“Why can’t I be a lesbian?” I continued.
Juno sat down, her tail sweeping the bedclothes in a wide arc, her tongue lol ing out the side of her mouth, her inability to speak English hindering our counseling session.
“Why couldn’t I form an al -girl band like The Go-Gos?” I went on.
“The Go-Gos! Surfer-girl music? Shee-it. You crazy?” Hugo cal ed from behind me.
I turned so my back was to the bed and flopped down, threw my arm over my eyes and tried to pretend I was on a beach. A deserted beach. A deserted beach thousands of miles away from civilization.
Juno got down on her bel y and snuffled my neck with her big, wet nose.
Wel , okay, a deserted beach thousands of miles away from civilization but with Juno with me.
I dug my fingers in the fur of her head, scratching behind her ears.
Juno licked my face.
I felt something on either side of my knees, which were bent at the edge of the bed. Then the bed depressed and I took my hand from Juno’s fur and lifted my arm from my face.
Mace was in push up position, his body looming over mine, bent at the waist, his hands in the bed on either side of my body.
I could see the bunched-up muscles in his upper arms and I felt a warm rush between my legs.
Down Mace Slut! My brain cautioned.
What was the matter with me?
“Babe, I gotta go,” Mace said softly.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Remember, no comment.”
I sighed then said, “I remember.”
“When I get home tonight, we’l have dinner and talk.” Mace referring to my place as “home” caused that panicky feeling to emerge again, right along with the thril .
“Fine,” I said.
“Use the alarm,” he went on.
“Gotcha.”
“I’l cal sometime today.”
“Mace, are you gonna go or what?” I was losing patience and my ability to hold back the panic, thril and the warm rush at his proximity.
He grinned, bent his elbows until his chest was brushing mine, kissed me hard but closed-mouthed then did a push up and he was gone.
I closed my eyes and wondered what to do next.
I didn’t get a chance to form a plan, something big hit the bed and both Juno and I bounced with it.
I opened my eyes as I heard the door open. Pong had jumped on the head of the bed, flat on his back. I looked toward the door and saw Mace and Hector were leaving.
“Later, Hector,” I cal ed and watched him casual y lift a hand in response, total cool.
“Is the coffee ready yet?” Pong yel ed to Leo who was standing in my kitchen staring at the nearly ful pot.
“We’re close,” Leo answered.
There was more movement on the bed when Floyd sat down.
I looked at him.
He looked concerned.
He also looked something else. Something frightening.
Something I sensed had to do with Mace’s demons.
Something that was somewhere I did not want to go.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“No,” I replied honestly.
“Is anyone gonna ask me if I’m okay? It was my fuckin’
head that nearly got blown off,” Pong demanded.
“They were aimin’ at Stel a Bel a,” Buzz commented, throwing himself on his side lengthwise at the foot of the bed.
“So?” Pong snapped.
My eyes moved to Pong. “Are you okay?”
Pong looked at me, lost his annoyance and grinned.
“Sure. Bitches were al over me last night. Bein’ in mortal danger appears to be an aphrodisiac.”
I rol ed my eyes back in my head.
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Buzz said to Pong.
“A fuckin’ idiot who had a foursome last night,” Pong shot back.
Oh lordy.
“I’m too old for this shit,” Floyd muttered.
The phone rang and I got up on my elbows and watched Hugo move toward it.
“No comment, Hugo,” I reminded him.
“I speak English not Swahili, mama. I heard Mace. I hear you. Jesus,” he paused, beeped on the phone and greeted, “Yeah?”
I flopped back down on the bed re-thinking my career path. Then re-thinking my romantic path. Then my careening thoughts conjured up a sketch of a woman who would be sil y enough to shut Hector down. Then the look in Mace’s unguarded eyes flashed before mine and I got a ful body shiver.
Then I heard Hugo say from above me, “Stel a, it’s Monk.”
I opened my eyes to see Hugo standing at the side of the bed.
Effing hel .
I did an ab curl and reached a hand out for the phone.
I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation.
Monk had had someone with a rifle in his club last night.
Worse, that someone fired the rifle. Even worse, Monk had missed out on post-gig last cal due to a frenzied stampede. Even worse, Monk would have no entertainment tonight. We were set to play there again and there was no way in hel we were going to do that.
“Monk,” I said into the phone.
“Stel a, beautiful,” Monk gushed exuberantly, not sounding angry at al .
Erm, what?
“Monk, I’m sorry about –” I started.
“Did you see The Denver Post? ” Monk interrupted me.