Cherry Beats

by Vicki James

  “Now do you remember?” he asked, breathlessly.

  I blinked slowly, chewing that bottom lip as much as I could, soaking up the taste of him on me and saying nothing.

  “She remembers,” Presley whispered, grinning in victory.

  “I never forgot,” I breathed back.

  “Three years, I’ve been searching for this feeling again. Only you, Tess. Only you.”

  “Then you have a problem after tonight. Can’t exactly take me with you.”

  His face fell serious.

  I ran my hands up and down his arms.

  It was obvious what he was thinking, and I’d be lying if I said I never fantasised about it too, but this wasn’t a reality we could bring to life. He had a no girlfriend policy. Four other band members and a whole crew of people were relying on him to ride out this promise he’d made. And I had my life here. I had a bar to manage. Bills to pay. A boss and his daughter to watch over. A best friend I couldn’t live without.

  “We should get off this floor,” was all I could offer as his eyes searched mine. I knew if I stayed there, looking at him that way for one minute more, I was going to promise to do things I’d come to regret soon after.

  Without protesting, Presley carefully peeled himself away from me, somehow helping me to stand before he picked me up ever so carefully in both of his arms and began to walk me to the bathroom. He’d already had one bath that day, but when he flicked the shower on, I didn’t question it. I let him guide me under the water, stand me on my feet, and wash me in complete silence, neither one of us offering a sarcastic comment, a joke to break the tension, or an insult we didn’t really mean.

  Presley ran soap over every inch of my body, even bending to wash the backs of my legs—always keeping eye contact with me no matter where he went. When he washed my hair and slowly ran his nails over my scalp, I tightened again. It was erotic to let him take care of me like this, and I had a feeling it was what we both needed. I needed him to show me there was more to this than a quick booty call with some well-timed one-liners thrown in, and he needed me to let him enjoy my body without protesting.

  His fingers roamed, trailing between my legs before slowly rising all the way up my tensed stomach, between my breasts, up my neck, over my parted lips, until they slid behind my ear, grabbed my hair and pulled me close for a kiss to end all kisses.

  It was firm, needy, and intoxicating. The weight of the water pouring all around us like a security blanket.

  I wished with all my wishes that we could stay right there in that moment forever, but then Presley pulled away—his eyes saying everything his voice couldn’t.

  He was sorry. He wanted me. He was sorry. He didn’t know what to do. He was sorry.

  I had to force myself to look away, and just like that, he turned the shower off, stepped out and grabbed a towel. Helping me out, he watched my every step and finished by wrapping the towel around my body before pulling me in for a hug. When he rested his chin on my head, I could hear the way his heart beat firmly in his chest.

  “I never mean to cause you anything but happiness, Tess,” he eventually whispered.

  “I know.”

  “But I think I should go now.”

  I nodded against him, scrunching my face up to hold back the tears. “You’re so selfish,” I half-joked in a whisper.

  He sighed into my hair. “I know.”

  I felt his smile against me before he began to guide me into my bedroom. I got dressed into some clean pyjamas, wrapped my damp hair into a bun on the top of my head, never once glancing at him as he got dressed beside me. I wanted to. My God, did I want to, but just for now, I had to concentrate on myself. By the time I was standing in front of him, wearing some little blue shorts and a baggy grey jumper, he was dressed back in his jeans and white T-shirt, looking every part of the rugged rock star he was.

  Presley pushed his hair back with both hands and then rested them at the back of his neck, bringing his elbows in front of him as he studied me.

  “You going to be okay out there in the wild?” I asked, twisting the edge of my jumper in my hands just for something to do.

  “I’ll survive. I’ve got a ride. It’s on its way.”

  “Awesome. I can show you the fire escape route if you need it.”

  “The one with the big green sign over it saying Fire Exit?”

  “How did you know?”

  “These last three years have taught me to always look for an escape route in any situation, Tess.”

  My face fell, and I looked up just in time to see him stepping towards me. Before I could move, he had my chin pinched between his finger and thumb and was leaning closer—so close his full lips were only a breath away from mine.

  “One day, I hope we stop walking out on each other. Until then…” He leaned down to kiss me goodbye.

  When he left, the door slammed shut behind him, and my whole body flinched, leaving me cold and lonely. I didn’t cry. I didn’t pine. I didn’t whimper or fall to the floor in a tangled mess of broken bones with a shattered ego and a bruised heart. Not this time. This time I held it together. Just. But ‘just’ was better than breaking, and I took it.

  For now.

  Until then...

  Chapter Fifteen

  BB’s was quiet the next morning, the sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded three sides of the building. I loved it like this—when all the jobs had been done, and we were getting ready to open up the doors and let the first customers trickle in. I loved sitting down with the books and working my way through stock and accounts. It gave me something to put in order, where most of the time everything in my head felt like a colour explosion going off.

  Bourbon’s daughter Felicity was the perfect age of six, and today she was at work with her daddy, keeping herself entertained with a colouring book and some pencils. Her little head was tilted to one side as she studied the picture in front of her. She had a habit of trapping her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating, and I loved the way her father had learnt how to braid her hair so that he never had to ask for help from a woman. He had the whole independent dad thing going on.

