I leaned back against the wall between the door and window, allowing my trembling body to relax. Saying goodbye to Cain was meant to give me the peace I sought after, but it didn’t. It just turned the aching in my heart into a wide open hole. I don’t know how long I stood there, but Cain’s car had long since driven off. I wondered if I shouldn’t ask Harry to book me on a flight back to Italy. I missed Peiro. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day he had dropped me back to the villa after our beach romp. He probably thought I had ran, and in a sense, I had. I had run home to be with my dad when he needed me, but I hadn’t called him to let him know what had happened. At least when I was with Peiro, Cain’s loss seemed just a bit more bearable. Using Peiro to fill a gap wasn’t fair though, and that’s what held me back from calling him. I needed to confront my reality, get my life back on track, and figure out how to deal with the unfinished business my heart seemed reluctant to let go of. And I needed to do it without the leverage of a handsome, foreign distraction.
“Violet, how the fuck do you find anything in here?” grumbled Mya as she tripped over a boot sticking out from under my bed. I glanced up from my desk and smiled. Mya was adorable, a pint sized, twenty-two-year-old rocket with a foul mouth. She was Harry’s niece, so I guess the mouth shouldn’t have surprised me. It just sounded odd coming from the tiny, dark haired sprite whose gentle doe eyes automatically made you assume butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. It melted all right, under a large vocabulary of profanity, and a wit that was second to none. She was smart, like scary smart. As an aspiring surgeon, she was attending college, her eyes set on adding an MD or DO to the end of her name. The best part about living with Mya, she didn’t drink. She didn’t party. She didn’t do anything except study. She helped keep me out of the scene I was so terrified of falling back into again. I had been sober ten months now and things were going okay. Harry had indeed found an apartment for me in New York. It wasn’t fancy; apparently I couldn’t afford fancy. My money had begun to rapidly disappear during my stay in the rehab facility, and Harry had sold my own apartment to help fund my therapy. The spontaneous six week trip to Italy sure didn’t help my cause either. Mya shared the apartment with me. She was a great roommate; she was clean, quiet, and even though a little odd and quirky, she was great to have around. Mya kept me curiously grounded.
“So, Harry can’t make it tonight so I’m gonna be your whip bitch.” I looked up from the email I was half way through sending and raised a brow. I was still nervous about being left alone in places where my vices were within reach, so Harry or Mya would normally accompany me to gigs. I would have to take that next step one day soon though. I needed to know I was strong enough to live my life without a chaperon.
“Whip bitch?” I asked
“Your warden, slave, go-fer, helper.” Mya grinned at me. “Your wing woman. I think it’s about time you dusted off that lazy ass of yours and got laid. After your gig, I’m finding you some man candy to get crazy with, or if you’re reluctant to get back in the saddle or have doubts about your sexuality, we can find you a woman to experiment with.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. This commandment of sexual expertise coming from the only twenty-two-year-old virgin I knew.
“I don’t need a man or a woman to get crazy with. I have help with that, and it lives in the drawer directly to your left.” Mya looked at my bedside table thoughtfully.
“Maybe that’s what I need,” she thought out loud.
“Mya, you are not losing the big V to a big V,” I mumbled as I sent my email.
“Why not? It would cut out all the nonsense, all the bullshit that comes with relationships and sexual encounters. No awkward and inexperienced fumbling around the sheets, no embarrassment on my part. Clean, easy, and efficient, I wouldn’t even have to make him breakfast the next day.” I would have laughed were it not for the serious look on her face; she was actually considering this.
