by Mandi Beck
“It’s Megan,” she hisses, dumfounded and more than a little pissed.
“Guess I still don’t care about that then.” The smoke swirls in between us as I peer through the haze at her and take another lazy drag. “I can see why you’d miss that guy. You still want to fuck me?” I deadpan on an exhale.
“No wonder she left you.” Not-Melissa sneers, shaking her head.
Now that one hurt. I didn’t have to wonder. I knew. One of the reasons was standing right in front of me, disdain dripping from her every word, which is ironic. Didn’t matter that half the time I was so God damn high I would have bet money that it was Willow I was fucking only to come down from that nirvana and realize it wasn’t. No, I didn’t wonder shit. I was well aware of all my shortcomings. I wake up to an empty bed every morning to remind me. Tugging in agitation at the gauge in my ear, I take another drag from my cigarette, making little circles of smoke as I think of a response. I’m beyond over this fucking conversation.
“You wanna keep on this trip down memory lane or are we done here?” Flicking ashes into the ashtray I look up at her, eyebrows raised in question.
“So done.” Flicking her bleached hair over her shoulder she pivots and storms out.
My eyes close for a beat—that was almost exhausting. Bending at the waist, I rest my forearms on my legs and stare at the carpet beneath my feet. What I wouldn’t give for a bump right now. Hell, a beer even. Maybe I should’ve taken her up on the offer of pussy. I haven’t had any since Wills left me. Haven’t wanted to look at another woman, let alone fuck one. The irony isn’t lost on me. I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants when I had a good woman in my bed, now that she’s gone, she’s all I want. It’s every fucking sad song ever written.
On a deep sigh, I snub out my smoke and contemplate lighting another when Law sticks his head in and flashes me a smug smile. “Well, that was quicker than I expected.” He chuckles when I flip him off and opens the door all the way. “You want to hit up a meeting, bro? You’re looking wicked on edge today. We can grab Koa from the hotel and head out.”
I shake my head no, then raise my shoulders in a shrug, “Maybe.” These guys, Lawson, Arrow, and Judge, are the only reason I’ve been sober this long. They aren’t just my band mates, my manager . . . they’re my friends, my family. We’ve been playing together since high school when we were just young and reckless punks, rocking out in their garage for the love of music and pussy because they go hand in hand. Judge is the most unmusical fucker on the planet so he became management before we even hit college. With Willow being our biggest supporter and so much a part of the music.
They had all seen what I was slowly becoming. Like me they tried to just ignore it, pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was. Well, except for Arrow who threatened to kick my ass on a daily basis for what my actions were doing to Willow. He still threatened me, but never turned his back on me. He never would. Ro was the king of tough fucking love.
“We can find one on our way out of town, Stone. We have to be in LA by morning, but there’s time,” Law says, reminding me of his solid presence. “We have to be at the studio for the shoot and then the next day the P.I. flies in.”
I perk up at that. I’ve been out of rehab for almost three months. Clean as fuck and still no Wills. I guess I thought it would be easier to find her. Like because I was clean, she would magically fucking appear. Not the case. Clearly. “What did he say when he called?” I ask even though we’ve talked it to fucking death since he told me about it two days ago.
Law knowing what all this shit was doing to me rehashes it like he hasn’t told me already. “I didn’t talk to him since we were in the studio, but Addy did and he said he’s almost certain that he found her in Canada. Said if it was her, it would explain why he had such a hard time finding her because of their laws. Addy answered a couple of his questions about her aunt and her parents, and he said we should meet, and she set up a flight for him to meet us in Lala land. That’s it, bro.” He taps out a beat on the desk, “So we hitting a meeting or what? I need to get the hell out of this building. I can feel their disdain seeping through the walls and shit.”
I laugh at that. “They fucking hate us.”
“Fucking A right they do. But they love that money, so they can suck a dick.”
Scooping up my pack of smokes and lighter, I stand. “And that’s the fucking truth.”
