by L. B. Dunbar
She peeked up at me. “And what about me? Is being a mom all I’m going to do while he sees the world?” She shrugged as if stopping herself. “Of course, I’ve already seen most of it, or as much of it as you can see when you are in twenty-six states in as many days.”
“You don’t have to work,” I said as a statement, but it was more a question. Ivy surely didn’t need the money.
“I don’t, and I’m lucky because of that.” She lowered her voice. “But I want to.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said.
“I want to feel like I’m contributing.”
“You are, honey. You’re Ava and Emaline’s mother. They need you now.” I believed that wholeheartedly. I’d been fortunate to stay home while my children were younger, and David worked. It was only when Masie started fifth grade that I returned to a day job, more to get out of the house than to be employed.
“But what if it’s not enough?” she whispered, and I could see, in her twenty-eight years, the fear most women I imagined faced at some point. Being a mother was a miracle, and a dream, but you lost yourself a little along the way. Children’s demands, their needs, their desires all came before yours. They define you, and you don’t recognize yourself any longer. In the presence of an absent husband, I imagined Ivy’s life was as lonely as mine had been at times.
“What does Gage say?”
Ivy scoffed. “I’m sure you can guess he hates the idea.”
“Why?”
Ivy’s shoulders fell, and her hand went limp in mine. “So many reasons, but none of them valid anymore.”
“I don’t think he likes me,” I said, sounding like a teenager.
“He does. But he’s jealous. He wants to be the center of my world. It was hard when I lost my mom, and I lost him for a few years after she died. He sees you as taking my attention, but he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He just doesn’t want me to try to replace her with you.”
The words were so honest, so raw, and I gathered they’d talked about this.
“Honey, no woman is ever going to replace your mother. No one. But I’m here for you, if you want me to be. I know I live in Chicago, and you live in California, but if you want my friendship, it’s yours.” Tears came to her eyes.
“You know, I come here every year at this time. My mother loved Hawaii, and it was the only time of year I had most of her attention. I return in her memory. She loved this resort, and we always stayed in this penthouse. Silly, isn’t it?” She swiped at a tear. “But I think she knew I needed something, and I feel like she sent you to me.” Wet fingernails or not, she reached out and hugged me, and my heart broke for a girl who lost her mother too soon and was losing herself as a mother. How cruel the world could be while giving us blessings at the same time?
+ + +
The bar was large. Edged with tall tables, it mimicked a concert venue by providing standing-room-only in the center of the space. I expected the scent of beer and my heels to stick to the floorboards, but several open doors at the back of the room allowed a tropical breeze to swirl throughout, resulting in a pavilion feel rather than a closed-in club. The hardwood floors were thick planked, like a deck, adding to the casual, Hawaiian atmosphere. A long bar filled the wall to the left of us with the stage, perpendicular to the bar, set up for a band. The wide floor space allowed the crowd to participate without furniture in the way, and with the packed house, the place busted at the seams with people eager to see Collision. We had a reserved table, roped off, and guarded in a back corner. I smoothed down my hips as I remained standing, too nervous to sit yet. Although Ivy had me purchase a hippie style dress, Masie suggested I wear something different.
“It’s one size fits all, Mom. You can totally pull this off.” Convinced, I slipped into her stretchy, black tank dress with thin ribbon straps and one of Caleb’s white dress shirts tied below my waist. She shrieked after I told her the dress highlighted my unattractive bump in the front too much, so she added the dress shirt. The shoulder continued to fall, and Masie assured me that was the look I wanted.
“Mom…you look smoking hot. Tommy will drop when he sees you.” While I wasn’t so sure about that comment, I did feel good. It was a professional-slash-shabby-chic look. Strappy heels completed the outfit, taking it from what could have been a daytime look to a nighttime, dance-club feel. I kind of liked how I looked. Actually, I felt freaking sexy. With my bright-colored nails peeking through the strappy heels, I felt like I could conquer anything, including Tommy Carrigan as Lawson Colt.
