by Scott, S. L.
“He’s a wise man.” I step forward just as Jen’s about to open her mouth again. “Jen. I heard you were working tonight.”
“But didn’t bother to come say hi? Wow. You too big for us now?”
“Nope.” I signal to Nikki. “I’m here with my brother and a friend.”
Her eyes go wide as she takes in Nikki from head to toe and then back again. “Save yourself some trouble, honey. He may be good in bed, but he’s a real cad when it comes to calling you again.”
Nikki shrugs “It’s okay. We’re just fucking.”
If we weren’t already married to her, I’d be on bended knee. She shrugs while beaming her amusement.
Bewildered, Jen’s lips twist to the side, and her knuckles whiten on her hips. When trying to appeal to Nikki doesn’t work to her advantage, she turns her anger back on me. She stabs me in the chest with one long nail. “You left so fast your hat spun on top of the bedpost. A goodbye would’ve been nice.”
Just when I’m about to respond, I see my wife grab her hand and pull it down, away from me. Nikki says, “He may be a cad to you, but he’s with me tonight, so hands off. Don’t damage the goods.”
Jen sucks in a hard breath, and her hand slips from Nikki’s to her chest. “I never—”
Nikki finally snaps. “And you never will again,” she replies as I step between them.
“Jen, I fucked up. I shouldn’t have left in the middle of the night, but we both said it was nothing more than a one-time thing almost two years ago. You’re still mad?”
“Yes,” Jen pouts.
Dean steps up to the bar. “Jen, I thought you left after your shift?”
“I was going to until I saw this guy and—”
“I’m glad you’re still here.” Dean takes her by the waist and spins her toward the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I think he just saved my ass, considering he’s got her full attention. “Why Dean Alcott, I had no idea you even knew my name. You’re the king of aloof.”
“I get shy around pretty girls, and you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
I take Nikki by the hip and slip behind Jen when she moves closer to Dean. “Let’s go,” I whisper.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel—relieved she’s distracted or worried I’m in trouble with Nikki. I go with both. That seems to be the theme around here.
Just when I think I’m home free, I spy Sassie with an I-E and her bestie. Fuck.
“Sassie!” Nikki calls out.
What the fuck?
Pulling each other into a hug, they then part looking at each other like long lost friends. Shit. This can’t be good. Nikki touches her forearm and smiles even wider. “Good to see you again.”
Sassie says, “Tricia, this is the girl I was telling you about. Nikki, this is Tricia, my best friend.”
The hat. The smug grin. The eyes leveled on me that I can tell won’t lie when asked. Tricia asks, “I heard about you all afternoon. How do you know Tulsa?”
Nikki tenses. Not noticeably to most, but I see it, and then she glances at me. “We’re friends.”
It all happens so fast it takes a second to catch up with what’s really happening. Tricia points from me to Nikki and then narrows her eyes at me. “Wait a minute. What’s going on? You’re together? I hadn’t heard the news. Do the gossip blogs know?”
I don’t like the threat, but Nikki seems even more annoyed. Rivers comes around the side of me. “Good times always come to an end. Let’s go.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Walking out, Nikki says, “It was good to see you again, Sass.”
“You too.”
Tricia raises the hat I remember leaving behind when I left them months ago. “You don’t want your hat, Tulsa?”
“Keep it.”
Rushing outside, I catch up with Nikki. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She doesn’t need to say more. Her tone says it all. “Are you mad?”
“Mad? Nah. I just spent my honeymoon dealing with three of your past hookups. What would I have to be mad about?”
Shit. She’s definitely mad.
Some commotion behind us grabs my attention.
It’s not a big group of people, but it’s growing—onlookers, groupies, fans.
Rivers looks back over his shoulder. “Let’s go. Word’s gotten out.”
Calling me and my brother’s names is one thing, but when I hear some dude call Nikki’s name followed by wanting her to do something to his dick, it fucking pisses me off.
Knowing me almost as well as I know myself, Rivers cautions, “Don’t, Tulsa.”
Our pace picks up. “I can handle groupies.”
Nikki snaps, “Apparently you handle them a lot.”
“That’s not fair.”
Then she stops. “You know what’s not fair? Everyone else gets to talk about being with you, except me.”
Taking her by the elbow, I say, “Keep walking.”
Pushing back, she puts distance between us. “I will do whatever the f—”
“Keep walking, Nikki.” I’m firm, leaving no room for discussion. “It’s not safe without security.”
When she sees the people behind us, she scurries past me, catching up with Rivers. I follow closely behind to shield her from danger the best I can.
Rivers hails a cab passing by, and we hop in, effectively escaping the crowd. Resting her head back on the seat, she says, “They came out of nowhere.”
“Word gets around fast. Social media. Everyone’s connected these days.”
After cracking open the window, Rivers says, “I’m surprised it took this long.” He nods, and then looks away, letting his gaze fall into the distance. “Don’t let the little stuff get between you.” When he turns to face us, he adds, “That back there, with the girls, it’s nothing that matters now that you’ve made a commitment to each other. Let it go and enjoy that you get to wake up together every morning after going to bed together every night. You’re it for him, Nikki. Never doubt that.”
