Sunday, we worked the dinner shift at the Dive Bar.
Due to an event downtown, it wasn’t particularly busy. Boyd, with the aid of Kurt the kitchen kid, was in charge. It seemed he liked to do an all-day brunch on the seventh day. Eggs Benedict, ricotta pancakes with banana and butterscotch sauce, potato and corn cakes with spinach, bacon, and relish, and other amazing things. We arrived just in time to catch the end of it as they changed over to the dinner menu, which mainly included pizzas and pastas. Getting to taste test the remains of brunch on breaks was the best. Issues regarding the size of my ass and hips were problems for another day.
No sign of Eric or Nell. Joe and Vaughan worked the bar.
I’d called Nell earlier and left a message on her cell. After the events of last night, I’d probably want to be left the hell alone too. The rest of the day passed swiftly, and was relatively painless. Despite the countdown to Vaughan’s departure tick-tocking in my head.
He slept with me. We didn’t discuss it, he just climbed in beside me, boxer briefs on. They remained intact. Things were so weird now. The gratitude I felt when he lay by my side burned.
Love was a bitter pill.
Sleeping in helped with my various aches and pains before we moved my stuff, which didn’t take long. We each took our cars to deliver one load to the second-floor storeroom above the restaurant and we were done. Most of my kitchen and household-type items had been donated to a local charity just before the wedding. I thought I’d no longer need them, what with all of those gifts from the Delaneys’ fancy friends arriving every day.
“Cover me.” A hand suddenly gripped my arm. A male voice coming from directly behind me. “Good job. What’s your name?”
“Is this a robbery or something?” I asked, not sure whether to be perplexed or afraid.
The mystery man laughed. “Fuck no. Got more money than I can spend in this lifetime. What’s your name?”
“Lydia.”
“Okay, Lydia. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” I chanced a glance over my shoulder.
“Don’t look at me!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Despite it being nearly nine at night, the dude wore sunglasses. His face was mostly obscured by a trucker’s hat. Strands of long blond hair had escaped the cap, however, hanging down past his shoulder. Bright green T-shirt. Other than that, I had nothing. If I had to describe him to the police, there wouldn’t be much to go on, dammit. “I won’t do it again.”
“I should hope not. Sheesh, Lydia,” he said, tone exasperated. “I need you to work with me here. Just act normal. Walk toward the bar like nothing weird is going on at all, all right?”
“All right.”
“Let’s go.”
With slow measured steps we moved toward the bar. It took me a while to catch Vaughan’s eye. I tried to communicate several things to him with my look. First, I was not happy. Second, whoever stood behind me was the definite cause of this unhappiness. His eyes widened, then his gaze jumped to the person steering me toward the big blond bartender.
“You trying to be in disguise or what?” Vaughan asked, voice oddly calm. Instead of reaching for a shotgun or something, he continued pouring a beer.
“Yes,” said the maniac, stepping out from behind me. “Genius, isn’t it?’
Vaughan leisurely checked him out then shook his head. “You’re a fucking idiot. Get your hand off Lydia, you’re freaking her out.”
“I’ll have you know, Lydia and I are the best of friends. She thinks my costume is awesome,” the maniac falsely declared. “Don’t you, Lydia?”
“I’m allowed to look at you now?” I asked.
“Knock yourself out,” the man said, turning to Vaughan, his voice ecstatic. “This is my favorite part, when they get all excited about me.”
“Mm-hmm.”
The maniac gave me a broad grin.
Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t afraid of loud colors or stating his musical preferences. He wore a fluorescent green T-shirt with a large picture of Malcolm Ericson from Stage Dive on the front, and a matching fluorescent pink hat. “Mal for President” had been embroidered on the hat. Guess he really loved the drummer from Stage Dive. A lot.
“Wow.” I gave Vaughan side-eyes.
He burst out laughing. “She doesn’t recognize you.”
“Duh. She’s not supposed to recognize me, I’m in disguise.” The maniac pouted and took a seat at the bar. “And give me that beer.”
