“Don’t be shy, Aiden,” Liv mutters, “Momma won’t hurt you…”
Kellan chuckles and I snicker with him.
Liv leans her cheek against Kellan’s chest and sighs like a contented kitten, “I love you, Aiden.”
I blurt laughter.
“Turn left here,” Kellan says.
Two blocks past The Dive Bomb I turn up a hilly Silver Lake side street into a residential neighborhood. Old houses and 1940s bungalows line both sides of the street.
My Altima’s headlights glide over the cars parked on both sides of the road. One in particular catches my attention. A blue Dodge Charger. I say admiringly, “Check out that Charger parked over there.”
Kellan says, “You like muscle cars?”
“I love muscle cars.” I slow my Altima to get a long look. “Looks like a 1972 with the pop up headlights. But it’s got an air grabber hood scoop. They discontinued those in ’71. Someone decided to customize it.”
“I did,” Kellan grins.
I stop my car and spin in my seat to face him, “That’s your car?”
He nods, “Can’t haul my guitar and amps on my bike.”
I put my Altima into park in the middle of the quiet street and jump out to look at Kellan’s awesome street rod.
Kellan climbs out of my Altima. Liv clings to him like a baby monkey holding onto mama, her legs wrapped around his waist. She’s dozing.
I circle the Charger and gape, “This is yours?”
Kellan grins.
I don’t think he realizes it, but he’s swaying Liv side to side like an over-sized sleeping baby. It’s oddly charming.
I look back at his car. “You’ve got the aluminum American Racing Vector rims! Just like the General Lee from Dukes of Hazzard!” Kellan has good taste in cars.
He asks, “How do you know so much about cars?”
“My dad,” I shrug. “What’s under the hood? 440 Magnum V8?”
“Nope. 440 six pack. I pulled it out of the same ’71 I got the hood from.”
I nod, “Nice.”
Kellan is unconsciously rubbing Liv’s back. She rests her head on his shoulder, her cheek squished against him, her lips slack.
“I think the baby is drooling,” I giggle and nod toward Liv.
Kellan glances down at her and quips, “Better get her home and put her down for the evening.” He sets Liv in the passenger seat of my Altima and buckles her in.
When he closes the door, he says, “I’ll follow you.”
I grin sheepishly, “Wanna trade cars? You drive my Altima and I drive your Charger?”
Kellan snorts comically.
Yeah, I know. It’s like I’m asking Kellan if I can sleep with his girlfriend or whatever, just to try her out. Not that I’m into girls. You know what I mean.
Kellan reaches into his pocket and tosses me his keys, which I catch. He grins, “Don’t get a ticket and don’t wreck it. My Les Paul is in the back.”
“Same goes for my Altima,” I quip.
“Yeah,” he chuckles.
Chapter 108
VICTORY
I’d love to open up Kellan’s Charger, wind the engine into the redline and see how fast it can go. But he’s following in my Altima, and it’s all neighborhoods between The Dive Bomb and Liv’s apartment anyway. Not exactly the best place to put the car through its paces.
I’ll have to get him to let me take it out on the five freeway late some night. Then I can chew up the asphalt without worrying about stop signs and reds.
A few minutes later, we park on the street outside Liv’s apartment and Kellan carries Liv upstairs.
“We’re home, Aiden!” Liv coos as I open her front door with her keys.
Liv’s studio apartment is tiny. Her queen sized futon is cramped into the single room with her recording gear. The futon is opened into a bed and Kellan sets her down on top. All the windows are closed, and it’s stuffy, so I go around and open all two of them to let in a cross draft.
Liv throws her forearm over her head, “Take me now, Aiden…” she sighs, eyes closed.
I unzip her Go-Go boots and pull them off.
“Is that you, Aiden?” Liv moans.
I say, “It’s me, Liv.”
“Victory? Are we going to have a three way with Aiden?” she asks sleepily.
“You’re going to have a one way with your pillow.”
Liv smiles, her eyes still closed, “I hear pillows give good head…” she giggles at her own joke.
I unbuckle her belt and drape it over the back of a chair beside the bed.
“That should be good enough,” I say to Kellan.
Liv wiggles her feet, “Socks?”
I pull off her ankle socks and toss them into an overflowing laundry basket. “Anything else, your highness?”
“Rub my toes?”
I frown, “I’m not rubbing your toes, Liv.”
Her eyes are still closed, “Have Aiden do it.”
“There’s no one here named Aiden, Liv.”
Kellan chuckles.
“Okaaaay,” Liv grouses sleepily.
I grab Kellan’s wrist and lead him to the balcony outside Liv’s front door. I leave the door open so I can keep tabs on her, but I lean against the hand railing and stare off at the twinkling lights of L.A. The night air is warm and pleasant.
Kellan leans on the railing beside me.
Liv’s apartment is on the back of the building, and the balcony hangs over a hillside of dried grass that slopes down to a curving street far below. Although the view is spectacular, it feels isolated, like the chaotic sprawl of L.A. is merely a distant mirage, a place where dreams come true but you can never quite get there.
I say softly, “I love L.A. at night. Artificial starlight in every direction.”
