by Scott, S. L.
What girl wouldn’t be flattered by his attention? He’s a gorgeous man, and now that I’ve experienced what that attention is like, I’m tempted to make it a regular Thursday night event.
Taking my phone from the nightstand, I try to recall the name of the band the bouncer mentioned. Since I didn’t catch the name of the bar before I walked in, I concentrate on the things I do know: Arms that are large enough not just to hold me but protect me from the world if needed, lips that probably know how to kiss until I’m raw with lust, and that look in his eyes that sees the me I feel inside.
I really need to put these thoughts to bed. If I can just remember the band’s name or at least the bar’s, I can get some sleep. No matter how hard I concentrate, though, I draw a blank. Too many ethics principles taking up space in my brain.
Throwing my arms up, I bring one down to rest across my head. “What am I doing?” I take a deep breath before putting my sleep mask over my eyes. My body sinks a little deeper into the mattress, and I begin to touch the edges of sleep. One more breath and this time, when I exhale, I drift.
3
Dare
Pepper. She was probably prom queen and every guy’s dream in high school. She’s now become my fantasy. I don’t know anything about the woman I met the other night, but the moment I saw her, I wanted to know everything I could.
Except I didn’t ask.
Not her name.
Her age.
Where she’s from.
Fuck.
Did I lose the opportunity? That smile, her laugh, the way her nerves got the best of her at times. Her beauty left me tongue-tied. I’ve never been drawn to a woman more than I was to her.
Standing close had me vowing to change my ways, hearing her voice had me thanking a God I’d lost faith in. But when my eyes met her baby blues, I’m not sure what happened. My heart started racing, fast like it does on stage, but to a different beat—familiar only to her.
Lust.
I remind myself. That’s all it was. She was hot in her confidence. Enticing in her shyness, wearing a sundress that left enough room for the imagination and shoes that kept her little enough to tuck under my arm. Not that I did, but she seemed like a good piece to my puzzle.
Sleep begs me to give in, but I’d rather think about the pretty girl from Thursday night. She stood out in that scene. I could tell Shep’s wasn’t a place she frequented. I yawn again. A qualified contender. That makes me laugh. I don’t know what the fuck I was talking about, but I like that she went with the flow.
My muscles still ache from lifting weights in the garage this morning, which caused me to play guitar like a lazy shit tonight on stage. I had to get out some pent-up aggression somehow. Next time, it will be on the strings instead because hitting the soundboard to make everyone else louder was a good bandage, but I can’t afford to fuck up again. The band needs the gigs because we need the money.
Putting the last three nights behind me has left me lying in the dark with a restless mind. Reaching over, I check my phone for missed messages one last time and then close my eyes.
* * *
One pound on my bedroom door rattles it, but not me. After living with these delinquents for four years, I can sleep through anything. Except when the sun shines in blinding me. “Shut the blinds, asshole.”
“No. Let’s get a run in before it gets too hot.”
“Go without me, Lennox.” Pulling the pillow over my head, I try to fall back into the sweet dream I was having about the mystery woman I called Pepper on the fly.
Pepper? What the fuck? That made no sense, but it flew out of my mouth before I could think twice about it.
“Nah, man. You told me not to let you coast through this week. We’re amping up for summer.”
I laugh and then peg him with my pillow. “You sound like a girl working on her summer bod.”
Popping up his right bicep and then his other, he tries to snarl. As I said, tries . . . I start laughing, delirious from the shitty sleep. “Look at these bad boys. They aren’t building themselves,” he says.
“A run’s not going to build them either. You need to lift weights for that.”
“The run is just the start. Get your ass up. Five minutes and we’re heading out.”
My shouted, “Fucker,” hits the back of his head just before the door closes. I lie on my back, still being blinded by the day breaking, and groan in protest. But then I get up because fuck, I’m awake already. Might as well make the most of it.
I’m grabbing a Powerade before my best friend since childhood has his shoes on. He’s not a brother by blood, but by choice. I’ve known him the longest. Our moms used to laugh about us sharing a twin bed. They left out the part of not being able to afford two, or separate homes, which never much mattered to us. Despite being shacked up in a one bedroom east of downtown, we were rich in other ways. I don’t blame our moms because there’s no shame in sharing expenses. They both left bad choices to give us a better life.
There isn’t a doctor, lawyer, or a white-collar among us in this house our band shares. We’re rowdies by circumstance—guys from the wrong side of everything—and gravitate toward the same kind of trouble. Rowdies stick together, loyal to a fault. Too much energy to sit still. Too much ego to take any shit. Too much anger coursing through our veins. Not much money among us.
There was no time to make my mom proud. She went into the hospital for a cough when I was nineteen and died weeks later. I had to watch her suffer needlessly while the hospital tried to ease her physical pain. She was living for me, but I couldn’t bear her anguish. I finally told her not to worry about me and let go.
Sometimes my memories get the best of me, but I shake these off, not wanting to carry around the weight today.
Downing half the bottle, I need the electrolytes before burning through more on a run. “You ready to get left in the dust?”