  “What are you colouring in, Fliss?” I asked her as the two of us sat at the same table, lost in our own worlds.

  “A dolphin,” she answered sweetly. “They’re my favourite. Daddy says he’s going to take me on a boat to see some someday.”

  “Wow. That’s impressive. I’d come along with you, but if your daddy is planning a holiday, he’ll no doubt need me here to look after this place for him. I always miss out on the fun stuff.”

  “Daddy says he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. He also said you’d look after the bar because you have a good heart and will do anything to make him happy.”

  “Oh, did he now?” I smirked. Fliss was leaning forward, her little wrist working back and forth on a particularly tricky curve.

  Children held so much beauty in their simplicity. They had no idea what the world had in store for them. I envied their innocence and their optimism. I envied the way they could get so much satisfaction from the simplest of things when adults never seemed satisfied, no matter what treasures were put in front of them.

  Like me with the rock star.

  Looking away, I banished the thoughts of Presley from my mind, even though I could still smell him on my skin, feel him inside me, still hear the ringing echo of his heartbeat in my ears.

  “What are my two favourite girls doing over here?” Bourbon called out, the clapping of his boots hitting the wooden floor as he came closer.

  “Daddy!” Fliss cried, looking up at him with nothing but adoration.

  “You’re so lucky, you know,” I told him.

  “Why so?” he asked, moving in behind his daughter to kiss her on the back of the head before he stood straight again and smiled down at me.

  “Just…” I shrugged, “having someone love you so openly and unapologetically must be amazing.”
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  Bourbon dropped his hands to his daughter’s shoulders. His eyes searched mine, and the longer they lingered, the more his smile began to fade. Bourbon was as bad as Molly for doing this—the whole analysing my mood thing.

  “Is this about the drummer?”

  I scoffed, scowling and shaking my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I spun back into place in my seat and started to jot down some figures again.

  “Tess, we both know he was in here yesterday asking where you lived. We both know he was all over the news, too. Let’s not do the whole lying to each other thing.”

  “Damn you.”

  Bourbon’s hands went over Fliss’s ears immediately, and my shoulder sagged as I mouthed a weak apology to him.

  “Want to talk about it later?”

  “Not really.”

  “You sure you’re okay to pull a double shift today?”

  “I actually can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” I said, trying to sound chipper.

  “Sure you can’t.” Tapping Fliss on the shoulders, he leaned down to her. “Come on, little lady. You have swimming practice, and I have a lot of your friends’ mums to chat up from the stands.”

  Fliss curled her little button nose up and started to collect her things before she hopped down off her chair. “Daddy, you always talk to the wrong ones. You know it’s Dawson’s mum who likes you.”

  “Dawson’s mum? Really?”

  “I overheard her telling Jimmy’s mum that you were a total hottie.”

  Bourbon smirked before he looked at me and raised a brow. “How about that?”

  “Go get ‘em, tiger.” I clawed the air and growled. Bourbon laughed and followed his daughter like the little lap dog he was. The love they shared was overwhelming to watch, and I couldn’t imagine a good enough reason for Fliss’s mum having the nerve to walk away from such an adorable little soul like that.

  How could you turn away from something so in need of your love?

  Right on cue, my phone rang, and I picked it up the second I saw Molly’s name lighting up my screen.

  “Hey, Mol.”

  “Hey, hot stuff. How’s the rock star? Bourbon let it slip that he’d been in town trying to track you down yesterday.”

  “And when did you speak to my boss?”

  “I brought a date into your place last night.” She laughed roughly. “Bourbs gives me all the gossip on you when you’re not there.”

  “Bourbs? You have a cute nickname for him now?”

  “Of course. You’re my best friend and his best friend. We like to sit around a witch’s cauldron and make up potions to pour in your drink to make sure you don’t make any stupid mistakes, like, I don’t know… letting a certain blonde, leather-clad lothario back into your bed the second he comes a knocking.”

  My head fell into my free hand, face smacking directly into the palm with a slap. The only response I had was the groan that rumbled in my groggy throat.

  “Ah,” Molly cried through an obvious smile. “He found you, then.”

  “I did not let him back in my bed.” It wasn’t a lie… technically.

  “The sofa? Wait. The shower? Living room floor?”

  “Ugh,” I groaned, the visuals and memories of him taking over again.

  “Oh, baby girl,” Molly offered sweetly. She wasn’t often sympathetic. At least not in the traditional sense, but whenever her tone softened that way, or she called me her baby girl, I knew she was on my side. “Did you at least try to say no?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “What happened?”

  “This stupid, arrogant reporter woman came knocking on my door, and all my resolve somehow slipped away the second she eventually left. We think she knew Presley was there because she saw his leather jacket on the back of my sofa. He had to stay a little longer to hide out. I guess with the shock of having him there in front of me, being all…” I paused, trying desperately to think of the right word.

  “Being all Presley West?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Then having to deal with the shock of knowing the press knew about me in some way… I don’t know. I just crumbled, Mol. I fell apart, and he was close enough to catch me—hold me like I mattered for a while and do his thing.”

