All Right Now

by Madelynne Ellis

  “You don’t need to be happy. You just have to accept. Say it. Promise it, and I’ll make all the pain and all the tension go away.”

  He couldn’t. Much as he’d like to. He wasn’t going to lie to her.

  “At least accept that it’ll be nice to spend some time here alone together.” She did the thumb sweep thing, causing his toes to curl and his breath to hiss out through his teeth.

  “I always look forward to spending time alone with you.” If his words were rather disjointed, that was her doing.

  Ginny smiled and nodded. “Do you want to come?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Then come.”

  He didn’t know how she did that. He couldn’t even make himself climax on demand like that. Ginny though, she simply had to purr the words and his mind and body joined forces and leapt to oblige. Okay, so it was the brush of her thumb that really tipped him over the edge. He couldn’t cope with the mental intensity of it. His nerves fired all at once. His mind gave way to oblivion. And hot spunk flew and landed all over his stomach. Ginny swirled her index finger through the mess.

  “Feeling better now?”

  Confused—that’s what he felt. She’d given him pleasure, yet he ached as if he’d gone several rounds with a professional boxer and got himself beaten black and blue. “Ginny, take these damn things off me, will you?”

  He swore she actually considered leaving him tied up.

  “Okay.” She pouted, and did as he asked, but left the lock on the handcuffs until last. Ash grabbed hold of her as soon as he was free. He rolled them onto the floor, so that he was stretched out above her. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you with my actions,” he confessed. “I’m sorry I’ve neglected you.” His gaze strayed for a second to the mould of his cock she’d left to set on the table.

  “If you do it again, I will use Ever Ready Ash.”

  He believed that.

  “I don’t set out to be belligerent and unreasonable. I just need to feel like I’m contributing something useful, you know?”

  “I get it, but the guys aren’t looking for the new Ash. They want the old one. The guy they’ve toured with for the past however many years. They want your flourishes, but they want them to appear as you hear them and as your fingers create them. No one can play the same way you can, Ash. Being able to pick up your guitar and play, that’s the important thing, not anything else. If you can’t play, the fact you’ve sat for hours upon hours in the studio with them working on the album won’t matter. Being able to walk out on stage with them and play for your fans is what’s important. And you need to be able to convince the guys, and manager that you can do that by the middle of next month. Right now, nobody thinks you’re going to pull that off, least of all you. So how do we change that? How do I make you believe in yourself?”

  He shook his head, and rolled onto his back. “I don’t know, Gin. I don’t know.”

  Was admitting that he knew she was right the first step?

  Ginny sat up, with her legs bent before her, and hugged her knees. “Play something for me now.”

  “Ginny, I can’t.”

  “It doesn’t have to be anything complicated. What’s the first thing you learned to play? It’s okay to start small and ease back into it gradually, as long as you are doing it. Knowing that you’re going to muck up and get frustrated isn’t a reason not to try. It’s just a hurdle you have to get over.”

  “I’ll try,” he promised. “But I’m not ready for an audience yet.”

  She sighed, but accepted his assertion with a nod, before rising to her feet and hunting around for some clothes. She commandeered one of his T-shirts and pulled it on, along with a pair of his shorts too. “Okay, but pick the guitar up and play, and pick a pen up too. There’s no reason why you can’t write a song. It doesn’t matter if it’s not all that great. Muscles get more flexible with use. The next song might be epic, or the one after that. You can get back what you’ve lost, Ash, you can. I know you can, and if you can’t believe in yourself, then do it out of spite. Show Iain Willows that he hasn’t got the best of you. Show him his efforts amounted to nothing and that Black Halo are stronger than ever.”

  “I’ll try,” he promised, catching hold of her and pulling her down so that she was sat astride his lap. “Can I have some of my clothes too, please?”

  She tipped her head to one side, so that her dark hair framed her face. “No, I think I’ll keep you naked for the rest of the day. That way I can be sure you won’t go running off and creating trouble.”

