Hard Rock Improv

by Ava Lore

  “Good,” he replied. “Then pack your bags, because you’re going with me.”

  Chapter Four

  The world clicked over and for a moment everything was silent inside my head.

  I stared at him.

  He smiled back.

  I stared at him some more.

  He smiled back some more.

  I stared at him even more, although this time it was because the view was so pleasing and not because my brain was trying to process what he was saying. “I’m sorry,” I said after a second, “are you...inviting me to go along with the band to Hawaii?”

  He rolled his eyes as though I were being silly. “Not with the band,” he said, “with me.”

  To any other woman in the world, those words would have been a dream come true. To any other woman in the world, she would have leaped onto that opportunity like a rabid wolverine on a nest full of baby bunnies.

  I, on the other hand, am not just any other woman. I am exceptional.

  “You don’t even know me,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Exceptionally stupid, that is.

  God. I could have killed my brain. It just couldn’t shut up for five fucking seconds while the nice man invited me to Hawaii.

  But Manny didn’t take offense at my protest. In fact, I was starting to wonder if he took offense at anything. “So?” he said. “There’s always room for one more, and going to Hawaii together is a great way to get to know you.”

  I was already thinking over the obstacles standing in my path. “I can’t afford a plane ticket,” I said, “and I don’t have a swim suit, and I wouldn’t be able to pay for the room...”

  “Pish posh!” Manny said, as though he were a British nanny. “Don’t worry about rooms, and I’ll buy you a ticket.”

  A tiny part of me, the part that had silly dreams about silly things whenever I accidentally let my mind wander, was screaming at me to take the deal—do it! But the other part of me, the much larger, much more boring practical part, was telling me not to go on vacations with strange men. Not even men as hot and seemingly innocuous as Manny.

  I mean, seriously. What would he expect from me for that kind of money? Would he expect me to share his room? His bed? Would I mind, being a fuckbuddy for a trip to Hawaii? I sure as hell hadn’t minded when he’d decided to eat my pussy an hour ago.

  Color flooded my face as visions of Manny and I flashed across my fevered imagination: visions of him pressing me down into a mattress, visions of him tying me up and driving his hips against mine, visions of his body gilded in the tropical sunlight. I could almost taste his lips as he leaned in for a heated kiss, his calloused drummer’s hands skating up my ribs to my aching breasts...

  Luckily for me, Manny misunderstood my crimson blush. “Oh!” he said. “No, you don’t have to do anything for this. There are zero strings attached. Zero. Zee-row.” He held a hand up with his fingers fashioned into a circle as though I couldn’t understand English. “All right? What happened in the parking lot...” He made a face that I couldn’t quite decipher, but the way he waved his hands was clear. “Clean slate. Forget I said anything about us doing anything physical.”

  Noooooooooooooooo! my inner horndog screamed. Manny couldn’t hear her, though.

  “It will be strictly platonic, no expectations,” he continued. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. It’ll be just a couple of friends heading to the sun and surf.”

  “But we aren’t friends,” I said, still contending for World Champion of Getting In Her Own Way.

  “But we should be.” His eyelids slid to half-mast and he gave me a lazy, inviting smile. I knew he was just being friendly, but god damn was it a sexy look. “I mean, I already like you.”

  “You do?” I said. Stupidly. In litigation I was a goddamn dynamo. A pretty face looks my way and I turn into fucking Gomer Pyle.

  “What’s there not to like about a woman who drags a man twice her size to the bathroom while he is still actively vomiting on her?”

  I frowned, puzzled. “All the vomit on her?” I ventured.

  He laughed. “And she has a sense of humor about it! You were kind. Very kind to poor Steve. There aren’t many women that would do that. I mean, Rebecca would, but only because she would want things to be neat and tidy. You did it from the goodness of your heart.”

  I opened my mouth to protest that I’d only done it because I knew what it was like to fall and then struggle to get up again. I was just selfish. But Manny saw me and held his hand up again, indicating that I stay quiet. He looked me directly in the eye, and I shivered at the intensity of his golden gaze.

