Sheet Music

by K. L. Myers

  I have already tuned Sean out and am headed off the stage when he says, “So noted.”

  Who would have thought that two weeks would be all it would take for me to fall for Kayla? Eight of us on the bus has been nothing short of chaotic at times, but it also gives me an opportunity to get to know Fallon and Jenna on a whole new level. I’m surprised at how normal their relationship is.

  Offstage and aside from rehearsals, my time is spent with Fallon, Jenna, and Kayla. I initially thought that having another woman on board would be a pain in the ass, but Jenna is actually really cool. Having groupies onboard doesn’t faze Jenna in the least bit. In fact, she keeps Kayla occupied most of the time, so the guys don’t have to change any of their routines. Kayla wanted to experience our life, and she is getting to experience it in full force.

  Most nights on the bus, Kayla and Jenna are huddled at the kitchen table. Kayla writes, and Jenna reads. Every now and then, Fallon will sit at his wife’s side while she reads, drinking a few beers and tossing out one-liners when the guys and I call him pussy whipped. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around how Fallon and Jenna work so well together. Shit, the amount of mommy porn romance stories she reads hasn't affected their relationship at all, or at least it appears that way. I make a mental note to talk to Fallon about how that is possible.

  Chapter 3

  Cayson

  After rehearsal today, I pull Fallon aside and ask the question that has been rolling around in my mind for days now.

  “Dude, your wife reads a lot of romance mommy porn crap. How do you live up to that shit?”

  Fallon looks at me like I have an extra eye, then he laughs a hearty laugh before he answers me. “Dumbass, I don’t have to live up to any shit. I am the shit.”

  Fallon is an arrogant motherfucker, that’s for sure. “No, really, Fallon, don’t you think Jenna has unrealistic expectations since she reads about bullshit in those books?”

  Fallon looks completely confused by what I just asked him. “What are you talking about, CJ? What unrealistic bullshit do you think she is reading? I’m not following you at all.”

  It takes me a few minutes to really think about how I want to answer his question. “Well, you know, the guys in those books aren’t real. They say and do all the right stuff at the right moment. I mean, who really acts the way those guys do? It’s make-believe fantasy shit.”

  “Yeah, so what’s your point, CJ? Of course, it’s fantasy. That’s why it’s fiction. Jenna doesn’t expect me to be like the guys in the books.” Fallon thinks for a bit and then goes on. “Let me put it to you this way. If all Jenna read were action books, do you think she would expect me to fight off ten guys at one time and walk away without a scratch on me? Or let's say she read a book about a guy who was a prodigy, a natural at music, and picked up a set of drumsticks one day and became famous the next. Do you think that she would expect…? Oh, wait, that is me. Never mind. Bad example.”

  I toss my water bottle at him. “You’re such an ass. I guess what I’m asking is, doesn’t she expect you to do things the same way as she reads about them? You know, bringing flowers home all time, shit like that?”

  “No, dumbfuck, she’s not stupid. She knows who I am and what I’m like. Do I go out of my way to let her know how much she means to me daily? Yes, I sure as hell do. I never want a moment to go by when she’ll ever question my love and devotion to her. I’m on the road, sometimes nine months at a time. I don’t need her thinking the worst of me just because the other guys can’t be faithful. So, yeah, I text her all the time and twice as much when I’m away. Yeah, I send flowers occasionally, but there is never a day when she doesn’t know how I feel about her. We keep it real. That’s all that matters.”

  What he’s saying makes sense to me, but I know he’s not seeing the picture behind what I’m asking. “Doesn’t Jenna expect you to, I don’t know, pick her up and toss her around when you’re fucking her? You know, the whole ‘let me make you cum sixty times before I do’ and then go at it again immediately?”

