All Men Fall

by C. M. Lally

  “I wish I had a million dollars,” I say quietly, not wanting to embarrass myself.

  “What did you say?” He gives me one of those questioning looks where one of his eyebrows arches and raises high above the other. That right there is the money shot, because this man is beyond-the-moon beautiful—especially up close and personal.

  “My friend Ashley says that you’re supposed to say ‘I wish I had a million dollars’ out loud as soon as you get the hiccups and they go away.” I hold my finger up in the air, gesturing for him to wait. “See, no more hiccups.”

  His eyes move from my face to gaze over my left shoulder. Hands wrap around my waist from behind, and a chin rests on my shoulder.

  “Sweetheart, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Luke’s hot whiskey breath on my cheek makes my stomach wanna hurl my granola bar, reminding me of my hunger. I attempt to pull away from his hold, but he squeezes me tighter.

  “I would,” I say, “if I knew his name. Right now, he’s just a savior who was tall enough to get me a cold drink before I died of thirst.”

  We both continue to stare at the stranger, and after a few seconds, the behemoth of a man turns and walks away from us both without a word. I watch him edge sideways through the crowd, continuing back to his bar stool, where he sits and swigs his beer.

  I peel Luke’s hands away from me. “What the fuck was that, Luke? You don’t need to lay hands on me like you’re staking a claim.” I push him away and rush straight out the doors toward my car before he has time to react.

  I stay there for about fifteen minutes, devouring two peanut butter granola bars and guzzling my stranger-acquired water. I keep thinking Luke is going to come out and throw one of his tantrums on me, but he never does.

  I swear, I would hate to have to kill a man for making a scene while I am on a gig, but no man is ever going to own me. I don’t even understand what that means. I was put on this Earth as a single human being. I am not a twin, or part of a group. God saw fit to make me an individual, and I intend to keep it that way—at least until I can decide who I want, rather than who wants me.

  I head back into the bar, assuming it’s safe to say I avoided Luke’s temper tonight. Thank God! I don’t understand men. They say sweet things to woo you, talk you up like you are the one, act crazy-jealous when another encroaches on completely free territory, and then one day—out of the blue—they realize your career isn’t going very far very fast, and they leave. Mostly unannounced, but sometimes there’s a fireworks show about it. They always leave, so I never have to worry about that. I just have to guess at my expiration date. Sometimes I can feel it coming, and other times I just end up in the trash.

  Looks like the boys are back up onstage, warming up. I head in that direction, but someone grabs my elbow and swings me around. Before I even see him, I smell whiskey and know its Luke.

  “Fuck, Luke!” I screech at him. “You scared the shit out of me. Let go, you’re hurting me.” I roll my shoulders to loosen his hold, but he won’t let go. I try to peel his fingers away from my arm, but his grip is too tight, and I already know I’m gonna be bruised in the morning.

  He drops my arm and waggles his finger in my face. “Why don’t you just stick to singing tonight and stop the fucking flirtin’, Jenna?”

  I watch him swagger back to his table, drink in hand. Asshole, is all I can think.

  One of the waitresses brings up a cooler of cold waters and sets them down on the back amp for me, smiling.

  “Thank you!” I croak at her, as I twist off one of the caps. “You are an angel.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me, honey. Thank the man at the bar.” She winks at me as she walks away.

  I look towards the bar and there are no less than fifty men over there—and not one of them is looking my way.

  Well, that’s a puzzle to solve for another day. I hear the drums kick in for “Tonight I'm Getting Over You” by Carly Rae Jepsen, and I begin the second set.

  Chapter 3

  Nick

  I watch her return through the main doors. She doesn’t look upset or like she’s been crying; I guess that’s a good sign. That asshole stayed inside and just continued to drink in her absence without checking on her. Two more minutes and I was going to head on out to find her and make sure she was all right, even if it would have been from a distance.

  I signal the waitress, Bekah, to come see me. If that asshole isn’t going to take care of her, I will.

  “Hey, handsome,” Bekah says. “What can I get for you?”

