My legs are shaking from being spread for so long. He grabs my hands from where they were clutching the sheet and pushes them over my head. He holds my wrists and straightens his legs out, keeping our bodies connected on the way down. Now his face is close to mine, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. He grips my wrists with one hand, grabs an ass cheek with the other and pulls me up. “Move with me, baby.”
Right. I should participate. I move my hips like I do when I’m dancing and he groans, pulling me tighter, then thrusting again.
The friction on top of the rolling he does at the end of every thrust is sending sparks throughout my whole body. He finally releases my hands, and I plunge them into his hair, pulling his mouth down to mine. We gasp and move together. Letting go of one ass cheek he rests his forearm next to my head then grabs my other cheek with the free hand. He uses his elbow on the outside of my leg to pull my knee up a little higher and the changed angle makes me shriek. My body flashes hot, and I can feel the pores all over my body break out in sweat. He pulls his head back to search my face, his eyes now a deep green. “Yeah? Right there?” he asks me and does it again.
I let out the same shrill sound. He makes a humming sound in his throat and goes to work fucking me. I dig my nails into his back and hold on.
In about sixty seconds, I’m falling apart again. Deklan is thrusting hard and fast. He puts a hand where my thigh meet my torso, pulling me into him as he buries his head in my neck, keeping his weight on his knees and an arm by my head, groaning out his orgasm. Even though he’s all the way inside of me, he pushes more without withdrawing, like he’s trying to burrow into my body. He does it over and over until he’s spent. It takes a while to get our breath back but then Deklan slowly pulls out of me and rolls over. I watch him slide the condom off, curious because I’ve never seen it done before… that I can remember. He tosses it over toward a trash can by the bed.
I don’t see where it lands because there’s a silver barbell in the middle of his dick that has caught my attention. It’s vertical and must be called the G-spot search and rescue. I point to it, “That’s genius.”
He rolls on his side with his head resting on his bicep and laughs. “It takes more than the piercing for it to work.”
I shake my head tiredly. “I don’t doubt that.”
He laughs again, puts his arm around my waist and closes his eyes. I look down at the arm around me. It’s the one that only has tattoos to the elbow. The more I look at it, the more I see. They’re tribal chickens! All meshed together so it’s hard to tell where one ends and another begins, but I can clearly see one that’s wrapped around his elbow. It’s the lowest one. Freaking chickens.
About two minutes later, his breathing gets heavier, and I turn my head to look at him. What the hell did I just do? Deklan Thomas just ruined me for all other men looking for a random hookup. I know from other girl’s oversharing that this was not normal. Multiples aren’t supposed to happen unless you’re with someone a long time and know each other’s bodies… or you’re with a God. Well, one thing is for sure, I am not going to stick around to get kicked out of a rock star’s hotel room.
I slowly slide my body out from under his arm, then look over at the clock on the nightstand. It’s after two o’clock in the morning, but what catches my attention is the condom that is hanging off the side of the nightstand, dripping. I walk around the bed, lean down, and watch a drip fall on the carpet. What does that mean? Does it mean what I don’t want it to mean? Maybe there was just stuff on the outside and it didn’t break? I thought breaking meant getting ripped up like a popped balloon? AH!
I watch it for five long minutes, according to the clock right behind it. There aren’t any more drips, so I leave it and find my dress. It happens to be under the bed. I can’t find my undies, but I suspect they’re tangled in the bedspread that’s half on the floor, half under Deklan. I can’t deal with it, so I leave the room and make my way to the elevator. When I get in, I look at my reflection and recoil. The whole ride down, I try to fix my makeup to tone down the just fucked look I’m sporting.
When I get to the lobby there are taxis outside waiting for the party crowd to leave. I jump in one before the club shuts down and the masses flood out. When I go to pay the driver at my house, I realize I didn’t have any money. Tonight was supposed to be on Stacie. I tell him to wait, while I use my spare key to go get my purse.
After a shower I text Redy a question, but fall asleep before he writes back.
