The day I’ve been dreading has come. It has been only four days since the signing of the contract, but since then, Pansy’s found an apartment only two streets from Betty’s.
Turns out Callie, the hippie chick she works with knew of an available apartment in her building. Pansy got first dibs, and of course she loved it. And the worst or best part, depending on who you ask, is that she can move in right away.
We’re on our way up the narrow stairs -- the elevator is broken -- so she can show me the place. I will hate it no matter what.
She’s on the fifth floor of the six-story building in a studio apartment with just a partition separating her tiny bedroom, if you can call it that, from the living room. Pansy loves it, bouncing around and gushing with Callie over this or that. The place is nothing to write home about.
There’s a barely-there galley kitchen, no room for a table, and old colorful appliances. Her place is basically one room that serves as the living, dining, and bedroom, with a bathroom no bigger than a shoebox by the front door.
“Well, since I don’t have any furniture, I’m already moved in.” Pansy giggles, dumping her beat-up suitcase on the floor.
Leaning on the wall with my arms crossed, I sulk. Callie flits around the room, her bangles jiggling with every move. It’s annoying as fuck, and I growl in irritation.
She glances from Pansy to me a few times, but neither of us says a thing. Pansy ignores me. I’m a dick by not trying to hide my displeasure.
“You let me know if you need anything,” Callie says. She lives on the fourth floor and has offered to help Pansy get settled. Isn’t she so sweet?
“Cal, thanks so much, I’m good for now,” Pansy replies.
“Okay, hon. Talk soon.” Callie hugs Pansy. “Bye, Silas.” She waves from the door, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. It doesn’t matter that we’ve already met a few times, she’s still star-struck.
I dip my chin and remain silent. If I open my mouth, I’m liable to lose it and insist Pansy come home with me.
In about a week, I’ll be holed up with the guys and who knows when I’ll get to see her. At least if she was at my house, I could see her when I came home to crash. Now, who fucking knows when that will happen?
“Do you want to grab a bite or just go straight to IKEA?” Pansy cuts through my miserable thoughts. All I want is her.
She needs a bed or futon or whatever the fuck we can squeeze in here. It’s the one concession she gave me; I’m allowed to get her a few things for this place. She insists she’ll pay me back, but doesn’t have it right now. She’s not paying me shit, but I let her think I’m on board with that.
Nabbing her around the neck, I bring her to my side, where I love to have her, resting my nose and mouth on the top of her head. My senses fill with vanilla almond, and I inhale deeply, wanting her scent to invade all of me.
“Let’s eat.”
I want nothing but to eat her, hold her tight and devour her. Keep her with me. It’s foolish and irrational, and something I would never say to her, but history has shown me that distance can make for drastic changes in relationships.
On the way to lunch, I try to push my concerns aside and concentrate on having a meal with my girl. Sitting side by side on the picnic table, she bumps my shoulder with a sexy smile on her face and puts a fry in my mouth.
“I know it’s going to be tricky to find time for each other with all that’s going on, but it can work if we both want this.” Her salty finger traces my bottom lip, brushing at my beard. “Now’s our chance to prove it. Silas, it’s not impossible.”
She plants a light peck on my lips, the salt of the fries mingling with the undeniable sweetness of her cherry lip gloss.
“I want this. I’ll always make time for you,” I growl into her mouth before stealing another kiss.
She squeals as I grip her waist and bring her into my lap. She sits sideways, and my dick jerks, hardening at her bottom pressing against it. My feverish arousal tunnels my vision, and I forget we’re in public as one hand roughly palms her succulent ass and the other bands her throat. Brushing my thumb against her fluttering pulse-point, I guide her lips to mine.
The idea of stopping stirs in the back of my mind. I may be disguised with a beanie and sunglasses, but our affection will draw attention, and I could get recognized.
Those thoughts vanish when she latches onto my head, and our lips lock; her nails sink into the wool beanie, leading our hot kiss. She wiggles her bottom, trying to get closer, and I groan with the friction and pressure against my groin. Tasting her is both bliss and torture because now I want her even more. I’ve wanted her from the day we met.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Being with her is easy, exciting and at times wild and uncontrolled. She’s unpredictable and fun, sweet, loving, and caring. All the things I’ve never had.
Someone clears their throat, and she jerks back on a gasp. Her eyes are glazed, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, and lips parted. Without any words, I help her off my lap and stand beside her, discreetly adjusting myself.
We grab the remains of our food, and dispose of it in the trash before heading to the car. Pansy laces her fingers with mine and giggles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, peering down at the glow on her face.
“Sometimes, we’re like two horny teenagers.” Her eyes flash with desire. “I’ve never been so smitten with someone before.”
“Smitten?” I joke.