After ten hours of shooting one album cover I’m exhausted. I fought them on what the label wanted most of the day. Well, Judge fought them; I just straight up refused. There was no way in fuck I was putting some skank on the cover of Willow’s album. “But sex sells,” they’d argued. So I offered to pull out my cock. They didn’t think that was funny, and I was past giving a shit. The only one who seemed to agree with me was the photographer, Perry. I remember that Willow really liked her the few times they’d met, so I had hoped she wouldn’t ask me where Willow was. I’m not ready to answer those questions right now. Not unless it’s an interview the label is forcing me to do.
Now it’s almost midnight and I’m too tired to sleep. I can hear Koa in the second bedroom of the suite getting ready for bed, which is what I should be doing, but I can’t shut my mind down. By tomorrow morning I’ll know where Wills is. Hopefully. The thought has my feelings all over the place. I’m anxious, nervous, excited . . . scared. All I can think about is Willow and what seeing her again will be like. It’s been over a year. Fourteen fucking months. I can’t even wrap my head around that. How in the ever loving fuck did I let her disappear from my life for this long? Being a cocksucker of a boyfriend, that’s how. Sighing, I go over to the window and look out at all the bright lights. In the reflection of the glass I see Koa’s door open and then the big Hawaiian comes into view.
Along with the guys, this motherfucker has been my rock. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have ended up right back in rehab if it weren’t for him. He’s been my shadow for months. Even before leaving Paradise. Just quietly supporting me whenever I needed him to and even when I didn’t. He’s going back to the Island in a few weeks to see his family, take care of some things back home. I’m certain that if I need him he will be on the next flight out, but as much as I like having him around I want to see if I can do this without him for a while.
“Yo, bruddah, you okay? Need to talk?” he asks.
“I’m good. Just can’t sleep. I’m too wired.”
“Excited about that sneaky sneaky dude you hired to find yo’ lady?” Koa asks, crossing his arms across his massive chest.
I can’t help but laugh at him and his “sneaky sneaky” shit. “Yeah. I guess. I’m gonna jump in the shower and then try to catch some sleep.” Just listening to him and his crazy talk has calmed me a bit.
“Good idea. Rub one out while you’re at it. That put yo’ ass right to sleep, brah,” he says chuckling.
“Thanks for the advice. Do I have to pay extra for that?” I joke, moving past him to my own room.
“Nah, that you can have for free, haole. Sweet dreams,” he calls and retreats into his room.
Fuck me running, dude is fucking nuts. He’s right. But still fucking nuts.
Willow
“CORA, PLEASE TELL HER THAT she looks hot as hell and that she’s not changing,” Perry says the moment Cora walks into my bedroom. One look at the clothes strewn all over and she starts to laugh.
“It’s not the Grammy’s, eh? I mean, it is just dinner with some people from his label,” Cora says as she scoops a wide awake Lyric from her bouncy chair in the middle of the room. “I think the dress you have on is perfect. You look amazing.”
“I think I hate it,” I grumble, turning this way and that in the full length mirror. “My ass looks huge.” My whining makes them giggle. “It does!” I’ve always been curvy, but after Lyric, my curves have curves. I still have a flat stomach thanks to Perry and her ridiculous need to join every class the gym has to offer, but my girls are out of control and my strapless bra is fightin
g to keep them under wraps, and my butt is giving new meaning to “dual citizenship.” “Does it look too tight?” I ask, tugging at the lace embellished hemline of the little black dress. It’s classy without being boring with its pencil skirt, capped lace sleeves and hem, cinched belt, and hidden pockets. The pockets are what sold me. That and the fact it was one of the only dresses that fits me in my closet right now.
“Your ass is to die for, and it doesn’t look too tight. You look hot,” Perry reiterates.
“Now turn around so I can look at you properly,” Cora commands.
Sighing, I pivot on my fire engine red stilettos that Perry insisted on.
“Perry did an amazing job on your hair, Willow. You look gorgeous. You might not make it wherever he’s taking you,” she jokes, a big smile brightening her face.
