Faster

by Deana Birch

  “Can Archie come out and play?” I batted my eyes to turn my charm dial up to one hundred. My four-legged buddy was out the door before she could answer, already staring at the stuffed monkey in my hands. I squeaked it a few times to make sure I had his full attention. A wink in Fern’s direction was all the permission I needed.

  Dinner was easy—just the three of us. Archie had already “killed” the toy I gave him; the squeaker was out, and the inside stuffing made a nice pile at our feet before we’d had dessert. After we ate, I walked the dog as Louana finished the dishes. It all seemed so normal, so comfortable and familiar. Like I was already living the life I wanted.

  I found her in bed and crept on top of her.

  “You ready to get back in the game?” I didn’t wait for her answer, and I leaned in to kiss her sweet neck.

  “Yes please.”

  “So polite. How can I refuse?” I moved to her mouth. I didn’t want to be rough. I didn’t want to be fast. Remembering how she took her time while giving me a massage the day before, I let my mouth loiter around her ear as she surrendered to me.

  “I love that little nightgown, but it needs to come off,” I said. She arched her back as I lifted it up and over her head. Seeing her naked put me at attention, but as much as I needed to be inside her, it was her turn to be appreciated.

  After, as we were both trying to fall asleep, I pulled her closer. Wants and needs had never better aligned. Everything about Louana sang lullabies to my soul.

  ⸎

  One of my eyes pried itself open, and I saw her swing her hair over a shoulder.

  “I ran Archie, so he’s good ’til noon.” Louana pressed an earring into place and leaned down to kiss me.

  I blinked hard and stretched my arms. “How long have you been up?”

  “A while. See you tonight,” and she was out the door. As tempting as it was to stay in bed, I didn’t want to show up to the studio next week empty-handed. I had a few songs kicking around in my head, and I wanted to get them on paper and fleshed out.

  I pulled on my track pants, grabbed a clean T-shirt, and scratched my ass all the way to the kitchen.

  Two cups of coffee and an omelet later, I sat down at the table with my pencil and legal pad. I wrote out the words I’d already thought of and cleaned up the chorus, then left the pad at the table, moved to the piano, and flipped the lid to the keys. I knew I wanted the song to be dark, but my hands surprised me by choosing a warm cord. Something was wrong. I moved to the melody. What came out was too pretty. Shit. I was too fucking happy. This song was turning into a unicorn fart.

  I blew a raspberry to the piano and went back to the kitchen for coffee. I grabbed my cup and carried it through the door and out to the pool. Once I’d plopped down in a chair, I stared at the water. What Louana had said about that piece of opera bubbled through my frustrated thoughts. She had flipped a sad song into a beautiful memory. I tapped the side of the chair and leaned back on its hind legs. My rhythm slowed, and I repeated the loop a few more times as I heard the song in my head.

  I popped up from the deck chair and hurried back into the apartment to the piano. The chords came out. I repeated them over and over as the melody constructed itself on top. I spun around and brought the legal pad back to the piano.

  By noon, I had the skeleton of a song, but I wanted to hear it on a guitar, which I didn’t have. Maybe the old bird would let me borrow her car, but I had no desire to drive out to the Valley to fetch my acoustic.

  I knocked on her door, and Archie poured out and did his ass-shake happy dance at my feet.

  “I’m supposed to walk the beast,” I told Fern. “You wanna grab a bite after?”

  “Can we get burgers?”

  She was tricky, and possibly trying to get me into trouble.

  “Only if we can stop at Guitar Center on the way back, and you don’t tell my girlfriend I fed you red meat.”

  “What’s that you said? Sorry. Age, dear. My hearing isn’t quite what it used to be. You’re walking the dog, taking me to lunch, and power washing around the pool this afternoon?” She plastered a chocolate-chip-cookie grandma smile across her face.

  I smirked. Fern didn’t have me fooled for a second. But, little did she know, a manly job like power washing actually sounded like fun to me.

  “Hand me the leash,” I said.