The rest of the cab ride to Jet’s is quiet, but when we pull up to the curb, Nikki says, “Those girls don’t really bother me. I just let my emotions get away from me for a moment. I blame the whiskey.” She takes my hand, and our fingers fold together.
Rivers pops the door open but doesn’t get out. Instead, he turns to us and says, “I lost the love of my life because of something that never should have happened and then lost myself after. You already have a lot working against you—age, fame, this career we’ve chosen, and a million other things. Find the things that matter. Find the things that will keep you together and do anything you can to keep them alive.”
He releases a chuckle and seems to be lost in his thoughts for a second. “What do I know about love? Obviously, nothing, so ignore me, and I’ll blame the whiskey.”
He gets out and closes the door. We watch as he walks with his head down and goes inside the house without looking back. I hate that my brother is still hanging onto so much pain, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to release it unless he revisits his past.
The cab pulls away from the curb, and Nikki climbs onto my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry I got mad.”
“You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to yell at me. I was stupid before I met you. But I need you to forgive my past. I can’t change it. If I could, I’d go back to the start and begin again with you.”
“Oh, Tulsa. I’d do anything to begin again with you too, but how fortunate are we that we have the rest of our lives to spend together.”
Not lucky, because there’s no luck involved when it comes to us falling in love. “The fucking most fortunate.”
That smile I love so much returns, and she says, “Tomorrow is the last day we have here. I’m thinking we spend it staying in. Just the two of us, making love and making music.”
“Now that sounds like the best deal in town.”
She hugs me a little h
arder. “It does. And just because I’m feeling a little feisty and a lot braggy, I’ll go on to say that I’ve scored the best deal in town.”
“What’s that?”
She taps my nose. “Boop.” Leaning her forehead against mine, she says in her best Southern accent, “I’m talkin’ ’bout you, Tulsa Crow. Now let’s go home and make love all night and sleep through the sunrise and wake up in time to watch the sun set again.”
I kiss my wife and then lean back so I can see the stars in her eyes. “You’re my heaven on Earth, darlin’.”
Laughing, her hair falls back as her head tilts. But then she looks at me with the same love I saw in her eyes at the altar. “And you’re mine.” She winks. “Darlin’.”
33
Nikki
“Goddamnit.” I hear Tulsa cursing in the living room. The front door squeals open, and I listen as he talks to someone and then closes it. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I check the time. 8:46 a.m.
I stretch my arms toward the wooden headboard and smile, remembering how I held it last night during our second round of sex. Pointing my toes, I continue the stretch until my body finds relief from being pulled every which way several times over. I’m seriously due for some yoga postures.
Sitting up, I will my tired body from the comfy bed, feeling my muscles ache all over, and smile because I love it.
I get up and shuffle to the living room. “Why are you swearing this early in the morning?”
“The delivery guy knocked when I told him not to. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay. Thank you, though.” My voice is low, still bordering on the edge of sleep as I lean against the doorway to the kitchen. “You wore me out last night.”
He pauses with his hands inside one of the red and white bags on the counter. “Well, good mornin’ to you, darlin’.”
I stride in and try to peek inside the bags as he stands there frozen, staring at my body. “What did you order?”
“Are you going to stay like that all day?”
“Like what?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Naked.”
“Oh.” I bump out my butt and arch my back to tease him just a little bit. “Do you not like me like this? I can put clothes on if you find me too distracting.”
“Distracting? Absolutely. Do I want you to wear clothes? Absolutely not.” He pulls out a container of guacamole and a bag of chips and then a small chocolate sheet cake with nuts on top. “So remember how we got married a few days ago?” He asks so casually I know he’s teasing.
“Vaguely,” I reply with a little snark as I sidle up to him.
His hands slide around my waist, and he holds me against his growing affections. “I know this wasn’t our official honeymoon, but I was thinking we could spend the day here like you mentioned yesterday. Eat. Play music. Have sex and just stay put until we have to leave tomorrow.”
I wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek on his chest. “Sounds amazing.”
Reaching lower, he grabs my ass and bends to kiss me. “Where do you want to start? Are you hungry orrrrr . . .”
“Now this is wedded bliss.”
He chuckles lightly as he turns to put the guacamole and the peppermint mocha creamer, which he ordered just for me, into the fridge. “Bliss. Heaven on Earth. It’s all of those things to me.”
I lean against the counter, feeling so naked; my heart as exposed as my body. But I don’t hide my body or reach down to cover my scar, despite my natural inclination to do so. I remain open and free to stand here as I am.
Leaning on the counter opposite me, he looks me over, and I let him. Tulsa doesn’t move to cover me or convince himself not to look. He doesn’t avoid seeing me—scars and all. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“Beauty from the inside. Bravery. You’re unafraid to take a risk—and have risked everything for me.” He makes his way over and stands before me, stopping short of pressing against my body. He cups my face, and says, “You love with your whole heart, and you love me even more.”
