Dallas after Dark Series; Ramona
Brielle Harlow
Copyright 2014 Brielle Harlow
Published by Brielle Harlow at Smashwords
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Chapter One
Ramona Winters
It’s a little after ten o’clock in the morning and I have finally consumed enough caffeine to force myself to sit down and start working on my next booking assignment. My head is pounding and my stomach is queasy. I guess I let my self- pity get the best of me last night which resulted in a few extra glasses of wine that’s left me feeling less than chipper on this bright summer morning. Nothing in my life is bad. I don’t know why I was feeling so blah last night. Maybe nothing is bad but if I’m honest I believe something is missing. I’m lonely. When was the last time I had a boyfriend or been on a date for that matter? I just booked Crash to an acoustic night at The Green Lantern. Every time I work with Crash and the devastatingly handsome Jesse Fitzpatrick I remember just how long it’s been since I had sex. Too long ago, that’s how long.
Jesse Fitzpatrick is so hot I get excited just from looking at him –and when he plays the guitar it’s all I can do to keep from drooling with my mouth hung open. As for me, I’m not even on Jesse’s radar. He is surrounded nightly by beautiful women at his shows. I am petite and thin not tall and voluptuous. I’m not a curvy girl so I usually wear a push up. I have big wavy auburn hair and brown eyes. I’ve been told I have a nice ass by guys but women say I have no ass at all. I’m not ugly by any means I’m just not the prettiest girl in the room. My big hair and small size attracts some attention but so far never Jesse’s. Crash is the most popular local band in Dallas. Jesse has his choice of every kind of woman from the college girls to the desperate housewives. All of them are far prettier than me.
Dallas is known for its Barbie’s. Dallas is home to fake eyelashes, hair extensions, the mobile spray tan and plastic surgery centers. It’s much better to look good than be good here. Everyone is about putting on a front. People will live in crappy apartments in bad areas while driving a BMW or Mercedes because it’s far more important to look like you have money when you are out and about. None of those things are me. I live in a small apartment in Deep Ellum and drive a Honda hybrid covered in bumper stickers.
The local radio station 106.1 hosts a summer rock fest every year at the Highlander bar. That’s what I’m working on now. I have to decide what bands will perform. The summer rock fest boasts only local talent. It’s a big deal for local artists trying to make a name because there is always a big turnout. I have handled the booking for this event for the last three years. I am always receiving demo tapes and invites to gigs so I can sample a band or artist’s work. Every artist in town wants to be a part of this event. It can be a lot of pressure to decide who will get in and what stage they will play.
Just as I’m finishing up the last of my paperwork and getting ready to fix myself some lunch my work phone rings.
“Hello! This is Ramona Winters with Greenville Booking.” I say.
“Hi, this is Scott Jericho of Jericho Machine. We are gonna be rocking out tonight at Fallout Bar and were wondering if you would be interested in coming to see us play. I’m sure you’ve heard of us already. We played with Crash at The Bend last month. I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself before. I would love to have you come out and I can give you the VIP treatment.” A familiar voice says.
It was Scott alright. Scott is very talented and attractive. He is thin and muscular with tattoos all the way up his neck. Scott plays drums, guitar and bass and sings like smooth jazz. His wavy brown hair and soft blue eyes add to his list of charms. Scott’s band is just starting to gain popularity. He is probably just making sure his band is in the running for the Summer Fest line up. Of course they are, Scott is a favorite among the local females and the men seem to really love the Jericho Machine sound.
“Hey Scott! Yeah, I remember that show. What time are you playing tonight?”
“Show starts at ten! Can’t wait to see you, let’s have a drink on the break.”
“Definitely, I will see you there.” I said hanging up the phone.
A drink with a hot guy like Scott is just what I need. Well, it’s the prelude to what I need.