Lennox laughs. “Whatever, punk.” He heads out, but I pass him on the front lawn. Four miles in, we reach the east banks of Ladybird Lake. I drop to my knees and try to catch my breath, but when that doesn’t work, I lie down while my lungs scream for air.
He sits on his ass and moans. “My legs hurt.”
I chuckle. “Mine too.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Fuck if I know.” With my arms spread wide, I ask, “Why do we do this again?”
“Chicks dig muscles.”
“Ah, we’re doing it for the ladies.” Forcing myself up, I stare at the water. Gold flecks reflecting the sun cover the tops of the wind-driven ripples. The interstate is already bumper to bumper during rush hour, and the faint honking of horns is ruining the peaceful morning.
Messing with my laces, I ask, “You say that like you don’t have a crazy ex. You thinking about trying someone on for size for a while again?”
“I think about it, but I’m not there yet.” Lying in the grass, Lennox still has his eyes closed. Then he sits up and looks at me. “What about you?”
We don’t get deep much these days. Maybe after the heaviness of our childhoods, we prefer to keep things lighter, but it doesn’t mean we don’t think about stuff. We just don’t usually talk about it.
“I don’t know. I think about a life that’s forked in some ways. One way, I’m settling down. The other, I’m living my dream.” I scrub my hand over my face, knocking the sweat from my brow. “I feel older than my twenty-five years.”
“You’ve dealt with a lot in life.”
“There are other people out there with worse beginnings. Yours wasn’t sunshine, but you don’t let that drag you down.”
He spins his hat backward while shaking his head. “You either, but I sometimes wonder if that’s why I can’t seem to find someone sane to date. Like I’m wired for chaos.”
Lennox Rey is the quietest guy I know. I’m pretty sure it’s something he learned when he was still in diapers. His parents fought worse than mine from the stories we overheard growing up. His dad abided by the same
principles mine did—take no shit and take them down first—and it didn’t matter if it was a man, woman, or kid. They made sure to get their punches—verbally and physically—in. I stand and start pacing. “We’re not like them.”
“No,” he replies, dusting the grass from his shorts. “But sometimes I wonder if his genes will catch up with me.”
“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, no dude who didn’t deserve it.”
He laughs. “When you mention feeling older than your years, I can relate. We’ve had some good times, some out-of-control times, and some lows, but we’re still here somehow. Guess we’re not doing that bad, huh?”
“Nah. Not that bad.”
Walking to the edge of the water, he adds, “I’m tempted to jump in the water to cool off.”
I know he won’t, but it’s time to leave the talking behind and get on with our day. I rattle my hand over my hair to shake the sweat loose. “It’s hot as fuck. Ready to go?”
Lennox comes back but stops in front of me. “What we’ve been through, the rough times, no one will understand how two little kids from the east side survived from their mother’s determination. We’ve been brothers a long time, but my mom, you know she’s there for you too. Any time. Day or night, we both are.”
“I know. Offer stands for you too. If you want my two cents, leave the chaos behind. You deserve better than you’ve given yourself.”
“Are we talking about women?”
“No. You’ve been dating girls. Step up to the big leagues, brother.”
I need to release the pent-up energy stirred inside, something unsettled. I have a feeling it’s got something to do big blue eyes and long brown hair. Pink lips that pucker when she’s thinking about how to answer and a blush to match when you give her attention.
Pepper.
She’s the kind of girl I want to spend more time getting to know. Lennox needs to meet the same. I stop getting ahead of myself about a girl I may never see again and jog instead. The sun is beating down from high in the nine a.m. sky.
“I’m doing the best I can. I’m ready for some calm,” he replies.
“Sometimes I wonder if people can change. Like us. Does being good matter?”
“Bad paid off quicker, but when it comes to changing, ultimately, it’s up to the rest of the world to decide if someone gets the credit for the effort.”
“So basically, it doesn’t matter how good we are if someone still sees us as bad? Will we ever outrun our past?”
“Not if I have a say in it.” He laughs as he pushes my arm and then takes off running. “Less talking. More running.”
“I’m not looking to break any records.”
“Suit yourself.” When he starts fidgeting with his watch, I know he’s setting a stopwatch to time himself.
Despite the restless energy, the heat has zapped me, so I slow my pace. What I don’t get is why I’m thinking about this shit anyway.
Lennox is in the shower when I return, so I down some juice and scramble some eggs while I wait my turn. A commotion at the front door sends me rushing to see what the fuck is happening on the front porch. When I open it, I wish I hadn’t. Romeo, The Heroes’s drummer, is making out with a girl against the wall.
“Warn a guy,” I complain, kicking the door closed. I return to the kitchen because the last thing I want to see is one of my friends feeling up a groupie at ten in the morning, or ever.
The doorbell rings a few times before I hear English storm through the living room and yank the front door open. There’s a pause, but then he yells, “Lay off the bell and get a fucking room,” and slams the door shut, grumbling all the way back to his bedroom.
Romeo finally comes inside and pulls out a barstool to plant himself on. I don’t have to see him to know he’s most likely eyeing my food. “Just take it.”
