by Mandi Beck
In less than three minutes he comes jogging out the door, minus his baseball cap and in a different shirt. Squinting his eyes, he stops at the hood of the car. Rolling down the window, I pop my head out. “What’s wrong?”
“Headlight’s out. We’ll take the truck and I’ll fix it tomorrow,” he tells me, coming around to the driver’s side and opening the door for me.
“Shit. That’s the third time in the last couple months,” I complain as I gather all my stuff.
“I’ll look at it tomorrow, don’t worry. Probably a bad connector or something.”
“When’s the last time you had to wrench on anything?” I ask on our way into the garage and his truck.
“Not that long actually. I bought another truck a few months ago to work on, keep me busy on the days when I felt like I was going stir crazy.”
Helping me into the truck, he hands me his guitar and closes the door.
“That’s really awesome. We had so much fun with this one.” And we had. So much. Back when things were easy, before all the fame and crazy schedules. Not that I believe that’s what went wrong, just that things were easy before all of that.
“Yeah, we did. I should have the truck shipped over. You can help me with it.” He looks over and grins.
When he fires up the truck, the rich sounds of Chris Stapleton fill the cab. “Whiskey and You.” The sorrowful, melody gives me chills before the words wrap around my heart and squeeze. Stone turns it up and softly sings along as he navigates the side streets to the bar. I lean my head against the glass and watch him. The song is beautiful, haunting, and hits close to home. He’s been surprising me with his choice in music lately. Not this though, there’s not a musician alive who wouldn’t appreciate the brilliance of Chris Stapleton. Just that Stone isn’t usually a ballad guy, and he’s been embracing the hell out of them, despite all his protests. The song is ending just as we pull into a parking space. As the last note fades, Stone kills the ignition and we just sit. Letting the poignancy of the song wash over us for just a moment longer.
“You’re letting your country show again. Sam Hunt the other day, Chris just now. Better be careful, cowboy,” I tease, to throw some lightness on us because if we gave into it, we could sit and pick apart how that song is too much of him and us and all that we’ve been through.
“You know me, little bit country, whole lotta rock and roll.” He flashes me hand horns and sticks his tongue out Gene Simmons style. Instinctively picking up what I need from him.
“Oh my God, you're so obnoxious,” I laugh when he nods in agreement. With a wink and a promising smile, he gets out of the truck and I have to remind myself that I can resist him. That I can’t make this too easy for him. That he’s hurt me over and over and even though I’ve forgiven him for what he did when he wasn’t himself, I don’t know that I can ever forget. And that’s our biggest obstacle right now, although I’m not even sure how true that is anymore.
The Dirty Bird is packed when we walk in. Wall to wall bodies. Stone puts a hand to the small of my back and flips his guitar to his back as we make our way through the crowd, waving at Bear who is already behind the bar and stopping here and there to sign things people thrust at him. Seems like word is out that Wrecked is in town and they like to frequent The Dirty Bird.
Carleen stops as she walks by. “The guys are on the roof. They’ve been waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” I shout over the noise. Tugging on Stone’s hand, weaving through the mass, I don’t stop until we’re at the door to the roof. Dane is standing there, looking all aloof. The boys must have picked him up on the way. Probably smart. He cracks a small smile when he sees me that looks more like a grimace, but it’s huge from him. I pat him on the chest as we pass and head up the stairs.
“There’s a rooftop?” Stone calls from behind me.
“Yep, we only open up when the weather is nice, and this is where the stage is if it’s open. I love it. It’s like doing an outdoor concert and then they pipe the sound throughout the whole bar so once we meet capacity up here they can still hear the music downstairs.”
We come out on the roof and I scan the area for Law’s tall ass and find them sitting at a table next to the stage, kicked back and laughing when we join them.
“Hey! There you two are. We thought you got lost.” Judge pulls out a chair for me, but I shake my head.
“I’m going to grab a tea. Do you guys want anything?” I look at the array of glasses on the table and smile that they’re all just water or pop. That even with Stone not here they weren’t drinking. He’s lucky to have such amazing support.