  The joyous facial expression on Fallon's face changes to anger before he responds to me. “First of all, I don’t fuck my wife. I make love to my wife. Whether it's hard, fast, and dirty or slow and tender, it is never fucking with her. It’s deeper than that. Secondly, no, she doesn’t expect me to toss her around and make her orgasm sixty times. That’s just unrealistic in general. I’m human, not a robot. Geez, dude, you are really fucked up in the head about this. I think you’re the one who can’t differentiate between reality and fantasy. Look, her reading romance books is like us going to a movie. It’s entertainment for a bit, but when it’s over, we go back to living in the real world. Anyone who can't do that needs to have their heads checked. We done? I promised my wife some alone time before the show tonight.”

  Before I can respond, Fallon is heading off the stage, and I’m letting his words sink in. He is right; you have to be able to separate fact from fiction, but what does that say for my mom? My mom is an English teacher. Surely, she knows the difference between fiction and non-fiction, so why did she set unrealistic expectations for my dad to meet? That is a question for another day. Today, I need to focus on the fact that we’re in New Orleans and halfway through our sixty-day forty-seven-city tour. Kayla will be leaving tonight after the show. It’s hard to believe that it’s been thirty days since she arrived. I need to spend some alone time with her, so I’ve decided to hang back today while everyone else scatters to take in the Big Easy.

  Kayla and I are sitting on the couch watching TV when my hand instinctively rises to her face to caress her cheek. “I’m going to miss having you around,” I tell her.

  “No, you won’t, Cayson. Just think. You’ll be able to have your pick of girls again and a private room to share with them.” Kayla laughs.

  The thought of spending time with any woman other than Kayla makes me ill. Aside from that one night in her hotel room where we slept in each other's arms, we have never taken it past the flirtatious stage. But if tonight is my last night with her, I’m going to change that. Without giving it a second thought, I pull her into me and seal my lips to hers, kissing her like this will be the last time I’ll ever see her. Her lips respond to mine but take it a step further when her tongue pushes into my mouth. Wanting more, I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. Before I know it, we both tear at each other's clothes, not considering the consequences of our actions. When we’re both completely naked, my hand explores her body. The curve of her hips, her natural tits that don't sit perfectly in round cups on her chest. The way her skin stretches across her stomach, revealing slight imperfections and tiny scars. All of this makes her real to my touch. Kayla is nothing like the groupies with fake tits and hard, toned bodies. The fact that she isn’t like any of them is what turns me on the most and makes my cock hard. She’s natural; all that she is is what God has given her, not bought and paid for.

  I take my time bringing her to orgasm after orgasm with my fingers, giving her the pleasure she deserves. For once, I haven’t thought about what my own needs are; I’m getting off just by seeing how amazing I’m making her feel. For the first time in a really long time, I want the connection and intimacy that comes from being together.

  I’ve never bought into that whole dipping-my-dick-in-the-groupie gang. Groupies serve a purpose to get me off, but I can just as easily get off from one of them sucking me. I don’t need to fuck them, and I’m not building a relationship with them, so I’ve kept the emotional part out of it. With Kayla now it’s different. I want that emotional connection, but I’m not prepared for it.

  “Kayla, I want you. God, do I want you, but I’m not prepared for this. I don’t have protection.”

  Abruptly, Kayla’s hand stops as she is about to reach for my dick. “What? You don’t have a box of condoms in the room? There were used ones all over the floor the first night I got here.”

  This isn’t the conversation I want to have right now, but I guess t
here isn’t any better time than the present. “Those weren’t mine. The guys use my room from time to time. Kayla, I’ve never fucked a groupie. Ever.”

  “Whaaat? How can that be, Cayson? You’re Cayson Razor, Rock God and pleasure giver. I saw you with a girl that first night I got here, so I know you aren’t gay, and you’re surely not a virgin.”

  The edge of my lips turns up with a smile as I listen to her talk. “No, I’m not gay, and you’re right, I’m not a virgin. Lost that to Robin Baker my freshman year in high school. But I’ve never fucked a groupie. Having sex with someone implies a connection, and I’ve never had a connection with a single one of them, so why complicate the situation? Yeah, I let them get me off, but that's it. I make it clear to them that the only way they are getting off is my fingers. My mouth will never touch anything but their lips, and my dick will never sink into anything other than their mouth.”