DirtyDozen: Have you ever done anything so monumentally stupid you didn’t know what to do with yourself?
The next morning I wake up sore in all the right, or come to think of it, wrong, places. I’m in full regret mode right now. I can never tell Stacie. I still love the music, and I have a planned trip to Paris to see Rolling Bridges in three months. He won’t recognize me, I know it. I’ll be fine.
My phone buzzes, so I check it and see it’s a little after noon.
RedyGo: not lately. What did you do?
DirtyDozen: I’m not talking about it, ever. Tell me something stupid you’ve done to make me feel better.
RedyGo: I peed off of the roof of a hotel once.
DirtyDozen: Next
RedyGo: I shaved my buddies head and then he got me back by shaving my eyebrows
DirtyDozen: Next
RedyGo: Ok fine I’ll tell you a good one. I knew my dog was dying last year and instead of staying with her when she was put down, I dropped her off at the vet.
DirtyDozen: Sad. And that was stupid. I feel better thank you. Happy New Year’s btw.
RedyGo: Yeah happy freaking new year’s.
My phone rings, and I see that it’s Stacie.
She doesn’t wait for me to talk first, “Holy shit did you do Deklan last night?!”
”What the hell?” I ask her.
Stacie points out the obvious. “You were dancing with him.”
I roll my eyes and try to change the subject. “Yes I did catch that. Did you sleep with blondie?”
“Oh Carl, yes I did! And it was eh, okay. We got pretty smashed. Where were you, you disappeared.”
Thinking fast I tell her, “I went home when I couldn’t find you.” I put my arm over my eyes, thinking I’m going to hell for lying to her.
Stacie yawns loudly. “Lame. Alright I just wanted to see if you were okay. I’m going back to bed.”
“Bye.”
I click back to texting.
DirtyDozen: Grumpy. What are you doing?
RedyGo: trying to get through a yoga routine. U?
DirtyDozen: I’m about to listen to some RB and wallow in my stupidity.
RedyGo: faggy boy band. Whatever. Wallow away.
DirtyDozen: I have to get ready for the concert, I only have 3 months until Paris! jkjk
RedyGo: Who the hell goes to Paris for a concert when you live in the United States?! Obsessed much?
DirtyDozen: You don’t get it. They give me the tickets. I go overseas for the shows because I can and employees love the t-shirts from the different locations.
RedyGo: They give you the tickets?
DirtyDozen: Yeah. They do.
RedyGo: Weird, are you like a roadie or family member or something?
DirtyDozen: Enough about RB. I have more important things to think about. I’m going to wallow. Later
Chapter 9
Two and a half weeks later, I’m staring at a stick that I just peed all over, praying that I don’t get this complication in my life. It’s just stress. That causes missed periods all the time right? Three minutes, which seem like years, then I triple and quadruple check the results with the box. Double lines. Fuck. Now what?
One thing I know is that I can’t keep it. I am not going to be known as the once fat, underappreciated, number one fan that revamps herself and seduces a rock star to trap him. If only birth control pills didn’t make me crazy. Stacie and I found that out the hard way in New York. You haven’t seen road rage until you’ve
seen Ali Pierce on birth control in traffic.
I look up abortion clinics and call to make an appointment. The first available is four weeks away. I sit and stare at the wall for a long time before my phone’s buzzing gets my attention. I pull it out and see a text.
RedyGo: I have a few minutes, what’s up with you lately.
DirtyDozen: Remember that stupid thing I did? I’m fixing it.
RedyGo: Easy fix?
DirtyDozen: Compared to a lifetime of shame, yes
RedyGo: You know you’re talking weird right?
DirtyDozen: Sorry, just have a lot on my mind. Eat anything fun today?
Redy travels for his work all the time, and always sends me pictures of his meals, which are the weirdest thing he can find on the menu.
RedyGo: Nah just a burger and fries today.
DirtyDozen: Way to lift my spirits Redy. Have you found your perfect girl yet?
RedyGo: Nope. Still looking.