“How do you know Perry did my hair?” I ask indignantly.
“You have a flower made out of your hair in the back of your head. You’re not that good, baby girl.” We all can’t help but laugh at that.
“Do you have your fuck-him panties on?” Perry asks. Cora’s head swivels in her direction.
“What in the hell are fuck-him panties?”
“Ooooh, Willow has the prettiest panties. I have a shoe fetish, she has a panty fetish. She has some that are absolutely brilliant. I call them fuck-him panties because there’s no way anyone would wear them without planning on getting fucked.” Looking at me with raised eyebrows she waggles her fingers at me, “So, do you?” I shrug, an impish grin on my face.
“I think I need to see what fuck-him panties look like,” Cora announces.
“Come on, Willow. Show Cora your pretty panties,” Perry singsongs behind me.
I huff out a breath. There’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this room without showing these two what I have on under this dress. No use fighting. They’d probably tackle me to the ground and wrestle my skirt up. Smiling at the vision, I shimmy the skirt up and over my hips and flash them my bare ass, the lace strings at the top of my thong lost under the garter belt holding my stockings in place. Doing a slow turn I pop out my hip in a jaunty pose. Perry lets out a wolf whistle that makes Lyric kick and coo. Carefully I smooth my skirt back into place, rolling my eyes at how ridiculous they are. I couldn’t love them more.
“Christ on a cracker. That get up should be called kill-him panties, not fuck-him panties. You’ll give his ass a heart attack if you go flashing that around,” Cora says pointing at my bottom half now hidden under the silky material of my dress. “And where the hell is the hair on your vaggie patch. You’re gonna catch a cold, girl!” Perry and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
“Vaggie patch? Did you just say vaggie patch?” I sputter, clutching at my stomach.
Perry is rolling around the bed, a hand between her legs, “Imma pee. Imma pee my damn pants,” she gasps in between her laughter.
“Oh, shut up, you two. What do you want me to call it? A vagina? You know I’m not going to say the P word.” Her tone is indignant and just has us rolling all the more, tears starting to leak out of the corner of my eyes. Grabbing a tissue, I try to dab at them so they don’t ruin my carefully applied makeup.
The doorbell chimes and I look up wild-eyed and a little panicked. “He’s here.”
Perry pops up from the bed, hiccupping from her fit. “I’ll go get the door. You freshen up, maybe put some perfume on your vaggie patch or something.” She can’t even say it with a straight face, stumbling from the room as Cora shoos her out.
Plucking Lyric from Cora, I nestle her into my neck and breathe in her soft baby scent. It instantly helps to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Joaquin and I have seen each other a few times since I took him to Spun but this is different. This is an actual date. He’s introducing me to some of his friends, his bosses. I’m nervous. Almost to the point of being sick. The giggle fest we just had helped to ease the tension, but now that he’s here, it’s back. I haven’t dated anyone since high school and dates in high school aren’t even dates.
“What’s the matter, baby girl?” Cora is always so in tune to my moods and feelings.
“I’m just nervous. We talked about this already, I feel like a broken record. It just all goes back to Stone,” I say softly, swaying a bit as I kiss the side of Lyric’s head, leaving behind a trace of the red lipstick I’m wearing. Wiping it away, I avoid Cora’s gaze. She won’t judge, but I feel almost ashamed to feel this way. Embarrassed that even when I hate him, I can’t forget him. Cora is one of the very few people who knows the entire story of Stone and I and our demise. Raising my head, I look at my friend. “What does that make me? Knowing what you know, Cor. What does it make me?”
“Human,” she answers simply. “Now get down there. Who knows what the hell Perry is saying to him?” My eyes go wide at that.
“Oh shit.”
Cora nods, “Yeah, oh shit.”
With a now sleeping Lyric cradled against me, I carefully pick my way down the steps, Cora right behind me. When I hit the landing I look up to see Joaquin there, flowers in one hand and a little doll in his other. He has on a rich black suit, Armani I think, with a red tie as if he knew I would be wearing the same colors. His beard is trimmed, his hair neatly styled, begging for me to run my fingers through the thick strands. He looks absolutely delicious.