I run my hands over his shoulders and rest them on either side of his neck. “I see the same in you.” Lifting up on my toes, I close my eyes and kiss him, my sweet husband. When I drop back down on my heels, I ask, “When the tour’s over, I want you to meet my parents.”
The right side of his mouth slides up. “You’re asking me to meet your parents while standing naked in my crummy apartment in Austin.”
“No, I’m asking you as your wife.”
His hands caress the sides of my breasts and graze over the curve of my waist twice before he settles on my hips. “I haven’t met a girl’s parents since I was in high school.”
“You’re right.” I scrunch my nose. “Let’s not talk about my parents while I’m naked with you.”
“Wise choice. Now for the real question. Coffee or me?”
Tugging him by the front of the shirt until his chest is against mine, I reply, “You. Always you.”
* * *
The next time I wake up, it’s just before noon. Tulsa’s asleep next to me when I slip out of bed and head to my open suitcase in the corner. Knowing I only have dirty clothes, I detour to his closet and steal a T-shirt from the shelf. It’s super soft from wear, and I love that Tulsa’s the one who’s worn it so many times to make it feel this good against my skin.
Reminded of a call I need to make, I take my phone from the side table and close the bedroom door when I walk into the living room. The shirt comes midthigh, and when I sit, I realize I have dresses longer than this. I giggle while listening to the line ring.
“Hello?”
“Holli, hi, this is Nikki Faris.”
“Nikki.” She extends the last vowel in her happiness. “It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?”
“I’m good. Actually, I’m great.”
“That’s fantastic to hear. How have you enjoyed the tour so far?”
“It’s been amazing. Every show is sold out as you know, but the fans are coming early to watch us practice.”
“I’ve heard incredible things about your show. You killed it in LA. I’ve seen some video of your other performances too. You’re so good on stage.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m actually calling for a favor. I thought you might be able to help me.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“I didn’t make it back to LA to change out my clothes and go shopping. This is super short notice, but I was wondering if you knew of a personal shopper who might be able to send me some dresses to cover the rest of the tour. If not, I can try to hit a few stores in Chicago.”
“I have the best stylist. She probably has a rack of dresses she can send with the band when they fly out tomorrow. And I can send you some pieces from my lingerie line. I’ll toss in a few T-shirts as well.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you. Send the bill, and I’ll pay when I get it.”
“No. No. No. My stuff is on the house. I’ll contact the stylist for you now and have her call you. She’s great in fashion emergencies. Stay by the phone.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime. Have a great time in Austin. I heard you’re writing a song with Tulsa. That’s so cool. I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Yeah . . . that. We can’t wait to share it, but it’s in the very early stages, so . . .”
“Well, good luck and I’ll see you in a few weeks when you’re back in LA.”
“Thank you again.”
Holli’s stylist calls me within thirty minutes. I give her my sizes, and since she says she’s watched a few videos of me on stage, she knows exactly what she wants to send. One box of five dresses will arrive with The Resistance tomorrow and five more within forty-eight hours.
I’ve never felt more like a celebrity than I do now. My mom has a personal shopper at Nordstrom, but having a stylist feels über fancy—very LA. Before I let it all go to my head,
I remember I still need to do some laundry.
Sneaking back into the bedroom, I gather pretty much everything from my suitcase into my arms and go into the hall that leads to Rivers’s room, dumping the clothes on the floor. I decide to surprise Tulsa by washing his clothes as well. Lucky bastard. I kneel in front of his suitcase and start pulling out his clothes, not knowing what’s clean and what’s not, which means it’s all dirty to me. But I stop when I see a flash of hot pink. I tug at the fabric and hold the thong in the air in front of me.
These are mine. Why does he— Oh, my God!
I vaguely remember asking him if he knew what happened to my panties after getting drunk with him. How on earth did he get them? And when? I can’t believe he kept these after he said he had no idea. No idea, my ass. Tricky bastard. I pick up the clothes and return to the hall to start a load in the washing machine.
Then I really get busy.
It’s kind of fun to have a day with nothing to do but whatever I want to. In the kitchen, I cook some bacon and then cut a piece of cake to snack on. I wander into the living room and spy a guitar sitting on a stand in the corner.
Picking it up, I strum lightly, closing my eyes and letting my fingers find the sound again. It’s only been a few days since I played on stage, but I haven’t created music in a while. It feels good to just let go and play from the heart.
I find my rhythm and play on repeat, memorizing the new riff.
“I like that.”
Turning around, I see Tulsa standing in all his gorgeous glory. “Good morning, uh, afternoon, handsome.”
A couple of times on the road, we played together in the privacy of our room—me on the guitar while he hit a practice pad. No big deal, but my heart felt closer to his because it wasn’t just a way for us to spend time together, it was a way for us to get to know each other more deeply. You can learn about the soul of a musician through the songs he chooses to play and the music he creates when it’s just for him.
When it comes to the songs Tulsa writes, some are unexpected—haunting in slow chorus. Others fit him to a T. If I were to put notes to Tulsa Crow, they’d be upbeat, fast, and charmingly lyrical.
