“Uh-huh.”
I grab his arm and pull him toward the hives. “She knows we mean no harm. This is her job, she’s a guard bee. Show some respect.”
“Oh bloody hell,” he mutters as we’re right at the hive now and the bees are swarming all over us as they go on their way to and from the hive. “This isn’t fun, you know that? People actually pay to do this?”
He’s borderline shrieking. I have to admit, it is fun seeing this big buff rock n’ roller with his tattoos and piercings freaking the fuck out over my girls. I’d say I’m surprised we haven’t done this more often but then again, I’m not.
“Not a lot of people pay,” I tell him, placing my fingers on either side of one of the bars. I’m about to lift it up and expose the comb and bees inside but I wait. I have a feeling it’s going to freak him out and for now I just want him to listen. “But that’s what I want to change. This could be a fun and unusual date night for some people.”
“Cross out fun. It’s unusual at best,” he says, breaking off as he raises his arm to swat a couple of more bees who are investigating him.
“Don’t,” I tell him, gripping his forearm and holding tight. “Don’t swat. They don’t deserve it.”
“Jesus, where did you get a kung-fu grip from?” He’s staring down at my hand and I tighten my grip even more.
“No swatting,” I warn him. “Or they will turn on you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You are the Candyman,” he says in a hushed awe.
“Okay, let’s be serious for a second,” I say.
“You think I haven’t been taking any of this seriously?”
I give him a look but I’m not sure he can see it. It’s hard with all the bees darting between us. “If more people were exposed to hives like this in a safe and controlled environment, then they wouldn’t fear bees. If they don’t fear bees, they’re more likely to respect them. If they respect them, they might learn about them and find out how important they are to the world. I get a ton of calls for live bee removal but I’d get a lot more if people started respecting bees and wanting the hives to be safely removed. Most people just have a pest control person come and destroy them all…it’s…it’s devastating.”
Just thinking of it makes my heart feel weighted, way more than it should, like it’s sinking in my chest.
“You okay?” Laz says softly after a moment.
I exhale and give my head a little shake. “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t know why that bothers me so much.”
“This isn’t really about bees, is it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You told me your mother kept bees when you were younger. After she died…you said that the hives were destroyed.”
I rub my lips together, glad he can’t get a good look at my face. “Yeah,” I say breathlessly. “Gone.”
“And those hives brought your mother the same kind of joy they bring you now, don’t they?”
I know what Laz is getting at. I’ve had this conversation with my therapist a lot. That the bees somehow represent my mother and my relationship with her, that I feel I can keep her alive if I keep the hives alive. But though this insight isn’t new to me, it’s new to Laz. In the past, I might have shrugged it off but I don’t want to do that anymore.
“They do,” I say quietly. “It’s how I keep her memory alive. When I see hives destroyed, it just reminds me of everything I lost.”
“Do you need a hug?”
I let out a soft laugh and put my hand out to keep him in his place. “No hugging in front of the bees. I’m not sure how they’ll take it.”
“And you want this to be a date-night activity?”
“Okay, so maybe you have a point.” I sigh. I still think I could make it work but maybe it’s the kind of thing that really wouldn’t take off here. Maybe my efforts are better spent elsewhere. “Anyway,” I go on, “now that you’re somewhat calm and orderly, let me at least give you the rundown of the hive.”
The hives I have are top-bar hives, which looks totally different from what people are used to seeing. The traditional beehives are the ones that are like high stacks and have the brood at the bottom and the honey at the top. But the frames are heavy as hell and you have to smoke the bees to keep them calm. With the top-bar system, it’s horizontal. It’s less intrusive and I don’t even have to suit up if I don’t want to. I did today but I’m not even wearing gloves.
“Are you ready to take a look?” I ask him.
He takes a small step back and then nods. “Yes.”
I grin to myself in anticipation. “Okay.”
I grip the ends of one of the frames with both hands and slowly pull it up out of the hive.
A very large comb, maybe two feet long, hangs off, every inch covered by hundreds of bees, wriggling like one dark beast. It’s a gorgeous sight but…
Laz is screaming.
“Oh my god!” he shrieks. “Fuck this!”
He turns around and starts running. I watch him, trying not to laugh as he goes across the lawn looking like a lunatic in his white suit, like a Hazmat worker fleeing the scene from a radioactive monster. Then he slips on the grass and eats shit.
Now I’m laughing and it’s shaking the comb, so more bees are coming off of it, mad at me for disturbing them.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the bees through my laughter, hoping I can put the frame back in before one of them stings my bare hands.
Thankfully I make it and I go running after Laz who is lying on his back spread eagle on the grass.
I zip off my veil and hat and stand above him, peering down.
“Are you okay?” I ask, still laughing.
“No.” His head rolls to the side until he’s looking at me. “Marina. You just had like, thousands of bees in your bare hands.”
“I know. This is part of my job. I do this almost every day.”
“Bloody hell. I am not cut out for this.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ll stick to poetry and playing obnoxiously loud music.”