  He frowned.

  Ginny kissed the wrinkles that formed in his brow, until they smoothed out again. “Honestly Ash, I can’t believe you ever thought for a second I’d been getting up to stuff with Spook. What sort of crazy pills have you been taking?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Hm.” She briefly inclined her head, before rising from him. “Go clean yourself up.”

  Ash got to his feet.

  “For the record, Spook’s cute, but he’s a control freak. I don’t do anyone whose desire is to manipulate me, or bend me to their will.”

  “’kay, so no asking you to submit to me and become my lovehoney. Got it.”

  He glanced down at the mess upon his stomach. “Urgh.”

  Once inside the bathroom, Ash stood in the dark for several moments sucking down juddery breaths, before he tugged the light cord, and set the extractor fan into motion. He’d promised her, so he’d have to pick up the guitar, but he didn’t know how he’d convince himself to play. His fingers wouldn’t obey, he knew that. He’d established that fact back in July when he’d attempted to jam with the guys. Things hadn’t changed since then. The same fires still flowed down his arm if he twisted his wrist a certain way, and his fingers were forever stiffening up.

  He washed himself down and used the loo. When he came out of the bathroom, Ginny was gone. He caught sight of her out of the window darting off toward the woods. He guessed she’d decided to give him some space in order to do that practicing, while she spent more time on the phone to that friend who was always calling. The note she’d left him on the bed said exactly that.

  I have faith in you. You can do it.

  Too bad he had virtually none in himself.

  -11-

  The guys all left on Thursday, taking the motorboat to Mariefred thus stranding Ash and Ginny unless they wanted to row to the mainland.

  Ash refused to see them off. They’d be back long before he missed them—things were still tense—and while he wasn’t desperate to go on a ’round the world trip for a single performance that didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed over the arrangements.

  As he had the run of the place, Ash gathered his gubbins and settled himself on the mezzanine floor. The upper floor was bright and airy, and he liked to watch the way the sunlight dappled the walls and slopes of the A-line roof.

  Also, the book nook was handy for some entertainment or as a place to crash. His problem with his fingers wasn’t the only issue, only the most noticeable one. Ever since his brush with death, he was forever having to take impromptu naps.

  Having settled on the couch, Ash planted his feet on the coffee table, and opened up his laptop. The only thing missing was a decent brew. A hot drink was too much to carry alongside his other stuff when he could only rely on one hand, and stuff the notion of making two trips. He could live without the caffeine. He had a bottle of water that would suffice. It was healthier too.

  See world. Effort is being made.

  It didn’t take Ginny long to return from the jetty. Sounds of her bustling about downstairs drifted up to him. Ash flicked on some background entertainment while he deliberated over the melody that had come to him during the night. It looked like a series of blobs an underachieving toddler might make and call art. He’d jotted it down left-handed on the back of an appointment letter from the hospital psychologist. If anyone managed to decipher it well enough to play it, the result would hopefully sound
rather more sophisticated.

  It sounded amazing in his head. Now, if he could just write the accompanying lyrics he’d be set, and he’d have something to wave in the rest of the band’s faces.

  Ash didn’t pretend that lyric writing was his thing. In the past, he’d been content to leave the actual song writing to Xane and Spook, only contributing the occasional idea or riff when asked to, but as everything else he valued had been stolen away, he needed a way of contributing.

  Yeah, about that… It turned out that song writing was pretty damned hard, if you didn’t want something that sounded shit or resembled bad goth poetry. Being less pompous and wilfully clever seemed to be the answer. Straight talking, yep. Simple but effective phrasing: that too! Also, he needed a hypnotic chorus with an infective draw, so that listeners were reeled into the story being told. A song was a mini story, or in his eyes, the best ones were. He was pumping a lot of himself into this one, and even if it was dire, there was something very cathartic about bleeding all over the page.

