” I tell her.
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s good. But you know… just missing home,” I tell her.
“You gotta tell Billy to schedule a break so you can get back there and see him,” she says, pulling her blanket, that she brought with her from our bed, tighter around her shoulders.
Our schedule isn’t out of hand. I mean, there are only so many places you can play in the area and we’ve hit most of them, even made a few trips over the state border. But now we’re doing all kinds of other shit like this thing with the radio station and we don’t get big enough breaks for me to head home.
“What about you?” I ask her. She’s making just as many sacrifices for the music as I am. “How are you feeling about being here over spring break?”
“It’s fine. We’ll both make it home eventually.”
“I’m sorry, beso, that I dragged you into this.”
“What are you talking about, Pax? I love this life we’re living. I love listening to you play, watching you on stage. I love that it makes you happy. You didn’t drag me into anything. As long as I have you, I’m good. You don’t gotta worry about me.”
“You’re too good to me,” I tell her ‘cause it’s the truth. Sometimes I feel like this life we’re living revolves around me and I don’t want it to be that way. “If I don’t get some shit figured out with this new material I might just have to call it quits. I can’t keep singing about taking drugs, hating people and having sex with strangers. It ain’t right.”
“You’ll get it figured out, babe. Maybe you’re just thinking too much. Maybe you just need to have fun with the songs, like you used to.”
I smile at her, strumming my guitar. “Fun, huh?” I ask her, knowing the solution to getting the material worked out isn’t to take it less seriously, but deciding to fuck around for a second anyway. I mean shit, Jessa’s sexy ass is in bed with me. I gotta quit feeling sorry for my lucky ass.
“Are you gonna write a song right now?” she asks me.
“Jessa,” I belt out her name.
“A song about me?” she asks with mock adoration, putting her hand over her heart.
“Met you in a field full of piles of cow shit. You lookin’ like you didn’t belong,” I sing through my laughter. “I couldn’t keep my mouth off of you, but that shit didn’t last very long,” I belt out the words like the smartass I’m being. She gives me a cute smirk. “All you gave me was a dance and a song, telling me my lips on yours felt wrong.”
“You’re a terrible kisser,” she tells me.
“Jessa’s got a big fucking mouth, oh yeah. Jessa’s got a big fucking mouth,” I tell her in a deep, slow voice, trying my best to act serious.
“The next verse better say something nice,” she tells me.
“I left her there, her and her pretty hair, but I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her lips are fat, her body’s tight, I want to make her mine tonight. Moved into her bed, she gave me head. Jessa’s got a big fucking mouth, oh yeah. Jessa’s got a big fucking mouth,” I manage to sing through my laughter. Jessa’s mouth pops open like she’s shocked by my lyrics.
She reaches her foot across the bed and kicks me in the thigh. “You love my big fucking mouth.”
“I love her big fucking mouth, oh yeah. I love her big fucking m
outh.” I do some fancy finger picking, playing the musician, but I can’t stop laughing.
“That’s my song?” she asks after my guitar stills, her face all screwed up.
“That’s my love song to you,” I tell her.
“That’s terrible. Jesus, you are supposed to be a professional. I could write a better song.”
“Show me,” I tell her, handing my guitar over.
She props herself up on her knees, her blanket falls off of her and she holds my guitar in front of her naked body.
“It’s fucking great already,” I tell her. She looks sexy as hell, holding my guitar.
She strums it softly and I wince at her, like it’s terrible. She sticks her tongue out at me before kind of saying, kind of singing in a sweet voice, “The moment I met you, I could not forget you. You were beautiful in the ugliest of ways.”
I give her a crooked smile. She’s so damn cute.
She smiles back then sings, “Your kisses were vicious, but your mouth tasted delicious. I wouldn’t have wanted you any other way.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. It took her a while to admit how much she fucking loved that kiss.
“You were closed off and pissed off and you never got me off. But I loved you more every single day.” She pauses to strum the guitar softly.
