chapter Thirty-five
BRAD WAS ONCE again working on something big, and that was a good idea. The energy was waning again, and I’m sure it was because most of our audiences were familiar with us. They knew our music—even when we threw in some new stuff—and had seen us enough that we weren’t exciting anymore. I figured if we were playing the same venues month after month, it was bound to happen. So Brad, once again, was looking to broaden our scope. He asked me if I could afford to work fewer hours at my job. I knew I could, especially if we continued to make more money playing gigs. He was going to branch out to other states then, but he knew we’d need extra time for travel. The band was my number one priority, I told him, so he could do what he needed to. My boss was a bit of a pain, but I could always trade shifts with coworkers when I needed to, and he wouldn’t say shit about it.
But Brad, as usual, played band manager too and arranged a four-day multi-state tour much like we had done the year before. This one would be in July, and the first show would be in Nebraska, the last in Texas. We’d leave a day before to get there. Brad also managed to get three other bands to join.
In the meantime, Brad too was feeling our audience’s lethargy and started taking us out of the Denver Metro area into other Colorado venues. Again, though, it meant more travel, but it was nice to be exposed to new audiences and new energy. It did mean we were spending more money on gas, but our merch revenues went up again, so it seemed to pay for itself. Brad was socking away money for that professional-sounding EP, and I knew he was getting us closer, but we’d never get there playing the same old places, no matter how much our audiences loved us.
“Wanna go see Fully Automatic again?” I imagined one of our audience members saying.
“No, we just saw them last month and the month before. Let’s go to the movies instead.”
We wanted to be something people relished and looked forward to, and if they were tired of us, it would never happen. Yeah, sure, we had some hardcore diehard fans but not thousands of them. We had to make them want us again, so we had to branch out and expose ourselves elsewhere.
Mid-July arrived before I knew it, and my twenty-first birthday would arrive right after our four-day tour. I wasn’t looking as forward to the birthday as I was to the tour. I was jazzed. I didn’t know the last time I’d been this wired about a show. As for the bands that came along, I knew the guys, their music, and their faces, but we’d only played a few shows with any of them. I knew, though, like the last mini tour we did that we’d know each other a lot better afterward.
Brad planned out everything to the final detail, including a driving schedule. Zane, Brad, and I would take turns driving. When I asked Brad why just the three of us, he was brutal. “I plan to sleep when I’m not driving, and you’re the only two I can trust to be sober when you’re at the wheel.” When he put it that way, I was glad he was a bit of a control freak. And I wasn’t complaining—he’d gotten us this far.
That tour passed quickly. We were lucky to sleep five or six hours a night before hitting the road for the next show. Our time schedule was tight, but none of us were complaining. I discovered Starbucks in Omaha and fell in love. It kept me awake enough to easily drive my entire shift, and when it was time to turn the wheel over to Brad, I couldn’t sleep to save my soul.
But finally the last night arrived. Brad and the other bands had sprung for three suites—each suite had two bedrooms and two baths as well as a living area that had a foldout sofa. And each bedroom had two beds. Most everyone figured we’d be partying all night long anyway, so no one cared much about the arrangements…except me. I wanted to make sure I, as the sole woman in the group, had a little privacy. A couple of the guys bitched that it wasn’t fair for me to have a bedroom with two beds and a bathroom all to myself, so I decided to just pay for my own room. It was down the hall from the suites, but that was okay. I understood where the guys were coming from, especially since a couple of them might have to even share a bed or sleep in a chair. And when I was too tired to party anymore, I’d be able to escape from the noise.
The party started as soon as we’d arrived back at the hotel. I was hot and sticky and jumped in the shower first. I considered not joining the party, but it was our last night as a group, and I wanted to have a little fun.
