by L. B. Dunbar
Elaine welcomed the members of the band lovingly. She never used us for her personal gain. She valued our friendship as members of the community from the lake district, not just some popular band. As Lans, Perk, and I all had strong ties to Lake Avalon, like Elaine, she did not infringe on this connection. She didn’t really need to, though, because she had numerous political and spiritual connections of her own to people in high places. Her father was a very powerful man with a determination for some undisclosed purpose with Elaine. In some ways, Elaine and her father were similar to Leo DeGrance and all of his connections. However, Elaine’s might have been slightly more legal and reputable than Leo’s.
I guided Guinevere through the throngs of people, introducing her as I went. My hand stayed possessively on her bare back, as she wore a halter dress in a bright coral color. With her dress tied at the neck and her hair swept up, her back was fully exposed like the night I first saw her at the Round Table.
Many people recognized her as Leo DeGrance’s daughter, and I was surprised at how Guinie and my social connections intersected. I was ashamed that I hadn’t really noticed her before this summer. I realized this was a statement to my character, as I was probably too busy with some groupie, fan-wife wannabe, or the latest empty-headed model to notice a beautiful, sincere woman like Guinevere. Not to mention that she was four years younger than me and most likely still in school while I moved in this circle of people.
Many people stopped me in my own right to discuss the band. Discuss Pendragon Empire. Discuss Camelot Records. I didn’t have answers to all their questions, nor did I want to in regards to Pendragon Empire, but I was feeling that itch again to start something with Camelot Records. I knew Mure had been waiting for me to grow old enough to become more invested in this part of the overall company. With my musical talent, Mure’s musical mentorship, and Leo DeGrance’s ability to groom a band, I was beginning to think I might have the essential people I needed and trusted to reorganize Camelot Records and make a go of it, but I needed to make it through the commitment of my next world tour in the fall before I could think about anything further.
I noticed as I guided Guinevere through the crowd, and occasional separation, that she seemed rather relaxed in this societal environment among the rich and famous. She was good at making compliments, asking intelligent questions, and giving reasoned opinions on topics of politics, religion, and, most important to me, music. She seemed seasoned and trained for this community of people and I realized that any connection with Guinevere might be one of the first positives in my rather rebellious public image and dysfunctional family.
On that note, I found my mother and Guinevere in a discussion with someone I sadly recognized. He was the lead singer of a rival band, the Dark Agents. Mel Agent had become his own entity from his band, like Adam Levine was almost separate from Maroon 5. He was a dangerously powerful entertainer who often stole what he wanted. His personal life off stage was highly questionable and he was often rumored to be connected with disreputable people. He had tried to purchase Camelot Records for years as an investment and I refused to sell. At the moment, Mel seemed more interested in attaining Guinevere.
I watched as Mel placed his hand on Guinevere’s back, leaning in to say something to her, like a lover might do. He appeared to share a secret that made Guinevere force a smile as she glanced at Ingrid. Guinevere was poised and controlled as I had seen her all night, but I could tell by the way she held herself that she was uncomfortable with Mel’s touch and proximity. As I drew closer my mother spoke to me, but I never took my eyes off Guinevere, who seemed to be begging me to come to her.
“Ah, there’s my son. Arturo, you remember Mel Agent?” Ingrid smiled at the younger man.
“Of course,” I replied and in one move shook hands with Mel and slipped my other hand around Guinevere, pulling her into my side. Ingrid’s eyes opened wide and she tried to smother a smile. Guinevere stumbled only slightly as I practically dragged her to me. Her eyes didn’t leave my face.
“There you are,” I sighed as I leaned in to kiss her on her exposed neck. “I’ve been searching for you.”
“I’ve been taking good care of her.” Mel smirked as he raised his drink to his lips. “Haven’t I, Guinie?” he breathed as he looked over the rim of his glass before taking a sip.
“It’s been wonderful to see you again, Mr. Agent.” She smiled sweetly, more relaxed now that my arm was wrapped around her waist in full possession of her.
“No more Mr. Agent now that you are all grown up, beautiful. Mel. And I look forward to seeing you soon in New York.” He leaned forward and blatantly kissed Guinevere’s cheek despite the hold I had on her.
“Excuse us,” I said as I gently, but forcefully, guided Guinevere outside one of the many French doors open to allow fresh air into the large entertainment room. Once out on the flagstone patio, I spun Guinevere and watched her down her drink in one swallow.
“What was that all about?” I demanded with anger clearly in my voice.
“He offered to get me a job with the New York Orchestra.” She swallowed a final drop from her glass.
“I offered to get you a job,” I said with a bite in my voice.
“I’m just trying to keep my options open.”
“Is that what you want? Options? Like Mel Agent? He’s too old for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Guinevere said and hiccupped.
“How many of those have you had?” I asked briskly as Guinevere swayed unsteadily on her high heels.
“Three. Maybe four.”
I ran my hand through my hair, making some of it stand out, emphasizing the choppiness of my waves.
“You are so good-looking with your hair like that,” she said with a grin.
