LARK
Waking up in a strange bed again after my night at the hotel was disconcerting, but when my brain kick-started, and I remembered that I wasn’t in Manhattan anymore, but in LA and at Maxen’s, I sat up quickly and looked around.
I had picked the first bedroom he showed me yesterday, and I wasn’t disappointed. The room was mostly decorated in white and cream, and with the beautiful sunrise casting an orange glow to the room since I had forgotten to close the curtains, it’s breathtaking.
I was sure Maxen’s room was a lot bigger than this one, but this room made me envious when I compared it to the bedroom I had in New York with Caleb. Maxen’s guestroom didn’t have much in terms of furniture other than a huge four poster bed and a couple of dressers, but it made it easy to breathe. It’s funny how I was only now realizing how it’s easy to forget how to breathe. Adult life did that if you didn’t pay attention.
I stretched and gingerly climbed out of bed, reluctant to leave the soft covers. I quickly made my way to the bathroom and this time around I was able to keep my mouth closed as I stripped off the old college t-shirt I liked to sleep in and the plain white cotton panties to walk in the big Italian shower. When the hot water fell on me and started working on easing the kinks in my back from the nerves and the hours spent turning and twisting thinking about Maxen and my marriage to him, it’s hard not to moan with pleasure.
Caleb and I rented a very nice apartment in Manhattan, but it’s nowhere near as luxurious as Maxen’s house was and I found it funny. I had pictured him living in a huge modern loft in the heart of the city, not in the hills in a gorgeous house that could be easily called a family home. Maybe he was right after all. Maybe I did have a wrong image of him, and that’s one of the thoughts that had kept me awake until late, or early in the morning.
Last night, dinner had been rather calm, if not dead. We barely talked and as soon as he was finished with his meal, a delivered pizza, he excused himself and went straight to his room upstairs. He hadn’t made fun of me, laughed at my expense or spent minutes flirting on the phone with some woman that would make a very, very short appearance in his life. In one evening, he had me doubting my thoughts.
I stepped out of the shower and finished getting ready. I didn’t put any makeup on and barely took the time to brush my wet hair before leaving my temporary room to find the kitchen and something to eat when my stomach started to growl.
Downstairs, I looked around but didn’t hear a single sound. Was Maxen still asleep? Damn, I never thought I’d ever be in the position of sharing a roof with him. I wasn’t used to tiptoeing around him and staying at his house didn’t put me at an advantage.
Life was a mess for sure.
I scowled at my thoughts and at my heart beating weirdly at the prospect of facing my host so early this morning. I walked into the living room and located the way to the kitchen I knew was painted in white and light gray.
I stopped cold on the threshold.
Facing away from me, Maxen was standing at the kitchen island and checking his phone. His right arm moved every now and then to bring what I suppose was cereal to his mouth. The muscles in his back and on his arm moved, flexed and rippled at his every move. His skin, mostly covered in tattoos, looked tight and smooth under the early sun rays. Hanging low on his hips was black boardshorts, revealing the dimples in the small of his back right above the waistband. My eyes trailed down, and I noticed his big feet bare on the tiled floor. His muscled calves and shins were covered with light hair, the same color as his blonde head and that made him look all the more manly.
I shook my head at myself for ogling him as if I had never seen a man wearing so little and started walking again. My bare feet didn’t make a sound on the floor, so I cleared my throat loudly to announce my arrival.
Maxen’s shoulders tensed and the muscles there bunched as his grip on the small spoon became deadly. His knuckles turned white.
“Hi,’’ I said with a small voice, trying like hell not to look down his chest. I rounded the kitchen island and stood in front of him. But it’s impossible to prevent my eyes from wandering over his heavily muscled chest and the tattoos that covered a lot of skin. But while his impressive pecs and his well-defined abs and the obliques leading down in his boardshorts had my attention at first, my eyes zeroed in on the necklace around his neck and the ring at the end, falling right between his pecs.
I had seen enough pictures of him and the band to know it’s a silver ring, simple and cheap looking. But up until now, I had never realized what that ring was.
I pointed at it with a trembling hand, my eyes riveted to it. His pecs flexed once and his abs tensed. “Is it…?’’
“Yeah. It’s my wedding band from Vegas,’’ he answered with a rough voice that made me shiver unexpectedly.
