Ready to Love

by Franca Storm

  “Talk to him, Nicki.”

  “Not until he apologizes.” Like I’m gonna put myself out there just for him to tell me that I was overreacting and to get a fucking grip like he’d said that night. Argh! “Can you change the rooming situation at the hotel for the night of the Eclipse show? I don’t wanna be sharing a room with him right now.”

  “Can’t, babe. It took all of my persuasion skills to get the rooms we have cuz the hotel was so booked up.”

  Oh shit. “Then I’ll stay in your room.”

  “Bring some earplugs then. I’m planning on having some fun while we’re there.”

  Urgh. Great. Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosers. “Sure. Thanks.”

  Chapter 36

  ~John~

  I park my truck on the street outside my parents’ house. It’s better this way. If I park in the garage, I can’t make a quick escape.

  Shit, this week is sucking big time. Nicki and I are in the middle of a stupid fight over what happened at the gig. I thought, if she had some time to calm down, she would come to her fucking senses and apologize to me. But she hasn’t. Stubborn-ass woman!

  The only contact I’ve had with her over the last few days is a brief text message exchange where I messaged her: If You Don’t Know Me By Now—Simply Red.

  And she responded with: Every Rose Has Its Thorn—Poison. No apology. Just that icy message. Well, hell if I’m gonna be the one to sort this mess out and apologize. She’s the one in the wrong, the one who overreacted.

  But I fucking miss her. That woman is my goddamn other half. Everything is wrong without her, without seeing her, talking to her. So empty and pointless. I need to see that cute look she gets when I do that thing to her hand that gets her turned on and shy at the same time—my thumb drawing slow circles on the back of it. It gets me every time.

  And my dick hates me too. I want her back in my bed. It’s like a physical craving, or some shit. I want those soft fingers of hers running all over me; her mouth on me, wrapped around my dick. I wanna sink into her tight little pussy and see that look on her face when I make her come. So damn sexy. Just the thought of it is tempting me to give in. She’s beyond addictive. It’s taking all my self-control not to knock on her door and drop to my knees begging for her forgiveness. But I’m not gonna give in. I’m not some pussy who’s gonna take shit from any woman; not even her. She’s in the wrong here, not me. And she better figure that out soon.

  On top of all of that is the call I got from my dad at the crack of dawn this morning. He’s called a meeting. Didn’t tell me what it’s about, so that’s got me majorly on edge. Lately, he’s come to accept my music and the band, but with this meeting now, I’m worried he’s going back on that and falling back into disapproving father mode. After all, that’s how we’ve always operated.

  I brace myself as I walk in through the garage entrance. I don’t need to use my key as it’s already unlocked. Hmm…worrying. Not a fan of that. Great. It’s just making me more on edge.

  “My office!” he calls out, his commanding voice echoing down the hall.

  Shit, how does he know I’m here already? I glance down at my boots. It must be the sound of them squeaking on the hardwood floor.

  I reach his office at the end of the hall, briefly wondering where my mom is—probably out shopping as usual—and push open the door.

  He’s sitting behind his desk, leaning back casually in his massive brown leather chair. To my surprise, his face lights up as I shut the door behind me and walk on in. That’s a first. Every time we’ve met in his office in the past, all I’ve seen from him is a stern, disapproving glance. We only ever meet in here for one reason: to discuss serious matters.

  “Dad,” I say with a head nod as I slump into one of the chairs opposite him. They’re high-backed, uncomfortable old wooden things. I’ve always thought they’re probably here on purpose to put his visitors even more on edge. A power play of some sort. God knows, my dad is a fan of that. He’s all about power. Fucking hotshot lawyer. But who am I to judge? I’ve got my own issues with that.

  “Son,” he says with a smile.

  A smile? Wasn’t expecting that. Every time we have one of these meetings it usually ends up with me getting my ass handed to me. Meetings. So fucking corporate. I’m his son for Christ’s sake. Why can’t it be a get together or something, instead of being so damn official?

  “What’s up?” I ask, my eyes straying to the papers spread out on his desk in front of him. It only takes a second for me to realize what they are: my college transcripts. I tense immediately. Shit. Here we go. Get ready for the shit to hit the fan.

  He follows my gaze and then his eyes dart to mine. “Your grades have improved.”

  “Something we already discussed at dinner the other day.” A weak shot on my part, because I know he’s not gonna drop it. But anything’s worth a try.

  “I can see that,” he says, glancing at the transcripts. “It’s brought your GPA up a little for the first time in the last couple of years. But it’s still at 3.2.”

  “And 3.2 isn’t enough?” I respond, a noticeable edge in my voice.

  “You’re a 4.0 student, John. At least you should be. I know what you’re capable of. You’re smart, son. Incredibly smart.”

  “Dad—”

  He cuts me off. No surprise there. “You know what that tells me?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and steel myself. “What?” I grit out.

  That unnerving smile of his is back as he says, “It tells me you don’t want to be there. Law isn’t for you. You have no passion for it. You’re just doing it to pacify me. It’s just a familial duty to you.”

  Wow. Talk about hitting the nail right on the head. Where is he going with this?

