by Carian Cole
“Well, well, well . . . you found someone I haven’t had the pleasure of,” he says, checking out Ivy, his eyes roaming all over her. I know he’s doing it just to get me riled up, but I ignore his stupid shit because I’m in too good of a mood tonight to let him ruin it.
“Ivy, this is my brother, Vandal. Van, this is Ivy.”
Ivy looks petrified of him, which is a typical reaction for most women. First, they look scared, but then they become oddly attracted to him. I’ve watched it happen more times than I can count. Vandal is a big guy at six-foot four, with a muscular build like a wrestler. He has long black hair that’s almost to his friggen’ ass, dark skin, and lots of tats. We do look alike in some ways, but he’s bigger than I am and always has a menacing look on his face.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says politely. I put my arm around her, and she presses her body into mine, fitting against me like she was made from a part of me.
Vandal actually smiles at her, something he doesn’t do often. “The pleasure’s mine, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy the show.”
I pull her away from him before he blurts out anything annoying or inappropriate, and lead her down the hall to the door that will take us into the club.
“Wow, he’s a big guy,” Ivy says when we’re away from him. “He looks like an Indian.”
“Yeah . . . we have different mothers.”
“You mentioned a niece . . . Is she his?”
Nodding, I find our reserved table by the stage. “Yeah, Katie is his. He’s a good dad. I’ll give him that. Her mother’s a crazy bitch, though.” I help her get her coat off, and hang it over the back of her chair before we sit together. “Katie’s just a little younger than your son. Maybe next time I babysit her, we could let them meet?”
I know she’s nervous about me meeting her kids, but if we’re going to continue dating, she’s going to have to let them meet me and get to know me at some point. I don’t want to be treated like a dirty secret. She doesn’t know me well enough yet to understand how important it is for me to be part of a family . . . and to have my own family. If her kids end up hating me, I’m not sure how I’m gonna deal with that.
“Okay,” she promises. “That would be fun. Macy is really good with kids. She will probably love your niece.”
I lean into her neck and kiss her ear. “You look gorgeous tonight.” She’s got on a black lacy jacket over a red silk top, skinny jeans, and black leather boots. Her hair is straightened tonight, different from her usual loose waves, and it looks even longer, almost reaching her waist. I’d love to draw her naked, with just her hair flowing over her body, and frame it for my bedroom. I file that wish away with the rest of the things I want to do with her.
She beams at my compliment. “You’re lookin’ good, too . . . I have to tell you, the converse sneakers kinda really get to me,” she admits, her lips curving into a sensual smile.
“I’ll never take them off, then.” We’re interrupted by a crowd of three people just as I’m about to kiss her. I look up to see two chicks and a guy standing by our table.
“Hey, I’m Lukas. You guys must be Evelyn, Mike, and Amy?” I stand up, and the shorter girl nods, her eyes darting around nervously, like she’s looking for someone or hoping not to be seen. I can see why Storm likes her, though; she’s cute and has huge round, expressive eyes like a baby owl.
“That’s us. You’re Storm’s cousin?”
“Yup. This is Ivy.”
After introductions, we sit and I watch Evie’s boyfriend scout out every hot chick in the place, while Evie talks to her friend and Ivy. Storm’s right; the boyfriend’s a douche and obviously a whore-hound. He could at least attempt to hide it. Dumb ass. Storm shows up at our table to say hello, and I can’t tell who’s more in love with him—Evie or her boyfriend. He’s fan-boying over Storm so bad that he’s oblivious to the fact that Storm’s got his hand on his chick’s neck and is whispering in her ear, making her blush. Ivy raises her eyes at me as we witness the train wreck going on in front of us, and I just shake my head. How Storm is gonna unravel this mess is beyond me, but I hope he does, for his sake. I’m one of the few people that know he still has nightmares from losing his first wife years ago to suicide, an evil our family seems to be plagued with. I glance at my own inked wrists, and I can still see the raised scar tissue there. I wonder how long it will be before Ivy notices them and questions me.