He chuckles, “Next best thing to actual stars, right?”
“The movie kind or the space kind?”
“Either one,” he grins.
“You were really good tonight,” I say. “On stage, I mean. And with Liv.”
“Thanks.”
“And punching out Scott.”
“My pleasure,” Kellan chuckles.
I’m intimately aware of his masculine energy. Kellan is a very big man. Heat radiates off him standing this close. I find myself thinking about purple fog, flaming swords, and sex vampires. I know I’m blushing, but it’s dark so Kellan won’t notice.
“I’ve been dreaming about you,” Kellan says casually.
What?!
I blurt, “Purple fog?”
“Huh?” he turns to look at me, confused.
“Nothing,” I say nervously.
“I keep having these dreams about you and me onstage—”
Having sex?
“—playing in a band.”
“Oh?” I ask curiously.
“Now that Switchblade is leaving the band, I need another lead guitar player.”
“Why don’t you play lead? You’re more than good enough,” I say sincerely.
“Thanks. But like I said,” he runs his hand through his hair, “It’s too much to do with all the singing.”
I’d like to run my hands through his hair…
He looks at me and his brown eyes burn beneath his brow.
Do I detect a hint of uncertainty in cocky Kellan’s killer eyes?
“You interested?” he asks.
In having sex right now with the hot stud who punched out my shitty ex-boyfriend? I cough and cover my mouth before I stutter out, “You mean playing in your band?”
He nods.
Ooh. Sounds complicated. This is how Scott and I started out. Mutual attraction. Mutual musical tastes. Kellan even sings and wants me to play guitar, just like Scott. The only difference is that Kellan plays rhythm guitar, but he writes great songs and it feels too eerily familiar for comfort.
“I don’t know, Kellan. Now isn’t a good time. Liv and I are working on songs together.”
His eyes flicker and the flames go out, �
�I understand.” He looks away, gazing at the night lights twinkling in the distance.
A lone car drives quietly by on the street below. Red taillights disappear around a bend in the road. Then the street is empty. Despairingly empty.
If Kellan was any other man, I probably wouldn’t say anything else. I’d let it drop. I’m a busy girl. I have a cool new job. Liv and I are working on good music. Julian is on the verge of opening up doors for me in the music business that I never knew existed. Of course, Julian is also a very busy guy himself. But still. My life is full of opportunity.
And yet.
And yet, I feel like opening up to Kellan. Because he’ll understand where I’m coming from, one guitar player to another.
“It’s just,” I bite my lip uncertainly, “I want to—”
(sing)
“—write my own music. Scott wrote everything except my guitar solos. Me and Liv are writing songs together. I like that freedom. I want to see what I can do as a—”
(sing)
“—songwriter. I don’t want to play guitar solos all my life. I want more. And I don’t want anyone standing in my way.”
Kellan says softly, “I know what you mean.”
“You do?” I scoff, “I can’t imagine you’ve ever let anyone stand in your way.”
“Do you see me touring the world, supporting an album?”
“No.”
“Putting a band together is harder than finding a long term girlfriend. It’s all about chemistry. You know that.”
I nod, “I played with Rex and Bobby for three years before we started Skin Trade with Scott. As much as I hate those guys now, I miss what we had. Those guys were the best rhythm section I’ve ever played with.”
“And look what happened,” Kellan sighs.
“Yeah,” I shake my head and say sarcastically, “They fucked me over.”
“Yup,” Kellan sighs. “I think about bands like the Rolling Stones or RUSH who are still together forty years later with the same group of guys. It’s like the mythical high school sweethearts. That shit is so rare, it’s almost a myth. But it’s real. If you’re lucky. I’ve had so many half-start bands that never go anywhere. Not because of me. I give every ounce of energy I have to everything I do.”
I chuckle, “I get that impression. You’re an intense guy.”
He turns to me, a big smile on his beautiful face, “You noticed?”
“Yeah! What was with all that Mr. Brooding Bullshit after you hired me at the school?”
He snickers. “You really wanna know?”
“Yeah,” I smile, turning to face him.
His eyes are burning again but he’s grinning, “Working with you is torture.”
“Torture!” I blurt. “You’re not exactly Mr. Fun Time!”
He shakes his head, “You’re missing my point. I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about you every day, whether I see you or not. I think about how fucking hot you looked in your stage costume the night I met you. I think about you naked in my shower—”
My tummy tingles when he says that. I remember fantasizing about him and me in a steamy jungle and a bed of rose petals…
He continues, “—I think about how you shred on guitar. I think about seeing you play that Contrares on the Promenade. But more than anything else, I think about the music we wrote the night you spent at my apartment. I’ve been looking for you my whole life, Victory.”
I say doubtfully, “I thought you said writing with Switchblade was easy. How was I any different?”
“You and I wrote that piece together. Switchblade was more like a sponge. She played whatever I told her. But it wasn’t a co-writing thing. It was mainly me. That’s fine, but I really want someone I can bounce ideas around with and play off them. Anyway, look what happened to Switchblade. Now she’s touring with Wild Child.”
“Oh,” I say softly.
“You and I have something, Gigi.”
