I nod, watching him as he processes more. His eyebrows draw together and he takes a sharp breath.
“They were divorced when Mom showed up here last year.”
I swallow back my anger. “Yes.”
“I wish I had known.”
“Fuck her. It doesn’t excuse what she did.”
“Yeah, but I wish I had known.”
I think I can understand why, but I’m still angry with her. Maybe I always will be.
“You’re mad.” He’s not asking.
“Yeah,” I admit.
He cuddles closer. “You’re always my knight in shining armor. I don’t know how I would have taken this if the lawyer told me instead of you.”
I close my eyes and kiss his forehead. “You would have been fine. You’re so much stronger than you know. But I’ll always be here for you if you need me. I want to be here for you.”
“I know.”
“Listen, I know this is a terrible time to bring this up—”
He puts his hand on my lips. “Don’t tiptoe around things. We’ve done too much of that.”
“My therapist thinks you should come to my next session with me,” I tell him. “I understand if you don’t want to. I know you have a lot going on now that nobody anticipated. But—”
“I want to.” He takes my hand. “I think it’s time we talk about how we go on.”
“Jacks—do you still want to be with me?”
He kisses the side of my face. “Being with you is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. But what I did last year—it changed things between us, and we weren’t good for each other for a while there.”
“That’s not your fault,” I try to reassure him. “There are two of us in this relationship.”
“I guess what I need to know is, do you still want to be with me?”
“Yes,” I answer without any hesitation or elaboration.
“Then I think we should talk to your therapist together. Because my issues aren’t going to go away. And we need to know how to handle them together.”
He kisses me for real then, straddling my lap and holding my face between his hands. His tongue slides into my mouth like it never left, and my hands roam up his back to cradle the back of his head. When he pulls away and smiles at me, I feel for the first time in months that my world is back on its proper axis.
“So, we have a dog now?” he asks.
“Yeah. We do. I’m Daddy so I guess you have to be Pop or something.”
He laughs, head thrown back.
“She’s taken over your pillow, so I don’t know where you’re going to sleep.”
“Oh, is that how it is? Okay.”
“And she likes walks in the morning and afternoon before I leave for work.”
Jacks stills. “Work.”
“Do you have a shift today?” I ask him. “Are you late?”
He shakes his head. “It occurs to me that I don’t have to tend bar anymore if I don’t want to—my dad had a lot of money. A socially irresponsible, obscene amount of money. More money than any one human should accumulate.”
“What will you do with it?”
He smiles widely. “I’m going to be a philanthropist. I am going to help people. Exactly the kind of people he hated. People like you and me and Natty. And I’m going to be a keyboard player in a raunchy punk band. I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive.”
I close my eyes and swallow around the lump in my throat. When I open them, he’s still smiling.
“Come on, Ritchie. Let’s go home.”
We barely make it through the door of our apartment before I have him crowded against it, kissing him deeply in long, drugging kisses that turn us both on and on. His hands are everywhere—my face, my hair, up my shirt and down my pants, squeezing and stroking. Mine stay where I’ve wanted them for weeks—one over his heart and one on the side of his neck where it meets his shoulder. I feel his heartbeat through my skin, and my whole world makes sense again.
He pulls my shirt off over my head and starts biting at my neck. He’s wild with excitement and I love it—love him and his urge to leave marks all over my skin. He turns us around, shoves me against the door, and starts working his way down my body, each kiss hiding a bruising bite. I groan as he drops to his knees and works open my fly. He buries his face in my groin, his breath warm and wet through the cotton of my briefs. God, I want this, but—
“Jacks—” I moan out his name and put a hand on his face. “Wait, okay?”
He pulls away and stares up at me with wild eyes, his chest heaving. “Why?”
I laugh and drop my head back against the door. “Because I have to take the dog out.”
He scowls, then laughs ruefully. “Fucking responsibilities.”
“I’ll be back. Be naked.”
“Hell no, I’m coming with you. I always wanted a dog.”