“Bullshit.” Vaughan kept right on laughing, setting the beer on the bar as ordered. “You wanted her to know who you were, you fucking show pony.”
The man declined to answer, instead drinking the beer.
“Babe,” said Vaughan, smiling. “This is Mal Ericson.”
Mal raised a hand in salute.
“From Stage Dive?” I asked, just to be sure.
“Yep,” said Mal. “So … babe, huh? Don’t recall you having a babe before, V-man. How interesting.”
“Not interesting.” Vaughan started pouring another beer. “None of your business.”
“I’d like to buy, babe, a beer.” He patted the bar stool beside him. “Sit, Lydia. Let us become friends. Tell your Uncle Mal everything.”
“Don’t tell him anything,” countered Vaughan, brows drawn down. “Biggest fucking meddler I ever met. Always got to be sticking his nose into everyone else’s business. And she’s working.”
“I’d love a drink,” I told Mal, taking the proffered seat. “Dinner’s basically over, Masa’s just clearing the last couple of tables now. A soda and lime, please, bartender.”
“You go, babe.” Mal started clicking his fingers. “He’s not the boss of you.”
“Who the hell let him in here?” grumped a female voice.
For the second time tonight, I got accosted from behind. This time, however, it was welcome. Nell gave me quick hug before leaning against the bar. “Mal.”
“Nell.” The drummer removed his sunglasses, throwing them aside along with his hat. Golden blond hair flowed over his shoulders. Of course, with him revealed in all his glory, there could be no question about his identity. Stage Dive was only one of the biggest bands in the world.
I stared, starstruck.
“Nell, Nell, Nell. Still secretly longing for me, I see.” Mal sighed. “You poor pathetic sap.”
“Aw. I think it’s wonderful that you’re so removed from reality, Malcolm. Don’t let anybody tell you differently.”
He chuckled. “Lydia, did she tell you how when we were kids, she always used to chase after me when we played catch and kiss? Every single time. Not that I minded having an older girl hot on my trail. But shit, running after me every single day. It got a little old.”
“I wasn’t trying to kiss you, you idiot.” Nell turned to me. “One time on the bus, the little asswipe tried to set my ponytail on fire. I kept chasing him to try and punch him, but he was too fast.”
“Yeah, sure, Nelly. You keep telling yourself that,” stirred Mal.
I looked back and forth between the two, trying not to laugh. Poor Nell’s lips were puckered, a heavy scowl in place.
Vaughan slapped down a beer mat, placing my soda and lime on top. Staying out of the twenty-oddyear-old battle. Wise.
“Thank you,” I said.
A tip of the chin.
“I was sorry to hear about your mother,” said Nell in a softer voice. “She was a wonderful woman.”
Mal nodded. “Thanks. I was sorry to hear about you and Pat.”
“Yeah.” Nell shrugged. “Shit happens, right?”
“Sadly.”
“Where’s Anne?” asked Vaughan.
“My beloved wife is nose deep in a romance book and doesn’t want to be disturbed.” With a grin, Mal took another mouthful of beer. “I got a feeling this one’s going to be awesome.”
“What?”
“Dude.” Mal crooked his finger, motioning Vaughan closer. When he did so, Mal smacked him on the forehead. “Listen and learn, you fool. You’ve got a babe now. You need to know these things.”
Rubbing his red forehead, Vaughan did not appear impressed. Or any more knowledgeable. Yet.
“When women read romance books, one of two things generally happen.” Mal ran a hand through his lovely locks. “They either want to discuss the book in great depth. And probably, life and your relationship. Now sometimes that’s okay. You reach a higher level of understanding with each other and shit. But sometimes it sucks, pure and simple. You wind up getting bitched at for days because of something the dude in the book did that makes you look bad. But if it’s an awesome book, however, a hot one? Well then … kinky fuckery like you wouldn’t believe, man. The ideas Pumpkin has gotten out of some of those books. Gold. I could never have talked her into trying half of that stuff.”
“Huh.”