I was feeling a little worn out, though, and I knew if I drank, I wouldn’t last very long. So I poured a glass of water when I got to the suite where the party was. Of course, true to form, it was being held in the suite where my band—along with three or four guys from one of the other bands—was staying. We had to, once in a while, maintain our rep as party animals. I’d still hear on occasion about how I’d once been “so baked” I stumbled into my kitchen topless. I’d quit correcting people long ago. They believed what they wanted to believe anyway, and I sounded like less of a victim if I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders than if I admitted that my then-boyfriend (or, probably more accurately, the chick my then-boyfriend wanted to f*ck) had dropped acid in my drink.
At this party, though, I was low key and mellow. I wandered around, making a point of mingling with as many folks as I could. I knew there would be a chance we’d play with any number of these guys again, and it never hurt to be friendly. There were a few fans in the suite too, mostly girls, so the place felt a little tight.
After an hour, I walked back in the kitchen to get more ice for my drink. Ethan sat at the table with some other guys playing quarters. As I started to walk behind his chair, he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me down onto his lap. I spilled a little water on his shoulder, but he just laughed.
God, he was wasted…but he looked cute. He winked and then said, his voice a little too loud, “Isn’t Val just gorgeous up on that stage in that cute shit she wears?”
A few of the guys smiled and nodded, and I said to Ethan quietly, “Please…don’t.”
He lowered his voice and his brows. “Don’t what?”
“Just…don’t.”
He placed his hand on the back of my neck. “I love you, Val. I want you. I need you.” His other hand wound around my waist.
My eyes searched his. Oh, no. He was just f*cking with me. But why? His lips were on mine before I could even figure out what was happening. I put my hand on his chest while setting down my glass on the table. When he stopped kissing me, I had both my hands on his chest. “You’re drunk, Ethan. Let me go.”
“Don’t you love me back, Val?”
“You’re my friend, Ethan. And you’re drunk.” I didn’t want to embarrass him, but I did want him to release me. “Let me go.” His eyes searched mine, as though he couldn’t understand me. He wasn’t just drunk. He was on something else to, but damned if I knew what it was. I was no drug expert, but I could tell just from his eyes that he was on something. I raised my eyebrows, trying to silently communicate with him, begging him to let me up before I had to make a scene. And then Brad walked in and sat in the empty chair next to Ethan.
I could barely hear his voice, but he said, “There a problem here?”
Ethan smirked. “No problem. Just tellin’ my girlfriend what she means to me.”
I struggled against his arm. “I’m not your girlfriend, Ethan. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“Why can’t we be again?”
“Why don’t you ask me when you’re sober?”
“You heard her, Ethan.”
“Fine.” He loosened his grip on me, and I stood while I had the chance.
I grabbed my glass of water and started walking away. I mouthed to Brad, “Thanks,” and kept walking.
“Aw, c’mon, babe.” Oh, Ethan, I thought. Sober up, for Christ’s sake.
I went into the living area of the suite. The place was almost bigger than our apartment, and so—even though there were a good dozen people in there—it didn’t feel crowded like it had earlier. In fact, there was room on the love seat and I sat down. I was going to finish my water and then head back to my room.
Brad joined me a couple of minutes later. “Sorry Ethan was being such a dick.”
I laughed. “Like you have any control over him. But seriously…thanks for the save. I appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for.” He had a shot glass and a bottle of spiced rum and he poured a shot. “Want one?”
I shrugged. “Yeah…just one, though.” He handed me the glass, and I knocked it back. As it traveled down my throat, I shivered.
“Sure you don’t want more?” He poured another shot.
“Positive. But thanks.”
He drank the shot. “So…you still love him?”
I felt my eyebrows jump up my forehead. “Ethan?”
“Yeah…who else? Jet?”
No, it wasn’t the rum making me consider being completely open with him. It hadn’t even begun to affect me. It was the fact that Brad had felt like the closest friend I’d ever had. Still, though, I’d been thinking of him in a more-than-just-friends way again lately, and I didn’t want him to know how I really felt about those other two men. “Ha. Love is a thing of the past. I don’t plan to ever give my heart to a man again.”
