Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  “Sure,” she said as she rose from the chair. “I’ll just hand these papers to Chef Kilrook.”

  “You do that,” Antonin said with a nod. He check to make sure that that lazy Juan had adequately prepped the kitchen.

  The rest of Sonia’s first day in the kitchen tested her ability to keep up with the fast pace of a commercial kitchen during a very busy lunch hour. But she thought she performed well. None of the scallops or risotto she made was refused or sent back as unsatisfactorily prepared. At the end of four hours, though, she was heartily tired of sautéing scallops and thought she’d never want to see another pan of asparagus risotto every again. But all in all, she felt excited by her first day. Antonin ran a tight kitchen. He was exacting and critical, but fair. He gave praise where it was warranted and his heavy disapproval made more than one person quake in his or her shoes.

  At the end of her shift, she walked out of the restaurant and drove home, dreaming of a long, hot soak in the tub. She smiled softly when she opened the door to see a large bouquet of flowers on the table. She read the notecard tucked amid the fragrant blooms.

  Hey, babe,

  I wish I could have been home for you when you got off work today, but I need to be at the casino for tonight’s show. There’s a covered plate in the fridge for you if you’re hungry. It’s not fancy, but it’s edible.

  If you’re not too tired, come backstage. Wear something pretty.

  Love,

  Mick

  P.S. I got you some new bath salts. They come highly recommended. Try them out and let me know if you like them.

  Recommended by whom, she wondered. The thought was sweet and she found the prettily etched glass bottle of bath salts on the vanity’s countertop. She ran the water, showering and washing her hair first to remove the stink of grease and sweat. Then she rinsed and filled the tub, pouring a measure of the salts into the hot water. The sweet scent of white tea and ginger filled the steamy bathroom.

  When her fingers and toes wrinkled and whitened, she reluctantly left the cooling water. She took the time to blow-dry and curl her hair and apply a light coating of cosmetics. She suspected Mick’s instruction to wear something pretty meant that he’d ask her to come onstage for an introduction. He’d done it before and, while she wasn’t particularly enamored of the attention, she would do it again to make him happy. She did not want to make him feel as though she were ashamed of him and neither did she wish to disappoint him.

  She lounged in her bathrobe. She ate the ziti and meatballs Mick left for her in the refrigerator. She drank a glass of wine and watched a movie on Netflix. Then she washed and dried and folded two loads of laundry. And then it was time to get in gear.

  Sonia pulled out a dress that looked suitable for clubbing: short skirt that showed off her long, toned legs, low cut bodice that showed off her cleavage, some sequins and rhinestones to add sparkle. She had to admit she looked good in it, very sophisticated and sexy. But it wasn’t her style. She eyed the pink sundress longingly. She slid her feet into mile-high stiletto heels and wobbled for a moment before catching her balance. Her toes and arches protested. With a shrug, she draped a lightweight cashmere wrap around her shoulders, quickly transferred the essentials from her everyday purse to a beaded evening clutch, and called a taxi.

  Taxis were plentiful in Las Vegas. And she had a feeling that neither she nor Mick would be in any condition to drive home that night.

  The warm-up band played with more enthusiasm than skill as she made her way backstage, showing security personnel her pass. More than one guard’s appreciative gaze followed her as she walked away, but they were professionals and she never suspected their interest.

  “She’s not the usual sort of groupie, is she?” one of the new guys asked as he admired the sway of the woman’s hips and rounded butt as she walked away.

  “No, she’s not. She’s Mick Hendriksen’s wife.”

  The new guy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Mick Hendriksen’s married?”

  “Yeah. Where the hell have you been these last few weeks?”

  Sonia knocked on the green room door before entering, giving everyone a heads-up. As usual, the pre-show gathering was intense, but clean. Angelo shoveled handfuls of M&M candies into his mouth. Jack sipped at a bottle of water and hummed softly to himself. Kris smoked a cigarette. Davis drummed his index fingers against his thighs. Mick held his hands roughly where they’d be if he held his guitar and his fingers twitched and flexed as he mentally ran through the set list.