My eyes sought his, and I was taken aback by the sadness I found in his before he put on a mask of what I knew was fake nonchalance as he grinned at me with that bright smile that made him a favorite among most women. And now that Dex was openly taken, I was sure it’s getting worse, or better depending on how you saw things.
“You kept it?’’ I made a move to touch it, leaning over the kitchen island but pulled back when he tensed further and stopped breathing. “Why?’’
He shrugged and dropped the spoon into his now empty bowl. “It’s not important. If you want to eat something, the fridge is full, and there are a few cereal boxes in the cupboard over there,’’ he replied and pointed at the cupboard closest to the fridge.
I frowned at him, beyond frustrated by his ability to brush things off like that. “Why do you keep your wedding band around your neck?’’ I repeated, my voice colder and a lot more assured. I couldn’t remember a time when my blood boiled like it did now unless I counted the times in college when he would drive me crazy until I thought of ways of getting away with murder.
At that moment, all I wanted was an answer. I needed that answer.
I put my hands palm down on the top of the kitchen island and reveled in the cold marble contrasting with my burning skin.
Maxen kept his green eyes on mine, and I saw the moment when he went from fake nonchalance to annoyance, and then embarrassment was written all over his face. That’s when he finally looked away and fixed his empty bowl. He took a deep breath, and his big shoulders slumped.
“I don’t fucking know, Lark. That’s the damn truth,’’ he said gruffly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t keep mine,’’ I said equally low, my voice shaking like I hadn’t heard it shake a lot in my life. Many emotions ran through me, probably too much, and in turn, I was kind of oddly numb as if my whole body shut down to protect myself.
He snorted and nodded to himself before he looked up and smiled at me that same annoying smile he used to give me. It stretched his lips upward and showed off his teeth with the right canine slightly crooked from what Dex told me came from a nasty fight when they were juniors in high school. “Why doesn’t it surprise me, huh?’’
“What is that supposed to mean?’’
He shrugged and grabbed his bowl to load it into the dishwasher. I watched him move around his kitchen with an ease and a confidence that I had always witnessed only with this man. His muscles, a lot more defined than I remembered them being back in college, moved in an enticing dance that flustered me while the necklace dangled with the thick band gleaming in the morning light coming through the tall windows in the kitchen. I shouldn’t find his body so captivating, but I wasn’t blind, and I’d rather focus on his body than on the fact that he held onto a trinket that was a direct memory of our sham marriage.
“Maxen, what is that supposed to mean?’’
He sighed, and before he left the kitchen, he turned back to me. His eyes narrowed into slits. “You’ve always seen me as the idiot of the group, the guy who doesn’t care about anything and everybody but himself. You wouldn’t believe that I care sometimes.’’
“I know you care about my cousin and Dex, Otis, and Beckett. I know you care about music. I don’t see what it has anything to do with the wedding band around your damn neck!’’
He stalked to me with long strides, and I was frozen right in the middle of the vast kitchen, glued there by his angry green eyes on me. When he reached me, he stopped a breath from me and pointed at my face with a thick finger. His blonde eyebrows were lowered over his eyes, darkening them. His lips weren’t smiling at all. And under his blonde stubble, I saw his flushed cheeks.
“You’ve always told me I’d put myself first. But you don’t know shit about me, Lark, and I’ve had enough of it. You want to know why I keep that fucking ring on me? It’s because I never thought I’d get married and that shit means something to me. I’ve tried forgetting it, but I can’t. It’s not something I could or should sweep under the fucking rug because it’s easier that way. I wanted the damn reminder on me.’’ He’s breathing loud and fast, but he didn’t step back or lower his finger from near my nose. And I couldn’t look away from the blaze in his eyes. “I’m not fucking perfect, but I’m not a selfish bastard either. You want to picture me as the bad guy here? Fine! But keep it to yourself.’’
He turned away and took a deep breath, leaning against the counter near the fridge. He crossed his big arms over his heaving chest. “I’m supposed to meet the band, Floyd, and Harley next door at Dex’s. I’m going to get ready, so you have ten minutes to decide if you want to tag along or stay here.’’ And without waiting for my answer, he walked away and up the staircase while I was left with my mouth gaping in the kitchen.
***
MAXEN
The cold shower hadn’t helped a damn thing. I was still raging mad and hard as a fucking rock. I ran the blue towel through my hair with a lot more energy than necessary. In my haste, I tore at some strands, and I cursed in my quiet bedroom.
