A Year of You (24 page)

She didn’t answer him, but the things her lips and tongue was doing to his neck let him know she was too busy to answer him.

West made her look at him. “I want you.”
The glazed look in her eyes faded. “Why?”


“You’re everything I want. You’re heaven, baby. Even when you’re hell, I still can’t stop thinking about you. Imagining myself so deep in you I get lost. I don’t just mean that in a physical sense.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, her eyes brightening.


“I’m saying, for as long as you’re here, I want you.”
The light faded from her eyes abruptly. Her shoulders drooped, and her hands slid out of his hair.

She nodded and slipped off his lap.
“Hey,” he said, confused. “What?”


She picked up the bottle of painkillers the doctor had prescribed her and popped a couple into her mouth. “I thought you meant something different.”
Without another word, she padded off down the hallway to the bedroom and shut the door.
West frowned, trying to figure out what the heck was the woman’s deal. He’d come as close as he could to telling her he loved her, and it still wasn’t good enough. Bothered by her reaction, he followed her into the bedroom and stretched out next to her.

Whatever was bugging her didn’t stop her from cuddling against him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know we have our little agreement. I won’t let my emotional crap mess up what we’ve got going on.”

“What do you mean, baby?”
She turned over to face him. “It’s just so easy to imagine this is something more than it is.”

Ah! He understood, finally. Those fateful words were on the tip of his tongue. It would be so easy to whisper them to her and claim their meaning.
It would hurt too much when she left, if he did.
Selfish bastard
.
To her, he nodded in agreement. “Too easy to get carried away.”


Mattie gripped his hand. Her hands were still cold. He hadn’t felt her warm up since he’d brought her home from the hospital. She kissed his palm and held it against her cool, cool face.


“You’re so cold,” he whispered, covering her body with his and dragging the blanket over them.

“Warm me up, then.” Her mouth, despite the healing cuts, was fierce on his, ravaging him as she kissed his shoulders and his throat. “For as long as I have you, warm me up.”

***

West’s gig a week later was on the beach in Flagler. “This used to be a reggae bar,” West explained. “They built a deck on top with a stage. They use that one during the summer. We’ll be on the one inside.”

“Cool.” Mattie followed him inside, pausing blinking in entry until her eyes adjusted from the street-light lit night to the dim interior. It was a spacious place, hexagonal in shape, the stage at the back and the bar on the far side. Booths lined the wall that faced the ocean, and tables were scattered around the main floor. A big space in front of the stage was empty. A group of musicians tuned their instruments and did sound-checks while giggling, scantily-clad girls crowded around the base of the two-foot-high stage. A dark doorway to the right of the stage led into a hallway. A sign over the doorway had a blue sign with the universal male and female icons indicating restrooms.

“Now, are you drinking tonight?” West asked, nudging her arm.


“Maybe one or two,” Mattie replied, still taking in the Christmas-tree-light ambiance.


West laughed. “Either drink yourself under the table or barely any at all. You get nasty when you stop at three or four. Plus you’ll get a headache.”

“Oh, bite me.”

Micah, Rebel, and Townsend emerged from the bathroom. Mattie still had trouble telling Townsend and Rebel, twins, apart.

Mattie pinched West’s arm to get his attention. “Is Georgia singing with you tonight?”

“Yep. She’s bringing her new girlfriend. Have to put on a show. You know how hot it is sleeping with somebody in a band.”

Mattie smiled softly. The stitches were still in her lip. Bruises shadowed her face, but they weren’t as livid as they had been. Even Emeline had been nice to her and showed her how to apply makeup to cover up the worst of it. She looked almost normal.

Georgia and her new girlfriend Tysie burst into the bar, shrieking and hugging everybody. She was a whirlwind of energy, such a drastic change from her usual suave demeanor.
“What are you on?” Mattie laughed, pushing the tall, skinny punk off her.


“Love, baby!”
Fascinated by Mattie, Georgia had been the first person in West’s circle of friends to try and get to know her. West figured it was because she probably had a crush on Mattie.

More and more people began to arrive for the nine o’clock show. Another band had the first slot, a new group nobody had ever heard yet. West predicted they would suck royal ass as he picked out the bandmembers milling around on the low stage. “Pretty-boy. Lame. Hipster. Douchebag.” Mattie smiled to herself as he griped about the new pretty-boy band that was horning in on his territory.