“Nah, we’re good, Wills,” Arrow answers, raising his water glass up, a slice of lemon floating in it like he’s a little old lady at the country club instead of a bad ass bass player in a bar.
“Stone?”
“Just a bottle of water is fine, Birdie.”
“Be right back.”
It’s warmer up here than I thought it’d be. I remove my jacket and toss it over a chair and make my way to the bar, pulling my hair up into a high ponytail as I go. Once at the bar I stand on the bottom rung and boost myself up so that Pete, the bartender working up here tonight, sees me. He nods that he does and I hop back down only to connect with a solid chest. I stiffen, panic rising, until Stone braces his hands on either side of me, pressing into my back.
“I’m digging the new ink. What’s it mean?” he rasps in my ear. When he kisses the tattoo on the back of my neck I forget the question altogether. The feel of his lips on my skin, his breath warm on the spot his mouth just was.
I try to shake my head of the dreamy fog it’s lost in, but I can’t. From where he’s pressed against me I can feel every ridge and muscle, the hard metal of his bar belled nipples, his belt buckle, and the obvious hardness of his cock swelling against me. Stone’s testing all of my limits tonight. Pushing and pulling my emotions, making me feel one way and then another lest I be overloaded and back away. Same thing with his touches. Giving just enough that I don’t shy away, yet making me want to chase after more. He’s an assault on my senses.
“It’s a Caim symbol,” I tell him though I’m pretty sure he can’t hear me. When he leans over my shoulder and puts his ear to my mouth, I know he didn’t. Out of habit, I brush back the hair falling over his eye before repeating, “It’s a Caim symbol.” My voice is breathy, I can hear it. The butterflies in my stomach taking flight when he presses his mouth to my ear again.
“What does it mean? Something, right?”
My eyelids flutter closed as I prepare to explain it to him. I’m not sure how he’ll take it. Turning my head just slightly, I glance up at him, pulling his head down again so that he can hear me. “It’s Gaelic, a circle of protection and sanctuary. A reminder that I’m safe and loved even when I’m at my lowest,” I tell him a little self-consciously. Not because of the meaning and why I got the tattoo but because of our very public setting.
With a deep breath he nods and pulls back, running a finger over the red, braided, and interwoven lines of the circle. Over and over, following the pattern as if he’s memorizing it. The spell of the moment is broken when Pete comes over.
“Hey, Willow, sorry, it got crazy for a minute. What’ll it be?” he asks, removing dirty glasses and empty bottles from the bar.
I haven’t quite snapped out of my Stone induced stupor, so I look at him kind of blankly for a moment, just staring and blinking. Stone must realize the effect he’s having on me because he shouts in an amused voice, “Two bottles of water and a tea set up for Willow.” He then moves to my side so that he can see me better, that knowing smirk kicking up his mouth. “What kind of bar has hot tea?”
I’m grateful for his change-up once again. “The kind I work at.” I smile and shrug sheepishly. “Cora spoils me a little.”
“Good. I knew I liked her.”
Pete slides our order across the bar and Stone hands him a fifty, waving off the change. Jerking his chin, he motions for me
to follow him back to the table. When we get there, I notice that there are a couple girls sitting there, which isn’t surprising. These guys are rock stars. Hot as hell, crazy talented, rich ass rock stars. There are always going to be women around. Always has been.
Law is sitting backwards on his chair, arms crossed over the top, talking animatedly to one of the girls and Arrow. Judge sees us and stands and holds out a chair for me, smiling tentatively. I pat his hand to let him know I’m fine. He’s so cute to be worried about my feelings. My chair is right next to Law’s, and when I sit he pats my leg as if to say “It’s okay.” They’re all being ridiculous. I just roll my eyes and wait for Stone to give me my tea fixings. He sets them down and takes the seat right beside me, pulling it as close as he can without being on top of me.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asks, gesturing to my tea paraphernalia.