I pulled up to Fallout at ten thirty. I didn’t want to seem too excited after all this is technically work. I left my hair wavy and big with my bangs to the right side. It’s long now falling down below my breasts. I decided to wear a bottle green cotton dress belted at the center with brown platform sandals. My outfit gives the illusion of an hour-glass shape while showing off my legs. It’s still hot out even though the sun is down. I quickly walk inside the bar and order a drink. I will start with a long island iced tea to cool off and settle my nerves. I’m hoping desperately I don’t smell like sweat. When I’m nervous I sweat like a giant, fat man.
By the time I get my drink and head into the room with the stage it’s almost eleven. Scott is sitting on a stool crooning out a rock ballad with soft lights centered on him. A crowd sways to the rhythm on the dance floor in front of him. I could already see that dreamy love-struck look in the eyes of the women at his feet. Scott is eating it up. He stands tossing his hair back as he belts out a long note finishing the song. After a brief pause Scott picks up his guitar and the band joins in for a faster heavier song. I pick up my drink and walk close to the stage pushing through some of the crowd. I think he sees me. Scott seems to wink and smile right at me. I casually lift my drink and smile back at him. Is this really happening? Am I really flirting with a hot musician? This is actually very unlike me.
I may work booking talent but never for pleasure. I was the band geek in high school and college. I majored in music. I studied piano and violin. I still spend all my free time practicing by myself. I am a book worm. I am the quiet girl. Sometimes I play or sing for friends. There is a group of people I occasionally karaoke with just for fun. Most people don’t know these things about me. To most people I am just Ramona the quiet girl who knows the bands, especially to hot musicians. Tonight I am determined to be more than shy Ramona. I’m determined to flirt as well as any of these life size Barbies. Why shouldn’t someone like Scott like someone like me? I’m great. Scott’s voice announcing a set break interrupts my thoughts. I play it cool and head to the bar with my back to the stage. I don’t want to seem like I’m waiting for him. I order a beer this time because I’m not interested in waking up to another headache tomorrow.
“I’m glad you could make it.” A low voice says tickling my ear.
Scott comes up beside me putting his hand on my arm and goose bumps appear on my skin. I wonder if he notices.
“Hey! You were great in the first set.” I said smiling.
“Thanks!” Scott said opening his arms for a hug. “It was a little bit easier to let it all go tonight seeing you in the crowd.”
“Oh wow! You’re so sweet.” I say hoping I’m not blushing.
“I’m just speaking the truth. I’m inspired by beauty and that’s what I saw in the crowd tonight.” Scott says with a voice like honey.
I don’t know if I can trust what he is saying but I like it all the same. My skin feels flushed from excitement and alcohol. Scott’s hand keeps casually grazing the skin of my thigh. I pretend not to notice. I wish he would keep it there, maybe move it a little higher. T
ake a deep breath Ramona.
“I’ve been working on a new song. I’d love to get your opinion on it. If you don’t have to be up early maybe I could play it for you after the show. What do you say?” Scott asks.
“I’d love to hear your new song. I’m not a stranger to late nights.” I say.
“Cool, I have to walk around a little and greet people. It’s all part of the job you know? I’ll meet you here after the show and we can go to my place. Sound good?”
Go to his place? I like the sound of that. This night is taking a pleasant but unexpected turn.
“I’ll meet you here afterwards.” I agree doing my best to play it cool.
Chapter Two
Ramona and Scott
After two more sets the house lights come on and Scott says goodnight to the crowd over the microphone. Some of the women linger near the stage for a chance to speak with him. Most likely handing him their number and letting him know that sex is guaranteed. I can’t blame these girls. They are young, beautiful and full of alcohol. If I looked like them I would be blatant too. I wish I had half their confidence. With that thought I decide to take a shot for courage before Scott escorts me back to his place. So much for no headache in the morning, I hope it’s worth it.
Coughing and sipping water after my shot of tequila I hear my name called loudly over the noisy bar.
“Ramona! Good to see you!”
I turned to see Matt the drummer of Jericho squeezing up to the bar.
“Matt! Great show tonight!”
“Thanks! That means a lot coming from you Ramona. Any word on Summer Fest yet?” Matt asks smiling and nudging me with his elbow.
