by Julie Cannon
“What do you want?” I asked sharply. I didn’t even bother to ask where he got my number. I’d had it changed after the call from Mommie Dearest, but, amazingly, my family members, who couldn’t hold a job or their alcohol, somehow always managed to get my unlisted number.
“What’s the matter, Carol? On your way to a hot date?” Jimmy laughed the sleazy way he did when he was talking about my liking girls. It didn’t take much to imagine what he was doing with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.
“Two seconds and I’m hanging up.” I needed my head examined for giving him that many.
“My new truck hasn’t arrived.” This time his voice was tinged with anger. The hand must not be working.
“That’s because it’s not coming. At least not from me.” I hadn’t even considered it.
“Mama told you—”
“And I told her she wasn’t getting another cent from me.” I kept my voice calm but low. “That goes for you and every other member of your useless family. Do not call me again.” I dropped the phone to the floor and stomped on it with my boot. I spun on my heel, crushing it even more, and bent over and picked up the chip, tucking it into my pocket. I turned toward the door that separated me from mindless escape. I needed this. I really needed this now. I stepped forward.
Chapter Thirty-five
“How’s life on the road?”
“Not what I expected it to be.” The coach lurched and I stumbled onto the couch. I quickly buckled the seatbelt with one hand, holding my phone to my ear with the other. Peering out the tinted window I saw nothing but absolute blackness.
The clink of a glass made me picture Courtney filling it with her favorite beverage. I knew I was right when she said, “Let me get a glass of wine and you can start from the beginning.”
Tobin’s bedroom door was closed so I moved as far away as I could and kept my voice low. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet when she came in tonight. She’d barely looked at me and mumbled something, then disappeared into her room. I’d developed a blistering headache during the show, so I didn’t hang around for the after-concert activities and certainly wasn’t going to push a conversation where one wasn’t wanted.
“Okay, the kids are in bed, Tom’s watching a game in the other room, I have a full glass, and my feet are up. I’m good to go.” I heard her loud sigh all the way through the line. “So, spill.”
I didn’t know where to start. Should I give her the play-by-play replay of everything that had happened since I stepped foot in this mobile house on wheels? Should I just hit the highlights? Tell her about the venues and the concerts? About how I practically threw myself at Tobin? How she kissed like there was no tomorrow? How good she tasted? How soft her lips were? How fast my heart beat, and how the kiss took my breath away. How I wanted her so bad I forgot everything, including my own name? How sanity came crashing down around me and I scampered away like a frightened child? How humiliated I was by retreating the way I did? How I’ve done nothing but relive the kiss? How many times I’ve wanted to ask her to kiss me again? How many times I’ve started toward her, then turned away? How my skin tingles when she’s near and aches when she’s not? How I’m aware of everything about her? How her eyes light up when she’s excited and get dark when she looks at me? How empty my arms felt when I stepped away? I couldn’t decide what to tell Courtney so I told her everything.
“Wow, K, I had no idea.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Neither did I.” What an understatement.
“What are you going to do?”
“Not let it happen again!”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because she’s Tobin Parks.” That sounded as stupid as my previous comment, and Courtney confirmed my view.
“So? She’s single and obviously attracted to you.”
“She’s Tobin Parks.” I tried again to make my point. “She’s had dozens of women, maybe even hundreds. There’s no way in hell I’m going to embarrass myself by having sex with her. No, wait,” I said, “try to have sex with her. She’d see right through me and laugh me out of her bed.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Courtney scoffed at my hypothesis.
“That’s reality, Courtney.” My head was starting to pound again.
“Kiersten, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Oh, I give myself plenty of credit, Courtney, in areas where I deserve it, and there are plenty. But having sex with Tobin Parks isn’t one of them. I’m not going to be a notch on her guitar neck and certainly not a funny story she can tell at a party. And she’s ten years younger than I am,” I added for emphasis.
That didn’t sway her into my way of thinking. “Cougar is in.”
“Shut up, Courtney,” I said, not as angry as the words implied. “I am not going to have sex with someone who has no idea who was the president eight years before our current jackass.”
“But if you don’t make a move, or let her, how are you ever going to—”
“With somebody else.” I was beginning to regret telling her I was a virgin.
“Who?’
“I don’t know who, but I know who it won’t be. Now, can we talk about something else?” It took several more attempts before I was able to shift the topic from Tobin, who was in bed fifteen feet from me, to safer subjects.
*
I silently closed the door. I’d been lying in bed staring at the ceiling. After the phone call from Jimmy I needed a distraction. Sex was my go-to entertainment, but no one had caught my eye in quite some time. I kept comparing everyone to Kiersten, and they all came up short. Instead of a much-needed orgasm, I had six beers with my band and had come back and fell into bed. Somehow I needed to erase the memory of Kiersten’s kiss from my mind. I could have my choice of women that were more than eager to do the job, but it would be Kiersten’s voice I heard in my ear, Kiersten’s hands in my hair, Kiersten who trembled under my touch.