“When you left me, I missed you. I only thought of you. I was living your life, but you were far away.” I get a cute little pout during the vocal reprieve.
“And then when you came home, you were cold like,” she pauses for a moment, faltering for the first time. “… a big stone,” she sings, laughing at her own lyrics. “But your hands in the mornings were sweet.”
“I really didn’t want to, but I fell in love with you. And now I can’t imagine me any other way.” She plucks the strings a few times and I clap because that was seriously one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.
She bows and tells me, “Thank you,” before handing my guitar back to me, which I set on the floor before reaching for her and folding her up in my arms.
“I’ll write you a good song, beso. Like the one you wrote me. I promise,” I tell her, even though I’ve already written her all kinds of songs. That’s my main problem – my emotional lyrics about her aren’t fitting into our hard core sound.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t want you up on stage singing about my oral sex skills.”
“I really do love your mouth,” I tell her, bringing my lips to hers so I can taste her. “Let’s get you in bed, beso. You got that test tomorrow. You need to get some rest.”
“Ugh,” she mutters as I stand with her and her blanket in my arms. “School… maybe I should just drop out.”
I lay her down in our bed and fold her back up in my arms. “No, beso,” I tell her. “You gotta get an education and get a good job so you can support my ass when I’m ready to quit all this shit.”
“So you’re just using me for my big brain? Keeping me around so I can support you?” she asks, pinching my stomach.
“Yeah, beso. Some day you’re gonna get a big job. Maybe we’ll move to Venice and you can start your design business in L.A. I’ll be a house husband and take care of all of those babies you are gonna pop out for me.”
She laughs at that thought. “Babies?”
“Yeah, beso – babies. All kinds of cute little girls running around with turquoise eyes and thick, chocolate hair.”
“And little boys with fat, pink mouths and gray eyes.”
“Sure. We can have a couple boys if you want. Uncle Emilio can tat them up and Grandpa can teach them how to roll a joint.”
“Oh my god. I will be in charge of raising the babies. But you can do all the cooking and cleaning.”
“Fine,” I agree, smiling at the idea of having a family with her someday. Of Gabriel being a grandpa.
“That was weird,” Jessa muses through her laughter, “but that little convo didn’t freak me out at all. I’ve never thought about being a mother. I mean, I never considered that I would have kids someday. But I can see it. With you. A family.”
I’ve been picturing my future with this girl from day one, but I don’t admit that shit to her. “We should probably get started now,” I tell her, my fingers wandering between her legs. She does need to get some rest but it can wait a while.
Her fingers push themselves into my boxer briefs, running down my shaft until she is running them over my balls. Her fingers… they are so fucking good. “No we shouldn’t get started now,” she whispers. “But we can definitely get some practicing in.”
Chapter 2 - Jessa
I feel exhausted as I traipse across campus. By the time Paxton and I finally went back to sleep last night it was five AM. If it wasn’t for the test I just got done taking, I would have just stayed in bed all day. Now I have one more class I gotta get through, then I can go home and get back in his arms.
My eyes are absently scanning the quad, looking for Pax, wondering if he is going to show up here like he does sometimes. I’m thinking about last night, about the sadness in his voice and in his eyes when I found him strumming his guitar in the middle of the night.
Things in Chicago are great right now. We’re great, the band’s great, and, I mean, my tired ass is not enjoying going to class at the moment, but generally I actually kind of love them. But Paxton is always a little sad after he talks to his dad or uncle or cousin on the phone. In my heart I know that Venice is where he belongs, which I guess means it’s where I belong too since my future is Paxton. He’s always telling me all I have to do is say the word and he will stop playing his music. I would never do that. I’ve never felt the need to do that, but I wonder if he ever does. If he wanted to get out, if he wanted to quit playing and go home, would he be willing to tell me that?
