by A. E. Neal
"Well, it should be! This is the best fucking day of my life, gentlemen," he announced.
We raised our beers and toasted to him and Ally's happiness. He recapped his proposal and the guys congratulated him with pats on the back, fist bumps and high-fives.
Brody was a pretty good guy. I'd known about his past and I knew he had turned over a new leaf when he met my sister. It was one thing to be the town's star hockey player and most eligible bachelor, but it was an entirely different story if you could handle my sister. I had to applaud his effort.
"I've gotta practice tonight, so you boys stay outta trouble," he said as he finished his beer and got up to leave.
"Later, man," we said in unison, waving.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket again. It was already almost seven thirty in the evening and I still hadn't heard from Kennedy. Usually, she didn't let shit like this get to her so easily.
Me: Hey. We ok?
I stared at the screen briefly before hitting 'send'. I waited for her to respond, but Alex was getting anxious to play. He'd already stood up on top of the table twice to rally the small crowd gathered at Epic. I put my phone on mute and shoved it back in my pocket.
"You ready for this?" he asked as we plugged in our equipment.
"Lets do this," I said and Chris nodded.
We'd been practicing a new mash-up of Lullaby by The Cure with a side of Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes. I was pretty stoked to play it tonight, since we'd finally perfected the chorus.
Alex performed his usual sound check, tapping the microphone a few times before speaking. "I've gotta a good one for you tonight," he said as he adjusted the volume. "Check, check."
Chris and I were already used to his cheesy jokes and I knew tonight's would be just as bad. "Here we go," I said to Chris who cringed once Alex began.
"A guy goes to the store to buy condoms and the cashier asks him if he needs a bag. 'No', the guy says, 'she's not that ugly'."
The crowd erupted in laughter and I felt like hiding my head between my legs.
"Thank you, thank you," Alex said as he took a dramatic bow. "For those of you who don't know us. We're HashTag." He threw in a hand motion, making a 'v' with both his index and ring fingers, then slapping them over each other in what looked to be his rendition of an actual hashtag.
In that instant, I came to the conclusion that Alex had been watching way too many YouTube videos. I signaled that he needed to quit messing around and start playing music. He pulled his guitar strap around his neck and nodded. That was our cue. Chris started in with drums, and I followed suit.
Over the next few songs, I scanned the crowd like always, searching for Kennedy, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. I brushed it off, since I knew she was probably still pissed at me for showing up at the shop, but over the last few months, she'd never missed us play, even when we were fighting. She really was being stubborn tonight.
Chapter 4
Kennedy
By the time I finished Jenna's tattoo, I was exhausted. It was just past eight o'clock when I locked the door to the shop and started cleaning up. Gage and Wren had already gone home for the day and I was thankful that I didn't have to answer any more questions about Zac's behavior earlier. I had all night to beat myself up over our conversation, but no matter what kind of sense I tried talking myself into, none of it seemed logical. We couldn't be together. End of story.
I wiped down my table and sanitized my gun. It was times like these when I wished I could talk to Ally about my guy problems. Part of me wanted to just get it over with, but on the other hand, I liked keeping our secret, because it meant we were still just friends...with benefits. I gathered my things and headed out the back.
The night sky was clear and stars speckled the horizon like tiny silver sprinkles. I didn't want to face Zac, but I hadn't missed one of their shows since we started our sex-capade. And, as if my car had a mind of its own, I pulled into the brightly lit parking lot in front of Epic. I sat for a few minutes, checked my phone and lo and behold, there was a message from Zac. He'd sent it a few hours ago and I wondered how I hadn't heard my message alert.
Zac: Hey. We ok?
I smiled and shook my head. Of course, we were, but I still had a few things I needed to get off my chest.
Me: We still need to talk, but we're good.
I waited for a moment before realizing he must have been on stage by now. I locked my car door and headed into Epic. HashTag's music blared through the speakers and I found an empty spot at the bar.