However, my bravado stumbled when Tommy was introduced by the emcee, and the introduction revved the crowd to a rousing chorus of chants for Colt. Settling the crowd with his good nature and gentle laughter, he highlighted Collision. Gage entered from the left and his presence mesmerized the audience. He commanded attention, and it made sense why everyone, including Ivy, gave into him. Of course, his attention scanned the crowded bar, seeking his wife, and smiling slyly in relief at the sight of her.
“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed deeply into the microphone. Apparently, this was his signature address, and the audience went crazy as he eyed his wife over their heads. Then Petty tapped his sticks, and the house came to life with music. They played two songs before Caleb grabbed both Masie and Ivy by the hand.
“Let’s dance,” he said, wishing to tug them toward the front of the crowd.
“He won’t like it,” Ivy shouted over the voices joining with her husband.
“Do you always do what he likes, Ivy?” Caleb taunted, and Ivy gave in, following Masie’s lead to the stage. Gage did give his wife a narrow-eyed look as Caleb and Masie sandwiched Ivy, forcing her to dance. I sat back at the table and watched with laughter as Gage’s irritation grew, but he didn’t break the song. He pointed at her once, and when I thought she flipped him off, I realized she had actually flipped up her ring finger, reminding him that the huge rock on her finger meant she belonged to him.
The song ended, and Gage walked to West, stripping off his guitar and handing it to the bassist.
“How you enjoying the show?” Gage barked into the mic. “Collision is my family, but sometimes we have special guests join us for the holidays. Who’s ready for a new year?” The crowd went wild, shrieking and screeching, whistling, with hands in the air. “So I’d like to give you all a treat, and call up our new friend, Caleb, to play a bit with the guys.” The audience roused again, encouraging my son to hop on the stage and take the guitar offered to him by Gage. Tension stood between the two men, but Gage’s stage presence kept him in the entertainer-moment. He clapped Caleb on the back and pointed subtly at his wife. I noticed Ivy heading for the side stage, and I rushed to intercept her there.
“Don’t you start with me,” she snapped at her husband as he reached her. Instantly, he embraced her, kissing her in that commanding way he had and dragging her behind the stage. I remained on the side, mesmerized by my son, wondering how much he might miss a dream he was never allowed to have. David wanted a baseball player, not a musician.
From where I stood, I saw Tommy exit the opposite side of the stage. He wandered through the crowd, where he was immediately accosted with pats and hugs and women sauntering up to him. Some hung on his arm, another grabbed his ass. One went in for an embrace, jumping up at him. I stayed hidden, watching the scene, torn between watching my talented son perform, wishing he had lived his dream, and not wanting his reality to ever be as complicated as Tommy and Gage’s lives seemed. The women. The groping. The jealousy.
Gage returned only moments before the song ended, brushing past me for the stage. He hugged Caleb in that guy way, patting him on the back, and Caleb walked towards me as the crowd roared.
“That was fucking unreal,” Caleb shouted, pulling me upward in a bear hug. “He’s an ass, but that was awesome.” Setting me on my feet, I asked Caleb what Gage said to him.
“'Keep your hands off my wife.’ As if,” Caleb snorted. “Ivy’s cute, but she’s not my scene,
and I don’t play that shit, wanting another man’s wife.” He huffed, brushing his hand through his brown hair. “His wife. Jesus,” he muttered. The sentiment ran deeper than Gage’s implication. My son had every right to be pissed, but he was also pumped. The high of performing was so similar to the adrenaline of playing ball, and the buzz of being the center of things rested in his flushed cheeks.
“What a rush,” he added, as someone handed him a water bottle and a shot of something. He downed the one and then guzzled the other. Looking over my shoulder, I followed his gaze to find Tommy standing behind me.
“Got talent, kid. And fucking guts, I’ll give you that.”
“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Caleb said, the high still climbing, keeping him amped up. Tommy nodded in agreement.
