Chapter 8–Jack
I walk back into the studio after my lunch with Leila to see Sally is busy doing what she does best - nothing.
“Busy at work Sal?”
She looks up and beams. Sally is a little rough around the edges. If I weren’t in this business, I would probably be afraid of her. But truth be told, she is a sweetheart. She can act all badass, yet beneath it all she is a mush.
“I am working hard, smart ass. I am researching.” I lean over the counter to see what it is she is researching. Lying on her lap is a playgirl magazine open to the centerfold.
“And what research would that be for?” I ask quickly looking away. I have no desire to stare at some dude’s junk.
“My next tattoo.” She says, as if it’s obvious. “Look, he has a cute little tattoo on his hip.” She lifts the magazine to show me and I turn away.
“Ugh, get that thing out of my face. I’m out of here.”
“Oh don’t leave. Come see page forty five, his tattoo is on his…”
I leave a laughing Sally behind as I sprint down the hall. She can be such a ball buster. Like her, the guys are all sitting around the studio doing absolutely nothing.
“Working hard boys?”
“Where’ve you been? I texted you twice.” Hunter is at the drums playing with his sticks. He was born to be a drummer. It doesn’t matter where we are. He always sees a drum set and a beat to be found.
“You did?” I pull out my phone and sure enough there are two texts. “I was with Leila.” Three sets of eyes gawk at me.
“WHAT?” I know what they are thinking.
“Jack, what are you doing?”
“Really Scott?”
It’s annoying how these douche-bags blatantly don’t trust me around girls. Granted, I don’t have the best track record, and I have been thinking about Leila constantly…but still.
“Really Jack?”
“Cut the crap. I don’t screw every girl I meet.” They all continue to stare at me like I just announced I wanted to have a sex change. “Fine. I admit it. I banged her in the back alley.”
Scott raises his eyebrows like he believes me, the dickhead. I’m about to blow my fucking fuse. “Christ. I took her to Leo’s and bought her a grill cheese. Give me a goddamn break.”
“Calm down.” Scott counters. “I’m just sayin’.”
Hunter ignores my irritability and announces, “So while you were gone wooing Leila, we decided we need to have a party.”
“Where?” I grunt in irritation from these idiots.
“Our place, genius. We can’t have it at Scott’s because it’s too small, and there isn’t a person on earth that would go to Trey’s neighborhood willing.” We all look over at Trey and without even looking up from his guitar he flips Hunter off. This causes me to laugh out loud.
“Our place? Really? How many people do you want to invite to this party?” I like going to parties, not throwing them. Not to mention I really don’t want us to lose roof privileges either. I love my roof.
“We thought it would be cool to invite Leila, and see if she wants to bring some friends.” He rambles on a few other names, but I’m no longer listening.
Leila?
I don’t know how I feel about that. I guess we do need to start including her. She is part of the band. But inviting her to a party at our apartment? Not that I would hit on her while she was in my apartment, but do I want anyone else to?
NO!
Wait…what??!!
With a sigh, I impassively respond, “When?”
“Sunday. Leila is off on Sundays.”
“Fine, but the roof is off limits. No one goes up there. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever Dad.”
Party, alcohol and Leila? Fuck.
I feel like these dicks are setting me up for failure. Stupid, I know. I’m about to spend a lot of time with her, and I’ll have to learn how to deal with it. Still, I’m a textbook procrastinator and I need to work up to that.
We decide to call it a day and head for one of our regular hangouts after we unproductively rehearse for a few hours. Walking the short distance to the bar, I can’t help but feel these moments of complete normalcy may soon be rare, if non-existent. Where we can walk down the street inconspicuously and anonymously. I can’t help but wonder what will happen when we take this exact path a year from now. Hopefully, we will be running from hoards of screaming fans or better yet, driven from place to place in a big ass obnoxious stretch Hummer.