I opened my eyes wide and stared at her. She had never said anything playful like that to me before.
“Are you drunk?”
She laughed. “You have a fresh-fucked look,” she giggled. “There. I said the word for you.”
She was definitely drunk, I decided, but I had to smile at her flirtatious attempt.
“I think we need to get you home.” I reached for her elbow.
“No,” she pouted.
“What?” Anger returned to my voice.
“I can’t go back to that room knowing it’s hers.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about Ana … and her room.”
I looked over Guinevere’s shoulder and pulled her closer to me, away from the open doors.
“What do you think you know about Ana?”
“I’m sleeping in her room.”
“Who told you that?” I watched as she swayed toward me.
“Ana did.”
“What the fuck?”
“She told me all about your M.O.”
“My M.O.?”
“Yeah, the picnic on the boat, the day in the sun, the kissing. I should feel privileged that I’ve made the list. The legendary list of woman that are satisfied by Arturo King.” She hiccupped again.
“This is ridiculous,” I hissed. “We’re leaving.”
“I can’t leave yet. I just got kissed by Mel Agent,” she shivered with an exaggerated full-body shake, “and I cannot sleep with that image in my mind. I need one more.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Pot,” she pointed at me, “calling kettle black,” she pointed at herself.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I scooped Guinevere up in my arms and she dropped her glass. It shattered on the flagstone and she squeaked, but I didn’t stop. I stepped through the opening in the low garden wall and carried Guinevere around to the front of the house like a thief in the night. When I found my car, I deposited her in the passenger seat and secured her seatbelt. I gently closed her door, but slammed my own. I hit the gas hard, sending up gravel as I exited the Corbin property and headed onto the dark road that wound around the lake.
“First,” I started as I gripped the steering wheel with white knuckl
es, “that bedroom is not Ana’s. It never has been. It never will be. No woman has ever slept there. Ever.” I emphasized the last word so strongly I spit.
“Second,” I said as I took a dark curve a bit sharply, “I do not have an M.O. Whatever that might mean. I have never taken Ana or any woman on a picnic in the boat. I haven’t brought women that I’m interested in up to the lake before. Ana might have said some things, but the signs were obvious. I had the picnic basket. We were on the boat.”
I took another curve and Guinevere reached for the dashboard to steady herself. I slowed down, suddenly realizing I was driving too fast on the curved road.
“How she knew about the kissing, I don’t know. Did you say something to her?”
“No.”
“Well. It was a lucky guess on her part, I’m sure.”
“You’re Arturo King. I’m sure it wasn’t a stretch.”
I slammed on the brakes, forcing Guinevere to slide forward and then be restrained by the seat belt. I hadn’t pulled over, just stopped in the middle of the dark road.
“Whatever you might think of me, I don’t keep a list of women I’ve had experience with. And despite my history, I have no experience with someone like you.”
“With someone like me?” she muttered and I watched her close her eyes. “Of course not. I’m too plain for the likes of you. I’m just some ridiculous girl who had a fucking orgasm during her first kiss with a man.”
I let out a breath of air.
“Guinevere,” I said, softer, “you are not plain. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my life. You’re everything I never knew I wanted.”
Her breath hitched at my words.
“Those sound like lyrics to a song,” she muttered.
I ignored her comment.
“As for the fucking orgasm, if we were fucking, that would be a fucking orgasm. But we haven’t done that. Yet. And what do you mean your first kiss with a man? Surely you’ve been kissed before.”
“Not like that,” she muttered, rolling her head on the head rest behind her.
A smile crept across my mouth.
“Well, you should be kissed like that and often. By me.” I reached for her chin and made her look at me.
“Do you hear me? By me. Only me. Not Mel Agent.”
She shuddered at the name. “Not Mel Agent,” she said softly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I put the car back into drive and slowly wound my way through the remainder of the dark road.
“Nauseous,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Try to keep your eyes open until we get home. It will help with the dizziness.”
My words were too late; she was passed out.
Guinevere
I was making quite an impression on Arturo King, I decided as I slowly awoke. First the orgasm. Now a hangover.
I had never drank so much in my life, but I had been a nervous wreck at the party the night before. While Arturo guided me through the faces of people I knew, it was obvious the stares I received as those faces noticed who was at my back. It wasn’t my father that I followed throughout this crowd, but Arturo King. I knew I was drinking too much while I was drinking it, but between the questioning stares of me with Arturo and the lingering comments from Ana, I was on edge. I knew the first drink could take off the edge. The second could relax me. But somewhere during the night I added three and four. Three I now labeled as courage because I remembered telling Arturo what Ana said. Four I checked off as stupidity.
I turned my head slowly to find a glass of water, orange juice, and two tablets on my bedside stand. I slowly pushed myself up on my elbows to find I was dressed in a man’s large T-shirt. It was white, and I realized that this was the shirt Arturo had on the night before.
I clapped my forehead as if I could magically remember anything else from the night before. Did I sleep with him? Surely he wouldn’t have taken advantage of me when I’d had too much to drink? No, I had accused him of many things last night, but taking advantage of a drunk woman was probably outside his boundaries.