When in here, I was usually calm. With the light paint job on the walls, the cathedral ceiling and the huge bay windows opening to a balcony, this was the dream master bedroom. But right now, I didn’t see any of that. All I saw was Lark’s face going from pissed to scared.
It’s the first time I had ever seen fear on her face, and I was the one who initiated it. I didn’t know if her words pissed me off the most or her reaction to my outburst.
I closed my eyes and conjured up the words from the therapist at the rehab center.
“You must find your happy place when you feel your emotions are getting out of control. Close your eyes and take deep breaths.’’
But there’s no happy place when I closed my eyes. I didn’t see my drums and a quiet room, things that had always brought me comfort over the years. All I saw was Lark always and forever out of my reach, always driving me crazy with everything and anything.
I re-opened my eyes and grabbed the light gray t-shirt with the band’s logo from my unmade bed. Without another look around, I put it on and started walking out of my room and back down to my very own pain in the ass wife.
My heart did that weird thing again when the word wife crossed my mind. I had never forgotten I was a married man—even if on paper only—but with her here it was more significant.
I tugged my t-shirt down right when I started down the stairs, and I came face to face with her, arms crossed over her breasts, pushing them closer together. With her low cut blouse and her swelling breasts, it’s damn impossible for me to look away from them. I was normally more of an ass man, but with her, I was a leg man, an ass man, and a fucking breast man. My cock twitched in my jeans, and I cursed myself and my damn libido. It’d been too long.
“I’m coming with you. It’s not like I have anything to do, but don’t worry. I’ll book a plane back home for tomorrow.’’
I gritted my teeth and nodded, but she didn’t pay me any attention. She’s already walking to the front door. I hated the idea of her leaving so soon already, but it’s ridiculous. It’s not like she could stay here with her job back in New York. And even without her job on the line, there’s no reason for her to want to stay here with me. Lover boy must already have contacted her by now.
I put on my old biker boots and followed her out of the house, locking up behind me. And once again, she took me aback when she stood in front of me, her eyes trained on my chest. It took me a moment to catch up to what she was looking at. For a brief and insane moment, I thought she was checking me out.
She’s looking at the logo of Kinky Shine on the old t-shirt. It’s not as pristine as it used to be, the logo had dulled from the last three year’s worth of washing, but it still contrasted nicely against the light gray fabric of the t-shirt.
“Every time I see this logo on TV or online I’m taken aback. Why did you and the guys never have someone revamp it?’’
For a second, I was tempted to blurt the truth; that when we signed with the label they wanted to have a professional designer make a new one using the same colors, but I bitched pretty bad and said I’d walk out if anyone ever touched the logo. But I couldn’t really tell her that.
“We love the logo you made for us. We wouldn’t change it for anything.’’
She bit her lip, and it became harder for me to ignore the raging hard-on pressing against the zipper of my jeans.
“That’s nice. It seems like a lifetime ago when I was playing around with all this designing stuff.’’ She smiled ruefully and glanced up at me. For once, there wasn’t the disgust in her cerulean blue eyes I had always seen when she looked at me.
“You were talented. I don’t understand why you didn’t pursue it.’’
She shrugged and put on huge sunglasses I had missed in her hand. “It’s difficult to make it as a designer. But this logo got me an internship at the company I work for now. I’m more in the technical field of branding than the artistic field, but it works out well for me.’’
“If you do what you love, then it’s good.’’ I nodded toward Dex’s house next door and started walking.
Lark quickly fell into step with me, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her gaping at the mansions around in the gated community I moved in as soon as Dex bought his house. While these houses weren’t the most extravagant ones around LA, they were still inhabited by some of the richest people around.
“It’s great that you live next to Dex. You two have always been close,’’ she said, trying for small talk with a hesitant voice that made me smile down at her. But she wasn’t looking at me, and that’s probably best. I remembered her telling me once that my smile was bordering on creepy back in college. She’s the only one who ever told me something like that, but when it came from the only woman who had ever done a number on me, that stung.
“An old couple was living at my house when Dex sealed the deal on his. I used all my charms to convince them to sell to me for a very good price. And by a good price, I mean a good price for them.’’
“Your charms?’’ she scoffed at me.
I gestured at Dex’s house and let her walk ahead of me up the short paved path leading to the front door. It had more to do with the chance to look at her swaying hips and round ass than being a gentleman.
