The Boys in the Band: Part One

by Lanie Jacobs

  “It’s Bartender.” Now it’s my turn to smirk.

  “What’s your real name?’ He flashes me a sheepish grin. “I just want the first name. I promise not to get pushy and ask for the second one.”

  “I tell you what,” I pause “you tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Ah! Mutual name telling. I like that.” He places his glass on the bar next to me and bites his lip. Holy shit! A guy who bites his bottom lip? That’s about the cutest maneuver I’ve seen in ages.

  “You first.” I wrap my hand around the glass and flash him a wicked smile.

  “First name only or do you want first, middle and last?” he asks

  “I’m thinking that a first name only basis will suit us just fine.”

  He lowered his thick, black lashes over his pretty blue eyes and takes a slow breath before answering, “My name’s Micah,”

  “Nice.” I give him a thoughtful nod of approval. “It’s nice to meet you Micah. My name is Jane.”

  “Jane?”

  “Yep. Plain Jane. I knew it was a bit of a letdown after you dazzles me with Micah but hey, it’s the best I’ve got.”

  . “As far as I can tell there isn’t a plain thing about you, Jane.” He leans toward me. It’s a subtle move that comes off as inquisitive and not bold or pushy. It’s also the kind of move that works best on me since I’m constantly surrounded by drunk twenty-something’s who think coming on to a woman means being as loud and obnoxious as humanly possible.

  These kinds of guys, the ones who actually know how to engage a girl in conversation and treat her like a person, they totally do it for me.

  “So, what’s next?” He touches the edge of the glass and draws my attention away from gazing at him like he’s a fucking unicorn.

  “Pappy Von Winkles Family Reserve.” I lean my elbows on the bar and give him my best grin. “Sixty-five dollars an ounce, ninety-five point six proof, and aged to the tender ate of twenty-three. It’s all yours if you’re up for it?”

  “Up for it?” He laughs. “Oh, I am definitely up for anything you’re serving.”

  *****

  The band was halfway through its first set when Molly took over the bar for me. Micah finished his third glass of Pappy’s and left another hundred on the bar for me to before heading into the bathroom.

  I needed a break to clear my head. Not to mention that I had to put a little distance between me and the world’s worst heavy metal band.

  They weren’t even heavy metal. I wasn’t sure just what kind of music it was that they were playing but it was bad…really, really, really bad and being outside, with a door and several walls separating me from their noise seemed to be the only solution.

  Fortunately the club had an unused eating area from the days when it was less of a nightclub and more of a great place to have a fantastic meal and an amazing drink.

  I missed those days but at least I had a nice, private spot to hide and drink a can of soda.

  Well it was private up until the moment when the door swung open and Micah stepped outside.

  “You lost?” I ask.

  “No.” He said, closing the door behind him. “I just figured I’d call it a night and your replacement told me you were out back talking a break.”

  “And you decided to come and find me?” I set my can down on the small table next to me. “That was very chivalrous of you.

  “Chivalrous or creepy?” he asked with a soft laugh.

  “The jury’s still out on that one.” I shrug. The whole thing is a little strange and maybe I should be weirded out that this guy has come looking for me on my break but I’m not. There’s something very sweet about him. Something that I really kinda like.

  “I’m not here to do anything except tell you goodnight and let you know you were you were right.”

  “Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest and give him a smile. “Awesome. Thank you very much.”

  Micah smiles back. “Aren’t you going to ask what you’re right about?”

  “Not really. I’m right about a lot of things so I guess I can take my pick, right?” I inform him.

  “You’re not even interested?”

  “Fine.” I let out a long dramatic sigh “What am I right about this time?”

  The band. They suck.”

  “I told you,” I say.

  “I know.”

  “You should always listen to me about these things. I am right one hundred percent of the time.”

  “A hundred percent? All of the time? That’s pretty impressive for someone your age.”

  “What can I say, I’m an old soul.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about that.” He laughs.

  “Good.”

  “But I do have a question.” He leans a shoulder against the door and narrows his eyes at me.

  “Shoot.” I have no idea what he’s going to say or do but it’s fun to contemplate what might come out of that pretty little head of his.

  “You don’t happen to play guitar or drums do you?” He asks, his voice was way more serious than I would expect from someone asking such a foolish question.

  “Nope,” I answer.

  “Piano?”

  “Nope,” I answer again.

  “Do you at least sing?”

  “Nope.” This time I put a little sigh on the end of my answer.

  “Not even back-up?”

  “Nope,” I say and decide that it’s my final answer “and that was more than one question.”

  “I know, but I kept thinking that eventually you might give me an answer I wanted to hear.” He nods and gives me a lop-sided grin.

  This time I’m the one narrowing my eyes and taking stock as I ask the most dreaded question of all time, “I take it your putting a band together?”

  “Am I imagining things or did you just groan inwardly?” He looks past my shoulder and for a second I’m sure I actually see a look of chagrin pass over his face.