“Need your mom for a moment.” Caleb nodded, instantly dismissing me with a turn for the stage.
“Oh no,” I said, the second Tommy tugged my arm, pulling me back in the direction Gage had disappeared with Ivy. “I’m not going anywhere after all those women were all over you.”
“Your dress should be green, darlin’. It’s a such a good color on you.” He smiled as he pulled me into a small, private bathroom. I was on the verge of telling him where he could shove that color green.
“Got underwear on under that dress?” he asked, eyes roaming over me like he couldn’t decide which flavor to select at an ice cream counter.
“Of course,” I barked, my blood pumping in both agitation and excitement at the way his eyes dilated to black.
“Take them off.”
I stared at him, my hands gripping the sink at my back. I shook my head.
“You need to breathe, darlin’. You’re all pent up again.”
“Well,” I exhaled. “It’s hard watching women hang on you.”
“Oh, it’s hard all right,” he said, reaching for my hand and forcing it over the thick bulge in his jeans. “But only for you.”
Our breaths were the only sound between us as our chests rose and fell like we’d run a marathon.
“Who am I in this bathroom with, girl?” He glared at me, reaching for the small sink and crowding me in.
“Me,” I choke-swallowed, his nearness lowering my bravado and the willpower to stave him off. He inhaled at my neck, his nose skimming my skin without kissing me, and my mouth watered.
“That’s right. You.” He blew on my damp skin as the heat in the tight space shot higher. “Only you.” He paused, his nose continuing to trail over my skin, pushing the collar of the dress shirt to fall down my arm. “Now. Panties.”
He pressed back, allowing me limited space, and I slipped my hand under my dress without revealing anything and slid the material down my legs. Trying to be a smart ass, I held them up to his face with only one finger, but he grabbed them. Bringing them to his nose, he inhaled, and my mouth fell open. Then they disappeared into his back pocket and a small, square packet appeared instead. I couldn’t believe we were about to do this—in a restroom, behind a stage, in a bar—but when he dropped to a knee, I had my answer. We were. His fingers found my core, damp and eager for attention, before his mouth lowered, and he sucked me hard. My hands fell to his hair, and I bucked forward.
Oh. My. God. I’d never felt anything like it. I’d had oral sex before, but nothing compared to his plump lips pumping my lower ones, parting me with the force of this tongue and lapping over skin so sensitive, so tingling, so aware of his aggressive attention. My lower belly filled with full flutters and the tell-tale sign of clenching told me I was close, but he pulled back, giving my clit a tender nibble. He stood on a rush and unbuckled his pants, freeing himself as his mouth sought mine. His lips tasted like me, and I lapped it up, reveling in the risqué sensation, just like our precarious location. His hand reached to lock the door and then he rolled on the condom.
“I don’t think the sink will hold me,” I said, pressing down on it and wondering how I’d balance on such a thin edge. Let’s face it, he was strong, but we were older, wall sex didn’t work the same as it may have in my twenties, not to mention, there really wasn’t any wall space other than the back of the door.
“Turn around,” he snarled, animalistic and ready to capture his prey. I did as he asked, and he hiked up my dress, massaging my cool backside with both hands before kicking my feet apart and positioning himself at my entrance. He pressed me forward, and I gripped the sink for leverage before he slammed into me without warning. My belly hit the edge of the sink, and my hand slipped to the faucet, striving for anything to hold me steady as he hammered into me, repeatedly filling me without nearing the exit. One hand held my hip while the other slipped forward without missing a beat and stroked that spot I needed.
I caught his reflection in the mirror. He was watching me, and the expression on his face spoke of an intensity I’d never seen. I looked away. His hand released my hip and awkwardly cupped the back of my head.
“Look at you,” he demanded. I peeked upward again, staring at our reflection. “Who do you see in that mirror, beautiful?”
“You…” I faltered, my breath hitching as he continued to pound into me, reaching a depth I hadn’t felt before.