“Oh, stop that shit, Val. You’re talking to me. I’m your friend, and I know better. I know you’ve been hurt and you’re afraid of risking love again. Am I right?”
Yeah, so…he’d figured it out. Was I afraid of risking myself again? No…I didn’t think so. With Ethan, yes. But Clay…he’d helped me past that. Even though he and I hadn’t worked out, the man had made me believe that it was okay to risk, to take a chance. We’d had a beautiful thing, even if it hadn’t worked out to be permanent. Still, though…I didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with Brad. “That’s not it. I just don’t have a place in my life for a man. That’s all. Especially right now.”
He smirked. “You forget…I actually read your goddamned lyrics, Val. And I sing some of them. I don’t just give them lip service.” He started pouring himself another shot. “You are a romantic, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay…so I’ll admit it. All right? But…so far, all real life romance has done for me is break my heart.”
“Makes for some good songs, right?” I smiled and shook my head, then took a drink of water. “And so now you’re playing this sex-starved goddess onstage. Does that validate your feelings? Or do you think you’ll find the perfect man by doing that?”
“What? Are you drunk too?”
He started laughing. “Hell, no. Not even close.”
“Well, bottom line…I’m not looking for the perfect man. I don’t want a man right now, perfect or not. That’s not on my agenda.”
“So what is?”
“Making our band successful, and…” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. “And having fun.”
He smiled then, and I saw the twinkle in his eye. “What kind of fun?”
Oh…so stage Brad was visiting. I felt my heart start to thud in my chest. No. No. I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t f*ck up what had become the best friendship I’d ever had…no matter how badly I thought I wanted to f*ck him. But the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Any kind.”
He was sitting up, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands pressed together in a praying fashion, his lips resting on his index and middle fingers. He grinned. “Any kind, huh?” He turned his head to look me in the eyes. “That could get you into trouble, Valerie.”
I sat up too, my face close to his. My voice was throaty when I said, “Don’t I know that.” And I couldn’t help but look down at his full, sensual lips. God…when was the last time we’d kissed? Like I could forget. It was in the back of his van that one summer night, before I’d joined the band. He’d promised to do incredible things to me then…then when I’d been a naïve, unknowing virgin. Now, though…I knew exactly what to expect, and just from what I’d remembered about Brad, I knew he’d be worth every second.
So did it surprise me when I was the one to make the move? It wasn’t the rum. It had been one shot, not enough to affect my judgment and barely enough to loosen me up. But I set my glass of water on the table and leaned forward. My lips just barely brushed his. Holy shit. He smelled so good. He must’ve showered before the party too. Not only did he smell clean, but he had some spicy cologne on that I hadn’t noticed until I got close. And I could taste the rum on him when I ran my tongue on his lower lip.
Oh, I’d grabbed his shirt into my fists and pulled him closer. What the hell? Maybe I was becoming my stage persona. I felt his arms wrap around me as he responded to my kiss. God, was he filled with passion. I imagined he had the power of a thousand horses in his body, and they hadn’t been out driving for quite some time. I could just feel that, and then I wondered when was the last time he’d gotten laid.
Hell, when was the last time I’d been with someone? That had been Jet, and that had been a helluva long time ago. I was coming up on a year. No wonder I was so brazen.
No, it was more than that. It was Brad. For far too long, I’d denied my true feelings for the man, sublimating them into this best friendship I’d wanted to work so desperately, but as I felt his tongue enter the warm confines of my mouth, I knew I’d always wanted Brad…from the first time I’d met him.
But he stopped and pulled back enough to look in my eyes. “We can’t do this, Val.”
I felt confused. “Do what?”
“This. Us. We can’t.”
I was feeling desperate now, but I didn’t dare show it. “Why not?”
“Ethan, for starters…and he’s right over there.”