“Mya, your virginity is a precious gift. It’s sacred. You need to take special care of it and gift it to someone who will treasure something so significant, someone warm, not electronic.” I began flicking through my wardrobe for something to wear tonight. The gigs I played these days weren’t quite as exclusive as the ones Cain and I had played. The bars were a little rougher, older. Hell, we had played for an over sixties cigar bar last week that held an audience of five, and that included Harry. I was lead singer in a band of four. We performed jazz, but it was different. The music didn’t seem to contain the same passion and beauty it did when I sang with Cain, and it was all traditional, old school jazz which I loved, but didn’t feel the same passion when singing it anymore. Maybe I was losing my love for the only thing it seemed I was good at doing. The thought of being reduced to a menial job, stocking shelves or answering phones, made me shiver. From magnificence to boredom in the blink of an eye, like Cain. Just the thought of Cain hurt my heart. Even after all this time apart, I still ached for him. I had finally bitten the bullet a few weeks ago and called Peiro. Hearing his voice was like plastering a band-aid on an open wound. It covered the pain temporarily, but it didn’t make it disappear entirely. Peiro hadn’t made any suggestions that we see each other again. I think he was waiting for me to take that step. He needed me to come to him, free of the burden of a broken heart. He needed all of me, not just the fragments I was willing to share with him. Even though Cain had moved on, I still couldn’t bring myself to completely let him go. I had no idea if he was married now; I hadn’t heard from him since the night I left him standing on my porch.
“How did it happen for you?” Came Mya’s voice, breaking through the haze of thoughts which had made me forget where I was for a moment.
“Huh?”
“Your coveted virginity. How did you lose it? Was it to Cain?” Some days I wished I hadn’t told Mya about Cain. On one of my bad days, while battling the need to forget my past under a bottle of whiskey, or better yet, a line of coke, Mya had sat on my bed with me and simply talked. While she had told me her battle of being a geek at school, apparently being gorgeous didn’t help her one little bit, I had confessed the inability to move on from my one true love. I had reached a point where I could say that out loud. Violet, the girl who once thought she could never love, had in fact loved deeply…and she had lost that love.
“No, it wasn’t Cain; we were never intimate.” That surprised Mya and rightly so. How could I have spent so many years in love with someone I had only shared one real kiss with? “I gave my virginity away to some asshole in a dimly lit hallway behind a bar. I’m pretty sure his friends watched, too.” Mya gasped. “It was awful, it hurt, and it made me feel like a whore. He brought me a drink afterwards, so I guess that was my payment. I was stoned, I was stupid, and if I could go back and do it all over, I would, but I can’t.” I glanced at Mya as I pulled a dress from the closet. “So I do the next best thing and encourage women like yourself to treasure the one thing you can only give away once. Do it with a warm body, one who will hold you afterwards, one who will make you breakfast in the morning.” I kicked off my slippers and began to unbutton my jeans before pushing them over my hips.
“Fuck, Violet, couldn’t you have waited for me to leave the room at least?” Mya growled as she jumped up and raced through the doorway, slamming it closed behind her. I laughed. She was seriously going to have to get over her aversion to nudity if she wanted to lose her virginity one day.
Ella Fitzgerald’s “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” filled my ears. The buds attached to my iPhone rarely left my ears these days. I was so scared I was losing my passion for music, I listened to it non-stop. Curiously though, the music still soothed me like it always had, whisking me away to a time when women expressed their beauty through exquisite dresses and elegant hairdos, and men were, for the most part, gentleman, and bars were dimly lit, smoky rooms where everyone danced and enjoyed the moment of freedom from everyday worries, rather than drag their woes to the bar with them. I could easily close my eyes an
d see Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong playing for an intimate crowd, the love of music etched into their blissful features. A tap on my shoulder drew my attention, and I pulled the buds from my ears.
“Five minutes,” said Neil with a stern frown. I nodded as he moved back across to where the other three members of the band stood waiting to perform. Neil was the guitarist and the glue that held us together, the spokesman so-to-speak. He was well suited to the position being an arrogant prick and all. From Neil’s point of view, I was the washed out, ex-junkie whose time had passed. It irked him to no end that I was, in fact, the reason people came to our gigs. People knew me, people came to see me, not him. Ricky gave me a wink. Ricky was the drummer and he was gorgeous, flirtatious, and very happily married. Michael played the trumpet; he was overweight, smoked like a chimney, and he loved his music. His knowledge of the jazz greats was as good as my own, if not better. They were good guys, they were good musicians, but after two months I still hadn’t been able to mesh with them. On stage, we were textbook perfect, but we didn’t have that something special that made a band stand out from the rest.