“Trust me, never mock a romance book,” said Mal with all the zest of a manic street preacher. “You have no idea the amount of good they can do for you between the sheets and on the streets. If you love your girl? Buy her books.”
A moment of stunned silence.
“Thank god we don’t have penises,” said Nell, patting me on the shoulder.
“Pretty much,” I agreed.
Deep in thought, Vaughan scratched at his head. “Romance books, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Give me strength,” said Nell. “Everything okay?”
Her brother gazed back at her, face lined. I think we all knew she wasn’t asking about the business. So far as I was aware, there’d been next to no communication between them since she’d broken the news of her pregnancy the night before. Given his expression when he stormed out of the back office, he hadn’t taken it well.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He reached out, taking hold of her hand. “How about with you?”
Her smile was grim. “Getting there.”
“Know you weren’t keen on me selling the house. But with the extra money, I can afford to fly back sometimes. Visit more often,” he said, voice soft.
“I’d like that.” The joy in Nell’s voice spoke for itself.
The siblings held hands. I looked away, it was a private moment. His promises to visit had nothing to do with me. I’d just have to suck it up. And it was a good thing he’d be around more for his sister; Nell would need all the support she could get.
Mal, however, kept watching the siblings, eyes thoughtful. Any trace of his particular brand of crazy appeared to have disappeared for the time being.
“The Closed sign’s up, door’s locked,” said Joe, joining us.
Andre followed close behind. “Hello, everyone.”
“Hi.” I smiled. Behind us, the restaurant had emptied, all of the lights were dimmed. Cool acoustic songs by a variety of bands played over the sound system. I liked how they kept the music going even after closing. “Time for me to get back to work.”
“Stay put,” ordered Nell. “Masa and Boyd and the new kitchen kid have got it covered. We’re having a small surprise going-away party for my brother. Since he’s about as good at goodbyes as he is with letting us know he’s in town in the first place.”
“I was going to call you that day,” said Vaughan.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The big blond bear went back behind the bar, taking a dusty bottle off the very top shelf. “Eric said never to touch this one. So we’ll start with it.”
“Excellent. Have to admit, your brother has fine taste in scotch…” Andre inclined his head toward Nell, the smallest of smiles in place. “And women.”
“Don’t.” She threw a balled-up paper napkin at him.
“Ah, speaking of,” said Andre, gaze switching to Vaughan. “Pat said he’d catch you later. He’s taken his motorcycle and headed up into the wilds of Canada for a week or two to get his head together.”
Vaughan nodded. But said nothing.
Andre frowned, looking Nell’s way.
A muscle jumped in Nell’s jaw. “If you’ve got something to say, Andre, do me a favor and just say it.”
Tonight, Andre wore a particularly cool plaid button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He stopped, focus entirely on Nell. His eyes softened, face not unkind. “Baby girl, you fucked up not fixing your marriage. Pat fucked up giving up on you too easy. Hell, Eric fucked up ever going near you, knowing what the situation was between you two. You know all of this. But if you think for a minute that I don’t love you and haven’t got your back, then you’re crazy. I’ll babysit and change shitty diapers if I have to and I fully expect to be godfather, understood?”
Nell hurriedly looked away, sucking in her cheeks. Trying to hold back tears, I’d guess. After waiting a second or two, Andre strode over, throwing his arms around her. The way she clung to him couldn’t have failed to move anyone. That kind of unwavering love and support was what I wanted. It was why I was staying here. That’s what Vaughan was giving up by yet again leaving. And the longing, the naked emotion on his face showed he knew it, how couldn’t he?
It was the price he paid to follow his dream.
My dream wasn’t as grand as stardom on the stage. I didn’t want to be a rock-and-roll icon. I wanted home and community, a job where I could excel and financially build a future for myself. Sure, if a fairy godmother came along and bonked me on the head with her wand, giving me instant glamour and success as a plus-size model, I’d deal. It would be fun, but it wasn’t what my heart yearned for.
“I’m not changing shitty diapers, tell you that much,” Mal announced.