"Hey, Kennedy," Finn said as he poured the couple next to me drinks. "Whatcha drinkin' tonight?"
"Can I get a vodka tonic?" I asked and he nodded.
The bar was busier than I'd seen it in a long time. Most of the college students had just finished up finals week and, of course, that was enough to celebrate for.
"Kennedy, right?" the seemingly familiar voice asked and I turned, surprised to see the tall, handsome guy I'd been drooling over from earlier in the day.
"Hey, Deacon," I said and he smiled. He was dressed in jeans and a fairly tight, worn, black t-shirt with a baseball cap on.
"Do you come here often?" he asked and I giggled.
"Nice pick-up line, Romeo," I teased. "My friend plays the bass."
He glanced toward the stage. "Oh right. The guy from earlier," he said and I could hear the skepticism in his voice. "Is he your boyfriend?"
"No," I said as Finn placed my vodka tonic on a napkin in front of me. "Thanks, Finn." He nodded and rushed over to help another group of cackling girls at the far-end of the bar. I turned to face Deacon. "We're just friends," I lied, because I didn't want him to get the wrong idea about me, right out of the gate.
Even though I'd sort of forgiven Zac for being such an ass, I'd given myself a new mission for the night. If Zac had no remorse over sleeping with groupie whores, I wanted to have my own fun, too.
"Where you from, Deacon?" I asked as I sipped my drink.
He relaxed a little and leaned in closer to me, just enough for me to catch a whiff of his cologne. He smelled amazing and just like that, I wanted to know everything there was to know about Deacon.
As it turned out, he was pre-med at Harvard and moved back to Arizona when his father was diagnosed with cancer. He transferred to U of A and was living with his mom while his dad was in the hospital. He volunteered at the hospital to be closer to him and luckily, he had tonight off. It was his first night off in twelve days.
We talked, drank and shared a basket of French fries. Before I knew it, it was already close to midnight and I could feel the alcohol buzzing through my veins.
"Wanna get outta here?" he asked.
"Sure."
"We can go to my place, if you want."
A sudden pang of guilt washed over me and I was second-guessing my motives. The gorgeous guy sitting next to me had been a gentleman all night, and not once had he mentioned anything about wild animal sex or shared any disgusting bathroom stories. He was actually quite normal, which was something I wasn't used to.
"That actually sounds perfect. Mine is kind of a mad house, right now," I said and he nodded in agreement.
He paid our tab, held the door open for me and wrapped his leather jacket around my shoulders to keep me warm. All things Zac would never think about doing for me. He opened the passenger side of his black BMW and I slid in over the soft leather seat.
Holy crap! This guy isn't real. He couldn't be. No one this perfect exists, I thought.
I smiled brightly as he got in and we headed to his place. After a few miles, he turned a corner and followed a long driveway that led to a massive adobe-style mansion. It was a mansion, trust me. It must have housed at least six bedrooms, with who knows how many bathrooms, and once we were inside, Deacon led me through to his side of the house. A huge game room with a pool table, pinball machines and...
"Shut the front door...you have an original Pac-Man arcade game?" I squealed.
I ran over to the f
amiliar yellow console and watched as the ghosts chased Pac-Man across the screen.
"Here," he said and hit the start button.
The familiar music began and I was instantly transported back to my childhood. I remembered standing in the middle of the arcade as I waited impatiently for my dad to get tokens from the change machine. The moment he dropped the little gold tokens into my hand, I would disappear into the sea of stand-up arcade games for hours. All of the other kids played the newer games like Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat, but I loved the classics and Pac-Man was my favorite.
"This was my all-time favorite game as a kid," I said and I knew I was beaming ear to ear.
Deacon left me alone with the game, and I think he feared I might start licking the screen or something equally bad. Thankfully, I was able to practice some self-control, keeping the thoughts of screen-licking to myself. I played three games, finally giving up because I remembered how addicting it was and I didn't want to be a bad houseguest.
"Something to drink?" he asked from behind the built-in wet bar.
