I roll my eyes. Liv can be very tiring, but I love her. I laugh, “I think he’s seeing someone.”
“No problem. We’ll follow her home, bash her over the head with a frying pan, and bury her in the desert outside of Vegas. Problem solved. We can do it tonight and be back by morning.”
I grin. Yeah, I love Liv. I don’t know why I stopped hanging out with her. Oh yeah. Scott. He was such a monopolizer. In fact, now that I think about it, it wasn’t me who pushed away my friends. It was Scott being overly controlling. Why did I let him?
Olivia asks seriously, “Do you have a frying pan in your car? We can get one from my apartment if you don’t.”
“No,” I laugh. “Anyway, I don’t know if I want to get into anything right now.”
She gives me a serious look, “All you’re getting into is some guy’s pants. You don’t have to marry him.” She tears off a triangle of pita and dabs it in the little plastic cup of creamy garlic sauce.
“I’m not like that, Liv. I don’t just ‘bang’ guys.”
“Neither do I. I make mad passionate love to each one. Sometimes I call them back.”
I chuckle, “I can’t do that. My feelings always get in the way.”
“Feelings are for 20th century women. This is the space age, Victory.”
“I thought the space age was in the 60s or whatever?”
“Same diff. Anyway, you don’t have to love a guy to sleep with him.” She pauses thoughtfully, “Like is usually good enough, but a rousing hate fuck is always fun.”
I slump in my seat. Olivia has exhausted me. I joke, “Okay, I’ll sleep with the first guy I see.”
The side door of Zankou chicken opens up at that moment and a homeless guy in tattered rags with tape around his battered mismatched tennis shoes bends down in front of the square trash bins beside the door, pushes the little swinging rectangle lid up with a squeak, and peaks inside the bin, looking for leftovers.
Olivia blurts laughter, “Go get him!”
“Um…no?” I giggle.
“You said you would!” she jeers.
I wince, “You first?”
“Okay!” she titters. “But you have to shave him! Remember, I said no hair!”
I mutter so the bum won’t hear. “He has lizard skin, and I’m pretty sure lizards don’t have hairy balls. So he’s ready for you, Liv. Go get him!”
Olivia sinks down in the yellow bench seat and cackles heartily, her hands resting on her spasming belly.
Chapter 87
VICTORY
Me and Olivia end up in Los Feliz after we finish our food at Zankou.
We bar hop randomly, trying to find a fun vibe. Not because I’m unconsciously looking for Kellan. Seriously. Because I didn’t tell Liv that Switchblade took Kellan to Los Feliz.
Los Feliz was Liv’s idea.
She must have ESPed it out of me.
The last bar we hit is The Dresden Lounge on Vermont Avenue in the heart of downtown Los Feliz. The Dresden is the bar featured in the movie Swingers, and it still looks the same. I absolutely love the dark sultry ambiance. It’s a time warp back to 1950s lounge culture. Wood paneling mixed with stone, vinyl booths and hanging globes of light.
The place is packed with hipsters and random Angelenos.
Liv pushes through the crowd like an insistent mongoose until we make it up to the bar.
Marty and Elayne, the husband and wife jazz duo featured in Swingers playing Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees, are busy working their music magic. Marty is on drums, Elayne is on keyboard and they’re both improvising vocals over various romantic jazz standards. These two have been playing here for over thirty years and totally love each other. They kind of remind me of Johnny and Karen. I don’t know why Johnny and Karen opened a guitar shop when they could be playing music every night like Marty and Elayne.
Who knows.
Liv orders vodka cranberries and hands me a glass.
She says, “This place is packed with men. You should be able to find someone in here who isn’t homeless.”
“Just because they’re dressed nice doesn’t mean they aren’t living in a van or an RV.”
“True,” Liv says thoughtfully, “L.A. does have a thriving caravan culture. I know a guy who lives in an RV and moves it around to different neighborhoods. He says it’s cheaper than having an apartment. I couldn’t do it. I need a hot shower on a daily basis.”
“I think you need a cold shower on a daily basis,” I grin.
