Yield (23 page)

Mistake number one.

“I’m not nobody,” she said, looking me dead in the eye. “I don’t need to take shit from you.”

My brother was going to kick. My. Ass. I mumbled an apology and she nodded at me and took me through the flea market. I was about to make mistake number two because my brother gave me nothing. Jensen Evers is an ass. Stop buying his art, Canada. He’s a total dickwad.

I asked what it was like to be Jace Jennings’ daughter.

She told me to go fuck myself only way more polite than that, then she walked off. I tweeted how my interview was going in the toilet. Instantly I got back:

Stop asking about her father, asshole. #doyourfuckingjob #youhurtheryoudie from @DoyleKole

Nothing says you’re screwed like having your life threatened by a bad ass legend. So, shoving my phone away, I followed her. I love my wife. Remember this? I do. I’ve met some pretty sexy, beautiful ladies doing this job. None made me need to state to the world that I love my wife. But here’s a fact I was about to learn: Kate Jennings is pretty damn easy to fall in love with.

 
I asked what I should’ve from the get go. Why were we prowling through a flea market? She smiled and that’s it. I was done. Our first stop was a divey-looking little booth with a sketchy looking dude. Kate greeted him by name, introduced me, and pointed at a sad looking viola. How do I know it’s a viola? She told me. It was missing a tuning peg and the front was scratched up by what could’ve been car keys. The sketchy dude told Kate he was saving it for her because he knew she would like it. It was a piece of trash. Why would she like it?

I’m so glad you asked, Canada. “Look at the grain,” she said as she reverently ran her fingers down the neck. “It’s that moment when the water’s still before the ferry goes by. There had probably been a forest fire,” she went on her voice less dreamy. “The trauma of it, the recovery, the regrowth. You know something’s special when it can recover from trauma.” She handed over five dollars and slid the viola into a cloth bag.

I knew I was in the presence of someone who had recovered, regrown. “How did you recover?”

She was quiet as we stopped at a second booth. She eyed a toy piano, waved and continued on. “Wounds heal. There’s always the scar and the memory of it but the pain fades. That hurt…eventually fades.” I asked what happened. She told me. The shitstorm on that trauma is hitting Vancouver now. I’ll let you Google. I can’t….what I saw in her eyes. I can’t. The one holding her hand through this? Doyle Kole, Cyanide’s drummer. Try that on for size, Canada, but at least I knew why he was threatening my life in tweets. [I trended.] But I was smarter then I was prior to our conversation. I didn’t ask about Kole.

So the answer to why we were wandering around the flea market? Katey Jay Designs is all about music and jewelry. Half her life she grew up in the house of Canadian rock royalty and it took root. She’s not a musician, she doesn’t sing. But she takes the broken violas, the unwanted guitars, even used guitar picks, and makes some pretty cool jewelry. Recover. Regrowth.
 

I got to see her studio. It’s awesome. Yeah, it pained my music lover’s heart to see the innards of guitars on the walls, but the jewelry she makes is unique and cool. Want a piece of Cyanide history? There are a lot of their instruments in her jewelry. She’s launching in the new year. Just in time for awards season. A fluke you ask? Nope, she said. “What comes with awards season? Swag bags.” How did a not yet heard of jewelry designer from our beautiful city land in a swag bag? Two words according to her: “Jace. Jennings.” Game, set, and match, Kate. Well played.

A week after I met her, a box showed up at The Voice. Inside? A bracelet for my wife made from the neck of that viola. What did I get? Cufflinks that were tuning pegs off one of Jace Jennings’ guitars. High five to me. I’m off to wear a suit.

Like I said earlier: I love my wife.

But I’m a bit in love with Kate too.

[
Side note at time of printing: From @DoyleKole: @ConnorEvers #yougettolive. This could change if he reads my column.
]

The Voice: And the beat goes on…with Doyle Kole

By Connor Evers

To say that Doyle Kole is overwhelming is an understatement. The first time I met him I thought, “This dude is going to shank me in the night.” He’s big as hell, his ink is dark and twisted, and when he looks at you, you know he can put you in the ground. Impressive considering he’s the former drummer of Cyanide instead of the MMA fighter he looks like, or you know, a prison escapee.