  “Hi, guys,” she greeted them.

  “Baby!” Mick exclaimed with happy surprise as he leapt from the chair and wrapped his arms around her. “How was your first day at work?”

  “Pretty good,” she said lightly. “I managed to avoid giving anyone food poisoning.”

  “An understatement for sure,” Mick responded confidently. He bent his head to hers and said, “God, I missed you today.”

  “I missed you, too,” she said and opened her mouth to the press of his.

  “Hey, man, not in front of us, please,” Jack pleaded when Mick’s hands gripped Sonia’s ass and squeezed.

  Mick ended the kiss and whispered against her lips, “You smell good.”

  “New bath salts,” she replied. “It seems I received a gift from an admirer.”

  “Did this admirer give you anything else?” he asked slyly.

  “He bought me flowers and fixed me dinner. I think I need to find out who this mystery man is and marry him. He’s a keeper.” She grinned playfully at him.

  “He sounds like a good one,” Mick agreed, eyes twinkling. “You shouldn’t let a man like that get away.”

  Kris made a gagging sound and said, “Oh, God, you two are nauseating.”

  “Aw, I think they’re cute,” Davis drawled.

  “Just take her into the other room and fuck her and get it out of your system for the next few hours,” Jack grumbled. Sonia gasped and Mick glowered and turned with the intent to pummel his friend clearly written on his face and displayed in his threatening stance.

  “Hey, don’t talk about her like that,” Angelo defended before Mick went flying across the room to land a punch. “They’re newlyweds. Give ‘em some slack.”

  “I should go,” Sonia said uneasily.

  “No,” Mick growled. He glared at Jack and ordered, “Apologize.”

  “Apologize for what?” Jack sneered.

  “You insulted my wife. She’s not one of our slutty one night stands and if you treat her like that again, I’ll rearrange your face.”

  Jack glared back at him.

  “He’s got a point,” Davis pointed out reasonably. “Sonia’s done nothing to deserve what you said.”

  “God, man, they hump like rabbits. He’s been twitchy all afternoon. If he doesn’t fuck her and quickly, he’ll screw up tonight’s performance,” Jack snapped.

  “Thanks for the confidence in my professionalism, douchebag.”

  “Hey, man, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

  “Do you want me to put you in the hospital?”

  “No, I want a great performance and we’re not going to get that out of you if you’re too horny to focus on the music.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck her. Please, just fuck her.”

  “I think I should go,” Sonia said again.

  “Hold on, babe. Jack and I need to straighten this out.”

  “Straighten what out? You’re in love with her; we get that. You’re constantly hauling her off to your bed. We get that, too. Hell, if Sonia were mine, I’d do the same. But you’re not focused on the band, man. You’re focused on her.”

  “I’ve written the best music in our career ever since Sonia came into my life,” Mick defended hotly. “And you have the gall to tell me that my wife, my muse, is a distraction?”

  “He’s got a point,” Davis interjected.

  “You’re not being helpful,” Angelo hissed.

  “Let it go, guys,” Kris snap
ped. “We’re on in five and I, for one, don’t want to give our opening band any further opportunity to offend our audience more than they already have.”

  Mick and Jack exchanged hard glances, but they rose and followed Kris out the door. The five men paused as the opening band finished their last song with a crash of cymbals and screaming guitar riff.

  “Their drummer’s actually not all that bad,” Angelo commented to no one in particular. Davis just shook his head; he was better, much better, and they all knew it.

  The amateurs took their bows and walked offstage. Practically vibrating with residual energy, one reached for Sonia as though she were one of the rock star groupies who clustered backstage in hope of snagging a musician or singer for the night.

  “Hey!” Sonia exclaimed.

  Mick’s fist flew, his aim true. With a meaty smack, the musician’s head snapped back and the man went down.

  “What’d you do that for?” the man whined, cupping his rapidly swelling jaw.

  “That’s my wife you grabbed,” Mick snarled. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you.”