  “Could you please take a bucket of bottled waters on ice over to the band, so the singer has water when she needs it? Put them on my tab.”

  “Sure, I can do that. Do you want me to tell them who they’re from?” She gives me that suspiciously coy smile of hers.

  “No. If she asks, just tell her it’s from the man at the bar. Don’t point me out or anything else, okay? She should know who you mean.”

  I watch her asshole boyfriend order another drink before getting up and heading in her direction. I wish I could hear them, but instead I watch him viciously grabbing at her arm, and her attempting unsuccessfully to jerk it away. He’s got a tight hold on her.

  I can only see her profile, but she’s obviously pissed now. Her shoulders are hunched up and she’s trying to roll her forearm out of his cage hold. Her other hand is prying his fingers off her, and her jaw is clenched so tight I swear she’s going to break a tooth. I scoot my stool back to go intervene, but then Bekah approaches them with the bucket of waters, and he lets go of her arm.

  I head to the restroom instead; I need to piss, and I most definitely need to cool off. I don’t need to be a part of a bar brawl tonight.

  As I make my way back to the bar, I stop and appreciate her in motion. My God, she’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, standing center stage like a warrior. She’s got a fire in her when he sings. Her entire face glows with exhilaration.

  What I wouldn’t do to have put that glow there. I bet that’s how she looks when she orgasms. My dick is instantly hard for her, like it is every time she enters my brain.

  The stage lights create an ethereal halo effect over her long, straight dark hair. The sparse ice-blue streaks in it hint at her wildness. Her bangs hang straight over deep-set, almond-shaped eyes the color of the Caribbean. They electrify the room when she turns her gaze toward the crowd.

  I watch her bounce a little as she takes the mic from the stand, and I can tell she’s doing a mental psyche-up to entertain us. The whole scene makes her look like one of those blue-haired anime nymphs you see in Japanese cartoons.

  She lifts the mic to those heavenly lips, and I can hear her first heavy breath as she speaks. I could cut glass with my dick, it’s so hard for her now.

  “Hi, everyone! Thanks for coming out to see us tonight! We are JEMFire and thanks to Frank’s generosity, we’re gonna be here on Friday and Saturday nights throughout the summer. So make sure to catch the show both nights. Frank made us promise to play some big-haired 80s metal that you won’t want to miss, so here we go!”

  The guitar riff for “Still of the Night” by Whitesnake starts, and though it’s not a dancing song, the crowd fills up the dance floor near the stage just to be close to her. She struts across the stage, slinging her hair, lost in the beat of the song. At the end, she falls to her knees and plays her air-guitar to the ending chorus, and the Beer & Brood goes nuts.

  “Thank you! It looks like you all liked that. Frank made a good choice, I see!” She grabs her water and tips the bottle to Frank in salute, who’s sitting by me at the end of the bar.

  The guitar strums for the beginning of the next song; the cymbals start their tinny chords, and the bassist releases on the harmonica cry. Jenna starts in on “Rock Me” by Great White, and I just sit and stare in awe. She’s just a little bundle of energy exploding through me. She could probably sing the phone book and I’d get a hard on.

  The rest of the set is a classic mix
of 80s songs that I can tell she thoroughly enjoys singing. Her full smile is stretched wide, showcasing those gorgeous straight, white teeth. It’s the kind of smile that hints at brave and sexy.

  God, what I wouldn’t do to get in on her life. To just be a part of one of her stories must be a high like no other. Her smile tells me that she’s been loved by great parents, had a trauma-free childhood with lots of adoring friends—and probably boyfriends—and her life is working out as she planned.

  I wouldn’t know much about that last one. Adulting royally sucks in my world.

  I snap out of my JEMFire trance at the sound of a clearing throat, and notice that her boyfriend is standing next to me. I turn my head in his direction and look into black eyes that are rimmed in red, thanks to the cheap whiskey he drinks.

