by Ava O'Shay
“Well it wasn’t like that.” It was nice. Too nice. “Did it? You know… “ Jolin waved his hand around.
“It’s a physical reaction not emotional. Someone told me that once.” “Yeah that guy must have been really smart.”
“Is it hard for Ren?”
“Is what? My dick?” Jolin leaned back to lie next to Quill.
“No. You ass. When you touch her? When you guys are together? Is it hard for her to let you close?”
“I would like to say I am not going to talk about your sister with you, but for the millionth time, I am going to repeat what I am constantly telling you guys. Ren and I are not sleeping together. Well, we’ve slept like ‘caught some z’s, counted some sheep, sleep’ but not like sleep in the way of having sex.”
“I don’t believe you. I know her rep,” Quill mumbled.
“So do I and that’s why I say no every time she tries to use sex to control me. She’s screwed up in the head about it. And no, she doesn’t like me to touch her. Especially her head. Like when we kiss, if I cup the back of her head?” Jolin held his hand up miming the movement. “She’s okay for a minute, and then kind of stiffens up and freaks out.”
Quill nodded. He felt the same way. He didn’t like girls touching him and apparently it worked the same way with Assad, seeing as he freaked out with him, too. Although his freak out usually meant he turned them around and fucked them hard.
“That’s what the counselor is for?” “Yep.”
“She thinks you miss your life of popularity and care free skipping through the daisy life.”
Jolin sat up. “Look, dude. You guys can’t heal without help. If you went through what she did, then you have stuff you can’t keep pent up without it eventually exploding and when it does, it’s going to take down the people you love. I have my reasons for talking to the fraternity. She doesn’t agree with them and pretty much decided if I didn’t do what she wanted, then I could take a hike. It isn’t fair. She can’t control everything, and she needs to trust me. Ren is getting better. I know she’s trying, but if I cave on this we go back to square one. She has to let me live my life without trying to hurt me when I don’t agree with her.” He stood up. “Jesus I guess living with Akeo is rubbing off on me, I’m fucking Dr. Phil. I’ll see you later.”
Quill watched him drive off into the darkness. With a quick glance up at their apartment, he debated whether sleeping on the sidewalk would be a better option. With a sigh, he hauled himself up and headed in to console Ren. If she’d let him.
.nine
Assad McVee
September 11
3:00 p.m.
Cori flopped her head on her folded arms and moaned. “This isn’t working.”
Assad was sprawled across the top of the piano like a lounge singer, holding a piece of sheet music. “I’m not sure I get what you’re trying to do with it.”
Cori propped her chin on her arm. “I’m trying to change the key so it sounds haunting and dramatic. Instead it just sounds choppy and crappy.”
“Hmmm,” Assad hummed.
“And you aren’t helping. What’s up with you today?” She stood and stretched. They’d been working for two hours to change an old Quiet Riot song into something different and it wasn’t working.
“Just got stuff on my mind.” Assad slid off the piano and sunk into a cushioned chair Cori had brought in so he’d have a place to sit amongst her clutter.
“Stuff or a somebody?” Cori teased.
“So when you can’t figure out your musical inspiration, you have to pick at my life?” Assad ran a hand over his hair.
Cori came over and pushed into the small open space on the chair, pulling her legs up into Assad’s lap then wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling into him. “You’re in a crappy mood.”
Assad wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her head. “I’m just tired. We were out late last night. Was a good show though.” He ran a hand up and down her back.
“I saw you leave with that guy,” she said.
Assad chuckled, making her head bounce against his chest. “That guy?”
“He’s cute,” she pushed. “He’s interested in you.”
“No. Not interested. He can’t have me so he wants me.” Assad laughed again. “And why can’t he have you?”
“I should ask you the same question since you seem to be keeping him away from me.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in a guy that sleeps around.”
“You knew before,” Assad started. He couldn’t help feel the barb of her words toward him.
“Stop. I know. We had full disclosure.” She shrugged. “He’s cute, but he isn’t you.” Cori lifted her face to his. He stroked her back until his hand stopped at the back of her neck. With deliberate movement, he pulled her mouth to his, placing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.
When he tried to move away, her arms tightened, pulling him back into her. Her mouth moving against his, encouraging him to respond to her, to open up for her, but his mouth remained closed.
“Cori,” Assad warned against her lips.
She tried to push off, to get space between them, but he held on tight. “Don’t be like that.
I was honest with you.”
Cori pushed again. Assad let his arms go limp, letting her go. She climbed off his lap and moved back to the piano.
“You knew where we stood when we slept together.” Assad ran his fingers through his hair. “You were going through a tough time. I wanted to be there for you.”
“So I was a pity screw.” She moved her papers around like she was too busy to continue this conversation.
“No. God no. But I was always honest with you. You know I’m not firm on guys or girls. I can’t commit to you knowing I might meet some guy and want to be with him. It isn’t fair to you, and it isn’t fair to me that you get angry every time I try to be the responsible one.”