Say what you will about the rocker, he makes an impression when he sits down before you and you both wonder if the rinky dink wooden chair is going to hold him.
 

So here I am, in a trendy coffee shop in Vancouver of all places, with Cyanide’s bad ass. Hello dream come true.

When news broke over a year and half ago that Kole was retiring from the band, I had a moment of utter denial. I may, or may not have, tweeted that he better be fucking joking to which I got a prompt reply of “I don’t joke about fucking.”

Funny guy.

Considering the animosity that had been apparent between him and the lead singer, Jace Jennings, in those last few years, I’m striking a reunion tour off my dream list. “We named the band after poison,” Kole said as he leaned back in a chair that protested the movement. “That we went toxic shouldn’t surprise anyone. You put five assholes in a room and we’re going to slug it out. Tally that up for twenty-some-odd years and it was inevitable that we imploded.” He has always been close-mouthed about that final implosion. Considering the death stares he can give, I opted against poking at that question. Much.

Ask him about retirement in his mid-forties and Kole will smirk without saying a word. Retirement is good for the musician. The man who looks like he’d mug you at the midnight hour is the father of three daughters. Three. I can barely handle one boy. Two are teenagers from his first marriage. I shudder at the thought. Ask him about being a new dad in his forties. Go on. I dare you.

“I’m too old for this shit.” He whipped out his phone to show me pictures of the fourteen-month old little girl who clearly has her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger. I won’t lie. I totally showed him pictures of my kid and we lost about thirty minutes as we high-fived each other about our awesome kids. Yes. I totally high-fived Doyle Kole. This hand. It’s been gifted.

“I’m doing it differently. Not a redo because my girls are the best. Their mom did an amazing job with them since I was always gone. But this time I got my shit in line. I’m present now. With all of them. I’m a better man because of my girls.”

Ask him about his pretty wife and things get a little dicier. He’s protective and proud. She’s the oldest daughter of Jace Jennings. In 2001, news broke that Jennings had a daughter with a former groupie who passed away from an overdose. After that we didn’t see much of Kate (née Jennings) Kole until late-2015 when she began rocking out some amazingly cool jewelry as Katey Jay Designs. The store, I might add, is right across the street from where we sat, and if you remember correctly you heard about her here first. Spoiler alert: I lived.

A tip for everyone: Do not, I repeat, do not call her Katey or you will learn about the fear sweats. “Kate,” was all he said, staring at me and daring me to argue with him. Please, Mrs. Kate [I’ll never refer to you as Katey again but remember how much I love you?] Kole, don’t let your husband kill me. My wife thinks I’m awesome. They’re expecting baby number two in a few months. I can’t even…safe sex, kids. Safe sex.

Deciding that not pissing Kole off about his wife’s name was a good thing, I took it back to music.

With former Cyanide guitarist Maximillian Jones, Kole joined ranks with some pretty rocking names down in Seattle. The commute is short and the band, Ravage, plays locally and along the Pacific Northwest. The time for lengthy world tours, Kole said, was for the young. They’re leaving the road open to the next generation. “Max and Carl’s [Carl Hughes was Cyanide’s lead guitarist] boys are taking over. Hysteria, check them out.” Hysteria, if anyone remembers, and you had better, opened for Cyanide at Kole’s final and may I add epic show at Wallace’s, a local music hot spot here in Vancouver. A passing of the torch to the next generation. It’s one helluva torch too. Twenty-six years of some pretty awesome rock. Eighteen albums. A couple of Grammys, four Junos, a star on Canada’s Walk of Fame and an induction into Canada’s Music Hall of Fame later this year. Start practicing boys, you’ve got some mighty big shoes to fill. Especially Kole’s. I think he wears size twenty. Seriously. How much milk did he drink as a kid?

[Side note at time of printing: Why yes, we did spend fifteen more minutes looking at pictures of our kids. He told me that I better hope my son didn’t date his daughter when they were older. Mikey, sorry but if you love your old man, no Koles for you. We high-fived our awesome DNA again. I went home and listened to
Horned
with the wife. Baby number two is on its way. Damn it. Safe sex, kids. Safe sex.]

The End

Need more EDGE in your life? Micah Holloway is about to meet his match with sexy and dominant Jasmine Lane. Doesn’t mean he has to like it.
 