  After lunch, we headed to the music store. Beautiful guitars lined the walls, and I couldn’t resist sitting down at a drum set and banging out the beat from the song I’d written in the morning. The noise made Fern cringe and brought the disapproving eyes of other shoppers. I quieted the cymbals, traded the sticks for brushes, and tapped out the jazz rhythm of “Fly Me to the Moon.”

  “More your style?” I asked Fern. I let my eyebrows hop, and the old lady smiled back. I contemplated singing a few bars but was saved by an employee who walked in our direction.

  “Hey! Jake Riley, right?” he asked with his hands on his hips.

  “Yup.” I pointed to Fern with the brushes. “You know Fern, right?”

  “Uh…” He checked Fern out, unaware I was fucking with him.

  “Well, introduce yourself,” I said.

  “Hi. Uh, welcome to Guitar Center.”

  Fern shot him a disgusted look, and I fought back a laugh.

  “I heard rumors you were getting a Mapex sponsorship. You having second thoughts?” the employee asked.

  My deal with Mapex was something Phil had been working on for me, and last I knew, I was one step away from a green light. But how an employee at Guitar Center knew about it was beyond my scope of understanding.

  “Actually, I need an acoustic guitar. Mine’s in the Valley, and I’m too lazy to go get it.”

  Back in Fern’s Subaru, she said, “You’re the weirdest kind of lazy I know.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you could have gone to the Valley and back in the time it took you to have lunch with me, and in the time it will take you to wash around the pool.”

  “But then I wouldn’t get to spend time with you.” I winked.

  “Pocket the charm. I’m on her side until further notice.” She rolled down the window a little and sat up straighter.

  “For the record, I’m on her side too.”

  “You want some advice?”

  I knew I would get it either way. “Sure.”

  “I know you think she’s some kind of oasis, but you still need to work for her. You can start by taking her out to dinner. Someone who loves food as much as she does deserves to have someone else cook from time to time.”

  Fern was right; Louana hadn’t agreed to me moving in on a permanent basis. It wasn’t like she’d bought the piano. Everything was still temporary.

  We went out to dinner, and it put a huge smile on my girl’s face. Fern wasn’t wrong. I walked Archie when we got back as she packed for her trip to New York. When I came in, I sat down at the piano.

  Her hand brushed my shoulder, and I pulled her into my lap.

  “We’re not drunk. We can talk about it. I just don’t see why not,” I said. My eyes searched hers.

  “It’s been one day, Jake. We agreed to a two-week trial. Don’t push.” She started to get up, and I pulled her back down.

  “Tell me what’s left on your list.” I dug my stubbly chin into her stomach and looked up.

  “Two weeks is left on my list.” She bent down and kissed my cheek. In my ear, she repeated, “Two weeks.”

  She stood, and I grumbled.

  “You’re infuriating.”

  19

  Certifiable

  * * *

  JAKE

  I parked her tiny car in short-term parking and went into LAX to wait for her. I checked her flight on the arrival board and watched as it flipped its status to “landed.” My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I pulled it out.

  Shane calling…

  “Hey, man.”

  “Is this Jake Riley? The Jake Riley?”

  I held
my phone away from my ear and checked the caller ID again. That was not Shane Murphy’s voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I have a proposition for you. You can save your friend by coming and taking his place.”

  Fuck.

  Fucking Shane.

  I couldn’t fathom what this was, but it did explain why Murphy hadn’t returned any of my calls in two days.

  “What exactly do you want?”

  “That’s very simple.” The female voice on the other end brightened. “I want you. For forty-eight hours. To myself.”

  “Let me talk to Shane.”

  I heard rustling in the background.

  “Sorry, man. This has taken a pretty fucked-up turn. Can you come and get me?”

  “We’re at the Mondrian. Room 307,” the woman said, then hung up.

  My head dropped back, and if I hadn’t been in public, I would have screamed.

  I thumbed through my contacts and called Phil. I told him I’d found Shane and to meet me at the Mondrian in an hour. I slipped my phone in my back pocket as Louana walked out the doors.