I smile shyly because he keeps calling me that.
He arches an eyebrow, “We have chemistry, Gigi.”
Yeah we do. Woo! I’m getting really hot right now.
“Victory, I want to form a band with you. And write music. With you.” He takes my hand in both of his and squeezes it.
His hands are so seductively warm.
He searches my eyes and says, “Me and you have potential to do something big together. Something long term. Something I can’t do on my own. I need you, Gigi.”
I’m thinking about purple fog and flaming swords and sex vampires. Oh, wait. Kellan isn’t talking about that.
Kellan is offering me what I’ve always wanted.
(Vic—)
A musical partnership that will last a life time.
(Vict—)
But Kellan said it himself. Such connections are extremely rare. Most bands fall apart long before they go anywhere.
(Victor—)
I blink rapidly and break Kellan’s gaze. I pull my hand from his and turn to the balcony railing. I lean into it and squeeze both hands around the painted metal tightly, feeling it digging into my skin. My knuckles turn white and my nails cut into my palms. I’m struggling to hold everything in. I’m going to shatter if it all comes out right now.
I look at the empty street below.
A sense of desperation pulls my heart in seven directions. My heart races as I remember…
(Stop, Dad!!!)
That day…
(Victory!!!)
No!
(Let go, Victory. You have to let go…)
I can’t think about it right now.
NOOO!!!!!!
—don’tthink don’tthink don’tthink don’tthink don’t—
I squeeze every muscle in my body as hard as I can, trying to hold myself together because it feels like my bones are about to fly apart.
I lose track of time as the storm inside me slowly passes.
I’m still staring down at the street below.
It seems like hours have passed, but I think it’s only been seconds.
Not a single car has driven by since the last lone car disappeared around the bend seemingly hours ago. Another car might not come along for who knows how long. Maybe never.
I look up at Kellan, my eyes dance from his twin burning flames to his lips to the twin flames to his hot lips to the flames…
I want to jump in his fire.
I want his passion to burn me alive.
I want him to kiss me.
Right now.
My breath suddenly catches in my throat.
But I also want to join his band.
And write music with him. Together.
I tried both with Scott. It didn’t work. I think I can only have one or the other.
Kellan’s fire or the band.
The truth is, like Kellan, I really want to forge a musical relationship with someone that will last forever.
(Let go, Victory…)
But nobody gets forever.
(You have to let go of your brother…)
I have to choose.
One or the other.
Fuck it.
Nobody lives forever.
Victor didn’t.
Kellan is right here.
Right now.
(Victory!!! Wake up!!!)
I choose now.
Chapter 109
VICTORY
“Take me home,” I whisper desperately.
Kellan’s brows draw together, “Is everything okay?”
“Take me home. Right now,” I plead softly.
“What about Liv?”
I walk into Liv’s apartment and check on her. She’s breathing evenly. I walk out, lock the doorknob, and pull it closed behind me. “She’ll be fine. Take me home.”
“What about your car? Isn’t your Fender in your trunk?”
Shit. He’s right. There are way too many logistical issues trying to spoil the mood. I don’t want to deal with any of them. But I can’t leave my Fender in my car. Not after it
was stolen once already. And I don’t want to take Kellan and my stuff back to Johnny and Karen’s. I’m sure they’re busy having ‘dark side of the moon’ sex or something. Not the atmosphere I’m looking for right now.
I look at Kellan, “Let’s go to your place.”
He’s taken aback. “Uh…is that a good idea?”
I nod.
“You’re sure? It didn’t go so smoothly last time.”
“I don’t care,” I say flatly. “Let’s go. I’ll drive my car.”
I’m all business now.
“Okay,” he sighs uncertainly.
“Come on,” I pull his hand and lead him down the balcony, down the stairs, and to our cars.
We drive to the west side. This late at night, there’s not much traffic, but it still takes forever to cross town southward on surface streets to the 10 freeway and get to West L.A. I keep my mind blank the whole way. If I think about anything, I’m going to break.
I park my Altima in front of Kellan’s driveway.
He parks behind me and steps out of his Charger. He asks, “Are you okay, Victory? Your eyes look haunted.”
I can’t answer that, or I will break.
I walk around to my trunk and start pulling out amps. “Let’s put the gear inside.”
Kellan doesn’t move. He just looks at me for a long time. Finally, he steps toward my car and pulls out Liv’s keyboard amp without saying a word.
We unload both our cars in a matter of minutes and carry everything inside his apartment.
“Let’s park the cars,” I say.
Kellan nods and follows me outside. It takes only a few more minutes to find a space. It’s too small for his Charger so I park my Altima.
When I climb in his car, I grab his right hand with both of mine and say, “Let’s park your car.”
He turns and looks at me again. His eyes are worried.
“Park,” I say.
He drives up the street and turns down an alley while I hold his right hand for dear life in both of mine.
I realize he has a parking space behind his building. He parks the Charger and turns off the engine. “Is everything all right, Victory? You’re acting way strange right now.”
I climb across the center console and dive for his mouth with mine. I pivot my butt and drop it into his lap. I snake my arms around his neck and kiss him hard.
Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3 Page 51