“Who taught you?”
“My dad and my boss. They showed me a few things and I just took off from there. I watched a lot of MTV and just tried to recreate anything I saw and liked. Then a couple of years ago, I started a band with my best friend.”
“That’s so cool. Uncle Daniel told me how good your band is. He says you’re going to be famous one day.” She smiles sweetly.
I laugh. “We can only hope, right?”
She nods as she picks up her things. “Well, there’s my dad. See you in a couple days.”
I raise my hand and wave goodbye as I watch her walk out of the store. The clock on the wall catches my eye and I see that I have 20 minutes to get across town for practice. I quickly get up and rush to gather my things.
“You’re almost late,” Van says when I walk into his garage.
I flip him off. “Almost doesn’t count. I’m here. Let’s get started.” I grab my guitar and get behind the mic. We cover the songs we usually do at all of our shows. We’ve pretty much perfected those. Then we get to work on the two new ones we want to play at the meeting with the label. We start up the first one and play to the chorus. Then we stop to make a few changes and take notes on how we sounded and what we can do to make it better. Practice is long and grueling. It’s a lot of starting and stopping and it turns a three-minute song into an hour. But by 9 p.m., we finally call it quits when we feel like we’ve perfected our first new song.
The guys decide to hang out and drink while fucking around with the instruments and talking, but I’m wiped after last night, work today, and then the lesson and practice. I say my goodbyes and hit the road, more than ready for some food and a shower.
When I get to my place, I drop everything on the table and go for a shower first. I know I already took one this morning, but I feel like the day has stuck to my skin and I want to start fresh and relax. I spend about 20 minutes washing and shaving before pulling on a pair of boyshort panties and a baggy T-shirt. I comb my hair but leave it a sopping mess around me to air dry as I go to find some food in the kitchen. I open the fridge and grab some orange juice. I take a drink from the jug as I search the freezer and cabinets. Finally, I settle on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I plop the sandwich on a paper plate and carry that in one hand, with my jug of orange juice in the other. Right then, there’s a knock at the door. I peek into the hole and find Daniel standing on the other side. I smile to myself as I pull open the door.
He’s standing in front of me looking delicious in his jogging pants and red Dri-FIT T-shirt. It’s wet with sweat under his arms and around his neck. He’s holding a plastic bag with something that smells amazing inside. He smirks and motions toward the food. “Thought we could both use a little dinner.”
I laugh. “At 10 at night?” I arch an eyebrow.
He looks down at my plate. “I bet Chinese food would be better than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” I look at the sandwich in my hand then over at the bag that has the most delicious smell wafting from it. I step back and open the door wider, allowing him to step inside.
He walks into my apartment and I close the door behind him. I toss my sandwich into the fridge and follow him into the living room where he’s taking a seat on the couch.
“How was your day?” he asks as I sit down and watch him remove the food from the bag.
“Busy. I had work, then your niece came by for her lesson, and I followed that with band practice. I just got home and I’m beat. How was yours?”
He glances over at me. “Not as cool as yours but just as busy.” He sits down and hands me a carton of food with some chopsticks. “How was the lesson?”
I open my carton and find lo mein noodles. “Good. She was picking up on things pretty quickly. I gave her something to practice until our next lesson.”
“She didn’t tell you anything embarrassing about me, did she?” he asks with a smile.
“Only that you think I’m going to be famous one day.” I offer him a smile.
He laughs and nods. “I do. There’s no way talent like yours is going to waste. And hell, maybe you can even score me some backstage passes when you’re in town.”
I laugh. “You got it.” I turn on the TV and we both sit, watching it and eating our food. “So, do you often randomly show up with Chinese food at 10 p.m. at the homes of women you’ve just slept with?”
He laughs. “No, this is a first. And, hopefully, not a last with you.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye with a grin in place, his hand frozen in midair as he holds his chopsticks out to take a bite.
I smile but don’t know how to reply to that. Once our food is gone, he helps me clean up our mess then pauses by the door. His eyes are looking me up and down—from my wet hair to my black painted toenails and everything in between. They linger a bit longer on my braless breasts and my bare legs. His jaw tenses and he wets his lips.
“Fuck it,” he says under his breath as he rushes to pull me against him. His lips find mine and his hands land on my ass, picking me up against him as he spins me around to press me up against the fridge. Everything that was just in my head is gone. I’m no longer concerned with how tired I am or that I have to work tomorrow. The stress of band practice falls away, as does the anxiety about this upcoming meeting. Everything is just gone—it vanished without a second thought the moment his lips found mine.
My legs wrap around his hips, more than happy to be back where we seem to be drawn to each other. He kisses me hard and fast, and when our kiss ends, we’re both breathless.
“Take me to bed, Daniel,” I whisper.
“I’m more than happy to,” he says, carrying me to my room.
Afterward, we’re both just lying in my bed with me in his arms, watching the lights dance across my ceiling from the outside world. “What made you want to get into law?” I ask, wanting to know more about him.
I feel him shrug the shoulder I’m nestled against. “I don’t know, really. My dad, his father, and his grandfather had all been in the furniture-making business. They were the work with your hands type, but that never called to me. I never had the urge to take over the family business, and I knew if I was going to get away from it without anyone getting hurt, it would have to be something they would deem worthy. So I picked a profession I knew they couldn’t turn down. Plus, if I had my law degree, I’d still be able to be employed by the company one way or another.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No, it really is something I enjoy doing. I mean, who doesn’t want to get paid big bucks to just stand around and argue with someone? So what made you choose music?”
“I didn’t. It chose me,” I state, feeling more relaxed and worry-free than I ever have before.
“What do your parents think?”
“My mom passed away from breast cancer when I was 10. At the time, she was just proud to see me do something I loved. And my dad has always been proud too. He didn’t try pushing me to do anything until I was about to graduate high school. Suddenly, music wasn’t good enough. He knew that my chances of making it were slim, and he wanted me to have something to fall back on. He said he wouldn’t be around forever to make sure I was taken care of, so he wanted to ensure I’d have everything I needed to take care of myself.”