Week One

SADIE AND I HAVE talked every single day this week and it isn’t enough to completely keep me sane, but I will say I haven’t done much cocaine since I left her back in Portland. It’s nice having something else to get me high. A vibrant masterpiece. Week one is almost over which brings me two weeks closer to getting back home to her. Fuck, I miss her.

“Nick. Let’s go grab some food. I’m fucking hungry.” Sliding from out of my bunk, I search out Nick in the front area of the bus.

“Yeah, let’s go. The other boys already left to go to the bar. You didn’t want to go?” he questions, sounding surprised. He’s not the only one surprised. I’m surprised at myself too. Sure, I still drink and smoke some weed to keep my IED from flaring up but like I said, Sadie’s the heavier drug in my life.

“Don’t act so shocked. I’m exhausted and Sadie worked the day shift at the hospital so I want to be back in time to FaceTime her. Now fuck off.” Shaking his head, he stands and we head out of the bus to catch an Uber.

Nick and I have known each other since I was nineteen, that’s just shy of four years. He was a roadie for some other band when we played a festival in Portland our first year as The Roes. I was the inexperienced piece of shit punk kid with an attitude bigger than myself. I was constantly all over the place at shows, high, drunk, and forgetting lyrics left and right. One time we got booed off stage. I told the crowd to fuck off, dropped my mic and stormed off.

There he was, stopping me and shaking the shit out of me, giving me a real wake up call. One thing led to another and we’ve been thick as thieves since. After my mom died and the old man—bastard—was hauled off to prison, I became a product of the state. Someone that no one wanted. When I was eighteen I left the state’s care and slept on peoples’ couches—friends and friends of friends—only living for the day with drugs, booze and women.

I’m not totally clean, but I’ve cleaned up a lot more since then. Back during that time, LSD, cocaine, even a dabble in heroine were an everyday occurrence. Then I found the band, three dudes who all shared the same story. All products of unloved or lost parents and survivors of the state foster system. Nobody wanted the fucked up seventeen-year-old rebel and I mean no one.

There is no sob story to this, it is what it is and I had to cope the way I knew how and that was with music, fighting and drugs. Nick just helped me rein it in. I owe this man a lot, he helped save my life.

We made it big when I turned twenty-two. We signed on with Lightening Rock Labels and our first album went platinum within six months of its release. That’s why this tour is possible, the money is there to get us on the road and put in our pocket. Music is my everything and this tour just makes it that much more important to me.

“The shows have been going good,” Nick cuts into the silent car.

“Yeah, today was one of our best. I like playing daytime festivals. Much fucking nicer.”

“It was hot as fuck though,” he responds.

“Yeah, but I’m used to the Arizona heat—you’re used to Portland heat.”

“True.” I can tell he wants to ask about Sadie. He’s not making eye contact and the gnawing on the inside of his cheek is a dead giveaway.

Shaking my head, I strum out a quick drumbeat and go for the kill. “We’re great—she’s great. You know you can just ask me, dude.” There’s no reservations about Sadie. I know how I feel. I’m falling in love with her. At least I assume this shit in me is love.

“I didn’t want to pry into your business.” He goes stiff with his answer.

“You’re my best friend, man. You aren’t in my business. Besides, I would tell you to fuck off if you were.” We both laugh.

“True, you would. But still—Ben and one woman. What is it about her?” he asks, seeming a bit peeved.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“You did that shit where you secretly don’t agree with me, but you wear it on your face. What, you don’t like Sadie?”

“I don’t know her,” he answers with a shrug.

“Exactly and I do, so don’t go making judgments about her. She’s different, man.” My anger spikes, that familiar tingle running up my spine and the hair on my neck coming to a stand, like a dog when he feels something is threatening him or his belongings.

“It’s not that, Ben. I’m not worried about you. It’s her. Sadie seems different—she’s in this for you. I saw the way she was with you on the boat.” His words help ease out my next breath, letting my anger simmer. Relaxing my clenched fist and closing my eyes for a second, I even out my heart beat. I hate my IED—hate that I have it at all. Hate knowing after the state therapist diagnosed me with it at seventeen, that it came from the long line of abusers on my dad’s side. My grandpa died when I was nine, but I watched him beat his wife and my dad, his own son.