  He leans back in his chair and sighs. It’s a heavy, weary sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?”

  “For pushing you. I wanted you to have a career and following in my footsteps is the path to a very lucrative future, John. If you gave a damn about it, of course. But you don’t.”

  I shake my head. “Dad, we’ve had this conversation a million fucking times. I can’t do it again, okay? What do you want from me? I’m doing what you want. My grades are up now. What more am I supposed to do to get your off my back?”

  “Follow your own path.”

  I jerk back like he’s just slapped me. “I—I don’t—what?”

  “Like I mentioned at dinner the other day, I’ve been examining your music career. I was wrong. It’s not just a hobby. You’re building a business out of it. And I’ve looked into that show you’ve booked at Eclipse and I understand what it means to someone in your business. I had your mother explain it to me as well, seeing as though she used to be in the music world too.”

  Okay? Whoa.

  He leans forward across the desk, his eyes locking with mine. “So, this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna give you a year to focus solely on your music. And I’ll back you with whatever you need. I’ll put the same into it that I would into another year at college. But you continue working to finance your living expenses.”

  “You’re telling me to drop out of college?” I ask, wondering if I’m dreaming here.

  “That’s what I’m saying. Finish up this year and then you take a year out to explore this. We’ll reevaluate once the year is up. It’s what you really want to do, isn’t it?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Good. Then we have a deal?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need your money. I’m good.”

  “John—”

  “No. If I’m gonna do this, I do it on my own. As a man, Dad. You hear what I’m saying?”

  Something flashes in his eyes then. I’m hesitant to believe it, but it looks like pride. Well, fuck me. He nods. “The backup’s here if you need it.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  I rub my eyes, trying to wrap my head around what’s happened here. I’ve finally just been relieved of these bullshit fa
mily obligations. I’m finally free to spread my fucking wings without judgment or threats. Wow, I feel like a massive weight has just been lifted off my shoulders. No more monkey on my back.

  “Well, okay. So, we’re good here?” I ask, making a move to get out of my chair.

  He stops me with, “How are you and Nicki doing?”

  “Fine,” I fire back, instantly defensive. Dammit.

  “What’s the problem?” he asks, seeing right through me.

  I tug at my hair for a moment and blow out a breath of frustration. Just thinking about what’s going on with her and me aggravates me beyond belief. “It’s a lot of ridiculous drama.”

  He laughs.

  “I said drama not comedy, Dad.”

  “Sorry. It’s just, I forget she’s your first actual girlfriend.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, if you don’t want the drama, you shouldn’t be in a relationship.”

  “Come on, Dad.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Well, she’s being ridiculous.” And then I can’t stop myself. I haven’t talked to anyone about this. No point talking to Mitch, cuz he’s more of a mess when it comes to relationships than I am. I end up letting it all out, telling my dad all about Nicki’s freak out at the sorority party about all the other girls coming onto me since word got around about Eclipse.

  “I’m still waiting on her damn apology,” I tell him.

  “You idiot,” he says, just barely holding in his laughter once again.

  “What?” I snap. “She’s the one being—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he cuts in. “Relationships aren’t about being right. They’re about compromise. Knowing when to back down and let things go.”

  “I didn’t even lay a hand on any of them. I told her I loved her for fuck’s sake and it’s still not enough for her? Shit. Does she want my blood or something?”

  “You meant it?”

  “Yeah, I meant it.”

  “Good,” he says smiling happily. “Now, just show her. She’s obviously insecure about the girls. You need to show her there’s no need to be.”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “Not to her. Remember, she’s inexperienced. You need to be the bigger person here. The rational one. If you want to be with her. If you don’t then just force that apology from her and go your separate ways.”

  Argh. Nice shot at reverse psychology. Although, I’m not stupid enough to fall for it, I still know he’s right.

  “Swallow my pride?”

  “Be a man,” he says.

  “So, being a man means backing down when I’m in the right?”

  “It means learning how to pick your battles.” He gets up and walks around his desk. I stand up to meet him and he slaps his hand to my shoulder. “You want to keep a gem like Nicki? You want the long haul, son? Then you’ve got to learn to let go of the little things, that immature part of you that always has to be right, that always has to win. And let go of the power struggle. That kind of thing is a death sentence to any relationship. Sorry, but you get that megalomaniac trait from me. But I never bring it around your mother, never into our marriage.”

  Dammit. That’s gonna be easier said than done. It’s ingrained in me. I grunt a response.

  “And, remember, words don’t mean as much to women as actions do. You understand me?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

  He smiles and leads me out of his office.

  “You feel like watching the game with me?” He glances at his Rolex. “It starts in ten minutes.”

  I can’t believe it. We haven’t done that since I was a kid. Before all the disappointment kicked in and we grew apart. This is a major peace offering from father to son here and it’s not lost on me.

  “You got beer?” I ask, grinning at him.

  “I do.”

  “Then I’m in.”

  He laughs and slaps me on the back as we head into the kitchen.

  Chapter 37

  ~Nicki~

  Smiling, I gaze down at my upper left arm. It’s wrapped up right now but knowing that my brand new tattoo is beneath it makes me really happy. It’s a fist with arching black text that reads: It ain’t about how hard you hit.

