Faster

by Deana Birch

  “Not exactly. You haven’t paid taxes yet, but I put a chunk of it aside for when that does happen. The number in the e-mail is the number in your bank account.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “You said that already. Listen, don’t go buy a Porsche and rub it in the other guys’ faces. We have enough drama in this band already.”

  I hung up and blinked my way back to reality. My first instinct was to call my parents to prove I’d made it. But they would tell my brother, Simon. And Simon would tell his buddies, and then my old high school friends would know, and I had already seen a few forgotten cockroaches come out of the woodwork. There was no one else to tell without sounding like a bragging jackass.

  I got dressed and went to get Archie. I knocked on Fern’s door, and she opened with a wide grin.

  “I knew you’d be back.”

  Archie pushed his way out, his butt waggling and his ears back. I bent down and grabbed his neck to scratch around his collar.

  “Hey, buddy! Your mama teach you how to play blackjack yet?” I sounded like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  Fern shoved the leash and a plastic bag in my direction. I had just been told I’d made enough money to buy a house, and I was going to pick up dog shit. Leave it to the old lady to put things into perspective.

  After a spin around the block and a few hundred tennis ball tosses into the pool, I left Archie and went back into Louana’s place. I plopped on the couch and searched for the remote. When I didn’t find one, I peered over to the wall. She didn’t have a TV.

  I went back to the bedroom, dropped my shorts next to the bed, and crawled back in. I wondered at the comfort and finally allowed myself a smile. After several years and three different bands, I’d made it. There were more numbers in my bank account than I knew what to do with. And just as many ways to flush it all down the toilet. The cool cotton pillow on my cheek overrode my excitement, and I crashed.

  At some point in the early afternoon, the only thing left in Louana’s fridge was the dessert from the night before. I noticed Fern and Archie in the courtyard, grabbed the cake and two forks, and went out to sit with them.

  “What do you do here all day?” I asked Fern, handing her a fork. My new plan was to get this old bird in my corner so I could work Louana from every angle.

  “Read, sign for packages, and drink.” She dug into the cake and took a bite. “Damn, that girl has a gift. I honestly don’t remember the last time I made a meal.”

  Lightbulb.

  “What if we made dinner tonight? I can cook a mean steak.” I eyed the Weber grill in the corner.

  “I’m not supposed to have steak. But I do love it.”

  “Then everybody wins.” And I would accumulate double brownie points.

  I threw a few more balls for Archie, and Fern and I finished the dessert. Considering the week before I’d had beer for breakfast, cake was an acceptable replacement for lunch. I convinced Fern to leave Archie for an hour while we went to the grocery store.

  In the aisles, our odd coupling brought a few curious stares, especially because the amount of alcohol in our cart was more appropriate for a stag party, but the looks only made us laugh more. She could take a joke. The adult diapers were too hard to resist, and holy hell, she could dish it out.

  Back at the apartment, our little plan kept us busy. She took charge of the baked potatoes and the sangria. I was on meat duty. When the only thing missing was the gorgeous brunette I was trying to impress, I grabbed one of her towels, found my swim trunks, and dove into the pool with the dog. Fern brought out the pitcher of her specialty and we clinked to a job well done.

  I was drying off as Louana walked in from the parking side of the courtyard. She quickly surveyed the landscape and smiled even more.

  “Hi!” Fern greeted her louder than normal. “Jake’s making steaks!”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Fantastic.” The tone of her voice didn’t match the excitement of the word. “I’ll go change.”

  I tied the towel around my waist and followed her all the way to her walk-in closet between the bedroom and bathroom. “What? No kiss hello?”

  She slipped on the same sundress from the day before and smirked back to me. “If I start, I’m afraid I won’t stop. And you’ve promised the old lady out there a steak. You’d better cook it for her before she’s too drunk to eat it.”

  “Are you saying you can’t control yourself around me?”

  “I’m hanging on by a thread right now.” She winked.

