Love Will

by Lori L. Otto

  “What do you think?”

  “I would welcome you into my family,” he says, obviously smiling. “I’d love for you to have my last name. I know Mom would love it, too.”

  “Mom would blow a l–”

  “You’ve got to find a new phrase. You’ve got a Master’s Degree, Will. Talk like it.”

  “Our materfamilias would be exultant if I carried the same surname she does.”

  “Digging up the Latin… nice,” he says.

  “I know how to please you.”

  “So? You need some time to think about it? I mean, I get it. It’s a whole new identity… people already know you as Will Rosser. You’ve made a name for yourself. It’s up to you. I won’t be hurt or offended. I just thought, since we’re starting the process with Mascot, you know…”

  I laugh again. “What would the process be for me?”

  “You fill out some paperwork online, petition the courts, pay sixty-five bucks, and put an ad in the paper. Done. I’ll even cover the cost, if you want to do it.”

  “Yeah, let me think about it. But send me the link, if you have it. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay. And Will?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t let what happened the last few months influence your decision. I was stupid. I’m here for you. Anything for my brothers. You said it. You live by it. I’m gonna live by it, too. Anything. I mean it. No matter what.”

  “‘kay,” I answer him.

  “Okay. One last thing. Looks like you have a three week break in November. Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”

  “Oh, no. That’s a writing and recording thing in LA. We aren’t going home.”

  “Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. “No breaks?”

  “We get a few days off around Christmas, and we have some gigs up there right after.”

  “Okay, then. I know Max already misses you.”

  “I miss him, too.”

  “As for me, I have a trip planned to San Diego the same time you’re there, so I’ll see you a couple weeks before then. I’ve already got my ticket to the show. Maybe I can take you out to dinner, too.”

  “We’ll see,” I say, purposefully non-committal, but I’m sure I’ll go.

  “Good enough. If you need anything, you let me know. Anything at all.”

  “All right, Jon.”

  “Thank you for calling… and I was going to call. I swear.”

  “I believe you,” I tell him. “Tell Mascot and Callen hello… and Jack, Emi… Matty and Nolan… and kiss Edie for me… and tell Livvy goodbye…”

  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re not talking to her again for awhile.”

  “Fuck, you did hear me?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Sorry, man.”

  “I appreciate your honesty. And I’ll tell Liv not to mention anything to you that gets you hot and bothered, or… what was it? Makes you blow a load?”

  “Oh, no… gross, no, you can’t say that shit. No. Goodbye, Jon.”

  “Bye, kid,” he says, laughing through his send-off.

  Chapter 5

  I’m sweaty and out of breath after our second night in Chicago. It’s the biggest venue we’ve played so far, and the crowd was the loudest I’ve ever heard. They were alive; an entity that moved together, sang our words back at us, shined their phones our way as we played our newest ballad–the one I had spent the last week perfecting. I wasn’t sure that Damon was ready to sing it, but I underestimated him. He was flawless. We played it acoustic, just me and him, and it was entrancing. Girls on the front row were crying, which means there were plenty of others I couldn’t see doing the same. I shouldn’t be happy about it, but they were my words. It was my melody. It was mainly my song that did that to them.

  The look on Damon’s face at the end showed me his appreciation. I thanked Peron, because without his constant focus and his drive to make me do the same, the song never would have happened.

  Ben had anticipated the reaction, and threw a bunch of money into the production of a couple hundred CDs of that song plus two other hits, recorded in his room on the bus. A special edition Damon Littlefield concert tour EP. We sold every last one, quadrupling Ben’s investment. It would hit the peer-to-peer sites by midnight and probably find it’s way to some college stations by morning. Needless to say, I won’t be surprised when the girls are singing with us at the next show.

  “Where’re you going?” Damon shouts to me backstage as I wipe the perspiration from my forehead with the end of my shirt. “You’re celebrating with us tonight. You said you would.”

  “I have to call my brother. It’s his anniversary and Livvy’s birthday.”

  “Make it fast,” he says as he walks toward the green room, signing autographs for some fans. I run out the back door, thinking it will be quieter, but I’m met with at least fifty shrieking women held back by some bouncers.

  “Where do you need to go?” one of them asks me.

  “I was just looking for someplace quiet. I need to make a phone call.”

  “Follow me.” As the rest of the bulky guys keep the ladies at bay, the other man takes me between the venue and the building next door. It’s a dim alleyway, one that I think half-way through that I probably shouldn’t follow anyone down, but it’s kind of too late for that.

  On the other side is a busy street. We take a right and cross through a traffic light, finally coming to a stop at a very high-end-looking spa that’s obviously closed. Jaff–as he introduces himself to me–takes out a set of keys and opens the door.

  “Where are we?”

  “The club owner’s wife runs this place. Bands come here after hours sometimes.”

  “For…”

  “Whatever. Phone calls, you know.” He winks at me. Not sure what that means.

  “Right, well, this’ll just take a second. Thanks.” I dial Jon’s number and sit down on a couch that practically swallows me into it. Shit, that’s a comfortable couch. I hear Edie crying before anyone actually says anything. “Hello?” my brother says, out of breath.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “We just got back from dinner. Bunny apparently had a bad night with Matty. I think she has a little fever.”