“I haven’t finalized the lineup but Jericho will be playing at the fest.” I say laughing at him.
“Awesome! We are so excited about it I can’t even say how much!”
Over Matt’s shoulder I see Scott making his way over. I stand and grab my purse just as he makes it to the bar.
“Ready my lady?” Scott asks with a smile.
“I am.” I answer stifling a giggle and taking his proffered arm.
“Hey man, good show. See you tomorrow.” Scott says to Matt giving him a elaborate handshake.
“Goodnight Matt.” I say casting my eyes down bashfully.
I’m a little embarrassed to be leaving the bar with him in front of Matt. I wonder what it looks like. It’s just to hear a song…and maybe stare at him a little…and maybe kiss him…and stop it Ramona. Control your hormones. He just wants to play you a song.
“I’m parked right out here. Mine is the black truck.” Scott says gesturing.
Scott opens my door and helps me inside.
“I don’t live far from here.” says Scott.
“I hope you don’t mind having to bring me back to my car later.”
“No, not at all. Anything for a little of your time.”
Scott’s smooth words are going to my head as fast as the tequila, maybe faster. Scott drives us just around the corner from the bar to a small brick apartment complex. He really does live close. He parks under a carport and walks around to open my door. I’m not used to this and I’m already halfway out of the car when I realize I thwarted his intentions. Scott just smiles and takes my hand leading me up to an apartment with a red door. He unlocks the door and we walk inside. It’s tasteful for a bachelor pad. There is a single brown leather sofa facing a flat screen TV on a low wooden stand. Next to the TV is an Xbox. Scott has a small bookshelf which surprises me. I immediately, without thinking about it, walk over and begin scanning his selection. There were several hardback comics, a few suspense books, many books on music and a few biographies on what must be his favorite bands. Not bad since I didn’t honestly anticipate finding any. I guess I imagined just posters, a bean bag chair and pizza boxes. When I look up again I notice Scott in the kitchen pouring us a drink.
I can see into the bedroom from where I’m standing. Scott’s bedroom. Bed. Scott and me on the bed. I wonder when he last cleaned his sheets. Why does it matter? You aren’t going in there. Just sit on the couch and stop thinking about his bedroom. Why do guys always choose leather? I hate leather. It’s cold and then hot. It sticks to me. What if I there are sweat marks when I stand back up. Leather just doesn’t breathe! Why do I have to sweat so much when I’m nervous?
“I hope bourbon is ok. It’s all I have right now.” Scott says offering me a glass of amber-colored liquid.
“Bourbon, wow! Sure I will give it a shot.” I say. After a small swallow I visibly shudder. Bourbon is quite strong.
“Too strong?” Scott asks, “I think I have some coke we can mix with it if you like.”
Clutching my chest I cough out, “That would be better.”
He rummages through the fridge coming out with a can of coke. He cracks open the can pouring it in my glass. He stirs the mixture with his index finger and then sucks the finger clean in his mouth. I force myself to stop staring and try the drink again.
“Definitely better, it’s actually pretty smooth I’m just not used to bourbons or whiskeys for that matter.” I say realizing I am rambling. “What song do you want to show me?” I add quickly.
Scott walks over and picks up his acoustic guitar slinging the thick woven strap over his shoulder out of habit. He sits down on the coffee table in front of me our knees touching. I hope I don’t smell like sweat. Scott looks almost nervous as his sits so close with his guitar and pick in hand. I wonder if his shy guy appearance is an act he puts on for all the girls he brings home. Does it matter? His Cyan blue eyes stare right through me. He is fidgeting and licking at his lips like they’re dry. I catch myself doing the same thing and hide it by putting the drink to my lips. It’s for the best, my mouth is dry.
“This is called Stay.” Scott says as he starts strumming. His voice is low and raspy as he sings in the dimly lit apartment. I feel myself starting to melt. I’ve always loved guitar players but not one has ever played just for me, alone.
“Love, tell what it means. Another empty bottle and I hate this scene.” His voice sings out.