  Ever since I heard Balboa utter those words to his son in Rocky Balboa, I’ve wanted to incorporate them into a tattoo. It sounds cheesy, but the words spoke to me. I’ve had to get back up after several nasty blows—metaphorical and real—and every time, it’s made me stronger. I haven’t let it break me. And this tattoo is a reminder that I never will. I love it.

  As I make my way back into the waiting room, I’m surprised to see that Chloe isn’t where I left her on one of the three oversized black leather couches by the window. That’s odd.

  I walk up to the counter and pay, both for the tattoo and the tattoo goo they give you to protect and speed up the healing. I hate the healing process. Although not everyone’s skin crusts during it, mine did last time and I’m sure it will again. But it’s well worth it once it heals.

  I’m about to leave when Chloe calls out to me.

  “One second, babe.”

  I spin around and find her also paying at the counter.

  “What did you get?” I ask.

  As she makes her way over to me, she sticks out her tongue and I can’t help the shriek that erupts from me when I see the silver stud there. “No way!”

  She grins. “Yes way. How hot is this, huh?”

  “Holy shit. A tongue piercing?”

  “Imagine what I can do with this?”

  I screw up my face. Urgh. Gross.

  She wraps her arm around me and leads me out of the shop. “Nicki, you’re such a prude.”

  “I am not a prude!” I fire back.

  “Yeah? Then tell me something,” she challenges.

  “Like what?”

  “Anything about sex.”

  I think for a moment. My only sexual experiences have been with John and I’m not talking or thinking about him right now. We’re in a fight and I’m trying to remain strong. So, he’s off topic. So, it’ll have to be something about Chloe’s sex life. Aha! There is something I’ve actually been curious about for a while.

  “Um, well, is it true…about Mitch?”

  “Say it,” she presses.

  Oh my God. I can feel my cheeks warming just thinking about it. “You already know what I’m gonna say.”

  “I know, but I’m not gonna answer until I hear the actual words.”

  “Argh! You’re infuriating.” I struggle to get out the words, “Does he…is his…dick…really pierced?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow! Does it feel weird?”

  Her eyes light up. “It feels amazing. So much so, that I hit on one of the guys in that tattoo place. Has his dick pierced too. We’re going out in a few days. He’s gonna let me go to town on that. And…” she pokes her tongue out, flashing her stud, “I’m gonna try this out.”

  We both burst out laughing.

  Wow, being with Chloe really brightens up everything around me. I’ve always held back with her before. She’s so free and she’s really experienced when it comes to sex. And, until a little while ago, I’d never even had sex, so I was always self-conscious around her. But now everything is different. I feel…freer now. And she’s right. I can talk about it with her now.

  I touch the bandage on my arm and my smile fades. I want to show John my new tattoo. He’d get it right away. He knows me so well. But I can’t. He won’t apologize and I’m sure as hell not going to. I really miss him, but I don’t want him to think he can get away with flirting with all his groupies when we’re supposed to be together.

  Stay strong, Nicki. Don’t think about him.

  Chapter 38

  ~John~

  I glance at the shit all over the kitchen table. Junk food everywhere. It looks like Mitch is having a movie night.

  “What’s all this for?” I ask him as he walks into th
e kitchen.

  “Shit, sorry, I didn’t think you were gonna be back until later. You said you were hanging with your dad again?”

  Yeah, ever since our talk in his office, we’d broken through all our years of bullshit and we’ve actually been spending some father-son time together recently.

  “Yeah, man. I’ve been gone for most of the day.”

  “Right. Sorry,” he struggles. He looks as uncomfortable as hell. “It’s just…Nicki and Chloe are coming over for movie night.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Chloe and I are trying to get back on track as friends after our slip up. This is my peace offering. She’s bringing Nicki as a buffer.”

  “Oh.” I can’t believe it. She’s been skillfully avoiding me these last few weeks. Ever since I spoke with my dad about her, I realized I needed to be the bigger person and end this shit between us. But she won’t pick up her phone or answer her door. So fucking stubborn! And now, she’s coming here, to my apartment?

  “Look, I’ll cancel it. I really thought you’d be gone all day. If I’d known, I never would’ve—”

  I hold up my hand. “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll go for a drive. Text me when they’re gone, yeah?”

  He nods. “I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean—”

  “Mitch. It’s fine. Really,” I say, reaching for my jacket.

  I feel his hand on my arm suddenly. “You got new ink? I wanna see.”

  I pull my arm away.

  “Come on. Don’t be a pussy about it.”

  “Fine,” I grumble turning so he can get a look.

  He gasps as he sees what it is. “What the hell? When did you get this?”

  “A couple of weeks ago.”

  “A couple of weeks ago? The day your dad basically told you to drop out of school?”

  “Simple way of putting it, but yeah. I’ve just had it covered up waiting on it to heal and shit. It’s why you didn’t see it until now. Why?”

  “It’s around the same time Nicki got new ink. Man, you guys are alike. You clearly even think alike.”

  “She got another tattoo?”