  “Three quarters of the guys who walk into this place are putting a band together. It’s either a line of bullshit or a sad attempt at a pick-up line.”

  “You do realize it might not be either one of those? That I might actually be in the middle of trying to get a band together?”

  I looked up into those pretty eyes and wondered just how much crap I’d be willing to deal with if he started shoveling it out. Knowing my weakness for boys with who looked that good it was easy to assume I’d follow all his lines till the sad, bitter end. “I deal with a lot of guys at the end of the night. You know, I’m the last girl standing and they’ve got some pretty thick beer goggles by at last call. So, yes, I’ve heard a lot of dumbass shit.”

  “What if I asked you out? What kind of response would I get?”

  “I’d probably make a face like this,” I say as I screw my features into what I hope is an incredulous expression. “Then, I’d roll my eyes.”

  “So? You don’t want to go out with me?”

  “Do you need me to roll my eyes again?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, “this makes a pretty serious dent in my very fragile ego. I hope you know how damaged I’m going to be on account of you.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “You do know that I have all my teeth.”

  “I noticed,” I tell him “it’s hard to miss. You smile a lot.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Smile, grin, and smirk. You’ve very expressive. You know, facially.”

  “And that’s why you’re not going out with me?” Micah gives me a very serious look which lasts for all of two seconds before he’s smiling, again.

  “I’m not going to go out with you because you’re probably drunk and I don’t like being anyone’s drunken regret.”

  “I doubt you’ve ever been anyone’s regret.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised.” I slide my hands into the pockets of my apron and look down at the patch of ground between us. “Humiliation is actually an amazing t
eaching tool. It’s great for behavior modification.”

  “You think I’m going to humiliate you?”

  “I think that you are a very good looking, very charming guy who is probably bored.” I sigh.“You arrived a little on the messy side which could mean two things, either you have no idea what you look like and don’t really care or who know exactly how good you look but you’re smart enough to pretend not to know. It’s difficult to tell but I’m leaning toward you knowing exactly the kind of effect you have on people. Then you toss in the whole starting a band routine and this makes you a quadruple threat in the sexy department. Should I assume you’ve got a lot of money to throw around?”

  “That would be a good guess.”

  “Well, see there you have it. Guys like you always want to take the bartender home.” I shake my head. Brushing him off hurts a lot more that I want it but not as much as waiting for him to call me back.

  “What kind of music do you play?” I plant my hands on my hips and turn it up a notch. This guy has no idea who he’s dealing with. “My guess is southern rock? Kings of Leon? Band of Horses? Am I getting close?”

  “The more you talk the more I like you.” The words roll out of his mouth like he’s said them a thousand times before.

  “If you’re just looking for a little fuck-buddy action you need to just tell me straight out. No need to try and pretty it up with dinners and promises or phone calls.”

  “You really like to cut to the chase, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like you.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other and take a breath. These kinds of negotiations are always interesting. “I just think you need to understand that I don’t like playing bullshit games with people. I’m a firm believer in everybody being on the same page.”

  “Which means?” he asks.

  “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk at the grocery store for three and a quarter?”

  “And this means? What?”

  “It means that I don’t like having expectations and I really don’t like guys thinking that I’m the kind of girl who enjoys being strung along. I like a good fuck, maybe a little slap and tickle and then I never see you again.”

  “You certainly have a way with words.” Micah reaches out, taking my hand in his and turning it palm-side up “I tell you what,” he says as he pulls a pen out of his pocket and proceeds to scribble something on my skin. “This is my number. You text me when a decent band shows up. I’ll come back and you and I can haggle over the cost of a gallon of milk.”

  “Is that a challenge or an offer?”

  “It’s whatever you want it to be.” He laughs as he releases my hand. “It’s up to you to decide.”

  “What happened if I don’t rise to the bait?”

  “Then I’ll need to come back and make some huge gesture to get your attention.”

  “What kind of gesture?” I look down at the block print scrolled across my hand. It takes a serious effort to keep from memorizing it immediately.

  “You’re interested?” He leans closer and grins.

  Of course he grins.

  He’s always fucking grinning.

  “Don’t be so impressed with yourself, you cocky little shit.” I give him a punch on the arm. “Maybe I just don’t like surprises.”

  “Would kissing you be too much of a surprise?”

  “So, you like being punched in the nuts by angry girls?” I say and give him another.

  “Not particularly.” He moves out of the way before I can get in another hit to his rock hard bicep.

  “Then you better come up with a better gesture than that. Any idiot can kiss a girl.”

  “Hey, how do you know my kissing won’t be exceptionally good?” He throws me a sad, puppy face.

  “Because you get by on your looks.” This time I land a gentle punch on his shoulder.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” I laugh at him as he ducks another swat. “You sit around being handsome and awesome and have everything handed to you. You should know by now that looks don’t last and women don’t fake it for shriveled up assholes who don’t know how to kiss or eat pussy.”

  “Are you offering to give me lessons?” He stops moving. It seems I’ve got his attention now.