  I moved her to the center of the closet, cupped her face, and planted a quick, closed-mouthed kiss on her lips, then pulled back.

  “Was that so hard?”

  Giving me her best fake sad face, she begged me for more.

  “You’re insatiable,” I scolded, walking to the bedroom. I changed out of my wet trunks and into some clean boxer briefs.

  “Did Fern convince you to buy steaks, or was it your idea?” she hollered to me.

  “She’s tricky, huh?” I said, admitting nothing as I armed my way into a T-shirt.

  “Sucker.”

  We met in the kitchen, where I beamed with pride over three enormous rib eyes.

  “Your portions are incredibly generous. The three of us will never eat all of this,” Louana said.

  “I was counting for Archie too.”

  “I should have known.” She grabbed a big bowl from the cabinet and set it on the counter. From the fridge, she took out a bag of salad and dumped it in.

  I left to check the grill. Fern set the table and Richie, the dude who lived above Fern who’d I’d seen once before, crossed the courtyard. Louana came out with the bowl of salad and a bottle of water, said hello, and offered him a place at the table. He saw the steaks and agreed.

  That’s fine; nobody check with the chef. Not that the computer geek was a threat, but I’d hoped to have the ladies to myself.

  I nestled up to Louana from behind and put an arm around her waist. I brushed her hair to the side and squeezed her into me. She let her head fall into my chest and offered me her neck. I inhaled her sweet scent. If we had been alone, I would have fucking bit her.

  Back at the grill, I flipped the steaks, then eyed the neighbor, wondering if he’d seen Louana topless.

  Fern brought out the baked potatoes and we sat down to eat. Even though Fern loved the steak, it wasn’t the easiest thing for her to chew, and Archie ended up with his own portion.

  “You certainly know your way around a grill, Mr. Riley. Thank you. That was delicious,” Louana said. She smiled and placed her napkin next her plate.

  “Ah! From The Spades! I thought I recognized you.” Richie’s body language changed to shyer and maybe even starstruck. Welcome to the world of alpha males, dude. You just basically lay down on your back and showed me your belly.

  A tight smile confirmed my identity. I focused back on the reason I sat there. “Only the grill?”

  “Drums?” Louana teased. “Stand-in dog walker?” She turned to Fern. “How’d he do anyway?”

  “Oh, Archie had a wonderful day. Those two played in the pool all afternoon.”

  We all looked over to the dog, who sat between Fern and myself, awaiting any sign of more scraps.

  “Oh! I still have some dessert from last night.” Louana popped up.

  I cleared my throat and bit a lip inward.

  “Oh, you mean that raspberry thing? We ate it for lunch, dear.” Fern waved off the idea.

  “It was really good.” I shrugged nonchalantly but shrank a little—a trained reaction of my mom smacking the back of my head after other similar confessions.

  Richie got up and saved us. “Come on, Fern; I’ll help you clean up. Thanks for dinner. Great steak, man.” He grabbed the tray and stacked the glasses and pitcher for Fern.

  Fern gathered up the plates and silverware. She walked back, but Archie stayed at my feet. Fern turned, laughed, and said, “Richie will walk him. See you tomorrow, Ri
chie. Come on, boy!”

  Archie rose and gingerly made his way back home, giving me a final appeal with his big eyes before going through the door.

  Back at the apartment, I hopped on the couch and grabbed my phone from the coffee table while Louana washed and dried the salad bowl in the kitchen. I read the latest text from Shane.

  “Thank fucking God,” I said.

  With the dish towel in her hands, Louana leaned out of the kitchen to see what I meant.

  I showed her the phone and said, “Shane and John called a truce. I’ll just be five minutes.”

  “No worries. I need to call my mom anyway.”

  She left me in the living room and my thumbs got busy responding to Shane. I overheard her voice from the bedroom; she spoke French a thousand miles an hour. It was way hotter when I knew it wasn’t her ex-douche.