  “It was no big deal. Lots of people are like that,” I told him.

  He shook his head. “Not in this town. Not when you’re...like me.”

  “Like you?”

  “Famous and moneyed. The things people do for you, the ways they try to get at you, manipulate you, control you...” He trailed off, clearly troubled about something, but then visibly shook himself. “I was standing in that bathroom thinking about stuff like that, and then you stumbled in. Like a knight in shining armor.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  He grinned. “Don’t get hung up on semantics. You know what I mean. The point is that I have decided that I like you, Rose.” He tilted his head. “Do you like me?”

  I want to lick every tattoo on your body, I said in Fantasy Land. But out loud, I said, “Of course I like you. You’re very...nice.”

  “Nice?” He shook his head. “I suppose I am.”

  “You’re the knight in shining armor. It was very chivalrous of you to help me out with Steve!” I hastened to add. “And with the whole bare feet thing. Most guys wouldn’t have thought to carry me. And for...for taking me out to dinner...” And giving me the craziest orgasm I’ve had in a long time, possibly in my life, and oh my god I still don’t know what that was all about...

  “Well, yes,” he said. “But you’re also really hot. I can’t say I’m as altruistic as you are.”

  I looked down at myself. Then back at him. “See?” I said. “You are very nice.”

  A little smirk graced his lips. “Maybe. But I don’t suck clit for every girl I hold the door open for.”

  My heart leapt straight up through my neck and punched my brain.

  This is not happening. I am not comprehending this. This is a joke. A set-up. There are hidden cameras around here. “I...didn’t know you felt that way about me?” I hazarded.

  Manny shrugged. “You’re hot. I’m not sure why you’re finding this fact difficult to understand.”

  Because you’re fucking gorgeous and should be hanging out with supermodels, not with a fat-assed homeless ex-lawyer.

  My gaze slid away from him and fixated on the sugar packets in their little wire caddy. Why was he being so kind to me? Was this like a pity fuck? A pity friendship? But he hadn’t known how hard up I was when we had been in the parking lot...

  The worst part was that, even if this was a pity friendship, I wanted to reach out and grab it with both hands. I didn’t want to tell him how long it had been since I’d been touched, or held, or had a conversation, or even had a good meal, but I had the terrible suspicion that he probably knew.

  “Rosalita, look at me.”

  I did. With pleasure.

  He was leaning forward, his hands folded in front of him, his golden eyes wide and sincere. His biceps bulged almost out of his sleeves. “I like you. You like me. What else is there to know? Please say you will go. Let me help you forget your troubles for a week. You are under no obligations, I promise.”

  I swallowed. “And what if...I mean, I wouldn’t mind...”

  His mouth twisted, devilish and sexy. “Wouldn’t mind going to Hawaii with me as my fuckbuddy?”

  I covered my face so the sudden glow of my cheeks wouldn’t flag down passing alien spacecraft. “Maybe?” I squeaked.

  He snickered. “You’re so modest. It’s adorable.” I glared at him from between my
fingers, but he just grinned. “Do you know how many propositions I get?” he asked me. “Too many. And I don’t want any of them. They’re always so forward, too. You wouldn’t believe the things starfuckers will say to a perfect stranger when trying to get them in bed.”

  “I don’t want to know!”

  “No? You’re missing out. Always telling me they’ll suck my cock or let me put it in their—”

  “Manny!”

  He laughed again. “See?” he said. “You’re so innocent. It makes me want to charm the panties off you.”

  “I’m not that innocent.”

  He pointed to his temple. “You are in here, where it counts. You’re like a unicorn here in LA. I’m dying to show you all the things I can do to you.” He shook his head ruefully. “But even if you didn’t want anything more, I would still want you to come with me.”

  Guys do not show genuine interest in Rose Alton, I thought. This is a dream. I shook my head, but it was out of frustration and disbelief. “Why are you so adamant that I go with you?” I asked.