Mattie turned toward the door just in time to see Emeline waltz in on the arm of a darkly handsome guy who carried a motorcycle helmet under his arm. West froze in mid-sentence and groaned softly. Emeline swept over to their little group and greeted everybody as if she were best friends with each and every one. She even tried her little European air-kiss trick, but after the third person just gaped at her, she quit.

“What are you doing here, Em?” West asked tiredly. Mattie moved closer until she was touching his arm. To her surprise, he curled his hand around hers.

“Giovanni likes American rock, so I thought I’d bring him to see you.”

“Does Giovanni know you hate rock?” West crooked an eyebrow at her. Mattie wondered what the heck the chick was up to. The guy she was with was too good looking. Something about him made her think of the oily, empty-eyed men on romance novel covers.

The newcomer’s cologne saturated the air, overwhelming the smell of tobacco and spilled bear. Mattie ducked away from. Emeline giggled and lightly slapped West’s arm. He stiffened at her touch. A little surge of triumph made Mattie happy.


“Oh, silly, I just hate that loud head-banging metal crap.”
The entire group sucked in an insulted breath, as one. Wisely, Emeline withdrew to her new stud-muffin’s side.
Giovanni was a nice piece of man-candy, that was for sure, but the cold, lecherous glint in his eye unnerved Mattie. He even had the nerve to look her up and down, lingering on her hips and breasts before leading Emeline to the bar, flashing a smirk at Mattie as he turned.

She pressed closer to West. “Ugh. I don’t like him.”


“Creep,” Georgia agreed. “Look! Holy shit! He’s cropdusting!”


“What? How do you know?” Townsend said. “You can’t possibly smell it from here.”


“Smell it? I said cropdusting, not farting.”


“Cropdusting, yeah. Where you fart and walk away fast.”


“That’s not cropdusting! Look, see, he just did it. He touched that girl’s hip with his junk.”


“I thought that was tea-bagging,” Mattie said.


“That’s where you touch your balls to another guy’s forehead,” West supplied.


Mattie shook her head, half-disgusted. “I can’t believe there are actual names for that stuff.”

“You’ve never been cropdusting?” Townsend asked, laughing.


Mattie shrugged. “Well, things happen...”
They moved to a larger table off to the side.


West rolled his eyes and jabbed her lightly in the ribs. “Yeah, don’t deny it, woman. Remember last week in Wal-Mart after you ate those cheese fries? You nearly melted the skin off that lady’s face behind us.”

Mattie gaped at him, embarrassed to the point of bursting into flame. “No! I told you, it was that old man in front of us who farted with every step he took. I can control my bodily functions.”

“Not in the morning, evidently.”

“West!” Mattie jabbed him in the gut. He poked her shoulder, gently, mindful of her bruises. They shared a look that left Mattie wobbly in the knees and lady-parts.

The waitress returned and placed their drinks in front of them. Mattie downed half her extra-strong margarita in one long gulp.

“Damn,” Tysie commented.

“She can kiss like you wouldn’t believe.” Georgia sighed to her girlfriend. “You wouldn’t believe she’s straight if she laid one on you.”

The men at the table started hooting and cheering Mattie on to kiss Tysie.

“No, no.” She laughed, covering her face. House music started to play, some old Nine Inch Nails/Tool remix. Mattie couldn’t easily immediately identify the song with the grinding, erotic rhythm, but it was starting to get to her.

“Come on, babe,” West insisted. “Dance with her. We’ve all seen you and Georgia dancing before.”

“I’m not drunk enough yet,” Mattie objected. “If I tried now, I’d end up hurting somebody. You all know I can’t dance worth anything.”

Before the words even left her mouth, three shots of liquor slid across the table and stopped in front of her, clinking together.

“Where did those come from?” She groaned and flopped against West. “Aw, come on. You people see me drunk enough.”

“Mattie, do it,” West said with a mock threat in his voice. His eyes twinkled with merriment. Mattie loved it when he looked at her like that. For him, she tossed back all three shots, then another third of her margarita as a chaser. West’s Red Bull cocktail arrived just as the alcohol was starting to dance through her blood.

“I still don’t want to dance.” She giggled. West tickled her until she bucked away from the table and skittered half a step away. “I thought you didn’t want me drunk!”