  The musician’s eyes bugged as he took in the fury of the other man, the other, larger, hard-muscled man.

  “How was I supposed to know she’s not one of the sluts hanging around here?” he whined.

  “Because she’s with me,” Mick growled.

  The unfortunate musician opened his mouth to protest further his innocence, but Sonia laid her hand on Mick’s arm and said softly, “I’m not hurt and it’s not worth the trouble, Mick. Let it go.”

  Mick directed one last fulminating glare at the other man, then yanked Sonia into his arms for a rough kiss. The plundering kiss left her dazzled and she swayed a little when he released her. Sonia took a deep breath to collect her wits and steady herself. The emcee announced the feature act and Mick’s expression turned cool and professional and calculating. That night’s performance had him as the band’s spokesperson, an assignment that they rotated so as not to get too stale. He decided to take advantage of it.

  Iron Falcon walked onstage, Mick first and introducing each of the band members as they joined him in turn. When all five were at their stations, he added, “Folks, there’s one more member of our group. She doesn’t play and she doesn’t compose, but she has inspired the best music I’ve written. Please give a warm welcome to my beautiful wife, my muse, Sonia!”

  He extended his hand and looked at her. Nervously as always, Sonia walked to him, taking confidence in his strength and assured presence. When she laid her hand in his, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. Not a small peck. Not a chaste kiss. He practically assaulted her mouth, spearing his tongue past her lips. His hands slid down to cup her bottom and press her body against his.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he shouted, “This is Sonia, the love of my life and my greatest inspiration!” He cracked his knuckles. “Any man who touches her will deal with me.”

  The crowd grew quiet, uneasy. Kris stepped forward to his microphone and said, “And me.”

  Davis’ deep voice joined in, “And me.”

  Angelo added his words, “And me.”

  And, finally, Jack jumped on the bandwagon, “And me.” He added, “Folks, y’all know things can get a little raunchy backstage. We’ve been party to it, enjoyed it, and taken advantage of it. But no more. We have a better example to follow and a good woman to protect.”

  Jack caught Mick’s eye and the latter nodded. All was well once again between them. Mick kissed Sonia again, a slow, lingering melding of mouths that had many women in the audience sighing.

  “Can you find your way back to the waiting room?” he asked her softly.

  She nodded, trembling with embarrassment. Not only had her husband practically mauled her in public, but the entire band had more or less declared that she belonged to them. She lifted her eyes to Mick’s and saw that passion and commitment burning within the depths of his gaze. He gave her a little smile, a wicked, carnal smile, and promised, “I am going to fuck you so hard tonight, you’ll still feel me inside you next year.”

  Her flushed cheeks burned a brighter red, because the microphone picked up every word. Gasps and cheers burst from the crowd. She took a step away, but Mick grabbed her hand and reeled her back in for one last, passionate kiss. He rolled his groin into her, letting her feel his rigid erection. She gasped and averted her gaze, which met Kris’ eyes. His desire for her burned hotly and she flushed even more.

  “I’ll be at home,” she muttered and raced off the stage. Kris’ guitar wailed with an intricate opening riff accompanied by Davis on the drums as Mick launched into one of the gritty, angry songs of Iron Falcon’s earlier years. Security met her and kindly escorted her home.

  “After that little display,” the guard said to the rock star’s pretty wife sitting beside him, “you won’t want to be wandering around the city alone.”

  She shook her head and the tears began to fall. Her demeanor stiff, she thanked the security guard for driving her home. Mortification congealed into fury as the evening progressed. How dared he use her like that? How dared the band lay claim to her as though she were a possession held in common? How dared he practically have sex with her on stage? How dared he embarrass her in public like that?

  Sonia washed her face, brushed out her hair with vicious strokes, and changed into comfortable pajamas, the ones she wore during the first painful days of her period when comfort was a higher priority than anything else. Her hands trembled as she poured a few ounces of whiskey into a glass. She took a big gulp, choked, coughed, and damned near spat it back up. With a sound that was half-scream and half-growl, she swallowed another gulp and gasped at the burn. Another big swallow and the glass was empty. But her heart still hurt and her chest was still tight and her eyes still welled up with tears. So she poured another and drank that down.