  He spread his hands. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “You need a vacation. You need a break.”

  “But—”

  “Stop.” He cut me off. “I refuse to listen further. Let me help you. You need to get out of this town.”

  “Rebecca will know something’s up. I couldn’t just take off from my job at a moment’s notice...”

  He sighed. “Why are you so worried about the people who love you knowing you lost your job? And homeless?”

  Because it means I’ve fucked up. The only thing I’ve ever been good at in my life was not fucking up. It was sticking to the Plan. It was taking care of things. I handle shit. That’s what I do.

  I’m handling this.

  If I didn’t have a handle on things, if I didn’t have a plan...what good was I?

  Rebecca had always been exceptional. She’d always been a people person, sweet of heart and tart of mouth. My other brothers and sisters, they were all amazing in their own ways, too, following their own paths in life. I was the one who’d chosen the conventional career, the conventional path. Because I was good at it. I was good at being conventional.

  And conventional girls don’t go hieing off to Hawaii at a moment’s notice with a man they barely know.

  “I just can’t,” I said at last. “It’s not...I need to stay here. In case I get a callback. Or a job comes through...”

  Sitting back, Manny ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. “You think it’ll happen now?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” I demanded stubbornly. “It always happens when you give up. The second you do something irresponsible, it catches up with you!” And I should know that better than anyone. My one and only deviation from The Plan had brought this misery down upon me. I should have stuck with it.

  But Manny was shaking his head. “Is that part of the plan as well? Being so responsible that you torture yourself when you don’t have to?”

  I pressed my lips together. “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m glad I don’t.” He ran his hand over his five o’clock shadow, idly scratching at the stubble. Even though I was peeved at him, I tried not to melt at the little shuff shuff shuff sounds his fingers made. I certainly didn’t curl my own fingers imagining what it would be like to touch his face...

  “How about this,” he said suddenly. “You talk to Rebecca. You tell her I invited you. You see what she has to say about it.”

  I blinked. “Rebecca?” I said. “Why Rebecca?”

  He grinned. “Because between the two of you, which one has her shit together? The one with the Plan, or the one with the job, the boyfriend, and the upcoming vacation to Hawaii?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again, gritting my teeth. I was a lawyer. I was supposed to be able to argue my way out of anything. So why was I finding it so hard to argue with Manny on this?

  Because you really want to go to Hawaii, dummy. And Manny Reyes is insanely hot and apparently wants to get into your pants. Well, into your pants even more than he already has.

  Oh. Right. Okay. That made sense at least. I wanted Manny to convince me to go with him. I wanted to spend time with my sister. I wanted to get to know the band. I wanted to hop on Manny’s cock and grind until I forgot all my troubles.

  I mean...who wouldn’t?

  I was tired of living in my car. So very tired.

  I straightened in my seat. “Fine,” I said. “Rebecca knows you, so if she says it’s a good idea, I’ll accept her judgment.”

  He smiled. “It’s settled then. You will talk to Rebecca, and in six hours we will be on a plane to Hawaii.”

  His easy arrogance was starting to get under my skin. I mean, what the hell did he know? What if I didn’t need a vacation? What if I didn’t want to go to paradise on earth and screw the brains out of a crazy-hot fuckbuddy? I mean, I did, but still.

  It was new and scary to me, though. I’d never really had a fuckbuddy before, actually. I’d always entered into sexual relationships with the eventual goal of marriage.

  ...Yeah, that’s right. Marriage. Because that was part of the Plan. And it was hard to shake my innate need to know whether or not Manny was worth getting involved with.

  I narrowed my eyes at Manny. “And what if Rebecca tells me to stay far away from you?” I asked him.

  He grinned and shrugged. “And what if we all wake up tomorrow with dicks for noses?”

  I thought about that. “It’d be a lot more fun to blow them?”