“Scratch out your name I can’t forget…Bite your tongue I heard you say…Save me… You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Stay, you know I can’t help myself…”
He is looking at me as he sings this part. I catch my breath on this line and his eyes like two pools of clear blue-green water. I wish the song was about me. How amazing to have someone write lyrics and compose a song just for you. The longing in his voice as he sings out recalls every love I lost, every love I wanted but I couldn’t have. When he sings the word stay so softly I know I want to. The song ends and I clap. I really do love it.
“It’s a beautiful song, very sexy and soulful.” I say looking up from under my lashes.
“Why thank you!” he says with a bashful smile putting the guitar down and standing up.
“How about I put on some music? Let’s hear someone else sing for a while.” Scott says turning on some music.
“Only if you insist.” I say playfully. I sit my glass down and stand up unsure what’s supposed to happen next. It feels like butterflies might just burst through my chest. Should I suggest I go now? I did hear the song already. No. Don’t do that Ramona. Stay.
Scott’s wearing a ribbed, black tank under a gray open button up shirt. He has on a necklace that sits just below his collarbone, two small lip rings on the right side of his lower lip. It’s hard not to stare.
Scott walks over and stands with his body brushing against mine. I breathe in the scent of his cologne, sandalwood and vanilla. I stare straight at his chest afraid to look up into his eyes. Afraid he will know what I’m thinking. Afraid my own eyes will betray my thoughts. His hand lifts my chin forcing my face up and I slowly lift my eyes in obedience. Scott’s other hand wraps around the small of my back and I steady my breathing as his lips move closer to mine. My head is swimming. His lips are warm and soft. Our mouths part and our tongues meet timidly at first and then hungrily.
Is this happening? My knees are weak. His mouth tastes sweet like dark liquor. My arms go around his neck. My hands play in his hair. One of his hands is sliding down and cupping my ass while the other grips my hip tightly.
Scott moves his hand just above my left breast and slides it up my chest, up the side of my neck to the base of my head bracing my face in his hand. He leans down kissing gently along the low neckline of my dress and up to the soft curve of my neck. His voice is soft and low as he says, “I want you.” I can’t decide if I like that. Was it true or a line? I’m excited and scared shitless at the same time. All my thoughts blur into blind desire.
Scott suddenly pulls away breaking our kiss and staring at me biting his lip seductively. He slowly turns and leads me by the hand into his bedroom. I follow him even though a small part of me wanted to run and throw myself on his bed.
Scott walks me to the foot of his bed and leaves me standing there while he walks to the closet removing his shoes and socks. Once he is standing in front of me again I run my hands over his abs. The ribbed cotton under my palm wasn’t enough. His shirt has to go. I slide the button off his shoulders, and then lift the ribbed tank over his head. My mouth watered at the sight of his tattooed and toned torso. His tattoos start at his belly and go all the way up his neck and arms. So hot!
His mouth covers mine and we are lost in another passionate kiss. His hands are on my breasts and then sliding the top of my dress off my shoulders exposing my lacy black push up bra. His hands deftly remove my braided belt and my dress drops right to the floor. Scott seems to pause admiring the sight of me in my matching Victoria’s Secret. With a quiet growl he licks and kisses down my chest. He bites and sucks at my hard nipples through the thin fabric and a soft moan escapes my mouth. Desire awoke in me like a hungry beast after a long winter.
My hands are tugging at his jeans now and my mouth kissing the sexy tattoos on his stomach. I can feel his excitement hard against his zipper. I stroke his cock through the soft cotton of his burgundy boxer briefs; feel his hands grip me harder. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed now with him standing between my legs looking down at me. The look of desire on his face moved something in me. Feeling brave and powerful, I bite my bottom lip and look up out from under the hair falling over my eyes as I pull his underwear down and lean forward. Cupping his balls in one hand I lick up his shaft before taking his head in my mouth. He moans and tosses his head back. Working part of his cock with my hand and the top with my mouth I slurp and suck. He puts his hand on my head and says, “Slow down baby. You’re getting me too excited.”
Dallas after Dark Page 1