For some, body art is to display things we’re passionate about. For others, it’s a camouflage to hide who we really are inside.
IVY
IT’S BEEN YEARS SINCE I’VE BEEN to a concert or seen any kind of live band play, and I didn’t recognize the band name when Lukas asked me to come. Now that I’m looking around, and seeing people milling around wearing the hoodies and t-shirts with the Ashes & Embers logo, I realize that Macy has one of their posters hanging on her wall. She also has several of their t-shirts. Great. Of course, my daughter would be a fan of the band that Lukas is so close to, because her being attracted to the man I’m dating isn’t awkward enough. Now, I’m going to have to deal with her obsessing over the entire band.
The lights go down, the curtain goes up, and the band starts to play; they’re a plethora of muscle, long hair, tattoos, and sexy voices. Their sound is great, and the crowd is going wild over them. Vandal stands off to the side of the stage, playing bass, and he’s a whole lot of scary with a side of wow. It’s easy to see why Evie is so taken with Storm; he’s hot and playful and absolutely full of personality on stage. The singer looks like Storm but is much more laid back, swaying with the mic, his voice deep and emotional, pulling us all in. He could sing the alphabet, and it would be amazing. He’s that good. There’s another guitarist strutting around the stage, banging his head of long dirty blonde hair. He’s shirtless and his ripped, faded jeans are hanging low on his hips, revealing toned abs and that V—the same Lukas has too—that women go crazy for. I can barely see the drummer, but from what I can see, he’s a wild man back there, his hair even longer than the rest of them, tossing his sticks in the air and catching them every time.
A crowd of women have made their way to the front of the stage and are screaming, grabbing at the guys’ legs, especially Storm’s. I glance over at Evie, wondering if she knows what she’s getting into, getting involved with a rock star. I don’t know if I could deal with women constantly coming on to my man, groping him, offering to do God knows what just to be with him. If Paul was so easily swayed by a younger, sexy girl, how do men react when it’s happening to them on a daily basis? I don’t even want to know.
Right after the second song, Lukas leans close to me and plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be right back, doll.” I nod and watch him walk over to the side of the stage, talk to a blonde girl, and then disappear down a hallway.
“How long have you been dating?” Evie asks me.
“Oh . . . well, we’re not really dating. It’s kinda new. I’m a thirty-six year old new divorcee. I met him to get a tattoo done, and we sorta hit it off.”
“That’s great! He’s really cute.”
She’s so right, and he seems to get cuter every time I see him. “I guess.” I smile at her. “I don’t know . . . he’s much younger than me. He’s only twenty-four. I have a teen daughter who has a crush on him, and she loves this band. This is all really new for me. I think I’m kinda too old for this.”
She waves her hand at me, dismissing my comment with a smile. “Get out of here! You don’t look thirty-six! And who cares about age anyway? Storm speaks really highly of him. He’s a good guy. If you’re happy, just go for it! ”
“Look who’s talking!” Evie’s friend interjects, nudging Evie’s arm.
I lower my voice, so her boyfriend can’t hear me. “I heard about you and Storm. Lukas told me what happened.”
“What did you hear?” she asks, her big eyes growing wider with fear.
“About the blizzard and how he fell for you. Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Lukas
really wants to see Storm happy.”
Her eyes soften. “I do too.”
I look up at the stage as the song ends. The singer grabs the mic off the stand and walks a little closer to the edge of the stage.
“So, as you guys know, my brother got stuck in a blizzard a few weeks ago, right?” He turns to Storm, laughing in his direction. “Like trapped in his truck out in the woods?”
The crowd screams, and Evie looks like she is going to pass out.
The singer continues. “So, this chick he was stuck with had no fucking idea who he was. Can you believe that shit?”
“No!” the audience yells.
“Fuckin’ A, right! So Storm gave her one of our sweatshirts to wear, because he steals them all and he had one in his truck.” He looks over at Storm, who’s shaking his head and laughing over on his side of the stage. “And she says, ‘oh is this one of those bands that just yell, and you can’t hear the fucking lyrics?’”