  I can tell that Kayla doesn’t believe me. “Have you seen me with anyone since you’ve been here, other than that first night?”

  “Well, no. I just thought that was because I had your room.”

  “It wasn’t, Kayla. You can ask any of the guys, and they’ll tell you straight up. I don’t fuck the chicks like they do. Yes, I’ll grab one here or there just so I can release some stress, but I don’t do it night after night. That first night, I only grabbed that girl because you were there.”

  Kayla rises into a sitting position and grabs the pillow to cover herself. “I don’t get it. You grabbed a girl because I was there? You know that is twisted and perverted, right? I think this was a mistake, Cayson. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  An icy chill of panic creeps down my spine. This isn’t going how I hoped it would. “It’s not a mistake. Fuck, this isn’t how I planned on this going.” Reaching out, I lay my hand on her leg and give it a squeeze. “That first night when I saw you in the crowd, you stirred something in me. Then, when I found out who you were and what you did for a living, I wanted to hate you. You know how I feel about romance shit. Plus, I wanted to make you uncomfortable, and I figured if you saw what I know you already had envisioned my lifestyle to be like, you’d stay away from me.”

  “Cayson, do you hear yourself? This is all so far-fetched that I’m having a hard time believing it. I didn’t have any preconceived notion about what your lifestyle was like. I mean, yes, I kind of guessed it was crazy and full of sex, but I was open minded to learn the truth. I wanted to write about what it is truly like, not just make-believe. That’s why I’m here, to learn.”

  I can tell by Kayla’s body language that she’s ready to get dressed and leave, but I’m not going to let that happen. Faster than I’ve ever moved before, I reach up and pull her down, rolling her under me. Before she can protest, my lips are on hers, begging for her to kiss me back. I feel the moment her body relaxes and she gives in to my touch. Kayla’s lips part, giving me full access to her mouth. Taking full advantage of the situation, I nip at her bottom lip, then slide my tongue in to entwine and dance with hers. The heat between us is off the charts.

  “I want you so bad, Kayla. This is the first time I’ve ever hated that I don’t have any condoms. Fuck, I’m dying to be inside you.”

  Her hands reach up to cup my face. “It’s okay, Cayson. I can’t get pregnant.” She must see the question in my eyes. “I’m on birth control, so we’re protected.”

  I kiss her forehead and then lower my lips to her ear. My tongue lightly licks over the edge. “I promise you I’m clean, Kayla. Everything I’ve told you tonight is God's honest truth. I swear on my mom’s life.”

  The breathless sound of her words telling me to take her is all I need to slip between her folds and find the warm heat of her sex. I want this to be special for her, so I take it slow, teasing her and driving her desire for me higher and higher. When she finally shudders around my shaft, it’s all I can do to keep from exploding inside her. My hips roll several more times, pressing against her already swollen clit before I let go and fill her with my release.

  “Wow,” I say as I catch my breath. “I had forgotten how amazing that can feel. I need to do that again, over and over.”

  Kayla laughs, the satisfaction and happiness in her eyes instantly making me hard again. Hours later, she lies in my arms, as I stroke her skin and enjoy the comfort of her just being here with me. The irony isn’t lost on me that we just spent an enormous amount of time satisfying one another over and over again—something I’m sure is written in one of the many romance novels that women read—yet there aren’t any unrealistic expectations going through my head; and I’m sure as hell certain there aren’t any in Kayla’s either.

  As a matter of fact, I’m getting just the opposite feeling from her, but before I can ask her about the distance I’m sensing between us, the bus comes to life with the sounds of everyone returning from their time away. Hesitantly, I pull myself away from Kayla and quickly dress, leaving the room before anyone notices. I don’t want Kayla to be the topic of discussion and crude comments from my brothers. I’d hate to have to hurt one of them for a stupid comment they accidentally make.