She winks, “I’ve got toys for that at my apartment. Which reminds me, I need to buy more batteries. I’m all out.”
I roll my eyes and sip my vodka cranberry. Luckily, I have a belly full of fatty Zankou yumminess, so I’m not worried about being too drunk to drive on one drink. But Liv has a high metabolism and will get tipsy quickly, leaving me as the designated driver.
“So, pick a guy already,” she flaps her fingers at the crowded room, “There’s at least five eligible candidates in here tonight.”
I glance around skeptically, “Where?”
“That guy at the end of the bar. The guy sitting in front of Marty and Elayne with the knit beanie. The guy standing by the front door—”
“How do you do it, Liv? You’ve got this whole place mapped out.”
“What? I simply take note as I pass by each one. Like that guy over their, the Man Bomb standing talking to the girl with pink hair.”
I turn my head. Oh no! It’s Kellan and Switchblade! If I say anything to Liv, she will berate me into talking to him until I do, or if I resist, wheel me over strapped to a hand truck and move my mouth for me like I’m a talking puppet.
I sip my drink, trying to cover my nerves.
Olivia eyes me suspiciously, “Do you know him?”
I maintain a poker face.
Liv’s eyes light up, “Your poker face means yes!”
Shit.
“You know that Man Bomb! Is that the guy you work with?”
I roll my eyes.
“Let’s go talk to him!” She yanks me through the crowd by the wrist before I can resist, nearly giving me whiplash.
I shake my head, smiling. Liv is bordering on being a frienemy tonight. Not really. She’s too much fun for that.
“What’s his name?” Liv barks, stopping far enough away that Kellan hasn’t seen us yet.
“Bill,” I lie.
“His name isn’t Bill,” she admonishes. “A guy that hot is not named Bill!”
I sigh and roll my eyes, “Aiden.”
She scrutinizes my face and says reluctantly, “Okay, I believe you. That better be his name,” she threatens.
“It is!” I lie. She deserves it.
Liv runs up to Kellan, screaming, “Aiden! So good to see you!” She throws her arms around Kellan’s neck.
He looks surprised. But he also looks like he’s used to this sort of behavior from strange women.
I’m close enough I can hear what they say next, but Kellan can’t see me where I stand behind a couple of tall guys watching Marty and Elayne play.
“Hey,” Kellan says casually, rolling with Liv’s bizarre behavior. “Do I know you?”
“Of course you do, Aiden!” Liv squeals. “Don’t you remember?”
Kellan cocks a grin, “Refresh my memory.”
“Vegas? New Year’s Eve 2013?”
“Oh yeah,” Kellan says.
I can’t believe him! Does he just assume he hooked up with her even if he doesn’t remember?
Switchblade snickers at Kellan, “Does this always happen to you?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Usually.”
Oh my gawd. He’s so full of himself.
Switchblade laughs and asks Liv, “What’s your name, honey?”
Liv grins, “My name is Lisa.” She slaps Kellan coquettishly on the chest, “You remember that, don’t you, Aiden? You said you were going to have it tattooed on your wrist. Did you?” Liv’s arms shoot out like a chameleon’s sticky tongue and she grabs his
left hand aggressively. She turns his arm wrist up. “It must be the other one.” She drops it and grabs his right arm. “It’s not here! You promised, Aiden! You said you would!” She whines and stamps her foot. And I think her eyes swivel in two different directions at once, just like a chameleon.
Liv is doing an amazing job of mimicking a psycho crazy ex-hookup. But it’s only partially an act in her case. I think her plan is to scare off Switchblade. So far, it isn’t working.
Switchblade seems amused by it all.
Wow, she must be a really understanding girlfriend.
No wonder Kellan likes her so much.
“Aiden,” Liv laughs throatily, “Since you didn’t get a tattoo like you promised, let’s go get one right now!” She pulls at his arm.
Switchblade asks, “Why does she keep calling you Aiden?”
Kellan shrugs.
He doesn’t care. Male slut!