  Having written the same couple of lines and deleted them numerous times over, Ash hit up YouTube, seeking a break and inspiration. He was watching Christina, Mya, Pink, and Lil’ Kim shimmy their way through Lady Marmalade for the umpteenth time in succession when Ginny interrupted him. Okay, mostly he was watching Christina, ’cause big hair, seedy undertones, and fishnets got him every time. Like every friggin’ time. Also, this particular video brought back vivid memories of better times, like when Ginny had shown up out of the blue in Paris and enthralled him with her own interpretation of the Moulin Rouge. She’d been dressed in a similar fashion to Ms. Aguilera, only six times as pretty, and boy could she shimmy her tight little arse. Never mind what she’d done with the rest of her stupendously hot and supple bod. She’d given him the night of his life.

  “Are you cheating on me again, babe?” Ginny asked. She was standing on the top step, the sunlight illuminating her, and looking as crazily beautiful as she always did.

  “A guy’s got to get his fishnet fix somehow,” he sighed, and because he was pissed off added, “And you’re not humouring me.”

  Rather than bite his head off like he probably deserved, since sex ought never to be a given in any relationship, she sashayed over to where he was sitting. “I’ve worn them. Me thinks your interest’s just been elsewhere.”

  Possibly, that was true. Though he was pretty sure she’d been deliberately holding out on him. He noticed fishnets. Always.

  She sat next to him. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Nothing.” He blanked the screen. He wasn’t ready to share yet. “Did you want something in particular?”

  She snuggled up to his side and took hold of his hand. “As it happens, yes. You might not have noticed, but we have the place to ourselves.”

  “And?”

  He knew what she was hinting at, but it gave him a perverse sort of kick to be obtuse about it. It felt weird knowing that in the past he’d have been ripping his clothes off and volunteering as her love slave right about now, with no more than she’d already said as a prompter. He didn’t feel he had a whole lot in common with that guy anymore. Iain had killed him. He’d stabbed him right through the heart and twisted the knife until all that was left was a twisted, mangled mess.

  Yeah, so he was engaged in a pity party. That was his right, exactly as it was everyone else’s. Sure, he appreciated that he wasn’t the only one who’d had a hard time recently. The whole band had been subject to a ton of shit in recent weeks, what with Xane falling off the wagon and Elspeth’s nightmare exit from the band, but he’d had that and more. He was still living the aftermath of Karlstad every fucking day.

  One of the things that continually bugged him was that none of them ever talked about what had happened. They asked him how he was doing, but never drilled into the details of what happened and how badly it had fucked up his life. Any concerns they voiced were only ever in the context of him getting better.

  Ginny was looking at him with her lips pursed.

  “Look, I’m not exactly feeling sexy at the minute.” He raised his fucked hand to remind her of how damaged he was.

  “Do you really want me to get Ever Ready Ash out?” Ginny punched him on the arm. “And, actually I didn’t come up here with the intention of getting laid. If I had, you’d already be on your back. We talked the other day about you working harder to fix yourself. Well, I’ve created an action plan. A G-plan.”

  She unrolled a huge sheet of curled up paper, that he’d only just noticed she was holding.

  “What is this?” It didn’t look much like fun, although he noticed the word ‘licking’ appeared in a couple of places, and one column was titled ‘Love Slave Duties.’ Actually, it looked suspiciously like the rehabilitation exercise grid the physiotherapist had provided him with. The one he’d binned at least twice along with the information sheets and helpline numbers they’d tried to fob him off with.

  “I can fix myself. I don’t need this. Not interested.” He reached for the laptop again.

  Ginny slammed her hand down on top of the lid, almost jamming his fingers.

  “Hey, you can at least hear me out before you go dismissing it. I know you’re pissed off, Ash. I get it, the world has screwed you over, but sitting around moping isn’t going to fix things. You want to play guitar and resume your old position in Black Halo when they tour, then you have to work to make that happen. No one is going to come along and wave a wand and fix you. The only person who can fix this is you with hard work and determination.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

  She was on her feet. “I think we went through this the other day. Time’s short, Ash. They’re going to hire someone else if you’re not fit within a matter of weeks.”