“And signing. Don’t forget singing. You have a hell of a voice. Hey, maybe you can sing to the bees.”
“Yeah right. That probably signals for them to attack me.”
“Believe me, no bee in their right mind would sting you. What’s the point when you just run away every time, screaming like a little girl.”
“I think my ego just took a hit.”
“It’s about time. I was wondering if you’d ever be taken down a peg.”
“You know, as my friend, you’re supposed to keep lifting me up on pegs, not taking me down. And also, you could give me a hand.”
I sigh and straddle him, reaching down with both hands to grab his arms.
Except he reaches up and grabs me by the elbows instead and pulls me down so I’ve fallen in an awkward heap on top of him.
I yelp and am about to roll off when his arms wrap around me tight, holding me in place, keeping me pressed against his chest.
“Let go of me, you beast,” I say playfully, both enjoying being this close to him and also wondering what the hell is happening because Laz and I have never been the touchy-feely kind of friends. We hug but we don’t hold hands, we don’t cuddle, we don’t have wrestling or tickling matches.
He grunts in response and then rolls over so he’s on top of me now, elbows planted on either side of my shoulders.
Oh hell. This feels good. The hard and heavy length of his body flush against mine, the weight of him making me feel so small and dainty and…captive.
I know he expects me to squirm. I know I should. But secretly, I’m in heaven.
“I need a little help with the veil,” he says, his tone a little too innocent.
I narrow my eyes, staring through the mesh. “I don’t trust you.”
“Please,” he says.
“Oh, fine,” I say and reach up, unzipping it from the front of his jacket and then lifting it up off his head and then tossing the hat to the grass.<
br />
“Thanks,” he says but he doesn’t get off me. He bites his lip and brings one of his hands to my face, fingers pressed against my cheekbone, his dark eyes searching mine. That same intense gaze that he had earlier has come over him again, a look that makes me sink back into the grass, for my heart to start beating harder against my ribs.
“Remember,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing down my cheek, along the side of my lips. I don’t even think I’m breathing. “When I said it was the perfect time to kiss you? Well, I lied. I think now is the perfect time.”
“Because I can’t run away?” I try to joke but my words come out all garbled. Oh my god, I’m losing my mind here.
He smiles softly but the carnal gaze in his eyes never leaves me. It strips me bare. “Second date, sweet girl.”
But…but…but…
There are so many things to protest. So many things to say to stop this from happening.
But I don’t want to say any of them.
I try and swallow, my chest feeling tight, like there’s a vice around my heart.
If he kisses me, I might actually die.
He closes his eyes and leans in and I’m suddenly so aware that we’re both in bee suits and he’s lying on top of me in the middle of the backyard.
And then I’m aware of nothing at all.
Nothing but his lips as they gently press against mine.
Soft, warm and firm all at once.
It’s so sudden and shocking despite his warning.
But then his lips part gently, opening up against my mouth and my eyes flutter closed as I give into him.
His tongue slides into my mouth, slow, almost painfully slow, this teasing drag along the edge of my tongue that makes my skin run hot and tight. A desperate urge rises up from inside me, the steel of his tongue ring cool and sleek.
Fuck.
This is happening.
And it’s still happening.
Like any new dance, it starts off tentative, wary, and then morphs, his mouth growing hungrier, our tongues sliding in and out with building urgency. Laz presses his hips into mine and I can feel how hard he is.
For me. All for me.
He lets out a low groan into my mouth and it rumbles through me, all the way to my toes, my thighs squeezing together to quell the throbbing. His hands are in my hair, on my jaw, holding my head down against the grass and my fingers are drifting over his shoulders, feeling his strength, as our kiss deepens and deepens and deepens.
It feels so good.
So.
Fucking.
Good.
Best damn kiss I’ve ever had.
Then he pulls back, just an inch, enough for me to gasp for breath, for my mind and body to be brought back to reality. The sun is glaring above us but all I do is stare at Laz’s gorgeous face and marvel at what we just did.
“Uh,” I say, licking my lips that still buzz from the pressure of his. “That…”
He clears his throat, his eyes dancing in a mix of amazement and lust. “I have to say you, uh, definitely don’t need any pointers on how to kiss.”
“Yeah,” I say breathless. “Neither do you.”
Oh my god. It’s hitting me slowly now. Laz just kissed me. We were just hardcore making out. That wasn’t just a first kiss, that wasn’t just a joke.
It couldn’t have been.
Could it?
I’m watching his expression, not sure what to say. I should play it off because that’s what this is, what this always has been.
“Well, I’m glad I passed your test,” I tell him. I smile but it’s shaking and I’m wide-eyed and I probably look a little nuts. “You still should have consulted the 8 Ball before.”
“I did,” he says with an easy grin, running his thumb over my lip. I have to fight the urge to kiss it. What has he done to me? “Right before I walked in through that gate.”
“And what did it say?”
“It said WIN,” he says. “And it was fucking right about that.”