  He glares right through me and uses the index finger of the hand holding his highball glass to point right at my nose. “I know she’s beautiful and talented,” he slurs, “and I know you know that, too. She’s officially taken, just so we’re clear on that.” He belches as he wobbles on both legs to lean in towards me.

  “Oh, we’re crystal clear on that fact,” I grunt at him in disgust. Clearly she’s taken, but I don’t know why her choice is this drunken fool. I throw some money on the bar top to clear my tab, then shoulder around this motherfucker to leave. I promised myself no drama tonight, since I have to work tomorrow. Saturdays are my roughest days at work because I usually have a full crew. I don’t need to be nursing a hangover or any bruises.

  Not that this piece of trash could bruise me, but you never know who’s itching for a fight and needs to just throw a punch at the first person they come in contact with. God knows there are plenty of people in this town who would love to throw a punch or two at me.

  I head into the restroom to take another piss before leaving. I can hear the stupid house music playing over the speakers, and remind myself to tell Frank he has got to change that music. Surely he’d see the irony in following up that show with this shit? I make my way down the hallway to leave, and see the band tearing down the stage equipment, and moving the amps into the back storage room. My dick gets hard again just thinking about running into her, but I don’t see her. I adjust myself through my pants to get it away from the zipper, pushing it over to lay against my keys in my pocket. Down boy. She’s not around.

  Outside, I climb into my truck and slide the keys into the ignition. I flip on the headlights, and there sits another blue index card under my wiper blade. I swing my door open wide and reach around to grab it.

  To the victor go the spoils.

  Who the hell at the Beer & Brood quotes Julius Caesar?

  I read it again, scraping it back and forth across my palm and trying to pinpoint anything about tonight that makes me a victor.

  The answer is: Nothing. I won nothing tonight.

  This is the first note I’ve gotten that doesn’t make any sense. I look around the parking lot, but no one is looking my direction. Lots of people are milling about and finding their cars, but no one seems to be interested in me. I’ll add it to the collection on the mirror. Maybe one day these will all make sense.

  I get home to find Zeus laying on my side of the bed, chew toys strewn across the bed and the floor. He must have missed me. He’s a mammoth dog, and I don’t have enough energy to battle him when it’s near 1 a.m. My alarm is going to sound off here shortly.

  I walk into my guest bedroom and simply fall onto the bed. JEMFire has me pumped up on her high. I can still feel her vibe through the air in this room. She’s like the aftershocks of an earthquake—the main event is over, but the rumbles still occur because the experience was that deep and jolting.

  I lay there thinking of her and the way she moves on stage. She dances, sways, jumps and spins to the rhythm of the music. Her mane of hair is thick and follows every move she makes. It sticks to the minuscule sweat droplets that run down the curve of her neck, then it drapes down her back. I would love to pull it all together and twine it around my wrist while licking her collarbone and sucking her neck.

  God, that neck.

  I look over at the clock and know that time is getting away from me. I’m just gonna have to close my eyes and let her appear in my dreams.

  Chapter 4

  Jenna

  I’m exhausted after last night.

  I tried to drop Luke at his apartment, but he started whining about needing me. I really didn’t want to fight with him while he was drunk, so I drove him to my place and dropped him on the couch—where I’m sure he’s currently laying while I work. Thank God he was too drunk for sex and just passed out while I was in the shower.

  I took an exceptionally long shower. I couldn’t escape my thoughts of the beautiful man who’d finally stepped out of his comfort zone and bought me water. For a while now, I’ve been watching him watch the people at the bar. I can see his thoughts and emotions flicker across his face like turning the pages of a picture book. Sometimes he has a quiet reverence about him, like he’s a deep thinker. Other times he’s guarded, and I can’t get a read on any of his feelings.

  He’s also a protector. I’ve seen him be kind and gentle to complete strangers, offering his seat or opening up doors for ladies when their boyfriends forget their manners. I could feel his green eyes on me for most of the night. They penetrated the crowd and scorched my body like the summer sun burns unprotected skin. I can’t hide from him when I am on stage. His gaze lights me up, and I know if I let it I’m going to feel the burn.