Tysie was there all of a sudden, her warm, curvy body pressing close to Mattie.

West leaned back against the table, grinning at her.
Just at her
. His piercing gaze shot through the muddying alcohol glaze and touched her soul.
I’ll do whatever he wants
.
Slowly, sensually, Mattie danced with Georgia’s new girl, bumping-and-grinding with such intensity that Georgia herself joined in. Somehow, they moved to the dance floor, joined by more people, and more people.

Big turnout.
West’ll be happy
, Mattie thought as Tysie’s hand cupped her breasts.
Wow. I really want West.

Her own hand ended up on Tysie’s breast, the other on the woman’s ass, pulling her closer. Georgia ground on her from behind. Between the alcohol and Georgia’s lips on her ear, she wasn’t sure she could handle much more. As good as Georgia’s groping hands felt on her breasts, Mattie was all West’s.

She pushed away from the girls and fought through the dense crowd of dancers until she spotted West’s golden-copper-brown hair. She broke through just in time to see him turn away from Emeline. He spotted Mattie and beckoned her over. She shot Emeline a red-hot glare and then joined her husband.

“You all right?” he whispered, brushing her ear with his lips.


“Perfect.”


“What do you say we get a room after the set instead of going home tonight?”


“Sounds yummy. On the beach?”


“Yeah. I was talking to Bonnie, the waitress, and she says her mom owns a bunch of cottages a few miles down the road. She’s already called and got us one.”

“Wow! Really? That’s really cool.”


“You’re really cool. Really drunk, too, aren’t you?”


“Really?” She leaned close, nervous and giddy. “And no. Yes. No. No. Probably.”

“Yes, really.”

“Really.” She smiled and kissed him. “I’m glad we’re friends, West.”


“Me too, honey. Me too.”
The MC got on stage and announced the first band. The dance floor cleared a little while some people went back to the tables or to the bar for more drinks. After a quick three-count, the new group began to rock.

Or try to.

Mattie winced at the raw-in-the-wrong-way chords. The lead singer sounded as if he’d taken singing lessons from a cat in heat. The drummer couldn’t keep up with the music, and to everyone’s horror, accidentally flung one of his drumsticks away. It smacked some guy headed to the bathroom upside the head with enough force to knock him into the doorway. The owner of the venue ran to his side. When he was sure the dude was okay, he found the band’s manager and got into a yelling match that could barely be heard over the less-than-skillful crashing and shrieking of the music.

A few moments later, the owner told West to get ready to go on as soon as the other band—now minus a drummer who couldn’t find his spare set of sticks—finished their song. West laughed out loud and reached for his drink. He grasped empty air.

Mattie realized the terrible concoction was in her hand, draining into her mouth even as she thought about it. She laughed at West’s confused expression, snorting Red Bull and whatever was in it up her nose, searing her sinuses.

Laughing, crying, and moaning, she pushed the remainder back at him.

“Hey, no more,” he said. “You’re still giggly and cute right now, but another one’ll send you into Bitch-land. I don’t want to break up any fights tonight.”

“Fine.”

West signaled the waitress to bring her a bottle of water and asked the breasty young woman not to bring Mattie anything else alcoholic.

“All right, dad.” Mattie giggled almost hysterically.

“Drink all that water, Mattie. Get some of that alcohol out of your system.” He leaned closer and nibbled her earlobe. “I got plans for tonight, and I don’t want you wasted.”

“Oh, God, West,” Mattie mumbled, leaning into him. “Let’s go do it now.” He chuckled.               “Their song’s ending, I think. I gotta get ready. Be good, okay?” She groaned. “Are you singing ‘The Pot’ tonight?”

“Tool? Yeah.”


“Good. That song gets me hot.”


“Maybe I’ll sing it twice for you.”
Mattie faked an orgasmic moan and planted a sloppy kiss on West’s lips. He pushed her off and swiped his arm across his mouth, shaking his head and trying not to smile.

Whispers Kill took the stage, to the delight of the crowd. Mattie felt a surge of pride when West’s fans started hollering his name, despite the fact that every voice was highly feminine.

Tysie joined Georgia. “I’ve never heard them sing together,” she said.

“Me neither.”

“And you’re married to West?”

“Yep. We really haven’t known each other all that long.”