I pull my shirt back on and do up my fly, then grab Britney’s leash. When I let her out of her crate, she goes running straight for Jacks. I can’t say I blame her. She jumps all over him, wagging her tail and sniffing while he laughs and croons nonsense at her. I clip the leash to her collar and glance at him. “Ready?”
He nods. We walk a few blocks in silence, and then he says, “It’s weird, isn’t it? Having another creature to care for?”
“Not so weird, but it does take some getting used to.”
“You’re a natural at it. You have more love to give than anyone else I’ve ever met. Even Xavier…”
I look over at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching Britney with a wistful expression on his face.
“He’d be proud of you,” I say.
“For what? I haven’t—Damn.”
“You were about to say you haven’t done anything?”
He nods. “But then I remembered that my therapist tells me not to do that.”
“He’d be proud of you for letting people love you. You weren’t good at that, at first.”
“I always let you love me.”
“Liar.” I laugh. “But I always loved you anyway. I think she’s done.”
He puts his arm in mine as we turn to go home, and when we get back to the apartment, he unclips Britney’s leash and takes it from me. He sets it aside and puts his arms around my shoulders.
“Will she be okay loose in the apartment while we—?” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah.” I push him past the kitchen into the living area and shove him down on the couch. I pull off both of our shirts, then straddle his lap. “Should I open up the bed?” I ask.
“Too late now.” He pulls me down to him and we’re kissing again. This time, his hands run over me with exquisite gentleness. He traces the butterfly on my chest—a whim I had done one day while Teri was working on his arms—then kisses it before working his way across my chest to the other side, teasing at my nipple with his tongue. I grind my cock down into his and he groans, the vibration sending goosebumps across my skin.
I find the piercing in his nipple with my fingertips, and I pluck and tease at it while he squirms underneath me. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, his hips rolling up into mine.
“That feels good,” he murmurs, his voice thick and rough with lust. I slide off his lap and turn him until he’s lying on his back, then I take that tiny barbell between my lips and suck. His shoulders jerk off the couch, then he sinks back down to let me have my way with him. Without abandoning his sensitive nipples, I run a hand down to cup his cock through his sweatpants. It’s hard and eager, and when I work it through the cotton with my fist, a drop of moisture works its way through the fabric to my hand.
Jacks places his hands over my head and pushes me down. I can take a hint, but I love to tease him when he gets pushy like this. I pull down his sweats and briefs, toss them both aside and run my hands along his thighs and hips. I kiss his cock, but I don’t take it in my hand. I run my tongue over him, blow on him, tease at his slit with the tip of my tongue, taking in the gasps and murm
ured curses.
“Ritchie, please,” he begs, and finally I work him with my fist and take him deep into my mouth. He thrusts up and I push his hips back down, putting him firmly under my control.
“Yes, yes, so fucking good,” he caresses my face with one hand as he says it and I rub against him like a kitten. I lose myself in the smell and taste of him, the feel of him rocking up into my mouth. It gets me beyond hot to give him head. Knowing how turned on he is, hearing him come apart, tasting the sweetness of his precome along my tongue. As his voice gets rough and his words incoherent, I pull off and move back over him for a lush, decadent kiss.
“I want you to fuck me,” I tell him. He opens his eyes and stares into mine for a moment, then nods.
I strip out of my jeans and briefs while he sits up, breathing hard. When I’m naked, I sit down next to him and kiss him again. “How do you want me?
He guides me over him until I’m straddling him, never taking his eyes off my face.
“Like this?” he suggests.
“Perfect.” I reach into the drawer and dig out some lube. I pour a generous amount onto my hand, then some onto his too. I slide my slick hand along his dick, stroking and teasing, reminding us both of the first time we’d done this.
He slides his fingers over my hole, watching my face as he caresses and slicks me up and then finally breaches me. When my breath catches, he bites his lip and his eyes close. I squirm down on his finger, taking it deeper. For a long moment, we sit like that, teasing each other and kissing. Finally, he pulls his finger out of me and guides me over him. He holds himself steady for me while I sink down.