“Mmm hmm,” I murmur, putting it all together, not paying any mind to the chatter around me until I hear one of the girls say Stone’s name not so quietly to her friend, causing him to tense next to me. Poor guy. I glance up at her, and she’s got that look on her face, the slightly crazy one where I’m not sure if she’s going to throw her panties at him or ask if he’ll sign her tatas, but I’ve seen this look. Know it well. The pang of jealousy is quick and fleeting. Stone doesn’t have to know that though; I’m going to let him sweat it out. While he shifts next to me, waiting for the girl to pounce, I scan the crowd for Bear. I go on in less than ten minutes. He asked me if we could try this new idea of his out, and we’re testing it tonight of course.
As I’m taking a sip of my tea I see Stone start patting his pockets like he’s looking for something.
“What did you forget?”
“I need a lolli. I forgot to grab one out of the glove box,” he says sullenly.
“Do you have your cigarettes? You can smoke out here.”
His face lights up like it’s Christmas and he looks around and confirms that people are in fact smoking. I swear he might break out into a jig he’s so excited. I can’t help but laugh at him as he digs a smoke out in record time and lights it, inhaling with a blissful grin on his face.
“Oooh, can I have one of those?” the crazy looking girl chirps. She jumps out of her seat and comes around to where we’re sitting, bumping Ro with her hip and then perching on the very edge of his seat. He moves his leg to give her more space or to avoid touching her. I’m not sure which. Stone takes another cigarette from the pack and hands it to her while putting his arm around the back of my chair, pulling me into his side, jostling my tea. He wipes at the droplets on my leg, apologizing.
“Sorry, Birdie. It didn’t burn you, did it?” he asks, but before I can answer there’s a throat being cleared delicately. We both turn to Crazy to see that she’s leaned forward, shirt gaping with the cigarette between her fingers in front of her pouty mouth.
“Do you have a light? Pretty please?” she coos, smiling at him coyly. I can’t help but watch in amazement. It’s like a train wreck or the intro scene to really bad porn. Maybe a little bit of both.
Stone opens his mouth to say something I’m sure is not going to be nice, but I interject. Smiling brightly, I take the lighter off the table and lean across him to light her cigarette for her. She appears startled at first, but I don’t let my smile waver until she sullenly thanks me and walks back to her seat in defeat.
“Well-played, Wills,” Stone says on a chuckle.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.” Tossing the lighter on the table I go back to sipping my tea like I didn’t just act like a semi-jealous girlfriend.
“Hey, Willow, did you tell Bear we were coming? They have a kit up there and everything tonight,” Law says, pointing to the stage which holds a keyboard, drums, and three different guitars.
“No, that’s the set up that always stays here on the roof. He has like a shed thing that goes over it and keeps it all insulated or whatever when the rooftop isn’t being used. This way he doesn’t have to lug anything up and down,” I explain.
“Smart. I might have to come up there and fuck around with you tonight,” he says, pulling sticks out of his back pocket. He never leaves the house without them. It’s kind of adorable unless he’s drumming all over everything, which he sometimes does.
“You can fuck around with me any time, Lawson.” I wink, making the boys get a little rowdy. They’re so dumb. And way too easy.
I’m just about to get up and go look for Bear when I see him hop up onto the stage.
“So how the hell are you? First night this season we can open up the rooftop. Always my favorite. To celebrate that, we have a few surprises for you guys tonight.” That’s met with wolf whistles and applause. Once they quiet, he goes on, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Wrecked is in the house.” The rooftop explodes with applause. “Shhh, shhh. We get it, you’re excited. I haven’t even asked them if they’ll play a couple songs for you guys tonight, but I know people. I’m sure you’ll get to hear you some Wrecked before the night is over or I’ll kick their asses out,” he booms, making them go wild again. “Before all that though we have The Dirty Bird’s very own Willow Avery here to sing for you guys tonight. And she’s agreed to let you pick the songs.” Bear looks over and waggles his eyebrows at me. I throw my head back and groan. He caught me at a weak moment the other day when he suggested this. I’m already regretting it. He motions for me to come up there. “Come on, Willow. Let’s see what you’re gonna sing for us, eh?”