  I found her in the bathroom washing her face and I plucked my toothbrush—the one she’d saved for me, which meant she’d hoped I’d come back—out of the glass on the counter.

  “You know, you and all your talents are a little annoying,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows but continued to make circular motions with her hands as she washed. “You’re like Mary Poppins. Practically perfect in every way. You probably saved a baby deer on the way to work this morning.”

  “It was a cat,” she lied, foam on her cheeks. She rinsed in the sink. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. There was this kitten on the side of the freeway in its carrier. Someone had just left the poor thing there.” With a white hand towel, she dried her face.

  “You’re so full of shit, and don’t mock me. You’ve got the chips stacked against me. You can do all these amazing things and I can only play drums and cook a steak.”

  “You can do other things.”

  She was damn right about that.

  I popped the brush back into the cup and scooped her up. I threw her little body over my shoulder and smacked her on the ass. She let out a little cry. When we got to the end of the bed, I lobbed her down.

  “Sois pas fâché,” she said, propped up on her elbows.

  “I have no idea what that means, but it’s sexy as hell.” I reached for my fly and zipped it down.

  “I said don’t be mad.”

  “Oh, I’m not mad. I’m motivated.” My shorts flew to the other side of the room.

  “Motivated?”

  “Motivated,” I confirmed. “Now that I’m pretty sure you’re almost perfect, my goal is to never let you think of another man again. I want you all to myself.” I lifted one of her feet to my mouth and kissed her black painted toenails.

  “I’m far from perfect,” she said when I got to her ankle. “I don’t have any friends.”

  I stopped and looked right into her eyes. “First of all, you do have friends. Maybe not a ton of friends, but it means you chose them wisely. Second, it’s hard to make friends in this town, so give yourself a break. Trust me, you are better off with Fern than a lot of the chicks on these streets. You’re different, and it’s a good thing. It’s so fucking refreshing; you have no idea.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Why are we talking?”

  I returned to her tanned ankle. I meant what I said about being motivated. I lingered, licked, sucked, and kissed as many body parts as I could. For her to ever think about another man again was out of the question. I worshiped her like she deserved. Her quivering lip and glossed eyes were more than enough payment for services rendered.

  ⸎

  She ran her fingers through what little chest hair I had, and I let out a small hum. Waking up was better than dreaming. Her hand moved down my stomach and brushed over the man downstairs. He was more than happy to wake up early to play. She sat up, and when I reached to kiss her, she slowly shook her head no. And all I could think was, Oh, hell yes. Her mouth made a warm, formal introduction to the man, and the voyeur in me watched her every move. And the woman had skills. Eyes, mouth, hands, and tongue. She knew how to use every tool in the belt. And the biggest turn on of all was how much she enjoyed herself. After I came, she stayed where she was for one extra beat. As if staking her claim, she gave one long, final lick from base to tip while looking me directly in the eyes. Then—and this is the insane part—she popped up, said “Morning!” and skipped to the bathroom.

  I tried to reconcile how she had morphed my motivation into her own. And succeeded, big time. I had to get my shit together. I was actually falling for this girl, and I had to leave her in another day. Figgity all kinds of fuck. I rubbed my cheeks. I needed a test. A surefire way to prove I wasn’t in over my head. My spank-and-wank list—that would assure me.

  Louana or the prom queen? Louana. Louana or that chick from Victoria’s Secret? Louana. Uh-oh. Focus. Louana or my cousin Amy’s best friend, in her bikini, when I was fourteen and she was twenty? Louana. Fuck. Louana Higgins won every time. I was screwed.

  She came back into the room in a red silk dress with tiny white polka dots on it, but I hadn’t moved. She walked to the side of the bed and sat down. When she leaned in for a kiss, I stopped her with my hand to her chest.

  “Are you a witch?” I asked, seriously considering it.

  She laughed a little.