“Hey, it’s not because you’re immune to my charms that they don’t exist. Ask any woman around.’’
I rang the doorbell, and before she threw something sarcastic at me, as she’s so skilled at, Harley opened the door with a huge smile on her face. With her long brown hair piled on top of her head and her off the shoulder shirt and old pair of jeans and bare feet, she welcomed us.
“Hey, girlie. I hope you took good care of your man last night because he’s bitching about not having a minute alone with you,’’ I said and wrapped her in a bear hug she returned with her usual enthusiasm.
Dex really won the lottery with that girl. Not only is she a rock music geek, but she’s beautiful and one of the sweetest and most real women I have met in my life.
“Shut up, Maxen,’’ she replied with a good-natured laugh and a blush creeping on her face at my innuendo.
Then she turned to Lark who was watching the exchange with a funny look on her face. If she thought I couldn’t be friendly with a woman, then she had a vision of me more off base than I thought. I might be a real womanizer, but I was also a friendly guy. I also knew when I met someone worth keeping in my life and Harley proved that a few months ago when she discovered my addiction and told Dex, risking her relationship with him. That’s the kind of woman Harley was, and I had the utmost respect for her.
“Sorry. This is Lark Hardin, my…uh…’’
“Wife. Yeah, Dex told me last night,’’ Harley supplied for me with a smirk she picked up from her boyfriend with an uncanny easiness. “It’s nice to meet you, Lark. I’m Harley Floyd.’’
“I’ve heard about your relationship with Dex,’’ Lark said with a sweet smile I had never been privy to.
“Argh…’’ Harley rolled her eyes and led us farther into the house where I could hear Otis, Beckett, Dex, and Floyd talking animatedly. “It’s been a whirlwind since it hit the internet with a very explicit picture of Dex and me kissing in that coffee shop. The man doesn’t know subtlety.’’
I chuckled, and Harley joined me. “Don’t complain. He’s head over heels, and he’s starting to give three-word answers instead of his one-word ones. If that’s not proof of love—’’
“Shut up, fucker,’’ Dex butted in and hit the back of my head, as he walked back in the living room from the kitchen with two water bottles in hand for me and Lark.
I laughed out loud, and it’s damn freeing, as if a part of me stepped out of a cage, even if only for a brief moment. It had been days or maybe weeks since I had last laughed like that. My friends and manager all smiled big at me as if they were proud parents of their kid’s first steps and Lark blinked at me slowly, eyes big and round, contrasting with her usual almond-shaped blue eyes.
“Let’s play some music now boys,’’ Floyd said when I had stopped laughing and clasped Beckett and Otis’ shoulders.
“What about the live radio show in New York?’’ Beckett spoke up, his frown back again. I didn’t know what’s up with him, but it looked like he’s more sour than usual. Maybe his old man was fucking him up again. But we all knew how secretive he could be. He would only talk when he wanted. We wouldn’t be able to get shit out of him until he’s ready.
“You’re supposed to open up with one of your old songs, then answer a few questions from the hosts and selected fans. After that, you’ll play the new song. That’s all.’’
Dex groaned, and we all chuckled. He’ll never enjoy interviews and PR stunts, but I get it. Sometimes doing PR stunts could be tiring and we’re all being more or less fake in these interviews, forcing some stuff to make us seemingly more interesting when deep down we’re like the average twenty-five-year-old guy out there. Somehow, it all seemed easier when I was high. Now that I was back and sober it’s harder to be the player they all saw me as. It’s not that it’s far from the truth, but considering I was currently abstinent and supposed to stay abstinent for a while, it’s harder to talk about sex and women without dying from the boner and blue balls from hell.
“Let’s go to the studio. I’d rather play music,’’ Dex said and walked to the hall leading to his built-in studio underground.
Before I followed my friends and manager, I looked back at Lark and saw her following Harley to the kitchen. “Hey, you two aren’t coming? I thought you were supposed to take some pictures for your article, Harley.’’
“We’ll be down shortly. Go ahead,’’ she replied, and both women disappeared in the kitchen.
A pang of disappointment hit me out of nowhere at knowing that Lark wasn’t that eager to see us play, to see me play. She had never praised me for my skills with the drums, but I would still dig it if her blue eyes were on me as I beat down on my kits.