"Jesus, no wonder you moved back in with your mom. This house is amazing," I babbled, forgetting that he actually asked me a question. "Sorry, I'm just excited with all this stuff around. I'll have whatever you're having."
I followed the room, admiring the old movie posters and unusual artwork that adorned the walls. There was so much to look at. From collectibles, signed baseballs, football jerseys, hockey pucks and a replica of the Stanley Cup in a glass case near the pool table. I was in awe.
Deacon slipped his hand around my waist and I turned to face him. He held out a glass filled with amber liquid and ice.
"Bourbon," he offered and I took a sip. It burned a bit on the way down, but I instantly felt more relaxed.
"Come," he said and took my hand. "Lets play a game." He'd already had the balls racked in the center of the pool table.
After the first game, he came up with new rules. Every time one of us scratched, we had to take an article of clothing off. By the third game, I was down to my bra and panties. Deacon, on the other hand, had only lost his shirt, which was fine by me. The new tattoo Gage had given him across his shoulder blade glistened in the dim light and I caught myself staring at him for the umpteenth time.
Damn it! No wonder I was losing.
I blamed it on Deacon; every time I tried to take a shot, he'd distract me. Whether it was a pinch to my ass or him whispering dirty shit in my ear like, "You can rack my balls, anytime". I leaned forward to gather the rest of the balls, but Deacon stopped me. His warm hands were on my waist, pulling me into him. I turned around to face him.
He reached out and gently brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. I nuzzled into it, inhaling his exotic scent. His dark eyes filled with need and I'd seen that look before. I moved closer and I could feel his hot breath on my lips, hoping he'd make the first move, but he stayed still. I pulled back and looked at him, searching for his answer to my unspoken question. He was smiling.
Oh, well if he wants to play hard to get, I was game, I thought.
I traced his arm and he leaned in closer, whispering, "Is it too much for me to ask if I kiss you, now?"
His words sent my body into overdrive. I couldn't actually form the word, yes, so instead, I just nodded and bit my lip.
"Lay on your back and close your eyes," he said and I hung on to every word. I shimmied myself onto the edge of the pool table and laid back.
He drew large circles around my breasts and I tried to catch my breath as he moved over my puckered nipples that were aching to be released from behind the fabric of my bra. "Your skin is like porcelain. So beautiful and soft."
He lowered his body over me and his lips found mine. He tasted like cinnamon and bourbon. My body ached for his touch. Our tongues swirled together, like a passion-seeking tornado and my hands finally met his bare flesh under his t-shirt. I couldn't stop myself from exploring. The tight muscles over his stomach flexed as we moved and I followed each line with my fingertips. My heart raced and the need for him pooled in my belly.
He took my free hand and guided it along the waistband of his jeans. I found the button and tugged at it until it popped free. I wanted to rip them off, just so I could taste every inch of his body, but he sensed my urgency and pulled away, heaving.
"Take it easy, sweetheart. We have all night," he whispered.
All night? Who was he kidding? I had yet to meet a guy who could keep me up all night. That wasn't saying much, since my current sex life consisted of one guy in particular. The one guy, who's image I couldn't get out of my mind while I was laying on a pool table with Mr. Sex-On-A-Stick. Zac, the same guy who made crude jokes at dinner, and farted in public. Guilt washed over me again. I pulled myself up and adjusted my bra.
"I'm so sorry, Deacon. I just can't do this," I said, hearing the panic in my voice. Confusion filled his eyes as he cupped my jaw with both hands and pulled me down to look at him.
"I understand. It's alright," he said softly and placed a light kiss on my forehead.
He understands? What. The. Hell? So, not only was he the nicest and most generous guy I'd ever met, but he was willing to wait?
"Huh?" I asked, since I wasn't sure I heard him right.
"I can take you home, if you want. There's a bathroom down the hall on the right, if you need a minute."