We stop on the way for a quick bite. It’s still fairly early once we arrive at the bar and it’s not long before several females make their way over to our corner and rudely invade our private party. Normally, I’d be fine with mooching girls looking for a good time. I’m not in the mood tonight. I’m exhausted. Plus, I’m still freaked out from my Leila induced wet-dreams and the fact she is invading my thoughts. Not to mention how bad I wanted to suck the remnants of pie off her lips at the diner.
Shit…
Scott’s whole demeanor stops any girls from approaching him at all. It’s funny actually. He looks so wholesome and sweet, but he sends out this vibe that clearly says, “Fuck off, I’m taken.” Shortly after his second beer, he takes off to meet up with Patti.
Trey is also gone. We have no idea where he went, and probably will not see him until tomorrow. That’s Trey. No goodbye, he just disappears. I would love to know if he hooks up every time he disappears or if he just finds us so boring that he can’t be bothered.
That leaves Hunter, two chicks and me who have hitched their tents. I quietly drink my beer and decide to ignore everyone around me. Hunter on the other hand is talking to the brunette with long curly hair. I notice her for the first time and I am impressed. Turned up nose, plump lips, and a nice body. She’s cute. She seems very shy, which means Hunter is the initiator and is actually engaged in a conversation with an attractive shy female. There must be pigs flying by outside.
Her friend is a perky blonde with a killer body. She seems opposite to the brunette in every way. I’m curious why they are friends. The blonde persistently bumps her ass up against my hip as she chats with Hunter and her friend. After the third time, she turns towards me and apologizes.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No worries.”
She leans in close enough to give me a juicy view of her impressive cleavage and asks, “So, you guys are in a band?”
Oh brother.
“No, I’m a mortician.” I wink and take a swig of my beer. It takes her a few seconds before she giggles at my joke and stealthily places her hand on my wrist.
My humor opens her floodgates. Blondie morphs into a cartoon character, albeit with big boobs, and starts animatedly yapping, touching, leaning in, winking, and licking her lips. She pulls out all the stops.
As she drones on and on, my brain quickly assesses the situation. Yes, she is attractive and definitely has a hot body. She’s kind of annoying and is flirting heavily with me, but she’s asking too many questions and that’s definitely a red flag.
I decide if Hunter wants to take her friend home then I’ll do the same. I firmly place our fate in his hands while knowing damn well that his track record with bringing home girls downright sucks.
The name of Hunter’s chick is Amanda. The blonde is Rachel. We buy them a round of drinks, then another. The more Rachel drinks, the more she touches me. What seems like hours later, they finally excuse themselves to go to the ladies room.
The minute they walk away I ask, “So, are you taking her home tonight?”
“I don’t know. What do you think man, should I?”
“Damn it, Hunter. Just go for it! She is obviously into you. She’s hot. What the hell is the problem?” I want to smack him upside his head. I don’t know what his issue is when it comes to picking up girls. He is normally one of the most confident guys I know, yet he’s pathetic when it comes to this.
“Do you like Rachel?”
“No. She’s annoying.”
Amanda is more my type, but I decide to keep that bit of info to myself.
Hunter laughs. “Annoying? That never stopped you before. She’s gorgeous. What’s your problem, Are you off your game tonight?”
His arrogant comment hits a nerve.
“No, jackass. I’m just not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? You?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll hook up with Rachel if it helps you to hook up with Amanda.” Hunter turns his body to give me a scathing look.
“What?”
“Hell man, don’t do me any favors.”
“Sometimes you need a little push. I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever. There’s no need for hostility.”
Hunter gives me the silent treatment until the girls return from the ladies room. He never holds a grudge, and is back to his normal self in no time.
Watching Hunter and Amanda interact so comfortably with each other is my deciding factor. In my buzzed state I stupidly convince myself that hooking up with Rachel would only help Hunter. Regardless of what he thinks, he needs me to seal the deal. If I were to back out right now, Rachel would be gone with Amanda in tow. So I guess I’m taking one for the team. After the four of us consume several more rounds of beer and a round of shots, I decide I’ve had enough.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Normally, I am very diligent in choosing the women I hook up with. I like those who seek the exact same thing as I do, aren’t looking for a commitment, want a good time, and whose company I enjoy. I don’t appreciate women like Rachel who are annoying, yappy, and make me want to slit my wrists.