  A couple of hours go by, and Kayla still hasn’t joined us, and no one has asked about her or where she is at. Looking at my watch, I tell the guys, “It’s show time.” Fallon and Jenna are the first to exit the bus, followed by Tim, Neal, and Michael. “Hey, hold up, let me see if Kayla is coming with us,” I call out to everyone. They all stop and stand in a cluster waiting for me. Quickly, I make my way back to Kayla, but she is asleep when I get there. I lightly touch her shoulder to let her know that we are all leaving and that I’ve left her backstage pass on the counter. I place a chaste kiss on her head before I leave.

  Once outside, I join the rest of the group as we make our way to the arena. Each step I take further from the bus and Kayla creates a stronger feeling of unease in my gut. It isn’t until I can’t spot Kayla’s beautiful face in the crowd that I know something is wrong. Little do I expect at the time that it will be because she left. No note, no text. I just arrive back at an empty bus, and the only remaining proof that she was ever there is her notepad.

  Chapter 4

  Cayson

  PRESENT DAY

  “CJ, snap out of it and stop moping around. It’s only been three days since Kayla left,” Jenna speaks as she placed her hand on my arm. “Kayla just needs some time to wrap her head around what is going on between the two of you.”

  “Have you heard from her, Jenna?” I snap back, not realizing the harshness in my voice. “Has she called you lately or even bothered to tell you why she left without letting any of us know?”

  Jenna stutters her words. “W-well, no, I haven’t exactly heard from her other than the text she sent telling me she’d talk to me later. I just assumed she’s been busy with her book. Just call her, CJ.”

  My eyes blaze with anger as I look directly at Jenna. “See, you have no fucking clue. Fuck it and fuck her. If she wants to talk to me, she’ll call me. I am NOT going to call her like some pussy-whipped dumbass, and by the way, I’m not moping around. I just don’t have anything to say.”

  Fallon speaks up from the kitchen area. “Stop being a dick to my woman, CJ. She’s right. You’ve not been yourself since Kayla left. The guys are out right now, dipping their dicks, and you’re here hanging out with my old lady and me. Don’t you think we’d like some time alone?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Fallon. You want time alone, take my room tonight. I’ll sleep in a bunk. I don’t care.” The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to grasp the magnitude of what I just offered. Thoughts of Kayla, and I holding each other in my bed flood my mind. The smell of Kayla still remains on my pillow and in my room. If Fallon and Jenna take me up on my offer, those smells will disappear and be replaced by their scent, and I’m not ready to let go of the little bits of Kayla that were left behind, regardless of what I said. “On second thought, dude, fuck you. You can’t use my room. I’ll leave and give you some privacy.”
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  “Well, hallelujah, baby,” Fallon says while walking over to sit beside Jenna. “We’re finally getting that alone time you’ve wanted. I’m going to rip those clothes off your body, sink myself deep in you, and show you how much I love you.”

  I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself. I just know I’ve got to get out of this bus. The heat and humidity hit me the moment I step out the door. I’m already sweating, my T-shirt sticking to my body as I walk through the parking lot to the doors of the arena. It’s pretty quiet in here right now, but all that will change in about four hours. The hustle and bustle of security, crew, and band members will electrify the air. Seeing a security guard ahead, I stop him and ask for directions to the closest room that I can kick it in and not be disturbed. I thought the dude would just give me directions, but instead, he decides to take it upon himself to show me.

  “Thanks, dude, really appreciate it,” I tell him and slip him a fifty while asking for his discretion and privacy. I’m not quite sure what I expected from my secret hiding place, but it isn’t what I see before me. Upon flipping the lights on, there is a couch, a TV, and a desk. It looks as though this is someone’s hiding place from the chaos of life. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stretch out on the couch. I know there will be no texts or calls from Kayla, but that doesn’t stop me from looking and then cursing when my screen is blank.

  It isn’t often that I feel melancholy for home, but right now, at this moment, I miss my mom. A little voice calls out in my head, God, what a pussy you’ve become. Mentally, I tell my brain to shut the fuck up, and punch in my mom’s number. It rings several times before she answers.

  “Baby boy, what’s wrong?” There is no hello or hi, just an immediate assumption made that something is wrong. Her tone reeks of concern.