  “For the kissing?”

  “Whichever?” He runs a hand across the sharp curve of his jaw. “Either way I promise I’m a quick study and take direction extremely well.”

  “I bet you do.” I sigh. There are several thing I can do right now. One is kick him out of the back courtyard and go back to drinking my soda. Doing this will probably only lead to me kicking myself for a few days because I’d really like that kiss and this is, probably a onetime deal. On the other hand, if he kisses me and I like it I’m really going to want to take him home. And if he’s bad at it? Well, that’s gonna be a huge disappointment but at least I’ll know. “You have to move closer. You can’t kiss me from over there.”

  He takes a step toward me and stops. “Like this?”

  “Not bad.” I frown.

  “Maybe you should show me. Just you know, so I don’t make a mistake.” He suggests playfully.

  “Personally I’d stand like this.” I reach out, taking him by the shoulders and maneuvering him closer. It’s a risky move since his body is as hard as a frigging rock and I really don’t want to let go. It’s easy to see where this sort of thing is going to lead me if I’m not careful.

  “Right here,” I say as I pull him around so we’re facing one another with his right shoulder meeting me in the middle of my chest. He’s less than an arm’s length from me. I reach out and place one hand square in the middle of his chest. “See, this is just about perfect.”

  “But I can’t put my hand where you’ve got yours.” He bites his lips again.

  “No, but you can put your hand over my mine,” I say.

  He covers my hand with his and whispers “Like this?”

  “That’s good.” I nod and take a deep breath. God, he smells good. Clean like fresh laundry and sandalwood soap. It’s a nice mix. Way better than the noxious body spray I’m assaulted with on a daily basis.

  “What about my other hand?”

  I look up from the spot on his chest where our fingers are entwined. His skin is so warm and his face is so close. It would be such an easy thing so just lean in and kiss him. “You put that on the side of my neck, sort of under my ear,” I stammer. “Put your thumb against my cheek, like you’re brushing-“

  “Like this.” Micah interrupts and slides his hand up the length of my neck until his fingers are in my hair and his palm is pressed against the curve of my jaw. The effect is panty melting goodness on a motherfucking stick.

  “That’s very good.” I nod and try to hold myself steady. My heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of my chest and I’m sweating and hot in all sorts of strange places. If he offers to take me home and fuck me at this particular moment I’d totally go for it. “You’re a fast study.”

  “You need to be careful. You might make me blush with all those compliments.” He pulls me so close there’s not an inch of space left between us.

  “True, I don’t want this going to your head. You might get lazy.”

  He lowers his face to mine and grazes his lips across my cheek on his way to my ear. “How would you like me to proceed, Jane?”

  The way he says my name? Holy fucking shit. It makes me want to close my eyes and let him to really dirty things to me.

  “You should kiss me now.” I take another breath and wait. Sink or swim. There’s no going back from this point on.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want me to do?” He presses his warm lips to the tip of my ear.

  All I can do is nod.

  “You have to say the words or I might now know what to do.” He’s teasing his mouth along the edge of my jaw. It’s a maddening sensation that has my panties soaked and my body coiled tighter than a spring about to go off.
r />   He stops moving and winds his fingers in my hair.

  This guy just does not play nice.

  I let the breath that I’ve been holding out and take another. “Kiss me.”

  “Say it again.” His mouth is so close all I’d have to turn my head a fraction of an inch but he’s got me completely paralyzed. “Say it like you mean it.”

  “Kiss me.” My words tumble out of me sounding desperate and needy. In an instant he’s taken complete control of everything that is happening and I’m left begging. “Please, kiss me.”

  I can feel his lips curl up into a smile.

  He’s fucking smiling.

  “Please,” I say again and turn my head to catch Micah’s mouth with my own. A girl can only take so much pussy-teasing for one night before she’s got to take matters into her own hands.

  Micah moves his head away from my face but keeps his hold on me. “Not yet,” he murmurs, “I think I like teasing you too much and you called me a lazy pretty-boy.” He lets out a small groan of disapproval as moves away from me. “Not to mention the fact that you were wrong about the southern rock thing.”

  “You’re a rat bastard.”It takes me a minute to wrap my head around the fact that he’s been playing with me.

  “I know, but you like me.” Micah turns around and places his hand on the door knob.

  “Do you do this sort of thing all the time?”

  “Only when I really like someone.” He lets out a low, devilish chuckle as he turns the handle to open the door. “Don’t forget to text me.”

  And then he’s gone.

  Good thing I forgot to give him back his change from all those hundred dollar bills he dropped.

  Chapter Two

  “

  So, are you going to text him or what?” Molly asked as she stuffs her coat it into the locker we share in the staff room.

  “Why on earth would I do that?” I asked. I’d told her about the little meet and greet with Micah she’d instigated behind the bar. I assumed that she’d agreed with my rat bastard assessment but she didn’t.

  Molly thought it was just a matter of turnabout being fair play.

  I told her to piss off.