I regret my decision by the time we arrive to the apartment.
Something has my radar all messed up. There were too many red flags during the night that I ignored and now I am worried this is a huge mistake.
After a quick tour, a quick beer, and a quick coin toss that I rigged, Hunter is now on the roof with Amanda while Rachel and I get comfortable on the couch.
She unleashes question after question after question about our tour, our album, the rest of the band…blah, blah, blah. I feel like my ears are bleeding.
I really need to shut her up. Contradicting my gut instincts, I move closer and start nibbling on her ear. Thankfully this does the trick, and she finally shuts up.
Unfortunately, I’ve now started something I really don’t want to finish. As she starts to kiss my neck, I quickly play out two scenarios in my head. Either, I tell her I’m not in the mood and call her a cab now or I let her finish what she is about to do, and she goes on her merry way.
As I’m debating these two scenarios in my head, Rachel is making it very clear why she came home with me tonight. Since my cock has a mind of his own and is at full mast anyway, I might as well make him happy.
Moving us to my room gives Rachel the green light she’s been waiting for. She effectively has me prepped and ready in no time. I quickly roll on a condom to give Rachel what she came for.
By closing my eyes, I actually manage to have a very pleasurable experience after all. My vision, fantasy, or dream, whatever the hell you want to label it, is very real and vivid in my mind.
Leila.
Where previously her face caused me panic and confusion, tonight it’s a welcome sight.
I can taste her lips on mine.
I can feel my fingers wrapped in her silky hair.
I can feel her breasts pressing against me with each thrust.
I can taste her skin as I run my lips and tongue down her neck.
Rachel speaks and I quickly kiss her lips to stop her from ruining my fantasy.
Three deep thrusts later results in a very satisfying release. Leila, I mean Rachel, follows immediately after.
For a few long minutes we both lay on our backs, fighting for breath, neither of us saying a word.
“Wow. Jack that was fantastic.”
I can only nod in response.
She has no clue I used her body to fulfill my fantasy. Nausea hits as the shame I feel slowly slinks through my digestive tract. I regret using Rachel. Unfortunately she fell short in capturing my attention.
Totally oblivious to my inner turmoil, Rachel cuddles up to me and I unconsciously stiffen. I don’t do the cuddle thing, not even with girls I like.
“Round two?” she asks as she nibbles on my neck.
Um…no.
“Rachel, I’m exhausted…you wiped me out.” A partial lie.
Taking my comment as a compliment, she picks up right where she left off, and starts to run her mouth a mile a minute, kissing me intermittently. She’s quiet only when she stops to take a breath. I pretend to listen until I can’t take it any longer.
I can excuse myself and arrange for Scott to call me with an emergency.
Or I can start a small, contained kitchen fire.
Or I can stab myself by accident.
Holy hell…I need to get her out of here.
I sing the lyrics to about a dozen of our songs in my head and then decide that I’ve waited an acceptable amount of time. “I’m sorry Rachel. I have a really early appointment tomorrow. Can I call you a cab?” The look on her face unleashes a barrage of guilt, so I lie to soften the blow. “I’ll call you.”
This is why I rely on my “relationship scale” technique. It’s foolproof. By ignoring my meticulous system, I am now feeling all the crap I try so desperately to avoid - guilt, shame, and pity.
Damn it…And I’ve broken at least ten of my own rules. The most important one being, “Never tell a chick you’ll call her…ever!”
This whole night was a huge mistake.
I feel like I just spent the last few hours babysitting a child with severe A.D.D. by the time I close the door behind Rachel. Her attention span is the size of a pea. It took most of the forty minutes to talk her out of going up to the roof to tell Amanda she was leaving. I wasn’t about to let her ruin Hunter’s night. I paid for her cab and promised I would tell Amanda personally that she had left.
Now I feel gross and add that to my fucking list. The minute she leaves I hide in my room to work out like a mad man before showering and falling into bed exhausted.