  “Should I let you go?”

  “I have a couple minutes.”

  “Just wanted to wish you and Liv a happy anniversary. I can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

  “Thanks, Will. Yeah. A great year… you still in Chicago?”

  “Yeah. We have a free day tomorrow. Ben got us a suite, so you have no idea how excited I am about that. At a real hotel, too. Not some shit-heap motel.”

  “You’re making some money?”

  “We’re doing okay,” I tell him. “And I wrote a new song that did really well tonight.”

  “That’s great, kid. Is it Bunny-safe?”

  “I think Edie would like it a lot. It’s a ballad. It’d need a little content censoring to give it a happy ending, but I’d do that for my niece. Hey, can I talk to Livvy?”

  “Depends…”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  “Fine,” he says. I can hear him speaking softly to his wife in the background before she picks up his phone.

  “Hey, Will.”

  “Happy birthday, Liv!”

  “Thank you!”

  “And happy anniversary.”

  “Also… thank you for that.”

  “Is Edie okay?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think she has a fever after all. I think she’s just hot. Matty put her in this jumper and had the heat on in the loft. Even I’m sweating, and you know I’m always cold. Well, normally, but now that my hormones are out of whack, I’m all over the place.”

  “Ummm… TMI? Maybe?”

  “Oh, shit,” she says. “Shoot,” she corrects herself, undoubtedly because Jon’s given her a dirty look for cussing in front of the baby. “Yeah, I guess so, sorry. That didn’t turn you on, did it?”

&nbs
p; “Shut up!” She bursts out laughing. “Where’d you go for dinner?”

  “This place called Eleven Madison Park. A fifteen course meal.”

  “You broke up for a second. It sounded like you said fifteen.”

  “I did.”

  “I’ve never heard of such nonsense,” I tell her.

  “Well, your brother picked the place, and it was fabulous, and it earns him points, and we’re ending the conversation now.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Ohhh…” I say, understanding what the points Jon earns must get him. “Shame on you, Liv. You said you wouldn’t say things like that anymore.”

  She giggles, making me smile. “A word to the wise: learn from Jon before you find a nice woman to impress.”

  “Got it.”

  “Have you… have you met any nice women?” she asks.

  “Not really, no.”

  “She’s out there, Will. You’ll find her.”

  “Thanks. I know. I’m glad you both had a nice night, and I love you guys.”

  “We love you. Take care… and be careful.”

  “I always am, Liv.”

  “Okay,” she whispers sweetly. “Bye bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I look around for Jaff, but he’s not in the lobby with me anymore. I decide to take advantage of the soft cushions while I’m here, kicking my feet up until he returns. I probably shouldn’t be so intimate with the furniture since my clothes are still a little damp with sweat, but I blame it on the couch. No one could resist this damn sofa.

  Five minutes later, I hear two sets of footsteps approach, and sit up, alert. Jaff is followed by a blonde woman in a tight pink dress, holding a glass in her hand. “You look like you could use a drink,” she says.

  I glance between the two of them, my mouth agape. I am thirsty. I swallow, feeling the dryness in my throat, before answering. “Water?”

  “With a slice of cucumber,” she says, “and ice. Very refreshing.”

  She sits down next to me as she hands me the glass. “Thank you.” I drink it all, very aware that they’re both staring at me. “You’re right. It was very refreshing. I should get back to the club.”

  “In a hurry?” Her hand’s on my knee. Her small, soft hand, with perfectly-manicured nails is on my knee.

  “Yeah, they’re waiting on me. The band…”

  “Damon’ll wait.” I feel the warmth of her hand inching farther up my leg. “Let’s go in one of these back rooms. I’ll make it quick.”

  “Make what quick?” I ask her, leaning into her as the question comes out.

  “I saw your show,” she says. “You were amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. I just wanted to show my appreciation.” She shakes her head demurely. “That’s all.”

  I don’t particularly want to leave the comfort of the couch, but Jaff’s peering eyes are making it distinctly uncomfortable. “Show me that back room.”

  She takes my hand and leads the way, bypassing two doors before entering one on her left. There’s a wide, comfy massage table that’s reclined into a somewhat seated position. “Climb on up,” she says.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lola.”

  Sounds like a stripper name… or worse. Suddenly I realize what a bad idea this is. In fact, how did I get into this room at all?

  “Lola, have you ever been paid for sex?” She raises both brows at me. “If I offend you with the question, I’m sorry. It’s sort of standard protocol for me. I like to know who I’m messing around with. I was tested about four months ago. Clean results. And I’m really choosy about the women I’m with,” I admit to her. “You should know who you’re messing around with, too.”

  She cracks a smile. “Thank you for that,” she says. “No, I’ve never been paid for sex. I don’t intend for you to pay me for this tonight. I’m here on my own volition. I asked for Jaff to bring me here. I’ve never done anything like this before, but there’s something about you that made me want to do something nice for you. Maybe it was the look of desperation in your eyes. Maybe it was the hard-on you kept trying to hide with your guitar on stage. Maybe it was the lyrics in that song you wrote. I’m not sure… a part of me thinks you put subliminal messages in your show, and that’s why I’m here,” she says, making me laugh. “And a part of me just thinks you’re incredibly sexy and I like to do nice things for sexy, lonely boys sometimes.”