RESIST is coming soon.

Also from Jenna

Domme for Cowboy

Jessa Brody is more than country music's sexy superstar, she's a domme who's had her eye on Luke O'Connor for a long time. During the Calgary Stampede, there's more than one prize for the submissive bareback bronc rider. Is this cowboy finally ready for his domme?

Excerpt:

She had always fascinated him. Lusting over Jessa Brody was easy. Anyone could do it. Getting one’s hands on the woman was another thing entirely. Luke O’Connor was surprised to find her at a rodeo, decked out in skin-licking tight denim and an old cowboy hat. No one looked at her and thought country music superstar. When he looked at her, his first impression was not of a multi-platinum recording artist with a couple of awards in her back pocket. Perhaps if he hadn’t grown up with her. Perhaps if she wasn’t a frequent star in his wildest fantasies.

Feet braced on a gate, she gave the cantankerous black horse loving. The animal almost purred for her. The stallion had just about taken a chunk out of Luke’s ass when he had sent him flying ass over teakettle. Now it was getting praised.

“You injured?” She studied him as if she had x-ray vision and was looking for any damage done by that damn horse.

“Bruised. Ego the most.”

She looked at him with those chocolate eyes. “The goal, O’Connor, is to keep that ass of yours on the horse.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Come on. I’ll buy you a beer.” Hopping down, she blew the bronc a kiss then hooked her arm with his, guiding him to the small tent that was the beer gardens. “Got a show down the road. The boys were bugging me so,” she waved at a table with her band and crew, “it’s this or kill them when they sleep. Hard to find a good banjo player.”

She flopped down onto a plastic chair with casual grace. It astounded him that no one was pointing and yelling, “It’s Jessa Brody!” Not that she looked like the sexy country siren. Her straw cowboy hat was torn in a few places, her tight white T-shirt was partially hidden by a faded red plaid shirt and her black hair was in two braids framing her face that was make-up free.

“Wow. I’m having beer with Jessa Brody. Can I have your autograph?”

She snorted as she braced her foot on the seat of his chair, between his legs. “Still the wise ass.”

Luke patted his heart then caught a harried waitress’s gaze. He flashed two fingers at her then studied his surprise companion. It had been a few years since he had seen her and he struggled for words. A part of her was still the kid of his dad’s best friend but God almighty she was hot and sexy. “Good tour?”

“They haven’t booed me yet. Thanks.” She grinned at the waitress as she set down two drafts of whatever was on tap. “I hate to bother you, but do you have fries or anything? He landed on his ass. It needs cushioning if he’s going to keep bouncing like that.”

He had no idea how she did it but within minutes there were fries and gravy along with a burger.

“Oh come on!” A man yelled at the other table, standing up and holding out his arms. “Jess, you’re breaking my heart.”

Jessa saluted him with a fry. “It’s a gift. No tears. Man up, Halo.” Obviously Jessa knew him, which meant he was probably in her band. She opened up Luke’s burger and removed the pickles, popping it into her mouth. “I have a lot of children. Eat, O’Connor. You need padding.”

She leaned back in her chair studying him as he took a bite of the burger. It tasted like a burger found in any beer garden, common—like the beer. The only difference was the woman facing him.

She licked mustard off her finger. It shouldn’t have been erotic but it was. Her dark eyes rarely moved from his face as she watched him eat.

 
Suddenly, she uncoiled from her slouched position. A hand curled around the back of his neck and she licked the left corner of his mouth. “Ketchupy.”

If arousal had been brushing through his system, it now hit him full force. Before he processed what was going on, her lips were gliding over his and her tongue was licking his.

Holy hell, Jessa was kissing him.

Every fantasy failed in comparison to the rich taste of her. His hand strangled the hamburger and she laughed against his mouth. He focused on her face a few inches from his own.

She plucked the mangled food from his hand and then sucked his middle finger into her mouth. His cock throbbed in time to his heart. Holy hell.

She grinned. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I was sixteen.”

“Well,” he said as he blinked, dazed. After almost ten years, he was glad she had finally decided to follow through on that want. “Well.”

Another finger vanished into her mouth as she sucked and licked beef, bun, mustard and ketchup from him. Each of his fingers was given a Jessa tongue bath, even his palm.