“Are you kidding? Ethan? The guy who f*cked around on me more than once? We haven’t been together in a long time, Brad. That ship sailed a long time ago.”
“And then there’s Jet…”
“Jet? Seriously? Brad, he and I broke up…almost a year ago.”
“Bullshit. You guys hooked up again last…November or December, wasn’t it?”
I sighed and tried not to roll my eyes. “We made out. That was it. And we decided friends only.”
“And the band, Val. That’s why we stayed away in the first place.”
“That was your idea, and if mine and Ethan’s f*cked-up relationship hasn’t ruined the band…” I was starting to feel pissed. I took a sip of my water. “Know what? You don’t want to, just grow a f*cking pair and say so.” I stood. “Jesus.”
“Val, that’s not it—”
“Good night, Brad.” I walked to the front door and left without looking back.
I stormed down the hall the few feet to my room. God, was I angry. It made me remember that saying, that hell hath no fury. Yeah, but I wasn’t just a woman scorned; I was a woman spurned. And, yeah, it stung. And from all people.
When I got to my room, I decided I was going to brush my teeth and go to bed, and I’d play some angry music on my iPod to help me drift off to sleep. So when I got done brushing, I took off my shoes and peeled off my pants and turned back the covers.
There was a knock at the door.
And I was pretty sure I knew who it was before I even got out of bed. Still, just to be sure, I looked out the peephole. Yep, it was Brad.
So what should I do? Should I answer it and let him explain to me what he’d wanted to say back there? Or should I just pretend I didn’t hear the door and go to bed? He could still say what he had to in the morning.
But Brad and I didn’t have a relationship like that, and that’s why I opened the door. We’d always been open and honest with each other, even when it hurt, and I wasn’t going to stop now. I took a deep breath, trying to remove the sour woman-scorned look off my face, and pulled it open.
I could tell just from his expression that he hadn’t expected to see me without my pants. But he was cool about it. Frankly, he’d seen more of my skin onstage, so I wasn’t concerned. “Can I come in?”
I nodded, pulling the door open enough for him to pass through, and then I closed it. I wasn’t going to say a word. I was going to let him spit it out, get it off his chest, and then let him go. There was no sense in prolonging the agony.
We walked to the center of the room and faced each other. “I know you’re not with those guys now, but that doesn’t mean your heart’s not.” I just stared at him, hoping my face looked unamused if nothing else. “And I promised your dad.”
I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing. “That was over two years ago, Brad.”
“I don’t know what’s so funny.”
I cocked my head. “Seriously? Brad, he was worried about my virtue and of some guy forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do.” I couldn’t help myself. With him there and my mind roaming back to what I’d been considering earlier, my eyes wandered back to his lips. “Do I look unwilling to you?” I stared into his eyes again, challenging.
He was struggling. I could see it. Time to kick him while he was down. I continued, “I might not remember what he said word for word, but three words stuck in my mind—without her consent. Know why I remember that?” He shook his head. “Because up until that point in my life, I’d been told how premarital sex was a sin, and I should save my virginity for marriage, although my mom decided to spring on me right before college that if I loved a boy, it would be enough.” I inched toward him. Holy shit. Why was I being so ballsy? “For my dad to throw in that he’d kill anyone who touched me without my consent…well, that kinda blew everything else out of the water.” I was just a breath away from Brad when I said, “So give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this.”
His voice was soft. “I can’t.”
That was all I needed to hear. I snaked my hand around his neck, but I didn’t force him to bend his head down to kiss me. He did that all on his own.
His lips touched mine, but this time it didn’t stop there. His kiss was passionate, just as I’d suspected it would be. There had been so much between us for so long, so much we’d denied and buried and pretended wasn’t there, and now we were just going to let it play out. So I wasn’t surprised when our kisses weren’t sweet and tender and were instead forceful and demanding. And I was pulling the bottom of his t-shirt up before I even realized I was doing it.