Mya held her hand out to me, her eyes never leaving the laptop in front of her. I handed her my iPhone and stood, smoothing out my dress.
“Break a leg,” she murmured, clicking away on the keyboard.
I was a little nervous tonight; the room we were playing for was bigger than any we had played before. The guys were also nervous, and I think their anxiety bled into mine, making it sharper than usual. The hotel was an upscale five star establishment, with high polished granite counters, sparkling white polished floors, and contemporary furniture that seemed so exquisite and expensive I was afraid to touch anything. The ballroom had been booked for a charity event, and the guests would be mostly made up of high society snobs and politicians. It wasn’t our usual gig, and I wondered how on earth Harry had secured it for us. Ricky gave me a genuine smile, and Michael reached out to take my hand, most likely in an attempt to soothe his own nerves rather than mine. A shot of whiskey would really help about now. I cursed the inner monologue that I still fought with on a daily basis. The bright lights that lit up the stage thankfully drowned out most the audience, and I fell into an easy rhythm which years of performing allowed me. The music was soothing, yet painful. It felt wrong to perform with anyone but Cain. When our first set was over, I escaped to the side of stage where Mya handed me a bottle of water, yet again not looking up from her laptop.
“You killed it, kid,” she said while her concentration remained solely on the computer screen.
“I'm a star, and the audience loves me... and I love them. And they love me for loving them and I love them for loving me. And we love each other,” I crooned as I plonked myself down beside Mya.
“You really need to stop quoting Chicago. It’s creepy and makes you look like all you do all day is watch movies; people will think you don’t have a life.”
I shrugged. “I do watch movies all day, and I don’t have a life.”
“You don’t need to broadcast it.” I glanced at the computer screen. It was full of equations, numbers, letters, things that made my head hurt.
“Miss Trivoli, Senator Grey asked me to bring you this, courtesy of him.” The waiter before me carried a glass of whiskey on a serving tray. My eyes were glued to the amber liquid, the familiar taste that burned away my nerves and fears on the tip of my tongue as if I had already taken a sip. I glanced nervously at Mya who didn’t appear to have even noticed the waiter. She was my buffer, she was the girl who glared at the would-be suitors and groupies who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves, she was supposed to be my vice deterrent, and she appeared completely oblivious to the current vice sitting within reaching distance.
“Umm, would you thank Senator Grey for me, but I don’t drink alcohol. I would love water though.” The waiter didn’t blink, he showed no reaction whatsoever as he withdrew the offering before me.
“And I’ll have a cloudy apple juice,” said Mya at my side. The waiter smiled before retreating into the backstage shadows, and I glared at Mya. I gave her the glare that she was supposed to use to fend off any possible corruption. “What?” she asked with a furrowed brow and a sideways glance my way. “Your eyes are making me cold, go away.”
“You were supposed to tell him to go away. What if I had of been tempted to take the drink?”
Mya pushed her laptop away and turned to face me. “All right, soul sister, here’s the deal. You need to stop using Harry and me as buffers and take control of your own damn life, as non-existent as it is.” She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating. She was too small and angelic to pull it off. “You didn’t take the drink just now. Did you want to?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” I agreed.
“Because I was here sitting beside you?”
“Partly.”
“Or because you are too smart and too strong to allow yourself to travel back down that road.”
“Maybe,” I admitted in a quiet voice.
