Heartless Few Box Set

by MV Ellis

  Marnie: Kinda. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m horny AF. I love Ronnie to bits, but I wish it was you here instead of her.

  Me: I don’t feel better. I feel hard as rock and like I don’t want to be here. My balls are so blue, I’m surprised the boys can’t see them glowing neon through my pants.

  Marnie: Poor baby. Do yourself a favor and take a bathroom break. I’ve just kicked Ronnie off the couch. I’m about to give myself a serious working over. Not as good as the real thing but better than dying of frustration, right?

  Me: Right. Umm… GTG.

  Marnie: Enjoy your… “break.” ;-)

  Me: I love you.

  Marnie: Don’t.

  Me: I do.

  I had taken to crashing at her apartment sometimes when we only had a few hours between finishing the session for the night and starting again for the next day. As much as it killed me not to get to see Marnie on those occasions, sometimes it just wasn’t feasible to make the schlep all the way to the island and back, and at least at her place I got to sleep on sheets that smelled of her. It was slim consolation but better than nothing.

  When I did make it home, I made the most of my time with Marnie, though it wasn’t always ideal. Sometimes I’d get back in the small hours, bone tired to the point of delirium, but still as soon as I slid into bed with an often faintly snoring Marnie, I’d be hard before my head hit the pillow. On those occasions, it took all my willpower to coax her awake with gentle kisses and caresses, rather than with my overeager dick.

  Other days I’d be home in daylight hours and creep through the house to find Marnie in the garden singing or humming to herself, working her green-fingered magic on what had been the crazy jungle of Mia’s backyard while Ronnie basked in the sunlight or leapt around chasing a butterfly or her own shadow. Marnie bent double in short shorts over some shrub or plant, lost in her own thoughts in the sun-drenched garden was fast becoming my favorite view in the entire world. I’d lean against the doorjamb and just watch her until I was inevitably sprung by Ronnie who would lose her mind barking as soon as she became aware of my presence. I lived for the moment when Marnie straightened up and turned my way, smiling as though there was nowhere else she’d rather be and no one else she’d rather see than me.

  The look in her eyes sent all the feels straight to my heart. And to my dick. There wasn’t a moment when I was with Marnie that I wasn’t sporting. If the number of times we fucked in the garden, in the kitchen, or in the doorway between the two was anything to go by, I’d say the feeling was very much mutual. Apart from the overwhelming need to be inside her when I saw her like that, I was also struck each time by how much I fucking loved her, and always had.

  It was also crystal clear to me that it was exactly the same for her. A person couldn’t fake the look in her eyes when she gazed at me, and it occurred to me that I’d seen it from her often in the past, but I’d refused to believe it. I had been so blinded by the fact that she was “with” Arlo and therefore completely off limits to me that I couldn’t see the truth that was right in front of my face. Marnie loved me, and all I needed to do was convince her that our love was enough. That she was enough.

  The big gig went off without a hitch and seemed to fit the vision Arlo had in his head. Despite our differences, I had to hand it to him—he worked the shit out of his performance on the night. The passion and emotion he felt for London and the songs he wrote about her was awe-inspiring. Although we’d rehearsed the songs together, even the rest of us in the band were blown away by his stage presence and commitment. As for the audience, he wrecked them in the best possible way. He took them right along with him on the journey he’d been on with London over previous months, in the way that only Arlo could—oozing sex, anguish, and heartache, and leaving them wanting to fuck him and fix him in equal measure.

  Stevie, Ryan, Jake, and I had his back musically, and in any other way, he needed us to, as always. For my part, in a singular moment up on that stage, looking into the sea of sorrowful and adoring tear-stained faces, something shifted in me and snapped. I spotted Kris, Jake’s wife and the love of his life in the VIP section, and I was struck by a deep resentment that the love of my life, literally for as long as I could remember, was at home watching the live stream. Not because, like London, she had chosen to be elsewhere, but because she wasn’t welcome. The fire and passion that drove my performance that night came from a very different place than Arlo’s. I was cut. I was angry. I was hurt. Mentally and emotionally, I had nothing more to give. I was done.

  We left the stage and headed back to the band room in subdued silence, which Arlo was the first to break.

  “Well, that was epic.”

  “Ya think? They fucking loved it” was Ryan’s lighthearted input. Arlo stared at him as though he had two heads. Ryan stared right back unwaveringly. “We’ve got your back. You know that, yeah?” He was deadly serious. I watched the exchange with curiosity. What was that all about?

  “Yeah, brother. I know. Thank you. All of you.” Arlo shifted his gaze quickly from Ryan and looked pointedly at me. I stared down the barrel of that look and dared him to try me. With the mood I was in, if he pushed my buttons, I didn’t see it going well for him.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  What? That was not what I had expected. I nodded almost imperceptibly and continued to stare him down. I was done making life easy for him.

  “I’m still hella pissed about what Marnie did, but I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I understand you were in a difficult position, stuck between the two of us. If you feel even a tenth for Marnie of what I feel for London, I can see why you did what you did, and we all know that if things were the other way around, I would have done the same and not even thought twice.” It was the understatement of the century and stated the blindingly obvious, but I still appreciated that he had big enough balls to admit it.