  “No, really. I can’t wrap my head around this. Last night I said I wanted to ruin you for all other men. Not even twelve hours later, you’ve done some kind of voodoo switcheroo.” I waved my hands between us to further my point. “And now I’m the one who is ruined.”

  She laughed again and lifted a shoulder. “Sorry?”

  “This isn’t funny. I have literally spent the last ten minutes trying to think of any, I mean any, other woman on the planet I’d want in bed. And I can’t. I can’t!”

  “You’re adorable.” She kissed me on the tip of my nose and popped up to leave.

  “I don’t think you’re appreciating the severity of the situation.”

  She kept walking.

  “I’m in a rock band.”

  She nodded her head in agreement. “You’ll walk the dog?”

  “This goes against nature. Louana? Louana!”

  “See you tonight.” She waved over her shoulder.

  7

  No One’s Boyfriend

  * * *

  LOUANA‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

  We were interviewing new interns, and before the second one of the afternoon, Bob said, “Louana, if you keep being so nice and positive to all the candidates, they will all walk out of here thinking they’ve got the job.”

  “Oh. Right.” I twisted my lips.

  “I’m joking. But you are in a seriously good mood.”

  “Sex.” I gasped and covered my mouth. “Sorry,” I said in a muffled voice.

  Bob chuckled, then turned and walked into the conference room. “Don’t worry; it was pretty obvious already.”

  At home after work, I found Jake on my bed texting someone. He was in his black boxer briefs, hair still wet from a recent shower, legs crossed at the ankles. I left my heels at the foot of the bed and sat next to him.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey.” He frowned.

  “What?”

  “Bus leaves tomorrow night at ten. We’re driving to Denver all night for our gig on Thursday.”

  The haunting reminder that our time was limited had always been around. Now it was waiting to come around the corner and yell boo! It was cruel, like being told you could only have one bite of your favorite dessert before you’d have to throw it over a cliff.

  I stood to unbutton my dress and said, “Well, we’d better make the most of our time before I drop you at the bus then.” The dress fell to the floor, and I stepped out of it.

  “Pink! Oh my God. Why didn’t I think of that? Fucking pink!” He planted a palm to his forehead.

  I stared at him blankly.

  “Your underwear is pink,” he explained. “I was trying to imagine what color it wa
s. First, I was sure it was red to match your dress; then I thought you would never be so obvious.”

  As I climbed on top of him, he kept talking.

  “At one point, I went through all the colors in the spectrum, but that only confused me and made me think maybe it wasn’t just one color. Maybe it was red and white. Or maybe it was a pattern, like flowers or something, and I would never be able to imagine it.”

  Even though I was kissing his neck, he paid me no mind.

  “So then I decided to go back to red, but I couldn’t imagine you in it. Eventually, I searched through your drawers for help.”

  Cue record scratch. I stopped the kissing, pulled away from his neck, and peered at him. “You went through my underwear?”

  “Yes,” he said, without an ounce of guilt, and still very much in story mode. “And when I didn’t find anything red, I wondered if it was because you didn’t have any, or if it was because you were wearing them.”

  “How much of your day did you spend thinking about my underwear?”

  “Literally the whole fucking day, and they were pink all along. I knew they weren’t red!” He glanced back down to my bra.

  “Wow, now I’m starting to think I’m a witch.”

  “You’re my little witch,” he said, the sparkle returning to his eyes. He flipped me over and pulled off my panties, holding them in his hand while he studied them for a second.

  “Pink. Fucking pink.” He threw them over his shoulder as I giggled at the absurdity of his day.

  ⸎

  Dinner was spinach and pine nut pasta, and we brought a Tupperware over to Fern when we went to get Archie for his last walk. We took our time and strolled down to Sunset before hooking back. Jake held the leash in one hand and mine in the other.

  “Louana?” He squeezed my hand tighter. “I don’t want you to see anyone else.”

  I stopped walking. I knew what I had to say next. The words were already in my brain, cutting their way toward my lips.