"Uh...thanks," I said. I gathered my clothes off of the floor and made my way down the hallway into the bathroom, which by the way, was enormous. I could see myself spending whole days in the two person shower and the bathtub that looked more like a small lap pool was beyond anything I'd ever seen before in my entire life.
Something about this guy was off though, I could feel it in my gut. What kind of college student lived with his mom and volunteered at a hospital? He could be telling me the truth, but his demeanor changed as soon as we set foot in the 'paradise' he called home.
I dressed and I checked myself in the mirror, deciding I was presentable even though my cheeks were still flushed, which could have been from the bourbon or the fact that I was about to have sex with a complete stranger.
God, I needed look up a good psychiatrist when I got home.
Deacon was waiting in the game room for me, still looking calm and collected.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"No, not exactly. We're not leaving until you answer something for me," I said and I felt the heat in my cheeks spread.
What if he really was a roofie-wielding psycho?
"Okay," he said and took a seat on one of the stools at the wet bar.
I crossed my arms over my chest and took a deep breath. "You said you moved back from Harvard to help take care of your dad. You drive a brand new Beemer, you live in this house and you're a total gentleman. It doesn't make sense," I said and it looked like he was on the verge of laughing.
"I don't understand. What exactly doesn't make sense?" he asked.
"All of it. Start from the beginning. I'm all ears," I said as I motioned for him to keep talking.
"The house belongs to my father. He's a wealthy businessman. Everything in this house is paid for. He wanted us to have the best and ever since he got sick, he's done everything in his power to make sure we were well taken care of," he said, but I wasn't buying it.
No guy was this nice. Well, no guy I'd ever met.
"'Kay, so is your dad in the mob or something?" I blurted.
"Please sit, Kennedy. You're making me nervous," he said as he pulled the bar stool out for me.
Damn it! There he was, being perfect and nice again.
I sat down and he continued. "You're right. From an outside perspective, I look a bit like a crazy serial killer." You've got that right, buddy, I thought. "But I assure you, I'm not. I like you Kennedy and I can see that something I did is bothering you. I hope I wasn't being too presumptuous by bringing you here. I just couldn't stop thinking about you, once I left the tattoo shop today."
He still hadn't answered my q
uestion and he could spout off all the sweet stuff he wanted, but I still needed answers. Even though, I had to admit, the sweet stuff was kinda nice.
My heart wasn't just going to turn into a pile of putty at his feet. Okay, maybe it did just a tiny bit. Shit!
He picked up his bourbon, tilted his head to the side slightly and licked his lips. I straightened my back, took a deep breath and felt my chest constrict as I stared at his lips dreamily.
I shook my head, snapping me out of my daze. "I think you better take me home," I said and he nodded, hopping off the bar stool and taking my hand.
I followed him back through the house and just like before, he opened the car door for me and waited until I got in and closed it.
Who said chivalry was dead? Pfft!
Deacon dropped me off at Epic so I didn't have to leave my car overnight. I apologized and thanked him for the evening, but as soon as his car sped away, I felt like an idiot for pushing him away.
What the hell was my problem?
I leaned my back against my car and took a deep breath. I replayed the scenario in my head over and over. He had to have been hiding something because no one was that flawless.
"You're out late."
Fuck me, running! As if this night couldn't get any worse, Zac stepped out from the shadows and scared the living hell out of me.
"Jesus! What the hell is up with you lurking in the shadows all the time?" I snapped.
"Who was that, that just dropped you off?" he asked and in all honesty, I heard the sincerity in his voice, so I decided to turn down my bitch meter and try to be nice.
"A friend," I offered, but he didn't believe me. Of course, he didn't.
"Since when do you have friends who drive BMWs and wear that Aqua di Gio shit?" he snapped.
"Since, now. Why does it matter who I'm friends with, Zac?"
"It matters when you have his fucking cologne all over you and you look like you've just been thoroughly fucked by that tool!" He was angry and I was trying to keep my composure. If I argued with him, it would only add fuel to his fire. And I'd finally had it with him. I opened my car door and climbed into the driver's seat.