“Amen.” Joe raised his glass of scotch and they toasted to the sentiment.
“Pussies,” I said.
“How are all of the Stage Dive babies doing?” asked Vaughan, accepting his own glass of scotch off Joe.
You had to give it to the guy, Malcolm Ericson did an amazing impression of someone slowly choking to death. By the time his head thunked down on top of the bar, I almost clapped.
“That well, huh?”
Mal groaned. “V-man, if I have to look at one more too cute baby video I’m going to, shit, I’m going to lose it. I just can’t take it anymore. I mean, congratulations to them. Their boys can swim. But I don’t need to see every fucking thing the fruit of their loins does, you know?”
He stopped to drain the last third of his beer, handing the glass back across the bar for a refill. “I told Pumpkin straight out. I said, my sperm is not to be used for these purposes for quite some years, thank you very much.”
“How’d she take it?” I asked.
“She laughed at me.” Mal frowned. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m really in charge at all.”
“That’s the problem with settling down,” said Vaughan, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s got the pussy. You want it. Might as well just say goodbye to being your own boss.”
“That’s your view of relationships?” I tipped my head. A fresh angle achieved nothing, however. He remained a puzzle I could never solve. One that sadly made my heart beat double time. “Seriously?”
“This should be good,” said Joe, staring into his drink.
Some snickering from Mal.
Oh good. We had everyone’s attention. Andre stood beside Nell, an arm wrapped around her waist. Vaughan had assumed the old blank face. Eyes open and guileless, arms hanging loose at his sides. And yeah, no. We didn’t need to do this. I didn’t need to know.
I smiled, shook my head. “Forget I said that. A toast!”
Everyone held up their glasses apart from Vaughan. I avoided his gaze, getting on with my life—accepting situations I couldn’t change, fighting the inevitable wasted valuable time and energy.
“To Vaughan,” I announced, holding my soda and lime high. I wasn’t afraid to meet his perfect blue eyes. Not now. Time to pull my big girl panties up and move on. “Safe travels and musical glory. I hope all of your dreams come true.”
Compliments and similar wishes were spoken. Drinks were drunk.
“You’re not going with him?” asked Mal, voice subdued as conversations continued around us.
“No. We’ve only known each other a week. It’s not … and I’m hoping to become a bigger part of things in the Dive Bar.” My smile felt staged for some reason. Not that I was lying. “I like it here.”
He tipped his chin and said no more. The understanding in his eyes, I didn’t like it. Shit, I barely knew the man. I could really do without parading my dumbass heart in front of international rock stars.
“Do you spend much time in Coeur d’Alene?” I asked, eager to change the topic of conversation.
Mal smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got family here. Bought a place on the lake. You should come over sometime. Meet Pumpkin. I think you two would get along and it’d be good for her to know some people in town. We’re spending a bit more time here these days.”
“Thank you,” I said, eyes wide in surprise. “I’d like that.”
“In fact, all of you losers should come visit,” he announced more loudly. “Stay the night, bring instruments, I’ll organize the eats and drinks. Ben’s coming out with Lizzy and Gibson tomorrow. I think Davie and Ev were thinking about visiting too. It’ll be fun.”
“Won’t that be a lot of people?” asked Nell.
“Nelly, the house is big. Like, a bajillion bedrooms or something. No way was I taking the chance that someone’s screaming baby would wake me in the middle of the night. Visitors go in the other wing, far, far away from me.” He waved a hand, indicating one hell of a distance. “Trust me, you’ll all fit.”
“Christ, your place has wings?” Joe huffed out a breath. “Last time I saw you, you said you were looking at a log cabin on the water. You didn’t say anything about it being a castle.”
“Hello, I know we haven’t hung out much since school. But, um, guys, I’m kind of rich now,” said Mal. “It is a log cabin on the water. It’s just a very fucking big one.”
“This I need to see,” said Joe. “Who built it?”
“Fucked if I know. You can climb over the place to your heart’s content, Bob the Builder. Check out how it’s put together.”
“You had to know he’d be back, shoving his money in our faces,” said Andre, a sly smile on his face.