That’s cute. I know the right thing to do would be for the both of us to get to our feet and carry-on with ourselves like we usually do but god, if he wants to kiss me again, I will not stop him. I don’t care if we’re lying out here under the sun, I don’t care that—
“Marina!”
A shrill voice rings through the air and I flinch. I crane my neck back and look at the main house where I can see the shadow of Barbara’s face inside by one of the open windows. “Do you need me to call the police?” she yells.
“Oh, that’s just brilliant,” Laz says, quickly getting himself off me and pulling me up to my feet. So much for that.
“No!” I yell back at Barbara. “It’s just my friend Laz. He was helping me out of my suit.”
“I bet he was,” Barbara says and then the blinds come back down.
“Sorry about her,” I say as I turn back to face Laz who is unzipping his suit.
His face is flushed, his hair a mess. There’s too much distance between us now and it feels cold and unnatural. Everything that just happened before, his body pressed against mine, our mouths joined, the heat we created, that felt right. That felt more than right. That’s the us that should have always been.
“I should probably get going,” he says, stepping out of the suit and handing it to me.
“What? Why?”
Oh my god, did that ruin everything? That ruined everything didn’t it?
“Don’t look so worried,” he says to me, smiling. He reaches down and grabs my free hand. “I promised Frank we’d have a rehearsal tonight and you know he’s all the way out in Long Beach.”
“Why do you need to rehearse? New songs?” I feel better knowing that he’s not bailing on account of me, but still, I don’t want him to take off after we just had our first kiss, especially when I don’t know what it means, if it meant anything.
“Well, the show you missed the other night was a bit of a shitshow, so yeah, I think we just need to get some more practice and get a new keyboardist. A lot of the songs we always should have been doing, the songs we skip, are keyboard and Moog heavy, so we need someone who knows their shit if we’re going that route. People want to dance these days.” He punctuates that with a shrug.
“So when are you going to actually start a real band?” I ask him.
He stills at that, his dark, arched brows coming together. “A real band?”
“It’s been years of you doing Depeche Mode songs. You’re an amazing singer, you can play anything you want, and you know that your poetry would do amazing as lyrics. I mean, what’s the difference really. So why not do your own thing?”
He’s still looking at me like I’m talking complete nonsense. Maybe I am. I don’t know much about music other than the fact that it’s an important part of my life.
“Because,” he says slowly, still holding onto my hand, “this is what we know. This is what we’re known for. There’s no risk. Other than the occasional shitty show, we can’t really fail. There aren’t a lot of Depeche Mode cover bands out there because no one can pull it off like we can.”
“But you can’t really move forward if you’re always doing the same thing.” I don’t want to mention he’s just coasting along and never really committing to anything, because his band is just a hobby and not a career and it really isn’t any of my business. But sometimes I want to point out the similarities between that and his failed relationships.
“And that’s why we’re trying new material.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
“Do we still have another date or is this it?”
I hope I didn’t sound desperate just then.
He just grins at me. “You better believe we have another date. Date number three, bumble bee.”
He turns and walks off, leaving me standing on the grass, bee suit in hand, sad to see him go but dangerously giddy at the fact that we have another date, another chance to pretend.
I’m not ready to think about what wil
l happen when we can’t pretend anymore.
Laz
But Not Tonight
* * *
I wake up early for once, fuelled by my dreams again. I wish I could remember them but it doesn’t matter. The feelings are there, this time brimming with dark sexuality and wild lust along with the usual despair and emotional turmoil.
I’m not surprised. I came three times last night just thinking about Marina. It’s not that I haven’t thought about her while jerking off before, because, believe me, she’s been the subject of more than a few fantasies of mine. But this time I didn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss her. This time I knew.
I still can’t believe I did that. Ever since our first date, it’s all I could think about, ever since it was put out on the table like an actual possibility. I’ve tried to push it all behind me and focus on other things but it keeps being pulled to the forefront.
Marina.
Her eyes, her skin, her lips.
Her fucking soul, that pure light that comes from within her, shines through all that darkness that shrouds her. I feel like I’m one step closer to possessing it, something I never knew I needed. It’s dramatic but everything inside me feels dramatic right now, larger than life and overpowering.
I don’t know where the lines started to blur. Maybe it was last week. Maybe they’ve always been blurring and I’ve had my head too far up my arse to notice.
But yesterday, yesterday that line was crossed.
Just one toe over it.
But it was crossed.
She tastes like everything I thought she would. Like honey but surprisingly richer, like she her sweetness comes from someplace deep. I honestly thought I could drown in it.
And the way she kissed me back...
I honestly didn’t know what to expect, if she’d shove me off of her or tell me to stop. I had hoped she wouldn’t but I couldn’t be sure. I can never be sure with her.
The breathless little sounds she made told me I wasn’t the only one who was lost to that kiss.
I take in a deep breath, my pen shaking in my hand, and stare down at the last thing I’ve written.
Take Me To The Beach Page 36