  “Beyond the video fuckup, I’m sorry I took you for granted. Marnie too, but mostly you. I can’t believe I was so wrapped up in my own shit for so many years that I didn’t see the writing that was so clearly on the wall. Then I had the nerve to question your brotherly loyalty. I’ve been the worst kind of hypocrite. Sorry, dude.”

  I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was as though, as well as giving him her heart, London had gifted him a total personality transplant also.

  “Apology accepted, and credit where credit is due. You acted in anger. It was a shock, and you lashed out. It’s understandable. None of us is at our best in those circumstances. But I never thought I’d see the day that you’d offer me an unprompted and apparently sincere apology for anything. Especially not with witnesses. Wonders will never cease.” I smiled slightly, despite myself. This situation was too out there not to.

  “You know, even when shit’s all fucked–up like it is right now, I think she’s a good influence. London, I mean. Even from afar, she’s changed you, man. For sure a year ago you wouldn’t be saying the things you are now, and the only difference in your life is her and your baby. Who knew that all that was needed to bring you back from the dark side was the love of a good woman, then to have her trample all over your heart and leave you for dead?”

  “Fuck you, man.”

  Forty

  Marnie

  The secret gig was a huge success, not surprisingly. Arlo played and sang for his life. He literally laid his heart and soul bare for the world to see. I had never witnessed anything like it in all the years and countless occasions I’d seen them all play live together. It felt like one of those iconic gigs that would go down in history and be spoken about in years to come—not only for Arlo’s standout performance but also because the rest of the band played like the weapons they were, which emphasized why they were one of the world’s biggest and most successful groups. They killed it.

  Especially Luke. Since hearing him sing and play around the house—I would ask him to sing to me whenever there was an opportunity—I had a newfound apprec
iation for just how much of a gun he was musically. They all were, but Luke was especially so. I began to believe more and more that he was wasting his talent playing in Arlo’s shadow.

  The gig sent the music world into a tailspin, and I was happy for the band’s sake, for Luke’s sake, and even for Arlo’s sake. Even though he was in the process of planning how to ruin my life, which hurt like hell, I didn’t wish him any harm in return. I knew that misguided as it might be, he was only doing what he thought was best for him and his, and even having grown up in my fucked-up family, I knew that was what people who loved each other did—they had each other’s backs. I’d do the same for Luke in a heartbeat, and I knew he’d return the favor without a thought.

  That’s one of the reasons it felt so strange to be at home watching the secret gig from the couch like just another fangirl. I wanted to be able to support my friends and my… whatever the hell Luke was to me these days, and it felt unnatural not to do so, like I was in some kind purgatory controlled by the all-powerful force of nature that was Arlo Jones. I really should have resented him more for the impact he was having on my life, even after he was technically no longer in it, but I couldn’t muster the energy. I began to understand a little of why Luke had given up fighting Arlo’s will too. It felt like swimming uphill against the tide, wearing a weighted swimsuit.

  When Luke came home to me later that night, I could tell right away that something was off. He was somber and withdrawn, showing none of the excitement and jubilation I would have expected having witnessed the whole band pull off the performance of a lifetime. It was also relatively early in rock star terms, meaning he’d left straight after the gig, rather than hang out with the guys in the city to party.

  “Hey, babe. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

  “Really? Is that a problem?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, which in itself was weird. I normally got his humor right away.

  “Sure is. I had to hustle my side guy into the backyard. He’s in the shed now, waiting until we go upstairs. Then he’s gonna run out the front door.” A small smirk played at the corner of Luke’s lips, but it could hardly be described as a smile. “Amazing performance tonight, from all of you. How did you feel out there?”

  “Distant.”

  What?

  “Speaking of distant, have I done something wrong?” I hadn’t heard him come into the house and hadn’t been aware of his presence until he was on the threshold of the front room. Instead of crossing the room to join me on the couch as I would have expected, he had stayed there, leaning on the doorjamb, his hand reached up above him and his head resting on his forearm. I unfolded myself from the couch and started to walk toward him. Mohamed to the mountain.

  “No. But I think I might have.”

  I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the room. I knew it. I knew that the happiness and positivity I’d started to feel lately was a false high and the bubble would burst any moment. This was why I didn’t want a relationship. Not with Luke, nor with anyone. I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “I think I’m done.”

  Boom! And there it was. The inevitable gray cloud to every silver lining I’d ever experienced. I felt nauseous but had no desire to vomit. I tried to consider that a bright side of this whole sorry situation.

  “Don’t look like that. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  I remained rooted to the spot.

  Luke pushed away from the doorframe and stalked toward me. Standing statue-still in the middle of the room, I felt like his prey, and I liked it.

  “Fuck, Marnie. I’ve only just got you. Do you think I’d do anything to push you away? I meant I’m done with the band.”

  “What? Don’t joke about shit like that. It’s not funny.” I shoved him in the chest gently as he approached me. He didn’t budge an inch.