The crowd roars and laughs. Evie’s friend, Amy, laughs hysterically, while Evie sips her drink. I feel bad for her. She looks like she is going to be sick.
“So we decided to do a song with no fuckin’ yelling, just for Blizzard Chick! And as a special treat, Storm’s gonna sing this one. It’s one of his favorite songs.”
“Oh, God,” Evie says as the audience jumps up and down.
Storm’s brother continues. “Now, you all know he can’t sing as good as me, so let’s go easy on him, okay?” He puts the mic back in its stand and walks away as the lights go down.
Evie’s boyfriend turns to her. “This ought to be good,” he says, with a slight smirk on his face. Honestly, I think he knows that Evie and Storm have something going on, and he just doesn’t care. He just has that jerk look to him. Resting jerk face.
The stage is dark and quiet for a few moments, and then a violin starts to play a few soft notes in the dark. Suddenly, a blue spotlight shines down on one member on the right side of the dark stage, holding the violin, moving the bow softly over the strings, the sound haunting and beautiful.
It takes me a few stunned moments to realize it’s Lukas glowing under the blue light like an ethereal angel, his eyes closed as he plays the slow intro of the song. He looks incredible up there on stage, and the way his arm muscles flex as he plays is making all the women drool. Including me.
A purple spotlight shines down and lights up Storm, who’s sitting on a stool center stage, holding his guitar, and he starts to sing a beautiful love song. Storm’s voice coupled with the lonely, romantic sound of the violin is mind blowing. I can’t take my eyes off of Lukas. He is so beautiful, oozing sensuality and confidence, the music flowing from him like he was born with that violin in his hand.
I grab Evie’s hand under the table, and we hold on to each other, bonding as we watch the men we’re falling in love with on stage, knowing we’re never gonna be the same after this. I recall Lukas’ words about trying to make us fall in love with them. How could we not?
I can’t believe Lukas never told me he plays, or that he would be playing tonight. I wonder if he’s actually a full time member of the band. I have to admit, I’m getting turned on watching him up there, the way his head is bent down, his hair falling over his face and over his shoulders, his arms and chest flexing as he plays that beautiful instrument. He’s a dazzling mix of dark goth, adorable, and classical, all rolled up in a damn fine sexy ball.
Oh, shit. Am I really dating a twenty-four year old tattoo artist who’s also a rock star? How did this happen? I’m just a boring, plain, human resources manager. Lukas is way out of my league.
The next song they play is heavier, and the rest of the band joins in as the lights brighten and fog wafts across the stage. I watch as Lukas saunters around the stage, adding some fast metal solos, shaking his head with sexy attitude as the bow flies over the strings of the violin. Hot does even begin to describe him. I’ve never seen anyone play a violin so fast and hard before. The audience is going wild over him, forcing me to tear my eyes off him and shift my eyes over to see the crowd of gorgeous women trying to get closer to the stage, gawking at both Storm and Lukas, reaching for their legs and taking pictures.
So not only does he have half-naked, beautiful women sprawled out in front of him at the tattoo shop all day, but he’s most likely got fans of the band after him, too. I swallow hard, a myriad of fears and insecurities swirling inside me.
If a pretty girl was able to swoop in and take my average-looking, office-working husband from me, how in the hell could I hold on to someone like Lukas?
The band takes a break, and Lukas jumps down off the stage and pushes his way through the pile of women pawing at him to get back to our table. I try to swallow my jealousy down. He only smiled at them. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone or let anyone flirt with him. He’s not a man-slut. He’s all smiles when he approaches the table, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.
“Well?” he asks, out of breath, the adrenaline obviously still thrumming through his veins. I hand him my glass of water, and he gulps some down.
“Lukas, that was amazing!” Amy screeches before I can even open my mouth. “Holy shit, you rocked it!”
“Thanks, it was fun.” He smiles at her and then turns his attention back to me. “You’re not saying anything,” he says, sitting and pulling my chair closer to his, trying to catch his breath at the same time. “Those lights are fuckin’ hot.”