The abuse with my father started when I was just six. That was the first time I saw him hit my mother. I remember the smell of our house and the wooden floor boards as I padded into the kitchen to get a taste of the pie my mom had baked. That’s when I heard it. Her soft, sad whimpers. I could hear the sound of skin on skin violently coming together. With fear in each step, I walked into the kitchen to see my dad slapping my mother, then spitting in her face as she laid on the floor in front of him, his body towering over her.

Her favorite blue dress with flowers on it, the one she wore every Monday, was covered in blood from her nose. At first I didn’t move, afraid of what I was witnessing. Despite my young age, I knew that my father was hurting my mother. When he lifted his fist back, still unaware of my presence, I watched her close her eyes and grab the cross on her neck and with a whisper, she mumbled, “Please God.” Before my father brought down his fist, I screamed, rounding his body faster than light.

Jumping in front of my mother, I wrapped my arms around her and caught his fist right in between my shoulders. I wailed, the pain unlike anything I had ever felt. But I took it willingly because she was my mother, my goddamn mother. My saint. My screams mixed in with hers as she hurried to grab me and shield me from his descending fist. Catching the side of her head, she wailed and I can still hear it now.

There we were, dangerously defending and protecting one another. Mother for her son and son for his mother.

After that my father began to hit me more and more and her less and less, causing me to act out and find outlets like drugs and drinking at a young age—as young as fourteen. If I had to take the hits for my mother, I would do it. Shit, I’d do it all over again, except this time, I would fight back and get us out of there. No matter what, I would save us.

But I didn’t. Now, I see my mother’s dark hair and similar eyes to mine in my dreams. Hear her voice as she sings hymns to me, the soft vibrato in her low sultry voice carrying through the house on days when dad isn’t home.

I remember running my hands through her hair to help her sleep as she cried in pain with fresh bruises. I remember the apologies she whispered and the forgiveness she begged God for, for not being able to save us. Father would have killed us both before he ever let us leave and many times he nearly did. God didn’t save us. Instead he let us drown and he took my mother with him, while I survived—unfortunately.

“Nick, I would fight hell for her before I ever let her go. I know I have some fucked up shit to work through, but I’m feeling this. Let me have this and don’t give me shit.” I’m heated, between thinking about both my mother and defending myself in the name of wanting Sadie.

“Alright, relax man, take a breath.” Sensing I’m worked up, Nick attempts to soothe me but it’s useless. I need to get back to the bus, light a joint and wait like a puppy dog for Sadie to answer and throw me a fucking bone.

“Get takeout and take me back.” Knowing better than to fight me, he tells the driver to go somewhere fast and within thirty minutes I’m back on the bus with a blunt between my lips and my phone in my hand waiting for it to ring. Some days are better than most, but today wasn’t one of them. Digging up old memories and Nick telling me he’s worried about me being with Sadie definitely played a part in that.

Seconds later, my phone goes off and like a beacon of light, Sadie’s picture fills the screen. I leave the bus so I can have some privacy.

“Angel, look at you.” Her blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun and her blue eyes are still piercing. She looks tired, but still beautiful.

“Hey, how are you!” Her enthusiasm isn’t lost on me, it feels good knowing that she’s excited to see me, even if it’s late and on a small phone screen, that shit sobers me up.

“Could be better, I miss you,” I tell her truthfully. With a frown she nods.

“I know, I miss you. Are you outside?” I look around me at the empty venue parking lot and the night sky.

“Yeah, I wanted privacy and you know that musky bus ain’t got privacy.” She chuckles.

“You alone?” I change the subject, lowering my voice. I need some intimacy, need to feel a connection with Sadie after the night I had.

“Kinda, mama and papa are downstairs, why?” She misses it, the way I’m focused in on her. I wish I could crawl into the screen and taste a little bit of my innocent little Sadie.

“What are you wearing?” She gulps with a blush and shake of her head.

“Ben, my parents are downstairs.”

“So, lock your door and stand in front of your bathroom mirror. I just want to play a little.”

“Then play your guitar or something, boy,” she sasses and I give her that one, laughing with a sly grin—that’s my fucking girl.

“I wanna play with my woman, now please give me what I want. I’m dying for some peeks of skin, baby.” I’m not ashamed to beg at this point, I want some of her, I crave it. Going from having pussy on the regular to not having it at all is one thing. But to have Sadie and not be able to get inside her is a true testament to self fucking control.