  “His thing, huh? Was his thing good?”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “Then why so blue, baby beau?”

  “Because now I’m back to square one.”

  “President of Pining-ville again?”

  “Poetically pathetic, Part Two.”

  There was a tap to the front glass door of BB’s, and when I looked up, my gorgeous Molly was standing there with her phone pressed against her ear and a warm, sad smile on her face, waving her delicate manicured fingers at me.

  “Don’t worry, Tess. I’m here to catch you, too. I’ve got two arms, two ears, and two shoulders to hold all your misery.”

  Molly flicked her luscious blonde hair and pulled it around to drape over one shoulder as she sat at the bar, watching me work. She was the kind of woman you loved to have around, but she was never front and centre, demanding your attention or being too invasive. Molly had too much damn fun of her own to be concerned with how anyone else was living their lives, but she was, without a doubt, the first person I called in a crisis. She was one of those annoyingly well put together women, no matter the occasion.

  Her perfectly-manicured nails were circling the wine glass resting in front of her, while I got to work behind the bar, serving the punters that had trickled in since we opened the doors. Thank God some of the part-time staff were in today, too. I looked how I felt—tired, and I didn’t need anyone to lie to me or pretend otherwise. My hair was thrown up into the same messy bun it had been in when Presley left the night before, and I even had the same thin, grey sweater on. The only difference was the shorts had been exchanged for boyfriend jeans. I wasn’t wearing any makeup—a fact Molly had given me seven different lectures on already since coming over. Apparently, a smudge of kohl on my eyes turned me from grunge-head to goddess in a second, and I had no excuse to be so lazy with my appearance.

  What did I care about looking good the morning after I’d said goodbye to Presley? Molly should have been happy I wasn’t locked up in my apartment, wailing to the sound of Celine Dion while watching Bridget Jones on repeat.

  Every man that walked up to the bar looked through me as though I wasn’t really there, before they glanced at Molly and gave her their best smoulder. Good luck with that one, boys, I wanted to say to them. Guys didn’t get to choose her, she chose them, and she had zero desire to settle down.

  “Keep lookin’, sweetheart,” Molly said with a smirk as a tall, fairly attractive man in a navy-blue suit and open-necked white shirt gave her the eye. Even I had to admit he looked good. He looked expensive, classy, and… in charge—like he could dominate your life and make your clothes fly off your body with nothing more than a well-timed look.

  “I sure am looking,” he answered smoothly.

  “Be warned: more than thirty seconds of ogling, and I start to charge, though.”

  The dark-haired guy with a few specks of silver running down the sides, who was clearly a lot older than us, pressed his hip against the bar and leaned down to rest his weight on one elbow. “Are you expensive?”

  Molly raised a brow. “Do I look cheap to you?”

  The man’s smile was slow and seductive, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his head and caught my eye. “What’s she drinking?”

  “Knowing Molly, a full bottle of Moët & Chandon Imperial Rose if someone else is buying,” I answered dryly.

  “Does she share?” Mystery man asked me.

  “That depends. Do you have a twin brother?”

  Molly’s soft chuckle was sweet, but the man couldn’t hide his scowl as he looked back at her in confusion. “Don’t worry, sugar,” Molly drew out, leaning forward and pushing her luscious red lips forward. “I can share. And I only bite if you
ask me to.”

  The guy’s brows jumped before he looked back at me and gave me a nod.

  Bottle of Moët & Chandon coming right up, I thought.

  If only it was that easy for the rest of us to be so straightforward with our words and choices.

  The two of them huddled in closer, and the introductions began while I popped the bottle, filled the ice bucket, dropped the Moët in place to chill, and pushed it closer.

  “Thanks, baby girl,” Molly offered with a passing wink and a smile before she and her new interest walked over to a more intimate table that sat in the snug corner of the bar.

  “Ah, true love.” I sighed to myself, folding my arms over my chest.

  That guy was screwed. They always were. Molly could eat men up, spit out their bones, dab the corners of her mouth, and walk away without ever thinking about them again, while I was a slave to my lyrical heart and overpowering emotions. I should probably blame Bryan Adams for that. He was the guy who told me no love or lust was fickle.

  I eventually got back to work, busying myself as much as I could. In between serving customers and checking if some of our part-time staff were doing exactly what they were meant to be doing, after about an hour, I managed to slide over to Molly and her friend, lifting their bottle out of the ice bucket to check how much was left.

  “We’ll take another one,” the guy said, not even looking at me as he leaned over the table, completely lost in Molly.

  “Trey meant to say please, Tess. I’m so sorry for his bad manners.” My best friend smiled sweetly.

  “Sorry… Tess,” Trey offered sarcastically.

  I immediately didn’t like the way he said my name, the sleazy prick, but who was I to tell Molly who to fuck and who to swipe right on?

  “No problem. I’ll be right back with another.”

  The two of them laughed together as I walked away.

  “Everything okay, Tess?” Elle, one of the barmaids asked as she walked past with a tray of beer in her hands.