I force a smile onto my face, still not sure how I feel about all of this. “I’m just surprised . . . I had no idea you played the violin . . .”
“And the piano,” he adds, grinning.
“And the piano,” I repeat, “ . . . in a rock band. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looks around at the crowd and then back at me. “I was afraid it might scare you away. And I kinda wanted to surprise you.”
“You definitely surprised me. It was awesome, though. Going from that slow beautiful classical tune, then to metal was just incredible. I loved it.” I lean a little closer to him and lower my voice. “You looked really sexy up there strutting around.”
“Oh yeah?” He quirks his eyebrow up. “Did it turn you on?”
“Lukas . . .” I look around the table to see if anyone is listening to us.
He touches my cheek and turns me back to him. “Hey, don’t try to back pedal into shyness.”
“You’re so bad.” His teasing has become a sweet addiction for me. “You love to make me crazy.”
“You have no idea how bad I want to make you crazy, Ivy.” His gravelly voice caresses my senses, and I squeeze my thighs together. Verbal foreplay is something I’ve never experienced before, but wow, does he make it work.
He clears his throat. “I want you to know, I only play the intros and solos on a few songs. I don’t go on tour with the band or go to all the practices. I only play some of the local clubs with them.” He looks me dead in the eye. “My commitment is to the shop. And you.”
“Oh,” I say, shocked by his words. “Me?”
“Yes, you . . . I don’t want a fling, Ivy.” I love his serious voice. It’s deep, calming, and permanent. He doesn’t ever lie or say something he doesn’t mean, and I admire that about him more than anything else.
“I don’t either,” I answer, hoping he can feel that I mean my words just as much as he does.
We stay for the rest of the set, and when the last song is played, he nuzzles into my neck and whispers in my ear, “Let’s go. I need to be alone with you.”
He’s like wildfire on the drive back to his place, playing metal music on the radio and tapping his hands on the wheel. It’s obvious the music really gets him going and makes him feel alive. I don’t mind because I’m still replaying the night in my mind, trying to sort out my feelings; who he is, and what he does, makes me nervous. His work, his hobbies, and his passions all put him directly in front of women who want the novelty of a man like him. Sexy. Unique. Talented. Popular. Creative. Romantic.
Af
ter losing my husband to another woman’s shameless sluttery, giving my heart to a man who has a target on his body and heart by probably several hundred women scares the ever loving shit out of me. Could I deal with it without feeling paranoid all the time?
On the other hand, I’m extremely drawn to those unique aspects that make him so special. Watching him on stage and hearing his music was a total turn on, and that surprised me. It was a little bit exhilarating to know that so many of those women wanted him, but he was coming home with me. It made me feel special and wanted. It made me feel young again.
Reaching across the car, he takes my hand and raises it to his lips, then rests our clasped hands together on my leg. “You’re quiet,” he says, over the music. “Are you all right?”
“I’m great. I was just thinking about how amazing you were tonight. And Evie loved the song Storm sang to her. She was really touched by it.”
“I was hoping you would like it. Maybe Storm’s plan of wooing Evie worked.”
I smile over at him and tighten my fingers around his. “I’m pretty sure it did. It was a really sweet song, just like you.”
He chews his lip ring for a few seconds, then glances at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “I’m not always sweet and quiet, Ivy.”
The tone in his voice is now deeper, mysterious, and dark, making my stomach do a slow flip.
I lick my lips nervously, because I love my sweet Lukas and can’t imagine him any other way. “Okay,” I murmur, but I’m not sure he hears me because he doesn’t say another word for the rest of the drive. He just holds my hand and nods his head to the rock music blasting from his stereo.
Earlier, I told him Macy was staying over at a friend’s house, and he knows that Tommy is with Paul this weekend, thus leaving me free for the entire night.
Free to not go home.
Free to stay at his place.
Free to sleep with him.
Free to be . . . free.
IVY
HE OPENS MY CAR DOOR FOR and then puts his arm around me, protecting me from the cold air as we walk across the dark parking lot to his house. Snow flurries are falling softly as he unlocks the door and lets us in.