“Chèrie, you look stunning.” He says something else in French that I don’t understand but I don’t need to. His eyes raking over me speak for him. Joaquin steps forward and kisses me gently on first one cheek, then the other. Before he retreats, he runs a hand down Lyric’s back, settling over my own placed there. “Beautiful, just like her mère,” he says softly. The butterflies in my stomach take off, whooshing and diving, making my breath catch.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I manage to get out.
Turning, I hand Lyric over to a smiling Cora. Perry standing next to her wearing a matching smile takes the flowers and stuffed toy.
“I’ll just put these in water.” Why she’s still here I have no idea. She was just supposed to come and help me with my hair, but I’m glad she is because I totally spaced on the flowers once I got an eyeful of my date.
“Thank you, Perry.” Turning to him, “They’re beautiful and the doll is so sweet. Thank you.”
“My father taught me to never come empty-handed.” He winks, “Ready?”
“You two have a nice time and don’t worry about the baby. We’ll be fine,” Cora reassures, as Joaquin helps me into my coat.
“You’ll call if you need me?” I ask worriedly. I’ve never really left Lyric to go out like this. Is she too small? Should I stay home? Cora must see the panic creeping onto my face.
“Willow you know if anything were to happen I would call you immediately. We’ll be okay, she’s probably asleep for the night anyway,” she says soothingly. And she’s right.
“Okay. Thank you.” I step forward and give my daughter a kiss on her soft head and peck a kiss on Cora first and then Perry before I let Joaquin lead me out.
“If you don’t want to leave her here, chèrie, we can take her,” he says as he holds the car door open for me.
I glance up at him startled, “It’s a black tie dinner party.”
“So? A lot of them have children and she’s little. They would understand you not wanting to leave her at home.” He waits with the door of the Mercedes open, ready to pack up an infant and take her to one of the poshest restaurants in Toronto if I give him the word. I’m pretty sure it’s that moment that my carefully erected walls are obliterated.
“You would do that for me?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“Oui.” He shoots his cuff back on his suit and glances at his watch. “We have plenty of time to get her ready.” Looking back at me, he raises his brows in question.
“No. No, she’ll be fine with Cora,” I tell him, settling on the seat so he can shut the door. He nods and closes it gently, rounding the front and sliding into the driver’s side.
“Thank you.” Glancing over at him I smile. “Most men wouldn’t want to be bothered with a baby, so your offer to take her means a lot to me.”
“Those men are boys, chèrie,” Joaquin replies in that smooth way of his. He’s all man and I’m starting to see just how wonderful of one he really is.
After some time spent mingling with some of the big wigs of his label, a couple newer artists that they’ve recently signed, and his agent, we sit down to dinner. I thought it would be a little awkward, but Joaquin has a way of putting me at ease and steering the conversation if he notices I’m uncomfortable. It’s a little scary how good he is at reading me.
“Joaquin, have you found the last song for your album yet?” One of the guys asks. I think he was introduced as Kevin, one of the producers.
“No, I’m still looking. I’ve found a few I like but nothing that’s screaming at me,” he answers. I stiffen when I think about why he doesn’t have that song. Joaquin places his arm along the back of my chair, his thumb stroking softly over the bare skin of my shoulder giving me goose bumps.
“Are you cold, chèrie?” he leans in and whispers. Shaking my head no, I give him a small smile and will myself to calm down.
“What happened with that one song? I thought you found it months ago?” someone else pipes in.
Without missing a beat and without any resentment in his tone he answers, “I had but she wouldn’t budge on it.” Gently he nudges my leg with his. When I feel his eyes on me, I glance over to find him smiling. “She’s a ball buster and wasn’t impressed with my status.” Phillipe chuckles softly into his napkin.
“A first time for everything, no?” he says to Joaquin.