  Clumsily, she capped the bottle and left it on the kitchen table. She rose, grabbed onto the table to steady herself, and then lurched toward the bathroom. She brushed her teeth with sloppy anger and then staggered to bed. Damned if she’d stay up for him just so he could fuck her.

  Angry thoughts still filled her mind when the alcohol finally put her to sleep.

  Mick immediately noticed the darkness inside the condo when he returned home. His open mouth snapped shut, cutting off a playful “Honey, I’m home!” He flipped the switch to turn on the overhead light and saw … nothing. He set down his guitar and violin and walked quietly to the kitchen where his eyes landed on the bottle of whiskey and empty glass on the kitchen table.

  That was his second inkling that something wasn’t right. Sonia drank little—usually just a few ounces of wine with dinner—and yet she’d obviously been hitting the bottle. He shook his head and headed to the bedroom.

  The room was dark, but he could make out her curled form beneath the blankets. The slow, even rhythm of her breathing showed that she slept. Mick’s hopes for wild monkey sex shriveled. He went into the bathroom, took a shower, and then slipped into bed. He curled his body around Sonia’s and caught the whiff of booze on her breath. His hands found fabric, not soft skin and he huffed with disappointment.

  This was the part of marriage that he dreaded: the disappointment, the anger, and the denial of him. Mick snuggled up to her and hoped that she would get over her snit.

  When Sonia woke the next morning, she relaxed into the familiar warmth of the man whose body surrounded hers. Then she realized her mouth felt and tasted like something furry had crawled inside it and died. The light pouring in through the bedroom windows pierced her skull like dull knives. She groaned and lurched out of bed as her stomach roiled. She stumbled to the bathroom and bent over the toilet just in time for her belly to reject all the contents left over from the previous night, plus a goodly amount of bile. The sound of her retching woke Mick.

  Familiar with the aftereffects of heavy drinking, he gently rubbed her back and held back her hair. When the heaving subsided, he gently drew her up and
sat her on the counter. He wet a washcloth and wiped her face, then retrieved her toothbrush and squirted some toothpaste on it.

  “Brush your teeth, Sonia. It’ll help,” he said.

  He left the bathroom to fetch a glass of cool water. She’d be dehydrated.

  When she finished brushing her teeth and rinsing with minty mouthwash, he offered her the water and two aspirin and directions to take the pills and drink all of the water. Then he led her back to the bedroom where they sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “Talk to me, Sonia,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low and quiet because he knew her head had to be pounding.

  She turned her head away, but he took hold of her chin and gently drew her face back toward him.

  “Talk to me, Sonia. You’re angry and I want to know why.”

  Her eyes widened with astonishment. How could he not know?

  “I don’t read minds, babe.”

  “You humiliated me last night,” she mumbled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “You humiliated me last night,” she repeated. “The whole world now thinks I’m nothing but a—a—a fuck toy.”

  He wrapped an arm around her, but her body stiffened rather than relaxed into him.

  “Sonia, the whole world knows you’re my wife and that I love you. Maybe I didn’t express that with sufficient delicacy or decorum last night, but I do not consider you my ‘fuck toy.’”

  “You made me feel like a possession, something to be claimed and fought over.”

  “Oh, honey, that’s the difference between men and women. I do consider you mine, entirely mine, and I’m not about to share you with anyone. But that doesn’t mean that I think any less of you, just that I find I’m a possessive bastard.” Her stiff posture started relaxing and he snuggled her in closer to his body. He ran the tip of his nose over her cheek, then nuzzled her neck. He placed a gentle kiss on the soft, tender skin. “If you’d allow it, I’d keep you confined to my bed, naked and wet for me at all times. If there is a God, then you’re my heaven. I know no greater joy than being deep inside you, skin to skin.”