I hold my breath at the inexorable pressure of the head of his cock pushing inside me. He’s slick enough to push right in, but I move slowly, savoring every inch of him sliding inside. When I’m finally sitting solidly on his lap, I exhale slowly. So fucking good.
“Oh, Jesus, Ritchie.” Jacks pulls me into a kiss, rocking up inside me as he ravages my mouth. I’m so turned on I can barely breathe. I loop my arms over his shoulders, throw my head back, and ride him. Every stroke lights me up from the inside out, and I don’t even recognize the sounds coming from me.
Jacks’s hands are everywhere—running over my back and shoulders, then down my chest. He caresses and rubs and squeezes, then they disappear. I hear the click of the lube bottle and I moan. A slick fist closes around my cock, and he pumps me with a slow, sure hand.
“That’s it, fuck my hand, Ritchie. You look so hot like this, riding my dick. So perfect.” His words trip a switch in me, and suddenly I want to come more than I want my next breath.
“Jacks, I’m going to—”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” He grins, my wicked fallen God. “I want to see it. Want you to come all over my chest.” His hand works me faster and I’m completely gone. I throw my head back and shout as pleasure washes over me. He strokes me through it, wringing every last drop of my orgasm from me until I push his hand away from my softening dick. Then his hands find my hips and he thrusts up into me, closes his own eyes, and comes with a harsh groan and a shudder. I feel the hot rush of him inside me, how he’s suddenly sliding more freely, and I feel another surge from my spent cock.
He slides out of me, but his hands find my face and he kisses me again and again.
“I missed this so much. Being close to you,” he whispers. “Not just fucking, but—all of this.”
“Me too.” I bury my face in the warm skin of his neck and shoulder. “But we’re going to be even better now.”
I feel his smile against the side of my head, then his lips are seeking mine again.
Nat, Teri, and Drea come to visit the next morning at Jacks’s request. We haven’t told them anything, but I can tell from Nat’s wary expression that Bex has filled her in on Jacks’s news.
She crosses the room and enfolds him in a hug, which he returns enthusiastically. They have a hurried, whispered conversation, and then she sits on the couch, looking relieved. Whatever they’ve said to each other, she’s satisfied that he’s okay.
Jacks takes a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming. Um, so my dad died.” He holds up a hand. “He was a bad man. I don’t have anything more to say about that. But Ritchie and I—” He smiles then and looks at me like the sun is shining out of his soul. “Well. We’re us again.”
I smile back at him and nod with what I hope he takes as encouragement. I wish I could do this for him, but I know the suggestion has to come from him.
“Drea, you’re a better drummer than I ever was. I think you should stay on as the drummer of Vertical Smile. If you want to.” He fidgets, twisting the hem of his tank top between his fingers.
“Jacks—” Drea stares at him. “This is your band now. I wanted to help you, not take over.”
“See, I was thinking though—and it was actually Ritchie’s idea because he’s smart about stuff like this—if you stayed on and played drums, I could play keys. As much as I resented it ten years ago, I’m a much better pianist than I am a drummer.”
I close my eyes briefly—it cost Jacks so much to admit those resentments, but he was willing to be vulnerable for us. When I open them, I watch as a grin spreads slowly across Teri’s face.
“It would change our sound a lot, but I like the idea. Maybe it’s time for things to change. Dre?”
Drea swallows, then nods. “It might be hard with my job—but I would like that.”
“We could play some of the old Guerrillas songs,” Nat suggests, “If it would make you feel more a part of it? And I’d love to write with you.”
Drea’s face crumples and she turns into Teri’s shoulder. Teri runs a hand soothingly up and down Drea’s spine and says something low in Drea’s ear.
“I’m sorry.” Drea wipes at her eyes. “You all moved on without me and I didn’t think I would get to have this again. Yes, I want to stay.”