“Haha.” Mal flipped him the bird. “Oh, hey. Am I still banned from your shop and have you still got your old man’s Gretsch kit?”
“It’s upstairs in storage, but I could bring it down.”
Eyes excited, Mal rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Is it for sale?”
“Maybe.” Andre sipped his scotch. “If I knew it was going to a good home. As for you still being banned, that depends. You going to try and skateboard in my shop again, you fuckface?”
“Harsh, man. I was fifteen! I’ve matured a lot since then.”
“Hmm.”
“You’ll let me in. We’ll talk about your dad’s kit later. It’ll definitely be going to a loving home.” The drummer started beating out a rhythm on his thighs. He seemed to be constantly in movement. I don’t think he ever sat still. “But yeah, you should all come out.”
“Rad,” said Nell. “But I’ll do the eats.”
“Sold!” Mal slapped his hand on the bar.
Chatter and laughter filled the space, everyone having a good time. Or almost everyone. I nearly didn’t notice Vaughan slinking off. Shoulders rounded and head hanging down, he made straight for the men’s room. I walked over and hovered outside, waiting for him to come out. Wanting to touch base with him emotionally, I guess.
When he did, he walked straight into me. Guess I was a crap stalker. No subtlety at all. My balance wavered until he grabbed my upper arms, holding me steady.
“Shit. Lydia,” he said, little line back between his brows. “You all right?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
He set me free, gaze perplexed.
“It’s just that the big house on the lake was your dream.”
Quietly, he swore, then grabbed my hand and dragged me into the men’s bathroom. It’d obviously just been cleaned. The scent of bleach stung my nostrils. Gray tiles and paintwork matched with stainless steel fittings. It was all very neat and tidy. With the exception of a large piece of artwork on the back wall between a couple of urinals and bathroom stalls.
“Ha,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a men’s room. What’s that?”
“Go look.” Vaughan leaned against the back of the door, watching me.
A massive red anarchy symbol had been painted on the door, with messy white writing declaring, “I am music. Music is my life. Punk rock forever.” Over the top of it all was a sheet of acrylic, for protection. I bent, trying to decode the green and blue scribble at the bottom. A date and a name.
“Andre Senior,” I said, smiling.
“Got it in one.”
“That’s a piece of history.”
“Yeah. Apparently he painted it on opening night,” he said.
“Glad they kept it.” I meandered back toward Vaughan, still leaning against the bathroom door, chilling. “So you’re not having a moment about Mal’s palace by the lake?”
“No. Those guys worked hard for everything they have. They’re damn good at what they do. Yes, I want what they’ve got. But I don’t resent them for having it. They’re my friends.” He flicked back his golden red hair, not taking his eyes off me for a minute. “I’m having a moment, as you’re calling it, because I yet again made you feel like shit. I opened my fat mouth without thinking. Again. I’m sorry.”
I squinted in confusion.
“What I said about relationships was fucking stupid.”
“Vaughan.” I smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t upset me. It’s not like what we’ve been doing the last week could exactly be called a relationship.”
His brows drew down but he smiled. “No?”
“No.”
“What would you call it then?”
Walking toward him, I laughed softly. “You’re leaving in the morning. Does it matter?”
“Go on. What would you call it?” he repeated.
I stopped a bit back from him, trying to read his face. Slight smile, relaxed. His feet were a little apart, arms hanging loose at his sides. All of his focus was on me, waiting for my answer. The problem was, none of the labels fit right anymore. Friends with benefits seemed insufficient, icky. No way, however, was I brave enough to publicly aim for any higher.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I’d call it important.”
I took a deep breath, feeling hope yet fortifying myself for the pain. Where he was involved, in the end there always seemed to be pain. Fucking depressing but true. I needed to write poems about the orgasms he’d given me. Refind my joy.
“Thank you,” I said.
We just looked at each other.