She lightly hits my stomach, leaning into me as we near my Jeep.
“You know what I mean, don’t be an asshole.” There’s a glimmer of a smile in her tone.
Laughing, I wrap her in my arms, inhaling her again. “I’m smitten with you, too.”
I match her beaming smile with one of my own as my gaze drops to her mouth. I press her closer to me, tightening my hold.
After furniture shopping, which was successful in that she got what she wanted and she let me pay, I drop her at Betty’s for her shift. I am now going to see Jared. Pansy was worried when I told her my plans, but she understands why I have to talk to him before we start writing the album.
She begs me to stay calm and not to hit him, and I promise. Even though I’m pissed and would like to rearrange his face for what he did to Pansy, I don’t want to fight with him. When she told me everything, I was enraged, sickened, and fucking sad.
For all his douchebag moves over the years, and he’s had a few -- heck, so have I -- what Pansy described didn’t sound like him at all. He was never one to disrespect, scare, or fuck, nearly assault a woman.
Media’s camped outside of his place when I arrive. I didn’t tell him I was coming, so I have to stop at the gate and call in. He has a 40,000-square foot compound with twenty-eight bedrooms on one and a half acres, perched on a hilltop in Bel Air.
It is fucking obnoxious, impressive, and has been featured in Architectural Digest. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was compensating for something, but the sad truth is he’s filling his life with things, with what he didn’t have growing up in foster care, and for what he’s lost.
It hits me as I walk up the marble steps to the front door that the end of Trojan is another loss for him. Something I’m taking away. It was my decision, and to some extent, Eli and Gray were already along that path, too, but for Jared, he wasn’t even considering it.
“Well, well, well,” Jared greets me at the top of the stairs, bare-chested in jeans and black combat boots. The large wooden double doors are wide open, with him in the middle, arms stretched out. “Took you long enough. What is it? Four days? I thought you’d have been here the same day to finish the ass-kicking your girlfriend started.”
His provocative tone fails to entice a comeback from me. Beneath his flippant attitude, he cares. Turning his back to me, he leads the way into his place and down the hall to the great room. And great it truly is, with twenty-foot ceilings, marble, glass, and wood everywhere.
“Pansy told me everything.”
“I’m sure she did. Drink?” He pours three fingers of scotch for himself.
Shaking my head, I widen my stance and study him. He looks like shit; his dark hair is tangled and greasy, dark circles rim his eyes, and he’s sporting a good start to a beard.
“What the fuck, Jared?”
“Look, I’m going to make this easy for you.” He downs his drink in one gulp with a slight grimace as he swallows. “I was out of line. I was a fucking asshole, and Pansy had every right to skewer my balls.” Instinctively, his hand adjusts his crotch, and I squirm a bit at the memory.
“Damn straight she did.” Pouring himself another drink, I grit my teeth from saying something.
“Look at it from my side of things. She comes out of nowhere, and you’re quitting the band, shacking up with her… I’d be an idiot not to consider that she had something to do with it.”
“I already told you, I’d been thinking about walking long before Pansy. And as for her coming out of nowhere, if you dumbasses hadn’t dumped me on the side of the road, I’d never have met her.”
As I say the words, a shudder runs through me at the unthinkable. Never one to believe in fate or a higher power, I can’t help but believe that no matter what, our paths would have crossed.
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said this all before. But I needed to find out for myself.”
He starts to pour his third drink, and I can’t stay silent. “Jared, lay off. That’s enough of that shit.”
Raising an eyebrow while his dark eyes bore into me, he lowers the tumbler of amber liquid. “What are you, my dad now? Silas, you and I are tight, but you aren’t my father or even my brother. You may be able to dismantle Trojan and rock my fucking world to the core, but you don’t get to tell me how to live my life or what the fuck I put in my body. Got it?”
His words sting. Jared is family. “Fuck, Jared, that’s not what I meant. You’re fucking killing yourself. When are you going to forgive yourself? Just take it easy.”
“Whatever.” He tosses back his third drink and throws the glass against the wall, shattering it.
I wince at the anger rolling off him, recognizing it, but also not. We both have shit we’re dealing with, or in Jared’s case, choosing not to deal with, and I want to help him, but there isn’t anything I can do. I know his story, and nothing can be fixed or undone. In fact, it’s out of his hands too.
“About Pansy, I fucked up, but I had to know what the hell her deal was. B tested her in her way, and I was doing the same. I had to know if you were a meal ticket for her, or if her interest in you was real. I figured if she were after a payday or fame, one rock star would be as good as another, and so I made a play.”
“And what did you figure?” I know the answer, but I want his take.
“She’s into you, man. For sure. She never took the bait.” Standing up, he places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m a jackass, and I’ll make it right with her.”
“Yeah, you will.”