I decide it’s time to call off the attack dogs. In Liv’s case, it’s more of a purse dog thing, but still dangerous because of the rabies.
I walk out of the crowd.
“Victory?” Kellan says, amused.
“Hey, Kellan,” I sigh.
“Hey, Victory,” Switchblade smiles genuinely. She really is nice. The consummate catch.
“Kellan?” Liv asks. “Who’s Kellan?”
“Me,” he nods.
Liv frowns at me, “I thought you said his name was Aiden!”
“I did,” I grin and sip my drink.
“Traitor!” she shouts. “You could be beheaded for that in some countries!”
I giggle.
Liv recovers, “It doesn’t matter. Let’s take Aiden to that tattoo parlor,” she says archly.
Kellan chuckles, “Do I look like I need more ink?”
He doesn’t.
“Yes!” Liv barks like a high-pitched purse dog, “Let’s go!” She pulls his arm.
Switchblade laughs at all of this. Is she not his girlfriend? I can’t really tell. But she’s way up in his personal space like she is, standing one inch away from him the whole time. Maybe that’s cuz the bar is crowded? I don’t know.
Switchblade asks me, ‘Does your friend have rabies?”
She read my mind.
Liv growls, “Yes! So watch out! I bite!”
“I bite too,” Switchblade chuckles.
What does that mean? Maybe she likes to fight. With her punk rock look, I can picture it.
“Let’s go, Liv,” I pull on her arm. I don’t want her getting snapped in half by Switchblade.
Switchblade says to Liv, “I thought you said your name was Lisa?”
“I did! And his name is Aiden, and we need to go!” She pulls on Kellan’s arm and grunts ineffectually.
Kellan laughs, “Easy, Lisa, or Liv, or Loca, or whatever your name is. You’re going to break the merchandise.”
Liv scowl-smiles, “You look like you could break a bull in half, I’m not worried about hurting you. Let’s go.” Liv yanks like she’s pulling on a building.
“Relax,” Kellan says casually, “I don’t want you to pull a muscle.”
Liv relents, “Fine.” She drops her hands to her sides. “I tried.”
“Tried what? “ Kellan asks.
Liv opens her mouth to speak but I slap my hand over it.
Time for damage control.
“We should go,” I giggle nervously and pull Liv into the crowd.
Liv twinkles her nose and waves goodbye, “We’ll always have New Year’s Eve 2013, Aiden!”
Liv is definitely loca.
Chapter 88
VICTORY
I drop Liv off at her apartment and put her to bed. We left her car parked in Los Feliz because she was way too loaded to drive by the end of the night.
I wanted to stay and chat with Kellan and Switchblade and tell them about my botched audition with Wild Child, but Liv had an attack plan and she wasn’t veering from it. I wonder if Danny Daggers put the moves on Switchblade too?
I’ll have to ask her some other time.
When Liv is dozing sleepily in her bed, I drive back to Johnny and Karen’s apartment to crash.
I unlock the door and set my Fender case on the floor.
I listen for the telltale moans and gasps of sexual pleasure.
Silence.
Thank the goddesses.
For once, Johnny and Karen aren’t having noisy sex in their bedroom. The bedroom door is open, which means they’re out for the evening.
I grab sweats and walk into the bathroom to shower. I turn on the water to warm it up and peel off my stage outfit, which is sticky at this point. I got a lot of looks wearing it out tonight. But none from anyone I wanted to go home with.
Liv sure tried to hook me up with every cute guy she could find, but I wasn’t feeling it.
I step into the hot shower and soak in the soothing water. After I finish and towel off, I slide into my sweats and climb under the covers on the couch and close my eyes. Today was way longer than necessary and I was tired going in.
Sleep should be easy, but visions of Kellan sneak into my mental theater.
He’s too good looking. I mean, he should be outlawed. Those muscles and tattoos and burning eyes.
I’m not going to sleep thinking about him.
So I imagine one of those long vaudeville hooks pulling Kellan off the stage of my mental theater. He’s replaced by three identical Livs who tap dance onto the stage doing synchronized soft shoe, twirling regular sized canes in their hands in time with some Al Jolson song or something.