“You’re beautiful, Lydia. Special. Usually things with me are just casual, hook-ups. No more than a night or two.” Mouth serious and gaze somber he paused, searching for the right words. “You’re not that. And it’s not just that we spent a bit more time together. It’s you. You make me wish things were different.”
All of a sudden my black flats were fascinating. Totally captivating. And it had nothing to do with the weepiness currently happening in my eyes. Honestly, this man. Every single time I shored up my defenses, mentally and emotionally preparing myself to lose him, he tore the fortress down. Bastard.
“Babe?”
I held up a hand, cautioning him not to speak. Like he hadn’t said enough.
He shut his mouth, brows high.
Meanwhile, I breathed. Breathing was good, useful. A really great hobby. Next I walked up to him and got to my knees. I just had to get close to him, to give him something more. Love him in some way to show him he was special to me too. Tiles were a bit of a bitch to kneel on. My favorite blue flares did nothing to soften the hardness. He couldn’t have made his speech somewhere sensible, say near a bed or somewhere there might be throw cushions. No way.
Men. Such pains in the ass.
“Um, Lydia?”
I ignored him, busy dealing with his belt buckle before tearing into the button and zipper of his jeans. Goddamn underwear. Today, of course, he decides to wear his boxer briefs. With a heavy sigh of irritation, I slipped my hands into the sides of his underwear, easing both them and the jeans down his hips. Smooth warm skin beneath my fingertips. Lean muscle and the curves of his hipbone. The scent was just that bit more potent here. Soap, sweat, and him. He made my mouth water.
Touch tender, I liberated his dick, rubbing my lips up and down against the underneath. Nothing felt as hot and silken as the skin on a man’s cock. It was amazing. Already, he was hardening, growing. Men had magic in their pants, it’s true. Only some took the time to figure out how best to use it, sadly. I traced the thick vein running all the way up with the tip of my tongue. Back and forth, back and forth. His breath caught, stomach muscles flexing.
“Shit.” He held up his black Dive Bar T-shirt, the other hand caressing the side of my face.
He filled my hand nicely. Not that size was any great indicator of talent. It helped, but it wasn’t the be-all to end-all. In one hand I cradled his balls, rolling them with my fingers. The other hand stayed wrapped around the base of his cock as I sucked him off. I sucked at him, long drawing pulls, before torturing him with my tongue. Giving head could be fun. I circled the head of his cock then licked back and forth across it. Sometimes I’d gently prod the tiny slit of his opening with the tip of my tongue, wiggling it inside just a little.
Vaughan gasped and grabbed hold of my ponytail, wrapping it around his fist. Heavy breathing echoed through the men’s room.
The trick was total inconsistency. Never let them know what’s coming next. I licked and sucked, tortured and teased, carefully grazed him with my teeth. I loved him with my mouth while my hand kept playing with his balls, tugging on them lightly now and then. I hummed, quite proud of myself. He swelled to admirable proportions and the vibration only helped. The rock-hard length of him slid in and out of my mouth as far as I could take it without gagging.
For a while, he managed to resist fucking my mouth. When I massaged the sweet spot between his balls and his anus with the tip of my finger, however, he lost all control. Hips bucking, he thrust his cock between my lips. Only the presence of my hand wrapped around his base stopped him from going too deep.
“Fuck. Babe,” he growled, tugging on my hair.
It was hot, the feral sounds he made, the harsh, guttural tone of his voice. All down to me and all of it got to me. My panties were most definitely wet. His thick cock throbbed and I sucked hard, as hard as I could. Salty creamy cum filled my mouth to overflowing. I couldn’t swallow fast enough.
He sagged against the door, still holding my hair in his hand. I kneeled at his feet, catching my breath. And cleaning myself up as best I could. Swallowing wasn’t normally my thing. However, let’s not ponder that.
Cloudy blue eyes stared down at me. The hint of a smile playing with the edge of his lips. He liked me a lot. Maybe he even loved me a little. Who knew? It didn’t matter. He still wasn’t going to stay.
“Wish things were different,” he said, voice subdued.
“Me too.”
* * *
By the time I woke up the next morning, he was gone.