Jacks smiles then. “So, it’s settled. We’re five now.”
“To the Smile,” Nat says softly.
“To the Smile,” we echo.
That night, I’m behind the bar when the other four members of Vertical Smile come into Bridgeview to watch the open mic. They arrive together in a flurry of loving laughter, and it makes me smile.
I glance around, catching the eyes of some of the Tuesday night regulars. I haven’t seen Sarah yet, but a part of me hopes she shows up here tonight, her harp in tow—that I won’t be alone in facing down my fears.
I wipe at a spot on the bar and then pour drinks for my friends. Tequila for Drea and Teri. A martini for Nat. A draft beer for Jacks, which he takes from my hand while leaning across the bar for a kiss. I clutch the back of his head as he bites at my lower lip. He’s wearing eyeliner, and his scalp is freshly buzzed. I caress it as I pull away.
“Hi.” I grin at him.
“You ready?” He asks me.
I nod. “Farrah says I can go first. She told her dad, so I guess I can’t take it back.”
The woman herself comes up behind me and glares at Jacks. “No distracting my bartender. And no breaking his heart again, you hear me?”
He nods, grinning and taking a sip of his beer. “I love him, Farrah.”
“You better.” She snaps her towel at him.
“Is there anything hotter than a woman in leather being all bossy?” Drea muses, sipping at her tequila rather than shooting it.
“Two women in leather being all bossy?” I suggest, and the tequila comes out her nose with a surge of laughter and a pretty blush.
“Ow! Don’t give them any ideas,” she says, wiping at her face. “I have to be able to walk, you know, for my job.”
It’s my turn to snort at that, and a rush of affection sweeps over me. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Me too.” She grins at me.
Just then the emcee, Alan, steps out onto the stage. He’s one of Farrah’s dads, retired now, except for open mic night. He greets the crowd with a campy wave and launches into his welcome speech. I’ve heard
it before, but tonight it fills me with giddy anticipation.
“We open the stage on Tuesday nights to let the musical artists in our community share their work. We’ve been doing this every Tuesday for over a decade now, and Tuesday is still my favorite day of the week.” He pauses, a grin spreading across his face. “Of course, if you prefer Thursday nights, our first artist will be a familiar face. You know him as the bass player of Vertical Smile, but here at Bridgeview, he’s family. Ritchie Ford, everybody.”
Alan starts clapping, and I make my way to the stage. Natalie’s acoustic guitar is waiting for me, tuned and ready to go. I step up to the mic, trying to tune out the sounds of the crowd. I’m not used to being the center of attention—how could I be when sharing a stage with Nat and Jacks?—so my hands shake a little as I adjust the mic stand.
“Hi,” I say into the mic, gratified when the audience shouts the greeting back. “I wrote this song when I was going through a rough time. I was scared of it at first. Kind of mad at it. Isn’t that weird, being scared of a song? It’s a song about love, and love can leave you feeling pretty raw at times.” I take a deep breath. “But hey, that’s what therapy’s for, right?”
The crowd laughs with me.
“So, this is a love song. It’s called “The Safest Place on Earth,” and this is the first time I’ve played the whole thing for anyone.”
Even though I can’t see him perched on a barstool across this crowded room, I can feel Jacks’s gaze on me as I start to play. It will sound different, with a whole band involved, but tonight, it’s enough to stand on this stage with a borrowed guitar and sing my heart out.
When I strum the final chord and step back away from the mic, a hushed silence fills the room for just a moment before the crowd starts cheering. I can feel the blush rising on my cheeks, and I bite my lip. I step back to the mic.
“Thank you. I’ll be back here Thursday night with my band, Vertical Smile. We have a new lineup and a few new songs we’ll be playing for you guys, so I hope you’ll come back and see us.”
I carry Nat’s guitar with me off stage and down the hallway to the green room. I pack it away into its case and take a few deep breaths. My hands are still shaking.
Out of Sync Page 19