“And?” he barked, pressing at the back of my knee so I’d lift my leg, positioning it on the corner of the sink, so he could do deeper, when I already thought he’d gone as deep as he could.
“You and me,” I groaned, feeling him hit something that was bringing stars to my eyes. The orgasm built, and it was going to be messy, but feel oh-so-good.
“That’s right. You and me. Us. Only us. That’s all there is.” I watched as he pressed forward with a grunt, and my eyes rolled back as I came big, so big it seeped out of me as he stilled his hammering and pulsed deep within my channel. I clutched at the faucet, legs too shaky to hold me, as I silently begged for the sensation to never end.
He pulled out of me abruptly, and a rush of moisture slipped down my leg. He waded toilet paper and caught the drips the best he could before pulling up his jeans. I hadn’t moved; I didn’t trust my legs to support me. Slowly, I raised my head to meet my own eyes in the mirror, dazed and wide, and a smile too bright, my lips seeming to glow in the fluorescent lighting.
I still gripped the sink to steady myself as I turned to face him. He worked at putting my dress back in place as my knees trembled.
“Give me back my underwear,” I said in a voice equally quaking.
“Nope, it’s staying in my back pocket.” He patted his ass. “Like your jealousy, tucked away for safe keeping.”
My eyes narrowed at him as he backed out of the room so I couldn’t reach his pockets. Then he held out a hand for me and led me back to the party.
+ + +
Masie was drunk.
Despite the orange underage wristband, someone had gotten her drinks that looked innocent enough, like a rum and Coke, or a vodka and Sprite. I don’t know what all she had, but just after midnight and the start of a new year, I had to get her out of the bar.
“I’ll take her,” West said stepping forward as Masie leaned on me.
“You will not,” Tommy commanded, his voice harsh and direct. “You can’t leave with her.”
“He doesn’t like me anyway,” Masie slurred, weakly waving a dismissive hand at West and answering for him.
West’s mouth opened but Tommy held up a hand. “You know why you can’t leave with her,” he said as he narrowed his gaze on West. Even I think I knew the reason—Masie was drinking underage, but more importantly, she was still in high school. The paparazzi were here in full force, snapping a few sanctioned pictures and stalking the front door for anything else.
“I’ll call you an Uber. You’ll have to go out through the back.” Tommy took care of everything, kissing me quickly as I followed my daughter into the car, begging her not to get sick in the short ride to the resort.
“Why won’t he kiss me?” she sobbed, breaking into full-blown tears as she fell against me. I stroked her hair, not having an answer other
than West saw the truth of their situation. Masie was still a kid in high school. As much as he might be attracted to her, he was doing the right thing by keeping her at a distance.
I didn’t answer her, knowing anything I said would either turn into an argument or bring on more tears, so I just held her close, praying again that she didn’t puke on me. I got her to the condo before she rushed for the bathroom. Collapsing over the toilet, she vomited, and it took all my strength to hold back her hair as my own gag reflect kicked in.
Shit.
I released her long enough to find a hair tie and wrap her hair at the nape of her neck. There wasn’t much I could do for her. This wasn’t a sick six-year-old child. This was a girl with the body of an adult who was going to have a wicked hangover the next day.
“The room is spinning,” she said, and lowered herself to the tile floor. I’d been in that position once or twice. I’d dealt with David numerous times like this. The best solution was a towel for a pillow and the cool tile beneath her. The toilet in close proximity was the smartest thing.
Exiting the bathroom when it looked like she’d rest a moment, I entered my room and sat in a wicker chair near the window. The moon was full. It was a new year, a fresh start, another cycle. Only I didn’t want to circle back. I couldn’t return to who I had been, when I returned home. Tommy had changed so many things in what I did and how I felt, and I didn’t want to give him up. I sighed, stroking my neck, remembering the nearness of his nose, his breath, and the teasing of his lips. When it was time to let him go, I didn’t want to lose this feeling.