“Fine, but just a little.”

“I’ll take what I can get from you, angel mine.”

I watch as the ceiling comes into focus and she moves around her room. Seconds later I see her face again and the bathroom surrounding her. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.”

“I promise, I’ll pay you back. Just you wait.”

“Fine. What do you want to see, casanova?”

“Just a little skin. Flip the camera and show me what you’re wearing.” I lean against the bus, my cock already hard and I haven’t even seen anything yet.

“Okay.” When she flips it, I about choke on my next words.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes, you left it here after our whipped cream fight. I washed it and now I can’t take it off.” Her creamy luscious thighs play peek-a-boo, just inches away from showing me that sweet honey spot between her legs. I moan, looking around again to see if I’m still alone in the shadows behind the bus and equipment trailer. When the coast is clear I get to work.

Reaching into my jeans, I grip my hard shaft and free it from its confines. Yup, I’m jerking my cock outside this bus.

“Turn around,” I demand with a growl. She does, holding the phone over her shoulder and peering back at the mirror. I see her watching the screen while I watch her.

“Lift up that shirt and let me see that ass, baby.” My cock’s warm and stiff, my veins throbbing as I stroke myself slowly, building up to the real good shit.

“But, um, I’m not really wearing anything sexy… I don’t own those kind of panties.” Fuck me, I groan, squeezing myself tighter.

“Fuck, you sound so sexy saying panties. You’re fucking fine, baby. Show your man what kind of panties you got on, don’t be shy.” I entice her, ready to see whatever she has on, because she could make anything sexy.

“Please don’t laugh.” If I were there I’d kiss those pouty lips, take them between my teeth and bite down to make her take those words back.

“You don’t need to be shy or embarrassed around me, baby. I’m gonna show you what it’s like to really be worshipped. Those books you read about worship will pale in comparison when I get you as mine completely.” Her breath hitch and her eyes widen in the mirror.

With her other hand she reaches around her back and goes painfully slow, lifting the fabric to expose the juiciest, tightest, most ripe ass that I have yet to bite. Sexy panties my ass, those little boy shorts do barely anything to hide those round heavy globes, peeking out the bottom like a treat dangling on a rope in front of a dog.

“Oh fuck, I want that ass. I wanna fuck you so bad, angel.” I don’t hold back as I use my pre-cum as lube and start to stroke my nine inches fast and violently.

“Turn around, let me see the front of those panties. Let me get a glimpse of your pretty little body—show me some stomach too.”

“Like this.” Doing just what I said, I see the white material lying against her perfect lips, so small and delicate looking. A real vision of my beautiful virgin. The grooves in her stomach, showing a small dusting of feminine abs bring me to the brink. The fuck has happened to me?

“Ben, are you…”

“Yeah, baby, I’m touching my cock. Wanna see me come?” I stroke faster watching her curious face debating what to do.

“Y…yeah,” she stammers and I flip the camera, still going strong on my rock hard shaft. I watch the spot between her legs as I chase the orgasm, but what sets me off is when I look for a split second at her sexy face and see her lip caught between her teeth.

“I’m coming, fuck, angel. I’m coming for you. Let me see it, please.” I beg, my balls drawing up. It feels like a volcano ready to set off and fuck it does the moment she pulls her panties down and shows me the light smatter of hair on her tight pussy.

Just like that I see stars, light shining in my eyes as I come fast. Hot spurts of come shooting from my cock.

“Sadie, oh baby, fuck, Sadie!” I don’t care if I get caught. I needed that and fuck me if that little glimpse of heaven didn’t just change the game for me.

“Ben…” she whimpers and I know that sound. Know it well. She’s horny and needs her fix.

“Go lay down on the bed. I want you to come too, angel.” Flipping the camera back to my face I let the last spasm leave me before cleaning myself back up.

“You don’t have to do that, it’s okay.” She does a terrible attempt at hiding the lust in her eyes.

I have this desire to make her come, to feel closer to her and make her vulnerable enough to want me just as bad. The connection I have with Sadie in such a short time is out of this world. I fucking love being close with her, love the intimate way we talk and touch, the depth of our conversations. It’s all mine now.

“Okay…” Oh yeah, my saint is gonna feel something different tonight.

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