“Exactly. It wouldn’t have made any difference if I was at home, wrapped in my snuggly, studying without all this blasted noise.” She slammed her laptop closed. “You don’t need a fucking buffer anymore, Violet. You are too freaking good for that. Time to put on your big girl panties, lady. I’m going home.” She stood and walked away. She just walked away, no hesitation in her stride, no backwards glance.
“One water and one cloudy apple juice.” The waiter was back. I took the drinks and set them down. Grabbing my iPhone, I sent Mya a text message.
So much for getting me laid.
Her reply chirped back so fast I hadn’t even had time to put my phone down.
Michael would do anything to get in your pants. U don’t need me.
I sighed. I would rather go home and enjoy the pleasant buzz of my hand held orgasm.
“Come on, Violet, let’s go celebrate. That gig was awesome! We’ll even buy you virgin Bloody Marys,” Ricky begged. I pulled my coat over my shoulders as the guys loaded the last of our equipment in the van.
“Next time, I promise.” The second half of our performance had gone flawlessly, painfully boring, but flawless nevertheless. No one else had offered me a drink, and I felt in control. As Mya had said, I was too strong to head back down the path that had offered me nothing but pain, interrupted by the drug induced moments of buzzing energy that accompanied a high.
“Forget her, Ricky, we’re out of here,” Neil called from the driver’s seat of the van. Yep, no love lost there. I knew he was more than happy to party on without me. Ricky gave me a quick hug before jumping in the vehicle that had already begun to roll away from the curb. I pulled my coat tight around my neck as I stood alone on the footpath in front of the hotel. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to call a cab. I was going home, alone. It was a cool evening; it would have been nice to think I was going home to curl up with the warmth of a man. Better yet, it would have been nice to walk back into the hotel and score a hit. Just one line, one little last hurrah. My eyes flickered shut under the need, and my body tightened with the lingering memory of how good it felt to let go of all control.
“Violet?” My closed eyes sprung open with surprise. Before me stood Peiro, dressed in a grey suit much the same as the one he wore on the day I first met him. His hair was brushed off his forehead, and a day’s growth of dark stubble highlighted the curve of his jaw. He didn’t smile though, if anything, he looked worried. What the hell was he doing here? My brow furrowed.
“How did you get here?” I wondered. He smiled, adding that youthful playfulness I knew he carried under the business persona.
“I do believe it began with a consummation of love between a man and a woman.”
I snorted loudly. “Not here, I mean here.” I opened my hands to gesture to the street around us.
“Oh, well, this one begins with a taxi ride
which took me to a plane…”
“What are you doing here, in New York?” I laughed. Peiro took a tentative step forward, his smile still in place.
“I had business here. I am only in town for the evening. I was going to try and stay away, but after seeing you perform, I needed to see you up close. You have an exquisite voice, Tesoro, a true angelo.”
“You saw me?” I whispered.
Peiro nodded towards the hotel I had performed in. “I did. I made a wise choice in recommending your services for the fundraiser.”
My mouth dropped open. “This is one of yours?” My eyes darted to the opulent hotel.
“It belongs to my family, so I guess it is partly mine.”
“You booked us for tonight?”
“No, I simply recommended you and your band to the event planner.” I stared at Peiro in stunned silence. “I must admit, Tesoro, I am finding it difficult to wait for you. I am trying to give you the space you need to find your way, but I want so very much to touch you, to make you mine.” My mouth remained agape. “You will catch flies,” Peiro quietly joked. I took a small step forward, and the heat of his body enveloped me. While my heart ached for another, my body craved touch and affection.
“Come home with me,” I murmured. It was Peiro’s turn to look shocked. “Just for tonight, please.” His shock turned to disappointment which he quickly hid under his usual playful smile.
“Do you think one night would be enough for me to have my fill, Tesoro?”
“I just need to feel again, Peiro, something is missing in here.” I pressed my hand to my heart. “I feel empty. I just want to feel something again, even if it’s for one night.” Peiro raised his hand and placed it over mine.
Violet Addiction Page 11