With one last sip of tea, I get up and go to make my way to the stage when Stone grabs my wrist to stop me. I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder when he tugs gently.
“Sing pretty, Birdie,” Stone says with a wicked grin. That glint in his eye telling me he remembers what usually comes next. “Then I’ll fuck you pretty.”
I try to nonchalantly clench my thighs. Well, shit.
Stone
POOR WILLS. I SHOULDN’T HAVE sent her up there like that, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve been telling her that same thing for as long as I’ve been telling her that she’s my rhythm. Can’t be helped. So there she stands up in front of everyone, next to Bear, thinking about what I didn’t say, but she knew I meant. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
“You and Willow seem to be getting along pretty well,” Law says, sitting in the seat she just vacated.
“We’ve had some talks, cleared some air, but it’s not gonna happen overnight. But it will happen,” I promise.
“With your determined ass? I have no doubt.” He slaps my back.
“I just keep getting up in her face and reminding her that I’m me and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Did you really bust out Beiber on her the other day?” Law asks amused.
“You sang Justin Beiber?” Ro asks from across the table, smiling like a fucking clown.
I flip him off which only makes him cackle. “She fucking told you?” I groan. They’ll never let me live that shit down.
“Oh yeah, she told me,” he boasts.
“I was just fucking around, thought it would win me some points. It won me a damn challenge instead.”
“This is gonna be good. What kind of challenge?”
“I have to come up with two songs to sing to her, a cover and an original,” I tell him.
“An original? You just wrote her a whole damn album,” Judge quips, turning his back on the two girls that I was certain were gonna get me in trouble with Wills.
I raise my hands. “What do you want me to tell you? That’s what she said. Birdie threw down the gauntlet, now I gotta bring my A game.”
“You finish that one song?” Ro asks. I know which one he’s talking about, and I appreciate his discretion with the chicks at the table.
Before I answer, Judge turns to them, “Sorry, ladies, you’ll have to excuse us, we’re about to have a band meeting. Come say bye before you leave tonight though. It was great meeting you beauties,” He’s all smooth like. That’s why he’s the ma
nager. I was just getting ready to tell them to go find some other dick to chase after.
“I finished it, just have to get you guys in the studio to finish it up,” I tell Ro once the girls are gone.
Law and I glance up at the stage when Bear comes back to the mic after chatting with Willow.
“Okay, when you all came in you filled out a piece of paper with what you wanted Willow to play, right? Well, she’s gonna reach into this bowl and pull one out, and whatever song is on that paper she has to sing.” The crowd cheers, Willow scowls. It’s cute. This should be interesting. I mean, there’s nothing the girl can’t sing, but to do so on command should be fun.
“Holy shit. Did she agree to that?” Law asks.
“She said something about it the other day, but wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do,” Judge answers.
“Did you guys put anything in?” I ask, looking around the table.
Arrow shrugs, “I put Heart in there. She kills ‘Barracuda.’”
“Yeah, she does.” We all nod in agreement.
The bar is quiet as everyone watches her dip her hand in the big glass bowl. She pulls out the slip of paper and sputters out a laugh, “Tori Kelly? Seriously. Which one of you assholes thinks I can sing Tori Kelly? And she better not be in here somewhere ready to punk me,” she demands which is answered by a wave of whistles and shouts to sing. Willow looks at Bear, “I hate you.” He blows her a kiss and hops off the stage. She sits down on the stool and brings her Martin over situating it across her lap. After a second, testing notes, tightening strings, she launches into a fucking epic acoustic version of “Hollow.” I mean epic. You can hear a pin drop as she sits there, eyes closed, the wind blowing chocolate-colored strands of hair across her face as we all sit in awe of the beautiful picture she creates, the beauty that comes out of her mouth. And when she hits the last note, the place goes wild, like we just won the fucking Stanley Cup, and that’s saying a fuck ton because Canada.
The boys and I stand up, fingers in our mouths, whistling louder than anyone. Law lets rip, “OWWWWWW!” making her blush.