Cori snorted. “I wouldn’t call sleeping with multiple partners of a variety of sexes, responsible. You’re like an advertisement for a sexually transmitted disease.”
“You let me fuck you.” Assad regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. “I’m sorry. But you can’t change me. It doesn’t work that way.”
Cori shook her head. “You’re right. Forget about it. It was a fuck for you. Nothing more.”
Assad ran his fingers through his hair and growled. Cori rarely swore, and he hated that he was causing it. “God dammit Cori, stop it.”
Cori stopped her fidgeting and sighed. “It’s my deal not yours. I knew you were into guys. I just thought--I don’t know what I thought.” She tried to smile at him.
Shit. He knew he shouldn’t have slept with her, but her mom had just died, and there was an attraction there. He did love her. Just not like she needed to be loved. “I love you baby girl.
I just can’t do commitments. You knew that.” “A girl can hope though, can’t she?” Assad laughed. “I suppose.”
“So you like the guy?” Cori began tapping out a tune on the piano. “You know him?”
“He’s in a class I performed for. Asked me out to coffee. But I think he was using coffee as a secret code for sex. I said no.”
Assad got up and leaned against the piano. This conversation intrigued him. “You denied him a cup of coffee?” Now he understood why Quill continued to stalk this girl. He’d probably never been denied before. She was a conquest. Cori had him pegged.
“Well I thought about it for about a second, but some past hook-up of his was sniffing around, and I thought it was in bad taste to overlap girls.” She laughed.
“You’re a tough one.”
Cori laughed again. It was good to hear her laugh. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he kicked himself every time she refused a date because she was pining over him.
“So you thinking of seeing if he goes for guys?” Cori asked.
“So when’s the bus leave for the tour?” Assad changed the subject. He knew Quill had an inter
est. He just hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances after kissing him. As usual, he let his emotions lead, and he’d pushed when he should have taken it slow.
Cori started to pile up her sheet music. She never straightened her pile, just stacked the thin sheets together until it sort of fit into a file folder she carried around. “I have to be at the Symphony Hall at five, and I think the bus leaves at six.”
“How many stops this time?”
“I’ll be gone eight days. Almost two weeks.”
“Your dad going to be okay on his own?” Assad handed her a slip of paper she’d missed. “He hired some guy from the college, so I think he’s going to work my hours while I’m gone.”
Assad placed a hand over hers. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Cori stopped her frantic movement. “I know. I knew it wasn’t the beginning of a relationship. I didn’t think I was going to feel this way, but what can I say? You’re a hard act to follow.”
“I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
Cori gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll never lose me as a friend. I just have to be happy with being your friend and stop hoping things can change.”
Assad ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m not going to change. It isn’t that easy. This is who I am. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just isn’t fair for me to take advantage of that love when I know you expect more.”
Cori closed her eyes and nodded. “I know.”
“Have a good tour. I’ll see you when you get back.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek then left her to figure out her feelings for him on her own.
.ten
Quill Diaz
September 23
2:00 p.m.
“Mr. Quill, how were classes today?” Don asked while he organized a pile of ‘learn to play the guitar’ pamphlets. Quill reminded him over and over that his last name was Diaz and not Quill, but Don insisted he was an associate and needed to be referred to with respect. Who was Quill to deny him his quirks?
“Fine. It’s Friday so most of the professors just talk a bit and hand you a packet to do over the weekend.” Quill had worked for the last two weeks and every day Don tried for a little more information.
“Have a major?”
“Nope. Didn’t think I was going to make it through school so never had a plan.”
“Have one now?” Don seemed to be asking these questions absently, but Quill knew he was trying to get his bearings on him.
“Not really. Kind of live life day by day.”
“Everyone needs a plan.” Don stopped his straightening. “What are you interested in?” Quill smiled. “Music.”
Don nodded his head in agreement. “Always a good plan. Just need to know what direction you want to take it. My Corrine loves music. Does all sorts of stuff with it. Every second of the day she’s either practicing or creating something. But doesn’t know exactly where she’s taking it yet. But she’s got time.” The faraway look Don got whenever he talked about Corrine made Quill envious for someone who held that pride for him. But before the feeling solidified, he remembered the look of disappointment he brought when he let people down. Yeah… it was better to keep expectations low.
“I haven’t met your daughter yet.” Quill ran the dust rag through his hand. He’d arrived at work after his morning classes and had been puttering around the shop most of the afternoon.
“She’s been out of town with the symphony. She’ll be back today actually.” Quill nodded. “So. What’s next?”
Don got a mischievous grin. “How about you get some lunch, and then I need you to do a little window decorating.”
Quill hadn’t brought anything and couldn’t buy anything since he’d given all his paycheck to Ren in order to help cover bills she’d been paying on her own. “I’ll just take a break out back, and then get started playing. Besides, if you don’t mind, I have an assignment due at the end of the quarter and can use the time on the guitar to figure it out.”
Don leaned back against the counter. “An assignment huh?”
“Yeah, a few weeks back my professor for Music Appreciation had us listen to a girl who alters music. She made Guns and Roses sound like Pachelbel Canon. He wants us to see if we can do the same thing.”