I giggle sleepily as I picture the image.
Liv would’ve been great on a real vaudeville stage alongside Charlie Chaplin or Lucille Ball or whoever.
I slowly drift to sleep…
…until a knock at the door wakes me.
Is it Johnny and Karen?
They have their own keys.
Who could it be?
I peel back my covers in slow motion and float to the front door.
I don’t even think to check the peephole for prowlers. I just open it.
“Kellan?” I gasp. “How did you know where I lived?”
He wears nothing but black leather pants and is surrounded by a glowing purple mist and back lit by purple light that pulses through a range of violet hues. It doesn’t seem weird. I just go with it.
He strides purposefully into the apartment. His brow is heavy and dark. His eyes burn, like, literally. They have little flames in them. He looks dangerous. A lone lock of hair dangles in front of one burning eye.
He grabs my hair in his fist and yanks my head back forcefully. He bites my neck without asking.
I don’t think to tell him how impolite that is. But I do believe he’s going to fuck, I mean suck, my blood.
I never pictured Kellan as a vampire. But he certainly could play one in a big screen movie.
He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me low, my core against his crotch, and carries me deep into the apartment until my back presses against a wall. I wrap my legs tighter and he presses harder into me.
The purple mist surrounds us like impossibly thick glowing fog.
“Oh, Kellan,” I moan.
“Victory,” he purrs, his lips caressing my neck. “I need you…”
I feel heat in my veins. Is it because he’s a vampire and I’m infected with vampirus virus? Has his immortal blood hunger become mine, and we’ll live like creatures of the night until eternity ends?
I can hang with that.
His lips are so full, so warm, so comforting, I lose myself in them. Heat, pressure, need, hunger. His tongue invades me, diving into me with desperate passion. Strong hands clench my ass, digging into the muscles, sending bolts of pleasure into my pelvis.
My electric breasts hum with need.
Kellan responds by licking, squeezing, pressing, releasing.
I am hot, I am wet, and I need more of this vampire man.
He grabs the collar of m
y t-shirt and tears the shirt wide open, exposing my heavy breasts. He gazes down at them with desire, his eyes aflame.
“Yes…” he hisses, “yes…”
His mouth dives at my breast and he consumes it, sinking his teeth into my nipple. I feel my lifeblood flow into him, his into mine, as we commingle our heated need. I am infected with his strange animal desire, and I know that my eyes now burn with the same fire I see in Kellan’s.
“Kellan…” I whisper.
He thrusts his pelvis up into me, pressing against my now wet flesh. He grunts with pent up desire, a caged animal in need of release. He pounds his leather clad crotch into me, “I…” pound, “need…” pound, “you…”
Each thrust sends pure lust up my spine.
I unhook my legs and slide down his chiseled abs, my mouth nearing his hot manhood. I can see it glowing red beneath his black leather pants. I rip them open and he’s a red hot raging rod of fire, like a sword pulled from a blacksmith’s forge, glowing orange and hot and ready.
I stand, and we both gaze down at his fiery weapon in awe.
In a seething, deep, manly voice, he says, “Quench my fire, woman.”
In the moment, there is nothing remotely comical. I nod seriously.
He lays me down on a bed of clouds and I open myself to him.
He plunges his hot red cock into me.
There is a loud hiss and puff of steam as my wetness cools his need.
But it only takes seconds before I feel his heat reignite inside me.
He begins thrusting.
I need you…
The pleasure I feel is indescribable.
I need YOU…
I’ve never felt a man as deeply as I feel Kellan.
She’s asleep…
He stokes my fires like the god of fire.
Take me, lover…
My hair ignites, and I am a woman of flame.
Take me now…
I am lost in the fire of Kellan Burns. He is inside me, thrusting deeply into my core, into my heart, taking me out of this world into another, better one. I rise on his heat as he fills me with flames.
I am intimately aware of his thrusting fire, his insatiable need, and my pleasure. My hot, wet, slippery pleasure.
Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3 Page 41