On that point, I recalled what he did say to me about his boundaries last night. No woman had ever slept in this room before. He had not picnicked with another woman on the boat. He never brought a woman he was interested in to this home. For a brief moment I thought he was implying that he brought me only because he wasn’t interested in me, and then I remembered he had called me the most beautiful creature. It was definitely a line. One I thought he might have used on many women before, but it certainly had an effect. I did feel special from the words.
I heard the soft strum of guitar strings from the next room and slowly raised myself up to sitting. Drinking the water, then swallowing the tablets along with the orange juice, I noticed the door adjoining the two bedrooms was ajar. My stomach audibly growled as I ran my hands through my messy hair. My hair tie had been removed, allowing chestnut locks to fall over my shoulders and down my back while I slept. I pulled my knees forward and placed my head on them.
“How are you feeling?” a soft strong voice said from my side. I rolled my head on my knees to look in the direction of the secret door. Arturo stood in his morning glory of jeans, bare feet, and no shirt.
“Uhhh,” I moaned.
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Nah, but you do make for an interesting drunk.”
I lifted my head quickly, looking in his direction and seeing silver dots. I clasped my temples as if to hold my brain inside and tried to focus on his face.
“What did I do?”
“Well, after I carried you to your room,” he emphasized.
I groaned.
“You told me I was the best kiss of your life.”
I moaned.
“You begged me to kiss you to wipe away the thoughts of Mel.”
I opened my mouth but no words escaped.
“Then you told me you wanted to repeat the boat kiss.”
I closed my mouth and narrowed my eyes.
“Then you told me you wanted the fucking org-”
“I did not,” I interrupted him.
He smirked.
“Do you at least remember our conversation in the car?”
“Yes.”
“After that?”
“Fuzzy.”
He raised an eyebrow at me as he leaned against the door jamb that separated our rooms. He slid his hands into his jean pockets.
“Okay. Missing pieces,” I prompted him for information.
“Nothing happened. You were out cold.” He smiled a sly grin.
“How do I have your T-shirt on?”
“You begged me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay. I slipped my shirt over you and removed the dress. I didn’t see a thing.”
He paused. “Well, I might have peeked to see if you were wearing those red boy shorts.”
“And?”
“I’m lying.” He smiled. “I didn’t look.”
“You must be because I had on a coral-colored thong.”
In two giant strides Arturo crossed the room and jumped onto the bed, knocking me back with him landing on top of me, balancing himself on his forearms over me.
“You. Are. Killing. Me. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”
“No,” I said honestly.
“Like I said last night. We’ll have to work on that. I will show you,” he smiled.
I was pinned to the bed, the sheet holding me captive between his arms. The only place to look was into Arturo’s brown eyes, which were almost black with desire. He wasn’t pressing into me like I wanted. He was holding all his weight above me. Torturing me.
“Guinevere, now that you are awake and sobering up, I want you to hear me clearly. There is no plan here. No scheme. No M.O. What happens, happens. Okay? I know what I want, but we won’t do anything until you’re ready.”
I shook my head at him to agree, but I knew what I wanted as well. I wanted
him. Whether I would be placed on a list or not, I wanted that body-consuming feeling I had the other day. I wanted those lips on me, on more than just my mouth. I wanted his hands to roam over me. I wanted to give him my virginity, or have him take it away. However it might be stated, I wanted it to be him.
As if he knew what I wanted, as if he read it all in my eyes, he leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn’t the devouring kiss of two days ago. It was sweet and chaste, but a promise nonetheless of things to come.
He slowly pushed himself off of me and stood next to the bed.
“I have some work to do with the guys today, but I’d love to meet you by the pool for lunch and spend the afternoon there as well. Would that be okay for you?”
“Sure.”
He continued to look down at me as if he wanted to ask me something and then decided against it. He looked at my cello propped in its stand.
“Do you want to practice in the studio? It might be more spacious than this room.”
“Thank you. Maybe.” I smiled and pushed back my hair, holding it at the base of my neck. He kissed my forehead, wiped his hand down my cheek, and gave me one last look in the eyes before exiting the room.
I lay on my stomach, floating on a water raft in the pool. I heard the guys before I saw them. They were loud and rambunctious like school boys being let out on the last day of school. I could sense their excitement without having to see their faces, and I heard their laughter, and then silence. For a moment I thought I imagined them and then I heard a cough. I flipped over on the raft to find eight eyes on me and two not. Perk, Lans, Tristan, and Arturo all stood on the side of the pool staring down at me. Mure had the decency to look the other way.
I had on a navy blue and white polka dot bikini today. The halter top and low-cut bottoms covered me, but not much better than the red string bikini from two days ago. However, I didn’t expect the reaction I got out of the band. Perk swallowed hard. Tristan had a cocky grin on his face. Lans simply stared, and Arturo smoldered.
“You are one fucking lucky dude,” Tristan said without shame. He slapped Arturo on the back and winked at me before heading toward the house. Lans followed immediately after Tristan, shaking his head as if trying to rid it of an image.