  Yeah, sadly he did remember that speech. He stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, before all his rage returned triple fold. He held it back though, trapped behind his gritted teeth. It made his nose sting and his eyes get all ticklish in the corners. “Performing stupid exercises isn’t going to do squat, Ginny.”

  “How do you know? Have you tried them? Given them a chance? Or did you just dismiss them in the way you did the drugs, because they didn’t fit in with your view of reality?”

  “I did them all back in the hospital. None of it worked, I still came out broken. Iain’s taken everything.”

  Ginny’s shoulders dropped, and instead of yelling back at him, she moved the laptop from his knee to the coffee table, then straddled his lap. “Bollocks. That’s what I have to say to that. Most of what you love is still right here if you’d just open your eyes and recognise it.” She took hold of his bad hand and gave it a squeeze. “The exercises are as dull as fuck. No one would choose to do them, which is why I’ve livened them up. I thought we could do them together.”

  “To what end?”

  She touched his face. “You know what end. So you can play guitar again and continue being a shit hot rock star whom I like to fuck, and who makes all the girlies scream.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memories. “I’ll let you curse as much as you like while we’re doing them, but I’m not letting you wriggle out of this. You’re too damn good for me to allow you to fade away.”

  “Ginny, I don’t wanna—”

  She silenced him with a kiss. “Just say, ‘Yes, Ginny.’ And go along with me for today. We can review the situation at nightfall, if you still think it’s of no benefit.”

  He rolled his eyes, ’cause…Duh! They both already knew what the outcome would be.

  Ginny hooked one hand around the back of his neck, and placed the other on his jaw so that he was forced to look at her. “I’m not going to drop this. I am prepared to offer incentives: chocolate, caffeine, Danger Mouse, beer and fucking. They don’t have to be in that order, but that’s on top of the fact you’ll be able to lick with the best of them again by the time we’re through.”

  “Just ’cause you will it, doesn’t make it true, Gin.”

  She c
lucked, and shook her head. “I thought you knew me better than that. Failure is not an option, Mr. Gore. Also, I’m prepared to take a rather more flexible approach to the task than any of the medical professionals. We won’t be doing endless repetitions of boring activities. They’ll all be fun, and we’ll keep mixing them up so that none of them get dull. Everything gets old if you do it too often.”

  “Not everything,” he disagreed, doing his best to be roused by her impassioned speech. “Wanking never gets old.” Not that he was in a position to put that theory to the test as doing it left-handed felt all wrong, and the only privacy he got was in the shower. It was pretty hard to jerk off when you were sharing a room with your girlfriend.

  “Fine, I’ll add that to the program.”

  “What?”

  “It involves the use of your hand, and I’ll probably enjoy watching.”

  Heat rose up his neck, until he knew he was blushing at the thought. Yeah, she probably would. She’d certainly enjoyed listening to him that time on the tour bus over the phone. “All right, show me the chart.”

  She shimmied off his lap to do so.

  The chart didn’t tell him a lot. It was divided into days of the week and a series of tasks with relatively meaningless titles.

  “Complete the tasks and you get one of these.” She handed him a plastic wallet containing an assortment of stickers: Danger Mouse, some interesting girlie pin-up designs, and a variety of ‘You’re Awesome’ type slogans. None of them said, ‘Chocolate reward,’ or ‘Blowjob’ or ‘Fuck until you go blind.’ He chucked the wallet onto the table and slouched back against the sofa cushions again.

  “Stickers! Gin, I’m not five. You can’t inspire me with stickers and a promise that I can stay up for an extra fifteen minutes on Friday night if I’m a good boy. My mam used to con my brother and me with this sort of crap when we were small.”