I had no reason to feel guilty for thinking about another woman. Kiersten and I were nothing but maybe business associates. We shared the coach but that was all. It wasn’t like we were gobbling each other up every spare minute. The kiss was a fluke, and I kept telling myself that. One of these hours, I’d start believing it.
I knew Kiersten was on the phone but couldn’t hear what was being said. I didn’t want to interrupt but had to pee. I held it for as long as I could, but eventually I couldn’t hold it any longer. I was hoping to be able to sneak in and out of the bathroom without Kiersten knowing, but when I heard my name and the word sex together, I stepped back inside. I did, however, shamelessly leave the door open a crack.
I got the impression she was talking to her BFF. Or at least I thought it was her. I didn’t have a best friend, but they usually talked about sex and boyfriends and girlfriends with each other, didn’t they? From what I could tell it sounded like the BFF was trying to convince Kiersten to sleep with me. Kiersten wasn’t having it. Dang. Too bad.
I’d had more than a few fantasies of Ms. Kiersten Fellows. One involved a tub, lots of bubbles, and water all over the floor. The other was a rocking Ferris wheel seat, and another was right here in this bed.
The lights were low, and we’d walked in here together. There was no groping or tearing off clothes or heated kisses as we fell onto the bed. We were two adults who had every intention of getting naked together. We knew what was going to happen, and that’s what made it hot. We would have no excuses of getting caught up in the heat of the moment, or swept away in desire, or any of the other excuses people used to explain their coupling. When you calmly walk into a room knowing exactly what’s going to happen—it doesn’t get any sexier than that.
In my imagination, Kiersten was assertive, knew what she liked, and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. She was a thoughtful yet demanding lover and expected the same from me. She rode me, rubbed me, and paid particular attention to my most sensitive parts. Her technique was exquisite, her tongue talented, and her orgasms powerful. When I he
ard her laugh I opened the door quietly and just as silently closed the bathroom door behind me.
Chapter Thirty-six
The next few days mirrored the ones before. Same set, different cities. Same white lines on the road, different exits. With the exception of the kiss, of course.
Kiersten kept a respectable emotional and physical distance between us, we kept on safe topics, and both of us pretended what had happened a week ago didn’t rock our world. At least I think it rocked hers. I know it did mine.
I couldn’t have set it up better if I’d tried. Talk about a beautiful woman falling in your lap. Lucky me. However, when she’d leaned in and kissed me, I’d been completely surprised. The tension between us was there, but I thought it was because I wanted JOLT and Kiersten was the one I needed to convince. I was on my best behavior, which really wasn’t that difficult. I wanted this bad enough that it wasn’t a sacrifice to get it. But Kiersten’s lips on mine changed all that. Kiersten’s responsive lips on mine. Kiersten sucking my tongue completely sent this to a different level.
I played out the scene in my head more than once, each time ending in a slightly different way. What was the same, however, was that Kiersten didn’t pull away and certainly didn’t say that it would never happen again. As a matter of fact, she sought me out and even fucked me behind the stage. She was hot, insatiable, and I completely lost my mind. But it was only a dream, a fantasy that would go nowhere.
“It’s what?” I heard Jake practically snarl into his phone. “So what are we supposed to do, float in?” Jake had been my manager for years, and I knew his moods. Whoever was on the other end of the line was not conveying good news. “How long will it be?” We’d stopped at a rest area, and he was pacing back and forth in front of two of the coaches as he listened. His shoulders dropped a little more each time he passed us. He ended the call and turned and walked in our direction.
Kiersten and I were sitting on a bench under a huge tree. We’d stopped twenty minutes earlier, giving the drivers a rest break and a chance to stretch their legs. I’d suggested a walk and Kiersten quickly agreed. We’d stopped under the shade to enjoy the cool breeze.
“What’s up?” I asked as Jake came close. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to my question.
“The whole place is flooded,” he said succinctly. I appreciated brevity, but even this was a little too brief because I didn’t understand what he was referring to.
“You need to be a little more specific, Jake. Start from the beginning.”
“Lake Charles, our next gig. They’ve had twenty-three inches of rain in the last two days, and the whole town is under water.”
“The entire town?” Kiersten asked.
“Well, maybe not the whole town, but the parts we have to get to are. The civic center has three feet of muddy bayou water in it, and God only knows what else is swimming and crawling in there.” He shuddered to make his point. “New Orleans is pretty much the same.”
“What does that mean?” Kiersten asked, looking between Jake and me for the answer.
“It means we have a few days off,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed not to have the four sell-out shows or grateful for some additional downtime. I think it was the latter.
“Yeah, even if the venues were dry, the entire area is knee deep in alligators. People wouldn’t be able to get to the show even if they wanted to.”
“So what happens? Do they get a refund or do you reschedule?”
“Both,” I said first. Jake handled the business side of things, but I still kept an eye on what was going on, and that included insurance. “We have an insurance policy, kind of like trip insurance,” I said, using a common analogy. “If for some reason the show is canceled due to the inability for us to perform, like in this case, the venue has insurance to either refund the ticket price or arrange to honor the tickets at a later date.”
Kiersten nodded. “What do we do?”