Don got a strange expression on his face and stroked his beard. “Any ideas on the song you’ll use or what to do with it?”
“Well the easiest thing to do is copy what she did and take some rock song and slow it down so it sounds like a ballad or add a symphony sound to it which is harder with a guitar than the piano.”
“Is that all she did?” Don asked.
“Well… no. She did something more. I can’t explain it but it was just… more. If all she did was slow the tempo, it wouldn’t have been so amazing. Anyone can do that without much thought. I’m trying to figure out what the more is. Just haven’t got it yet.”
“Maybe you should branch out to a different instrument. A different string instrument. I can imagine most of the class will use a guitar or a piano and simply copy the unique idea of someone else.” In what Quill now knew was him thinking, he stroked his beard. “Maybe a bass or a cello? Instead of changing the music, you could change the way you present it.” His eyes sparkled at his idea.
Quill laughed. “I can barely play the guitar.”
Don walked toward him, shaking his head. “Mr. Quill, you have a talent you haven’t even touched on.”
Quill lowered his head, embarrassed. “You only heard me copying something I heard.” “If you remember, I didn’t actually hear you play anything. You were plugged into the headphones, and I was outside.”
Quill didn’t know what to say. He was right. He had left the store when Quill began to play. Don placed a firm hand on Quill’s shoulder. Quill forced his breathing to stay calm at his touch. He couldn’t remember a man ever touching him without a sexual intent. But Don’s touches never crossed a line. His were full of support and compassion. Quill imagined like a father’s would be if he’d had one.
Don must have felt the discomfort in Quill’s body and removed his hand. The usual humor in his eyes disappeared. “Mr. Quill, if you can feel the music like I observed, if you can copy what a professor put in front of you and make it your own, then you my sir, can play anything. You have an ear. Many musicians don’t. It’s a gift. I bet you have an incredible voice as well.”
Quill shrugged. He liked to sing and did it under his breath all the time, but no one ever heard him.
“I think we will have to work on that. But another day. It doesn’t matter what instrument you’re playing. Put the head phones on, crank up the volume, and play. The spectators will come, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Is this like if you build it they will come?”
“More like if you find the guy women will swoon over, they will talk, they will come, and they will pay for lessons. I will make money.”
Quill frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Me and girls in a closed off room.
I tend to run into trouble in that area.”
Don stroked his beard again. “I could see that happening to a gent like yourself.” Don walked to where the practice rooms were. Reaching around, he flipped up a large curtain. “These room are surrounded by windows. We will make sure the curtains are always up.” He smiled.
“Okay.”
“Now go grab a bite, and I’ll see you back here in thirty.”
Quill dropped his rag, grabbed his phone and headed out the back of the shop. There was a little group of wooden boxes set up along the back wall. He moved them around until he could lean comfortably against the wall. With a swipe of his finger, he woke up his phone and started scrolling through his playlist. He wanted to do something different. He wanted Cori to show up to class the day he was performing and see someone other than the dick he was. He needed to do something different. Maybe Don was right, and he should think of an unusual instrument. But the cello was kind of girly. He r
ubbed his thumb over the screen, watching the hundreds of songs he had downloaded go by. The list bumped up and stopped on the final entry. U2’s With or Without You. He pressed play and listened to the words. They resonated with him. Bodies bruised, tied up… it was like his life. He let the music flow over him, bringing with it the memory of Assad’s lips on his. He closed his eyes tight. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. He’d fucked more pussy than most men ten years his senior. But why couldn’t he get Assad and that kiss out of his head? He started the song over and quietly sang the words to the music.
“That the one?”
Quill wobbled off his box, catching himself on the wall. “Shit,” he mumbled. Don let out a laugh. “Sorry. Jumpy.”
“Is my time up? Sorry I wasn’t watching the clock.” Quill stood up, swiping his phone off. He felt like Don caught him doing something wrong when all he’d been doing was remembering a stolen kiss from Assad.
“No. I was dumping some trash and saw you sitting back here. You get some lunch?” “No. I’m good though.” Quill shoved his phone in his back pocket and moved toward the door.
Don pulled a sandwich wrapped in wax paper from behind his back. “Here. I have an extra sandwich.”
Quill narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t take it then.” Don threw it down where Quill had been sitting then left him standing alone in back of the shop.
Quill wasn’t sure what to think of Don. Did he want something from him? After his turbulent past he wasn’t one to trust, and he certainly wasn’t good at trusting men. His dad had never attempted to find him or Ren, leaving them to be raised by a drugged out mom and her pedophile boyfriends. He didn’t have much use for people offering help. They always wanted something in return, and he wasn’t willing to give anymore.
Quill grabbed the sandwich and followed after him.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.” Quill placed the sandwich on the counter. “I’m ready to start playing.”
Don looked like he wanted to say something about the sandwich situation but changed his mind. “So what are you going to do?”
Quill grabbed at the chance to change the subject. “I chose a U2 song.” “And?”