  He threw back his head and laughed at that, so long and hard that the other patrons of the restaurant turned to stare at us and I sank down in my seat so as not to be noticed.

  Manny had no such problems. “You see?” he said. “We are meant to be. Come to Hawaii with me, Rose. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  * * *

  It was four in the morning by the time Manny dropped me off—against his will and over his protests—at my old apartment complex. He waited until I was inside my own car before he drove off, and I watched until he was out of sight.

  Then I got out of the car again. There’s just not a lot of room to maneuver in a car, you know. For a moment I considered climbing into the back of the car and catching a few minutes of shut-eye, but even though I had learned the art of the thirty minute nap back when I was still working as a lawyer and it was not entirely uncommon to watch the sunrise three days in a row from the same rolling chair in the office, I was now entirely too drunk, keyed up, and muddled to sleep. Besides, in six hours the flight to Hawaii would be rolling down the runway, and I had to decide if I was going to be on it or not.

  I opened the back door of my car and slid in. It was a good car, honestly. An almost new 2010 Ford Focus hatchback, and I’d bought it out of pocket with the money I’d saved over the summers working late nights at coffee shops when I was in law school. God, that had sucked. I’d toiled away at thankless, shitty, unpaid internships, dodging the grubby mitts of senior partners who’d never realized the fifties were gone by day and trying to gently let down the middle-aged divorced men who wandered into the shop at night to write their novels.

  So yes. I’d worked all that time, put in all that blood, sweat and tears and now I was living out of my car in Los Angeles. It wasn’t that it was bad to live out of a car. It was just better to live in an apartment. Or a house.

  But I really couldn’t complain. I mean, really. Hell, I was lucky I had a car that worked, lucky that I had a car that had a nice, roomy back where I could curl up and sleep. Most people didn’t have that. They had shelters where people would gank your stuff and shot up heroin in the bathrooms.

  I’d managed to avoid that. When it became apparent that I was going to lose my apartment, I’d called my mother up and asked her and my dad for nothing else that Christmas but a gym membership. I showered there often, though sometimes it was a little gross. My car, I had to park in different places each night. Church parking lots were good, as were hospital lots, a
nd some of the WalMarts would let you camp out overnight in their lots, though none of them would hire me.

  Right now, though, I was going to stay where I was. I was too tired and probably too drunk to go anywhere else. I didn’t want to get arrested for driving under the influence, and I really didn’t want to kill myself or somebody else. It was better to get arrested for illegally camping.

  I looked around me with a sigh, and all my worldly possessions stared back at me. A cooler between the back seat and the driver’s seat for food. A few small boxes with neatly folded clothes. A little carrying case for the makeup I needed to go job hunting. Wet wipes, plastic bottles for peeing in—something I still hadn’t grown used to—my favorite bottle of expensive perfume so that I could cover up the smell of desperation on job interviews. Not that it mattered—most places who were hiring remained less than enthusiastic about bringing someone with a law degree onto the payroll. Even the fast food joints.

  I sighed and pulled out a wet wipe and my last pair of clean pajamas. Fighting down yawns I wiggled and twisted, shucking off my clothes and pulling on the soft pants and t-shirt. When I was finally comfortable, I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the time. Four fifteen in the morning.

  Hah. Well, no better time to call your drunk sister than the present, right?

  I dialed her number and listened to it ring. Her voicemail picked up. “Hey, this is Rebecca Alton, I’m not—”

  I hung up and dialed again. Then again. Then again.

  The fifth time Rebecca actually answered the phone.

  “WHAT.” She sounded as though she’d just woken up, which she probably had, and she sounded ready to bite someone’s head off, which she probably was.

  Sucks to be you, I thought. “I need your advice,” I told her.

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Rose?” she said finally.

  I blew a stream of air through my teeth, annoyed. “Yes,” I said. “Didn’t my name show up on your phone?”

  “Of course it did,” she replied. “But you said you needed advice so I thought someone had stolen it and was impersonating you.”