  “Hey, Jenna. Can you do me a favor today?” My Mom walks into the cooler, where I’m standing twirling roses in my hands. “Jenna. Earth to Jenna,” she says, snapping her fingers near my face.

  “Yes, Mom. Sorry, I was thinking about last night. What favor do you need?”

  “Ooh, what happened last night? Anything exciting?”

  “Nope.” I let the syllable pop between my lips. “I just started playing at the Beer & Brood as an extra night for Uncle Frank, remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. So nothing exciting happened that has you daydreaming today?”

  “Just thinking about my setlists, and rearranging them for a greater reaction from the crowd. That’s all. Anyway, you need a favor,” I remind her, to change the subject. I work for my parents at their floral shop. I love it. Who wouldn’t love working with flowers all day? They’re God’s natural artwork that you get to hold in your own hands. So that’s the upside of working with my parents. The downside is being subjected to the incessant questions about the events and people in my life.

  “Your Dad has his eye appointment today, and won’t be able to do the deliveries. We have five on the schedule. They’re all close by, and I was wondering if you could do them?” Her voice shifts into that singsong tone that she knows will get her what she wants. “I’ll let you go home early to rest up for tonight if you do me this favor.”

  “Sure, no problem, Mom,” I reply. I could really use the sleep, or tonight is going to be a long one. I get the delivery schedule and addresses, load the arrangements, and grab the van keys and my phone before heading out the door.

  I hear, “Thank you, Sweetheart,” as I close the van door. She knows she doesn’t ever have to thank me. They support my music, and never once balked when I told them I didn’t want to go to college. I just want to sing and work for them. I know they worry about me, but it’s my life and this is what I want to do with it. I want to live as stress-free as I possibly can.

  After finishing up the deliveries, I get home early in the afternoon ready for my bed—again, it feels like. Everything’s perfectly quiet and Luke’s not around, although I can see he made himself a mighty large breakfast before heading out. Thanks for cleaning up your own mess, I think. I load everything in the dishwasher and shimmy into my pajamas again, praying for some serious nap time.

  I arrive back at the Beer & Brood by 8 p.m. for set up, but the guys have already got everything together and ready to play. I see my Uncle Frank at the
bar and head over to catch up with him.

  “There’s my girlie,” he says as he kisses my cheek. “Great job last night.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Frank. Can I ask you a question? It’s been burning a hole in my mind since last night,” I smile sweetly at him, because I’m still fourteen in his mind and I really want an answer. He nods for me to continue.

  As if the fates planned perfect timing for me today, Bekah walks by. I throw out my arm for her to stop, and ask her to join us. She stops and leans against the bar, and I turn to face her. “There was a man here last night,” I say. “He bought waters for the band to drink, before the second set. Who was he?”

  Bekah looks at Frank and says, “I can tell you, Frank, but I promised not to tell her.”

  “Seriously?” My mouth drops open and I sputter around looking for different words but nothing comes to mind.

  “Patron privacy and all that,” she says. Her voice sounds snide, but I know she’s teasing me. “I promised him I wouldn’t point him out or say his name. That is a mystery you’re just going to have to call Scooby-Doo to figure out.” She tucks her serving tray under her arm and walks away.

  “Make her tell me, Uncle Frank,” I beg.

  His eyes roam all over my face. “Let me see what I can find out. Doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you, but let me check it out, because I honestly don’t know.”

  I hug him tightly. “Any special song requests for tonight?” I ask before taking my leave.

  He shakes his head. “Just do your thing, and make them thirsty.”

  I head back over to the band, and we start a quick sound check. My eyes keep darting from the main doors to the bar, but I don’t see him here tonight. Or at least not yet, anyway. It’s still early.

  The band is two songs into the first setlist when I finally see him standing at the edge of the dance floor. I can feel his eyes on me again. I pray that Luke, who’s sitting at his usual table on the other side of the floor, doesn’t notice him there. He’s already halfway to drunk again.