He’s chomping down before a thank you is muttered, but when it is, he at least sounds fucking grateful. While I make the full dozen, since I know everyone is up now, I ask, “Groupie?”
“Yep.”
“She here?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not going to lecture you on your lays, but have you thought about seeing a chick more than once?”
His head jerks back and confusion wrinkles his brows. “Why would I do something like that?”
I chuckle. “Only asking.” Topping another plate with eggs, I set it next to him just as Lennox comes around and gets a fork to dig in. “Thanks, man.”
They don’t get but a few bites in before English begrudgingly takes the last barstool. “Might as well eat since I’m up.”
While the toaster is pushed to its limits with all the bread flying in and out of it to feed four grown men, we have a few minutes of forks against plates, a clanging considered quiet for this rowdy bunch, before English asks, “What was up last night, Dare?”
Turning around to the sound of my name, I shrug. “An off night is all.” Distracted by every brunette in the place, I was disappointed that none were her. What do I expect? She’s not the groupie type.
English picks up his guitar and strums. “You don’t have off nights.”
“First time for everything.”
“Can’t cover you every night,” he replies with a snarky grin. Guess he has that right as our lead guitarist.
“So it’s not going to be a regular thing?” Romeo asks.
“Consider it one of your hookups,” I snap back.
“Very funny.” Coming around the bar, he sets his plate in the sink. “I have a job in Dripping Springs. They can use a few extra guys. Cash in hand. Out by five.”
English huffs. “I’ll go.”
Rent was paid, but life doesn’t come free. “I’m in,” I say. Some physical labor will get my mind off a certain woman and get my head back on straight. It’s time to put that fantasy to bed.
* * *
After three hours of hauling lumber, my arms feel like gelatin. Not the best for a guitar player with a gig to play later. I look around for the guys, wondering if they’re faring any better.
I don’t know who’s going to live in these mansions we’re building, but I already hate them. Does someone really need a house this big? Feeding that ego of theirs with superficial shit won’t make their penis grow.
I’d rather have the big dick I got. Seems fair. Though I wouldn’t be out here sweating my ass off if I had a stack of cash to rest back on, I still wouldn’t trade my dick for a cushy life. I never minded a hard day’s work. I mind when it isn’t working toward my goals. Extra money goes toward the studio fund so we can finally record our album. So I take another stack of two-by-fours and drop them at the back of the foundation that was just poured.
Five hours after quitting time, I’m on a different stage. Different bar. Different crowd. Same songs. The girl from Thursday isn’t here. I know because my eyes have been glued to the audience all night. I catch a few eyes, eyes that top hot little bodies with big tits and tight shirts.
They’re not the eyes I want to see, though. I have my whole mood balanced precariously on whether or not she shows up this coming Thursday.
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
4
Weatherly
“Weatherly?”
Stascia.
“Weatherly?”
April.
“Get up before we waste the whole day waiting on you.”
Definitely April.
Lifting the mask, I open my right eye and then my left. Squinting in the sunlight, I say, “Why are you here so early?”
“Early? It’s eleven.”
“Eleven?” I bolt upright. “Crap! I’m late.” While they sit on the end of my bed, they watch as I run around like a crazy person into my bathroom and straight into my closet where I tug off the T-shirt I slept in and get dressed.
Stascia is lying on my bed when I come back out. My dress is still covering my head, when she asks, “It’s Wednesday. We haven’t seen you in almost a week. You can’t hide from this breakup fo
rever.”
“I’m not hiding. I’ve been busy with classes and studying.” I tug it down and adjust it around my hips.
“Do you have to go?” She sticks out her bottom lip, making me laugh.
Hopping, I slip a shoe on one foot and then the other. “I’m so close to graduation that I’m not blowing it now.” I hurry into the kitchen and throw my notebooks into my bag before I eye the coffeepot longingly. I don’t have time to caffeinate, so I sling my bag onto my shoulder and rush out the door.
I reach the elevator before I realize what I left behind. I run back inside and find my friends still sitting on my bed. I wave them out. “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”
They groan as they get up and follow me. Stascia loops her arm around mine. “We’re going to brunch, and you’re coming with us. We miss you.”
The elevator door opens, and we move inside together. It’s odd that I haven’t missed them. Sometimes I wonder how good of friends they are, especially since I had no problem just texting with them all week. “Can’t. Have a mimosa for me.”
“We’ll have three,” April replies.
The elevator gods are on my side today. No stops and the doors open in the garage. I untangle myself and run out. “Call you later.”
They don’t put up much of a fight. I hear Stascia huff, and April says, “Juliette’s or Chez Zee?”
So much for missing me.
I pull out of the garage and zip around to head toward the school. When I reach the main road, I give the car some gas and pray I’m not singled out for being so late. My professor loves to challenge budding attorneys. She claims it’s to prepare us for working for law firms and in courtrooms.
Thank God she’s in a generous mood today and doesn’t say a word. I take notes and raise my hand to participate in an experiment, hoping to stay on her good side. I can’t screw up again. I’m in the homestretch, so I can’t afford to make that mistake twice.