He helped. I’d seen that chest a lot over the last few years, because he would take it off onstage a lot, especially during summer months. I knew he was rock hard, and I’d noted each new tattoo as it had appeared on him. Brad had always had a beautiful body, but I’d tried to pretend it didn’t affect me at all.
Now, though…now that I had unfettered access, I was going to play. But he wasn’t f*cking around either. He too started pulling my shirt over my head, and I lifted up my arms and helped throw it on the floor once it was at my wrists. As soon as it was off my head, Brad bent at the knees and, hands on the back of my thighs, lifted me up. My body seemed to fit his perfectly, my legs wrapped around his torso as he walked toward my bed.
He lay me down on the bed so that my knees draped over the edge. I felt like I was going to melt into the mattress. He kissed me on the lips again, and then he moved to my neck and just by touching the skin there, my breathing grew more erratic. But he moved down, his moist lips brushing my collarbone, then the top of my breast. I sighed and arched my back as he reached behind my back to undo the clasp.
One of my hands was in his hair, the fingers lazily looped in his locks, but the other hand was helping me maintain control. The tips of my ring and middle finger were in my mouth, and I was biting down on them just enough to keep me from losing it and either grabbing Brad by the shoulders and ordering him to f*ck me or just doing my best to rape him. No…I had to hold it together. And so, as he pulled the bra off my shoulders and arms with excruciating slowness, I wasn’t surprised when first a sigh escaped my lips and then a groan as his mouth touched one of my nipples.
It was maddening, and I wondered now why I’d told Brad no all those years ago. But as his lips moved to my cleavage and his tongue traced a thin trail down my belly, that thought flitted away. Sweet Jesus…he wasn’t wasting any time, and yet I still felt impatient and needy. It had been too long since I’d been with a man and to have it be this one in my bed…my brain couldn’t process it.
His hands were on both sides of my panties, and I lifted up my hips to help him slide them off. I was so glad I was wearing some of my cuter panties. If they weren’t on display onstage, I wasn’t always so worried, but tonight I’d been wearing a pair of lacy black boyshorts. I knew they were flattering on me, and some subconscious part of me was grateful they were what I had on.
I highly doubt he even noticed the damn things, though. And then I realized that—oh, my God—he was going for the coup de grace. He wasn’t going to take his time and introduce me to mini Brad. No…his tongue was headed straight for my p-ssy, and I wasn’t going to stop him. I just hoped I’d be able to keep it together enough to not orgasm after one touch.
He slid off the bed, and he moved his hands under my ass to pull my bottom to the edge. I was close to writhing, but I managed to keep it together. Then I felt his fingers manipulating my labia, and I let out a sigh that was louder than it should have been, somehow laced with a bit of a desperate cry. I wanted him. I needed him, and I doubted I’d ever been this desperate for a man’s touch before.
That first tongue stroke. Delicious. Maddening. Made me cry out for mercy. But he didn’t stop. No. And it took me a second to figure out what else he was doing, because he was creating a sensation I’d never felt before. And then I puzzled it out. Holy shit. Somehow, he was sucking on my *oris, that tiny little flap of skin down there and it was excruciating. I was already ready to slip off the edge into that wild abandon of orgasm, but I gritted my teeth and willed myself against it. I felt my hands balling up the sheets into my fists, fighting against it, not wanting it to end so soon, but then I thought of Brad again and that was it. I gave in to the pleasure and moaned aloud as a wave of nirvana took over my body and transported my mind into outer space.
As one wave after another came crashing over me with each delicious tongue stroke (for he’d stopped the technique that had driven me out of my mind), I was more aware of him. He had one arm on my right thigh and it felt possessive; the other hand was splayed on my belly, just underneath my left breast. I didn’t see them; I felt them. And then the orgasm began to wave, and that’s when I was aware that I was probably the loudest I’d ever been, and I was crying his name over and over in between grunts of some other language I’d never learned but surely communicated what I was feeling.
Yeah…I could die now.