“Since our next show is six days out in Orlando, we drive to the nearest airport and everyone goes home for a few days. The guys will take the busses and the equipment rigs and head there, then take a few days off,” I explained, already looking forward to drinking coffee and catching up with Mr. Justin and listening to the latest stories from Mrs. Foster about her grandchildren.
“Since you don’t have anything else to do, why don’t you come home with me?”
Kiersten looked at me as if I were crazy. Considering the words that had just come out of my mouth, she was probably right. “I mean, you were going to be on the road with us anyway,” I added, taking a preemptive strike at her declining my offer. Thank goodness Jake was out of earshot, or he would have had something to say about my invitation. He’d had plenty to say about Kiersten tagging along.
I’ve never invited anyone to my home. It was where I could be me, not who everybody expected me to be. I was selfish about this little piece of my privacy. I thought for a moment that maybe I’d invited Kiersten as a subconscious ploy to get the JOLT sponsorship. Funny, since I hadn’t thought about it since Kiersten kissed me.
“Come on, Kiersten. It’ll be all right. My house is bigger than the coach and has real grass in the front, fresh flowers, plenty of hot, running water, a full-size tub, and a real toilet.”
Kiersten chuckled at that last one, obviously remembering how she’d needed instructions on how to flush the RV toilet.
“What will your neighbors think?” she asked, obviously unsure what my answer would be.
“They’ll be shocked. But what they’ll really care about is that you don’t smoke, litter, or play your music too loud. Oh, and that you park in your assigned space.”
The expression on Kiersten’s face loosened a bit, and then she broke into a smile. “Well, I guess I’m fortunate that I don’t have a car then.”
*
Five hours later we were pulling into the parking spot assigned to me. Kiersten teasingly gave me the third degree, making sure the space next to my house did, in fact, belong to me.
The car door had barely closed when Mr. Justin stepped onto his front porch. “You can’t park…Tobin?” He frowned and looked at me closely.
“Yes, it’s me, Mr. Justin,” I replied, stepping around the car and moving closer to him. His eyesight wasn’t the best, and he refused to wear his glasses. “Makes me look like an old man,” he’d say.
“Whose car is that?”
It was a relevant question, if a bit rude. He was used to my green Jeep in my space, and I could understand how a blue Chevy could throw him off. “It’s a rental, Mr. Justin. We flew in this morning.”
He stepped off his porch and I gave him a hug. “How are you, old man?” He called me “young lady,” and I called him “old man.” It was our thing, with no disrespect on either side.
“Getting older and crabbier, but every day I’m on the sunny side is a good day. Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, jeez, sorry.” I turned toward Kiersten, who was still standing by the passenger door. “Mr. Justin, this is Kiersten Fellows. Kiersten, my neighbor, Mr. Justin.” I supposed I didn’t need to add the neighbor qualifier, but I did nonetheless.
Kiersten came around the rear of the car and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Justin. Tobin’s told me all about you.”
Mr. Justin gave Kiersten the once-over but not in a sleazy or sexual way. It was his way of checking her out to make sure she wasn’t going to hurt me. “Yes, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you. However, Tobin hasn’t ever said a word about you,” he said, scowling at me.
“It’s not like that, Mr. Justin. Kiersten is roading with me for a few weeks, and our shows were cancelled due to the flooding in Louisiana, so I invited her to crash with me before our next one in Orlando.”
I wasn’t sure if he believed me. The old coot could be quite skeptical and could figure out if you were lying to him before you even got the words out of your mouth.
“Is that a problem, Mr. Justin?” Kiersten asked.
“No, not at all. Tobin here has the right to invite anyone she wants to her place. As long as you don’t smoke, drop your trash, or park where you’re not supposed to, we’ll get along fine.”
Kiersten and I exchanged knowing glances before taking our bags inside.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Tobin’s house wasn’t large; it was small, like a mini mobile home. I guessed it to be about forty feet long and maybe fifteen feet wide. Gray vinyl siding with a darker shade for the shutters flanked each white-framed window. A large composite deck extended off the front door, complete with a barbeque protected by a thick black cover and a patio table with four chairs. Pots full of colorful flowers lined the deck, and a hummingbird feeder hung from a branch in a nearby tree. Tobin pulled a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the front door.
“Come on in.” Tobin reached inside and flicked on a light. She held the door open for me, and I stepped inside.
The air was still, and Tobin apologized for the dank smell as she pushed several buttons beside the door. A ceiling fan silently started rotating, and the shades automatically rose, letting light into the dark room.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll put your bag in the bedroom.”
My pulse raced when I looked around again and didn’t see another bedroom. Did she expect us to sleep together? She hadn’t in the coach. Had something changed and I missed it? I practically jumped when her voice came from behind me.
“I’ll take the couch,” she said. “I don’t have a guest room because I never have any guests.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?” I found it hard to believe that she didn’t have friends that would come over and jam or do whatever musicians do on their day off.
“No one knows about this place,” she said, suddenly serious. “Well, Jake and Frank, but that’s it,” she added. “Would you like something to drink?” She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and offered me one. I took it and moved to the rack of CDs in the front of the room.