DirtyDozen: Do you want kids and the picket fence or what?
RedyGo: Yeah, I mean one day. I think when I find the girl the rest will fall into place when it’s meant to.
DirtyDozen: Who made you into such a romantic?
RedyGo: My mom duh. And my pops married her really quick after they met. They always said they knew from the beginning.
DirtyDozen: Lucky ducks
RedyGo: Right? I have to get back to it. Ill text you again when I get a minute. Don’t hang yourself, you’ve been extra weird lately.
Redy had become almost as close to me as Stacie is. Our unbiased opinions to each other and removed observations are refreshing. I still don’t tell him about the pregnancy, though. There’s no point, it’ll be over soon.
~
Four weeks later I’m a puking mess, and having trouble coming up with excuses at work. I get to the abortion clinic and try not to get sick. My stomach is rumbling and moving around. I go over my list of reasons why I need to do this one more time:
Full-time employee
Father not in the picture
Never going to find the right guy with a kid
Don’t want to be accused of getting preggo on purpose
I’m their number one fan, and the irony of that is sickening
Then my traitorous mind doesn’t think those are good enough reasons to terminate my pregnancy so it goes over the reasons I shouldn’t go through with this:
My parents were shitty, I can do better
I can afford daycare
Father doesn’t know, he might want to be in the picture
Would he be the right guy if he didn’t love the kid I already had?
I didn’t get preggo on purpose
If my parents knew I would turn out to be such a disappointment, would they have had an abortion?
What if my baby is the next president, or cures cancer?
So to sum up, the reasons I want to get rid of my kid are completely selfish. I stand up just as they call my name and wave as I walk back out the door.
As I let myself into my condo and turn off, then reset my alarm, I hear the unmistakable ding sound coming from the cell phone in my purse. I toss the purse and umbrella to the bar in the kitchen on my way into the living room. I unbutton my red rain coat and throw it over the back of the couch, then plop down with my phone and open the text.
RedyGo: Yo
RedyGo: Yo I have 6 minutes, where you at?
DirtyDozen: I just walked in, it's raining cats and dogs today
RedyGo: In LA? You're shitting me
Yes, we had graduated to me telling him that I live in a city of three million. I look out the window and down at my damp clothes.
DirtyDozen: Not. I have the drenched hair to prove it along with the droopy face per my mascara. It fits me in a film noir sort of way
Shit, why did I write that? He's never going to let it go!
RedyGo: How so?
DirtyDozen: Well I'm royally fucked and my life is over.
I throw my arms across my brow dramatically and flop back on the couch. Way to be dramatic Ali.
RedyGo: Wtf. What are you talking about??
Maybe he will have to go to back to work.
DirtyDozen: Nothing, aren’t your 6 minutes up?
RedyGo: Don’t worry about me I’m multitasking, so tell me what's going on
DirtyDozen: Nothing just that I had all these life plans and now everything’s changed. Don’t worry about it, you have work to do. I’ll figure it out.
RedyGo: Tell me what's going on, I’ve never heard you talk like this... type. Whatever
I sigh. I can't tell him, even though we've been best friends, if online only, for the past four years. We tell each other everything, at least I think we do. I tell him everything, anyway... well except my real name, where I work, stuff that can get me killed. Day to day stuff, sure. But no way can I tell him this. He'll find out eventually, but I can’t deal with another life decision today.
DirtyDozen: Listen I'm a trust funded tattoo artist/concert enthusiast. I shouldn’t complain about anything. My life is pretty sweet. I’m just at a crossroads and took a different turn than was planned.
RedyGo: Philosophical, interesting. Speaking of concerts are you going to Paris still for the RB concert?
I smile, thinking of the only thing that could get me to smile today.
DirtyDozen: Yup, in 8 weeks I will be eating a beignet drinking an espresso in a beret under the Eiffel Tower.
RedyGo: Well there’s something to look forward to. Just focus on that. But not in a creepy way
DirtyDozen: LOL yes sir.
Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up, but it sounds good. I wait two minutes for him to reply. Which is not unusual if he's multitasking. I light some candles to try to get rid of the nausea that the thought of fried greasy dough brought on. That in itself should provide the perfect example of why my life is so fucked right now.
I get up from my super comfy, plush ivory, suede couch swiping my leather biker jacket off the back. My spike heeled, black leather ankle boots click on the hardwood floors down the hall to my bedroom. I sit on the bench in my walk-in closet and step out of my shoes, then set them aside. Strip out of my vintage Beatles Abbey Road t-shirt and black Victoria Beckham skinny jeans. I put on a sports bra and roll down yoga pants, grabbing my mat from the corner.
The only thing that will settle me down right now is yoga. Weird that I never stopped doing it. Four years and it’s a fundamental part of my day. Stacie gave it up after six months. I set up the mat, go back into the living room for the phone I left in my purse, put it in the dock, and lose my problems for the next hour.
Afterward, I go into the bathroom, grab a hand towel and dab my forehead, catching my reflection in the wall of mirrors over the sink. Would I ever meet Redy? I wonder what he would think of me.
My sleeve starts on my wrist with blue waves and ocean and seagulls catching fish. As it moves up my forearm, there is green land with dotted trees at my elbow. There’s a mountain on my lower bicep, with sky up the rest of my arm, to my shoulder, with more seagulls in the swirling clouds. Along with the back piece and one on my thigh, I’m thinking it’s not something you can overlook.
Piercings are much and varied, tiny diamond stud on the left side of my nose, from my college years when I had it done again. My tongue has a stainless steel stud in it. Four regular ear piercings in my left ear and two on top in the cartilage. Right ear also has four regular, with three ascending in studs on the inner rim. My belly button ring is platinum with a ball at the top, diamond at the bottom, and three stars and a crescent moon dangling down.
My tattoos are bright and colorful, but there is no color in my piercings. With my long auburn hair and bright blue eyes that pop out with all of the blue in my sleeve, I’m pretty happy with how it all came together. Long hours and lots of pain paid off to show on the outside exactly who I am on the inside.
After showering and getting ready, I put on my flannel PJs, and h
ear my phone go off. It’s a message from Redy.
RedyGo: Stop worrying!!
I grin. Yes, after four years he definitely knows me. I get out of bed, go into the kitchen to grab a banana, and take it back to my feather pillows and down comforter on my king-size bed. Getting settled, I pull up TiVo on my flat screen.
Chapter 10
A little less than eight weeks later, I'm stuffing my bags in the back of my morning assistant manager, also known as my best friend, Stacie's cherry red '69 Ford Mustang convertible. I’m wearing a brown loose-knit cardigan over a military-style white, button-down shirt, with black leggings and brown slouchy mid-calf boots. My brown aviator shades match a light brown and taupe scarf around my neck ... tied European style, of course.
“Is this everything? You're taking three bags for three days?” Stacie asks.
Stacie is a showstopper. She’s totally rockabilly in a blue and white, fifties style sleeveless polka-dot dress and mile-high blue pumps. Her hair is mid length down her back, jet black with tight rolled bangs pinned to perfection. She's way more tatted than I am. All along her arms, not sleeves, just strategically placed, and on her chest, back and one lone butterfly above her ankle.
“I think I have it all. I always leave something behind and have to buy it. I’m not too worried, I have all of my essentials,” I reply.
We get into the car and head to LAX. We don’t have to talk shop, because this trip has been planned for a long time. Six months ago when they put the dates up for the concert, I bought my plane ticket.
At the airport drop-off I kiss Stacie's cheek and hug her close. I could never leave while owning my own shop without someone like her that I trust to take care of it.
“Have a great time and come home with a shirt in my size, huh?” Stacie asks, as if that's not a given. I always bring shirts back for all six of my employees, also known as the Shell Girls. “Oh and try not to bump into Deklan in the city of love, kay?” She laughs, and I chuckle with her, hoping it doesn’t sound fake.
Fan Girl (Los Rancheros) Page 6