My phone starts ringing and I’m expecting it to be him. I pull it out of my pocket and look at Natalie’s name flashing on the screen “Shit,” I mutter. I’ve been avoiding my best friend from home for the past week. She and her boyfriend Luke got engaged at the end of our senior year and now when I pick up the phone I am stuck in hour long conversation about species of roses, vegan verses vegetarian and various shades of white. Which is fine – if she needs to talk about fonts, I’ll talk about fonts. It’s not why I’ve been avoiding her. I’m avoiding her because I have to tell her that I’m not coming home for spring break like she is expecting me to.
“Hey, Nat,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.
“What’s up Maid of Honor? Are you actually answering your phone?”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been picking up your calls,” I tell her as I walk into the design building, heading to my next class.
“So you’ve been ignoring me on purpose?”
“Yeah, I have been,” I admit. “I didn’t want to tell you that I’m not coming home for spring break,” I tell her, ripping the bandage off in one fell swoop.
“What?” she shrieks. I stop short of my classroom and duck into a small alcove, taking a seat on the couch. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t come home for Christmas and now you’re not coming home for spring break. What the hell, Jessa?”
“I’m sorry, Nat. I just have too much stuff going on here and I can’t leave for the week,” I tell her, burring my face in my hand, feeling guilty as hell for ditching out of my Maid of Honor duties again.
“You have too much stuff going on, or Paxton does and you can’t separate yourself from him for a couple of days? You have a week off of school, you don’t have a job, so don’t tell me you have too much stuff going on. Jesus, you seriously can’t tear yourself away from him for a week?”
“That’s great, coming from you. Do you know how many times you’ve blown me off for Luke?” I say, avoiding and deflecting, which isn’t fair. “The guys have a show that week that they can’t get out of – it’s being filmed and recorded. It’s a big deal.”
“And you have to be there… why?”
“I have to be here because Paxton won’t stay here i
f I leave. I’m not going to fuck this up for all of them.”
“God, Jessa. I don’t even know what to say to that. Your whole life revolves around him. You don’t do anything anymore unless it’s for him,” she tells me, clearly livid. Which she has the right to be. I know what I’m doing is crappy, but seriously, this speech she’s giving me is ridiculous considering her own behavior over the past year. But I know that’s not why I’m angry. I’m angry because I don’t want to admit that she’s right. I don’t do anything anymore if it’s not for Paxton, which is a situation I’m fine with, but I know that it’s not fair to her.
“You have seven other bridesmaids. I’m sure between the eight of you can figure shit out without my assistance.”
Nat sucks in a breath and I immediately wish I could take my words back. “You’re right, Jessa, I don’t need you here. Clearly, I have been doing just fine without your help. And I do have seven other bridesmaids, but you and Emily are the only ones that I really want there with me. You have been my best friend my whole life. I have been dreaming about this day since we were kids. And in all the fantasies I’ve ever had, never, not in one of them, did I imagine doing this without you. I didn’t know who I would be marrying, all I knew is that you would be standing beside me. So forgive me for being so needy and demanding. I thought you gave a shit, but clearly I was wrong.”
I keep myself buried under my arm. I feel awful. “I’m sorry, Nat. I’m feeling shitty about the fact that I haven’t been home and I’m putting my crap on you. It’s wrong, and I’m sorry. I love you, I want to be there with you. I’ll come home, I just can’t do it that week. Maybe Paxton can drive me home for a long weekend at the end of the month.”
“Awesome. So if I want to spend a few days with you it has to be with him too?”
“If you want me home he has to bring me. I don’t have a car,” I mutter.
She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I don’t get it, Jessa,” she tells me, the anger still very clear in her voice. “How you went so quickly from the number one advocate of non-commitment to the poster girl for pathetically whipped girlfriends of America. It’s clear that he is the only thing you care about right now and I don’t want you here when you don’t want to be here so don’t worry about coming home. If you can manage to get here for the wedding that would be great but I totally understand if Paxton’s band has a show that weekend. I know you can’t miss a minute of his life for me.”
Inside of You (Jessa & Paxton #2) Page 2