  She wore khaki pants and flats with a white-and-blue striped marine shirt. Casual was not a look she sported often, and after six hours on a plane, she still managed to look put together. She left her rolling bag at my feet and leapt into my arms with a huge smile.

  “Thanks for coming and getting me so late. I missed you.” She wiped a piece of hair from my eyes and grinned.

  When my only answer was a closed mouth kiss, she pulled back.

  “You okay?” She hopped down.

  “I’ll explain in the car.”

  ⸎

  As much as I wanted to go home with my girlfriend, I couldn’t leave Shane in the mess he’d gotten himself into. I apologized to Louana, who said she was tired anyway, and watched her pull away from the hotel and onto Sunset Boulevard.

  I walked into the stark lobby and found Phil pacing in front of a white leather bench.

  “Head of security is on his way in, but his team confirms that they’re the only two in the room.” He rubbed a few fingers across his mouth, and his eyes popped back to mine. “You don’t think she has a weapon, do you?”

  A bald muscle man in a tight-fitting suit walked up to us.

  “Mr. Camden?” he asked.

  Phil nodded, and we all shook hands.

  “Walk with me,” he said. He led us down a hallway I’d never noticed before and into a small conference room. We all sat at a fogged glass table, and Phil and I waited for his briefing.

  “Experience tells us that the best thing to do is for Mr. Riley to knock on the door alone and get her to open it,” he said. “I’ll have teams waiting at both ends of the hallway. Once you’re in,” he looked me in the eyes, “get her to talk a little. It’s important that you don’t touch her, because you don’t want this to come around like you assaulted her.”

  I digested his words, especially the part about “experience telling him what to do” in a fucked-up situation like this.

  “We’ll knock four minutes after you’ve been in there,” he continued. “Tell her you ordered champagne but let her open the door. We’ll take her then.”

  My head shook with the absurdity. The head of security turned back to Phil.

  “Do you want to press charges?” he asked.

  “No. Get Murphy out of there and make her go away. Can I stand at the end of the hall with your team?”

  “Sure. But don’t get in the way.” The head of security sized me and Phil up one more time before tapping on the table and standing.

  In the elevator, Phil patted me on the back.

  “Better you than me,” he said.

  “I wonder how he got himself into this. He’s usually in control of these situations.”

  “Sorry he ruined your night.” Phil knew Louana had just landed, and I wasn’t jumping on clouds to rescue the lead singer of our band.

  “I bet he’s not. But I’m never going to let him live this down. Fucking idiot,” I said.

  I checked the opposite end of the hallway and saw three huge dudes in suits waiting. I left Phil and the head of security, along with two others, by the elevators. Then I walked to room 307.

  I lifted my hand and knocked three times. The door opened a crack, and an overly tanned, middle-aged, blond woman in a bathrobe peered up at me.

  “Hey.” I pretended I was looking at Louana. It worked. Her eyes lit up and the door closed; she unlocked the bolt and opened it for me. I stepped into the room and she quickly closed the door behind me.

  Oh boy.

  The only light was next to the bed where Shane lay naked, gagged, blindfolded, and tied up. The drapes were open, and the shimmers of Hollywood peeked in and bounced off the mosaic table in front of the couch. I made out some white powder on a mirror, which, judging from the blonde’s swollen nostrils, I assumed to be cocaine. Next to the coke were three diamond-shaped blue pills, a rolled-up bill with white residue, and a steel bedpan.

  “Looks like you two have been having fun,” I lied, remembering why I hated certain drugs.

  “You’re here. You’re really here. I didn’t think you’d come.” She rubbed her hands against her thighs. Yup, definitely cocaine.

  “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” I said. I crossed my arms because I had no idea what to do with my hands, and I sure as shit didn’t want my fingerprints on any of the paraphernalia around me. I said a small thank-you that there were no needles. I fucking hated needles.

  “I tried!” She glared over at Shane.