  “I’m not joking. I had a moment up there when I looked out into the crowd and saw the audience crying to the songs that Arlo wrote about his woman at the gig he organized to get her back, and I just suddenly thought I need out. I need to stand on my own two feet. You said it yourself, I’ve been living in Arlo’s slipstream my whole life, and you’re right. I can feel myself drowning.”

  “C’mon, Luke. You know I didn’t mean it like that. Yeah, I do think that Arlo dwarfs you in the band and that relationship is imbalanced, but he dwarfs everyone, not just you. You’re tired. You’ve been working around the clock for weeks. I think this is delirium speaking.”

  “It’s true, I have been working like a dog—to get Arlo’s show together. See what I mean?”

  “It wasn’t just Arlo’s show. The rest of you played like your lives depended on it. You were tighter than I’ve ever seen you. You’re an amazing band and an awesome team.”

  “Because we rehearsed until the point of exhaustion. We survived it on adrenaline and bloody determination, and what for? The one person in the world I wanted to be there, to see me give it my all like that, wasn’t welcome within a ten-mile radius. That’s fucked up, and it’s not how I want to live my life.”

  The sincerity on his face and in his voice just about broke me.

  “I had the thought literally while I was mid-song that if something I’m doing can’t include you, then it’s not worth doing at all. That thought has been plaguing me ever since.”

  “Lu—” He placed his index finger to my lips, silencing me gently.

  “We got off stage and Arlo apologized to me for the way he’s been carrying on about the video. I mean, I kind of get it. He loves London and wants to protect her, but you know, I want the same for you, so where does that leave us, him and I? I accepted his apology, and I guess we kind of patched our shit up, but as I walked away, it really struck me that it was you he should have been saying sorry to, not me, but of course, as far as he’s concerned, you’re still an Untouchable. The more I thought about it, the more pissed I got. I couldn’t even bring myself to hang out with the guys after. I just changed out of my sweaty stage clothes and came home.”

  Home.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard. It was a few seconds before he responded in kind. I thought he was trying to decide whether to stay mad or not. He clearly quickly decided on not, as moments later he was kissing me back as though his life depended on it, taking the heat level up to “hotter than Death Valley” and sending my libido into overdrive—not that it took much where he was concerned. He pulled back suddenly, dragging his lips away but lowering his forehead to rest on mine. His breathing was so labored, it was as though he’d just run a marathon.

  “I know I said before that I chose you, but this time I mean the full deal. If that means I have to walk away from my relationship with Arlo properly this time, then that’s the way it has to be. No regrets.”

  “Luke, I would never ask you to do that.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done. It does, and I will. I’m leaving the band, no matter what. I’ve done my time. My mind’s made up.”

  No.

  “Hey. Look at me.” He was staring off into the middle distance, so caught up in his own head. “Luke, look at me.”

  He finally met my eyes. His glowed green with a bloody-minded determination I’d seen in all four Jones brothers at one time or another. They might have had vastly differing personalities but willfulness was common to them all.

  “It’s been a long day. No, it’s been a long few weeks. I know you’re wound up right now, but I really think you should take a moment and sleep on it before you make any big decisions.”

  He flicked his gaze away again, clearly deep in thought.

  “Promise me.”

  He reluctantly pulled his eyes back to mine. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I promise not to call Arlo right now, tell him everything I think of him, and then invite him to stick the new album where the sun don’t shine because I quit. I promise not to
do that. Yet.” At least his sense of humor was back on track. That was a good sign.

  “All right. Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me? I didn’t do shit.”

  “Yeah, you did. You didn’t do something you might regret in the morning, and you chose me. Again.”

  “You don’t need to thank me for that. I’ll always choose you, and I’ll always be the winner in that equation.”

  “Luke Jones, when did you get so smooth?”

  “Always. It’s in my DNA. I was just too pussy to bring it to your door.”

  Ha! Luke Jones was back in the building.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally got your shit together on that front, now shut up and let me finish what I started.”

  His eyes widened, but he did as he was asked, so I rewarded him with one last kiss before slipping past him. He hesitated again, and I used the lag to my advantage, striding toward the hall. Being six feet four, he gained on me quickly but not before I’d managed to shed my T-shirt. I thought I was home and clear, but as I put my foot on the bottom step, Luke caught up to me. He grabbed my G-string and tugged—hard enough to make his intention more than known but gentle enough that I was the one choosing to stop, not being stopped. I wanted to be caught. I overbalanced slightly and put my hands down on the step to stop from toppling over.

  “Are you trying to make me forget the band even exists? ’Cause right now, the sight of you bent over like that is about to make me forget my own name, let alone anything else.” He let go of my G-string and used both hands at my waist to draw me into his denim-clad erection.

  “It’s okay, I’ll make sure to remind you of your name when I come.” I pointed to the hall table, and Luke caught my meaning right away. We’d taken to keeping condoms all around the house, given how infrequently we actually made it to the bed before we screwed.

  He released my waist, and I turned around to watch him take off his tight black jeans. He’d looked fine as fuck in them, but, my God, he was magnificent without.