  “How do you know I’m lonely?”

  “I listened to the lyrics. Damon gave you credit for the song… I assume those words came from somewhere.” She touches the area over my heart and climbs onto the table in between my legs. “Maybe here.”

  I put my hand on her chin and pull her lips to mine, sighing through the first kiss I’ve had in more than six weeks. That hard-on she mentioned is back with a vengeance now.

  “I can’t have sex with you,” I tell her. “I wo–”

  “Will,” she says, putting her finger over my lips. “I heard the song. I know you’re waiting for something more. I get it. I respect it. But guys have needs–even ones trying to be good. This’ll take the edge off.” She unbuttons the fly on my jeans. God. Freedom. I hoist myself up to let her remove my jeans, and then my boxers. Fuck, this must be what it feels like to break out of jail. I feel so liberated right now, watching Lola as she positions her head between my legs. I take off my shirt, feeling heat spreading over my body already. After tossing the tee across the room, I gather her blonde hair in one hand and hold it behind her head so I can see her better. So I can see the moment she takes me into her mouth.

  “Oh, fuuuuuck.” I swear, the girl must have a forked tongue, the way she’s handling me. It would kind of explain her devilish activities, too, but I don’t really care. Her hands caress me gently; her fingertips drag at just the right second. I normally have to talk girls through it, but not Lola. She’s got this task mastered. Every time she makes the tiniest adjustment with her tongue or teeth, or the way she draws me in, or hums with her mouth around me, my stomach tightens just a little more. The currents start to build tumultuously. She even has the pace down to where I don’t have to guide her. I’m still fisting her hair with one hand, though, because she seems to like it, and the sheets on the table with the other. When I feel my length grow to hit the back of her throat, I’m done for. I convulse and shudder and let out weeks of repressed sexual frustration in waves. I feel like I’m coming back to life and dying at the same time. I fucking love it.

  I lie sprawled out, naked on the table, trying to catch my breath. She moves one of my legs over and takes the space next to me, putting an arm around me. I wrap both of mine around her, even though I’m hot and sticky and probably don’t smell very awesome after a full day, a long concert, and getting worked up during her incredible blow job.

  She doesn’t seem to mind, though.

  “Thank you,” I tell her once I can speak. I wriggle a little to get her attention, and when she looks up at me, I kiss her fully, hoping she knows how grateful I am for what she did. “You have no idea how badly I needed that. Just… thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And this stays between us… right?”

  “Of course,” she assures me. “I don’t really want people to know I did this, either. It was our moment…”

  “Right… I hate to do this, but I really do have to get back.”

  She smiles up at me. “I know you do. Let me give you my number in case, you know… you ever think there might be a chance for something more.” I know she’s looking right at me, but I keep my eyes focused on the ceiling tiles. Is that why she did this? Because she thought she’d be the one?

  “Sure, yeah,” I respond, not really knowing what else I should say to her. I move off the table quickly. I sincerely hope she didn’t think that was the way to get to me. After putting on my underwear and jeans, I take my phone from my pocket and hand it to her, keeping an eye on wha
t she’s doing to make sure she’s not navigating to any other screens. She bites her lip tentatively when she hands it back to me.

  “Lola, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.” I step around her to get my shirt. She throws her arms around me as I make my way to the door. “Oh, yeah.” I hug her back and kiss her one last time. “Oh, look. Damon texted me… I really have to go.”

  “Okay, Will. I hope to hear from you… when you’re ready.”

  “Okay. Have a great night. Thanks for coming to the show, and… for… you know.” I go to the front door where Jaff is waiting. “I can find my way back, if you need to let her out…” He nods at me, and as soon as I hear the door lock, I take off running back to the venue where my friends wait.

  I go back in the door I exited from.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Ben asks me.

  “I… uh, went for a run. Just had so much energy left, I had to get it out. Where are we off to?” Honestly, I just want to go back to the bus and collapse in my bed. I’ve never felt so worn out in my life.

  “They have an exclusive lounge they want to host us at. The other guys are already there. You look like shit.”

  “Should I change? I can go change,” I suggest, thinking it’d be a great way to get back to the bus and find some excuse to stay there. I could get sick or something.

  “No, just… give me your shirt.”

  “What? No.”

  “Give me your god damn shirt! There are photographers upstairs,” he says as he unbuttons his nicely pressed blue one. I take mine off, feeling bad that he’s going to put on my sweaty clothes. “The things I do for you guys.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  “You spill shit on this, you are buying me a new one.”

  “Got it.”

  “Upstairs, all the way down the hall, turn left, then right. I’ve got to settle up here,” he tells me. “Go charm them all. You were great tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as I see a bathroom, I go in and take off Ben’s shirt, splashing some cold water all over my face, neck and chest to cool down. I dry off as best as I can with the thick paper hand towels on the counter. I inspect myself closely to make sure there’s nothing that says I was with a girl at all tonight, because I don’t want anyone to find out.