  Jesus, had she shaved off all his pubic hair?

  “He wouldn’t tell me the passcode to his phone!”

  “He obviously didn’t want to share you.” This was turning into the longest four minutes of my life. “And I don’t blame him. I’m not much for sharing myself. Let’s get rid of him.”

  “Oh, right.” She walked over to the bed and pulled a knife out of the pocket of her robe. Shit. “It’s a real shame to see him go.” She sliced the rope that bound his feet, and Shane instantly bent his knees into his chest. I wondered how long he’d been in that position.

  “Other than not giving up your number, he was a good little pet,” the woman said. Still holding the knife, she pulled off Shane’s blindfold and held his chin so he could only see her face.

  “Promise to say nice things?” she asked. Shane eyed the knife and nodded yes. She slipped the gag down from his mouth onto his throat. “I told you he would come,” she taunted.

  “My hero,” Shane said, without changing his gaze.

  The knock finally came, and she spun around before setting Shane’s arms free.

  “I had some champagne sent up,” I said. I ignored Shane’s questioning smirk behind her frizzy head.

  But her own gaze turned skeptic.

  “Ouch. You already distrust me. That hurts. See for yourself.” I beckoned the way with my arms. She slipped the knife into her pocket and rushed over to the door. On her tiptoes, she peered through the peephole. I prayed that there was, indeed, champagne on the other side of the door.

  “Aww.” She spun around and smiled at me.

  But when she opened the door, everything happened at lightning speed. The cart knocked her to the ground, and four security guards were in the room with the door shut. They flipped her to her back and zip-tied her arms around her back as well. She screamed, she kicked, and she cursed. I found a towel and threw it over Shane’s crotch.

  Two of the guards carried the woman out, and I investigated the ropes on Shane. I finally managed to set him free as Phil walked in.

  “Jesus Christ, Murphy,” Phil scolded.

  Shane laughed and rubbed his wrists. “I know, right? She was certifiable. You know, I shat in that bedpan and she actually wiped my ass?”

  “Get dressed,” Phil ordered.

  “Can’t. She threw out my clothes.” Shane shrugged.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Phil turned around and dialed a number on his ph
one.

  “Why’d she get rid of your clothes? You’d think she’d want to keep them,” I said, not sure I wanted to know.

  “It was how she was planning on getting you naked. By you giving me yours to leave.”

  “How long have you been here?” I rubbed the back of my neck.

  “Since Tuesday.”

  The hotel managed some clothes for Shane, and the three of us went to the bar in the lobby. We all needed a drink.

  One drink turned quickly into two, then three, then the bottle of Jack. Phil babysat us. He didn’t need Shane to stir up any more impossible predicaments, and at some point, I stumbled into Louana’s apartment and fell onto the bed.

  20

  Deep Waters

  * * *

  LOUANA

  After putting away the groceries, I headed to the bedroom, where I found Jake sleeping on his side. A bottle of aspirin was next to the bed, as well as an empty liter of water. Letting him sleep was not an option; he’d had the entire day to recover, and I missed my man.

  I undressed and climbed on top of him. He let out a small moan as I rolled him to his back and kissed his scruffy neck. My hands slid off his boxers, and my fingers brushed back up his leg. He opened his eyes, lids still heavy.

  “There she is,” he said, still sleepy.

  My mouth made a trail from his waist to his lips, and the tenderness changed to intensity, as if we both realized how hungry we were for the other. The pressure of his arousal swelled between my legs, and I moved him inside me. With his hands on my breasts, I pushed back and forth hard against his stomach. We kissed again, and I flipped around to face the opposite way. My motions varied from back-and-forth to up-and-down, and I changed my pace with them. Curses and gasps revealed he was getting close. When his toes curled and his body tensed, his bliss was evident.

  I lingered on him for a moment, letting him recuperate, then slowly pulled off and turned around to face him. I was about to hop off to the bathroom, but he turned the tables, pinning me down on my back. Jake kissed me a while longer, then let up, staring at me thoughtfully.