Stopping long enough to take a drink, she glanced over at me to make sure I was still with her before she began talking again. “As your friend, my advice would be to do your best to wait it out. He’s a senior and will graduate in a handful of months. If this connection or sexual chemistry or whatever is really that strong, then it should still be there this summer, and at that point, you guys can openly do whatever you want. Until then, you can take this time to get to know him better. I know it’s a little weird in a student-teacher role, but still, you’ll learn more about his personality seeing him for an hour every day than you probably would in a date setting anyway. Who knows? Maybe you’ll discover there’s a certain way he picks his teeth that drives you crazy and you could never get used to it.”
“So what do I do about Liam and this date I agreed to next weekend?” I interrupted.
Her head snapped in my direction. “You told him yes?”
I nodded with a groan. “Yeah, I panicked a little. Didn’t have an excuse for why I couldn’t go, so I agreed.”
“Then you go this once. It’s only dinner. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to. And who knows?” She shrugged, one edge of her mouth curling up in a half-smirk. “Maybe you’ll find that you like him more than you thought. If not, you tell him you don’t think dating a coworker is a good idea and you value his friendship too much, or some bullshit like that.” She sat back down on the couch and grabbed my free hand, squeezing it gently. “Whatever you do, Belle, promise me you’ll be careful. I just got you back, and I don’t want anything to happen to take you away again.”
“Okay.” I smiled with a semi-confident nod. “I can do that.”
And I could… until I couldn’t.
“CAN YOU GIVE me that other socket wrench?” I called out from underneath Billy’s black ’63 Shelby Cobra parked in his parents’ garage.
“Yeah, sure. Here ya go,” he replied, handing me the tool.
Billy had texted me earlier in the day and asked if I could come over and take a look at his car, claiming it had been running a bit sluggish lately. Neither Billy nor his dad knew a thing about cars other than how to buy and drive them, so when he’d gotten his classic roadster the summer before, I’d spent quite a bit of time at his house tweaking and modifying it for him. Not that I minded a single bit. Though I loved my truck like no other, it was fun to take his sports car out and let her breathe on the open highway.
So after one of Mom’s famous bacon-and-spinach omelets and a morning jam session in the studio with my dad, I’d headed over to his house to take a look at it. Though it didn’t take long to find the problem.
“Dude, when’s the last time you changed out your oil filter?” I chided, as I removed the damaged part and allowed the oil to drain in the pan next to me. Scooting on my back out from under the engine, I shook my head at my friend as I held up the old, clogged filter in the air. “Seriously, you shouldn’t be allowed to own such a nice car if you’re gonna abuse her like this.”
Rolling his eyes, he yanked it out of my hands and tossed it in the nearby garbage can. “Shut the fuck up and fix it. I may start purposely neglecting her just so I can get your ass out of the house and over here,” he taunted. “Other than at school, I haven’t seen you since that day at Empty’s when you stormed off. You’ve been more of an introverted asshole than normal. What the hell have you been doing?”
I knew the honest answer of “jacking off every chance I get to memories of Ms. Sloan sucking my cock” wasn’t anything I should admit to, so I went the safe route of being vague and redirecting. “Still just working on music, bro. When I’m not playing up at the bar, trying to write new shit. Seeing if I can get anything to stick.” I wiped the sweat from my brow with a nearby shop-towel then threw it at his face, nailing my target. “What about you? The phone works both ways last time I checked.”
As he rattled on about some chick he’d met at a party last weekend, I slithered back under the car to attach the new filter and cap off all the valves. It had been fifteen days since the night I met Belle, ten since the afternoon in her classroom she’d told me to walk away and let it go, but I still couldn’t get her out of my mind.
Seeing her each day at school was the true definition of bittersweet. The hour I spent in her class was what I looked forward to the most — sixty minutes of unadulterated eye-fucking, purposely making sure she knew exactly what I was thinking each time she bent over to pick up something from her desk or how much I liked to hear her laugh. Even more, I loved making her blush after she’d catch me staring or when she’d unconsciously cross and uncross her legs as I stood next to her desk, asking meaningless questions I already knew the answer to.
Then the bell would ring abruptly, thus ending my time with her and transforming me back into my usual quiet, keep-to-myself guy. Until the next day, at least.
Just as I finished up with the oil change, I heard the rumble of an engine in the driveway followed by the open and shutting of a car door. I rolled out from under the car and sat up as Scott sauntered up, tipping his chin in our direction.
“What’s up, fuckers? You already burn the clutch out again in this beast?” he chided, wearing his usual cocky grin as he and Billy fist-bumped each other. “Templeton told you she was too much car for you when you bought her, dipshit.”
“Dude, fuck you. He’s just changing the oil. And why don’t you ask your mom about what too much is?” Billy retorted, as he cupped his junk, like we couldn’t figure out what he was implying without the visual.
I’d known both Billy and Scott since back in elementary school. We’d all grown up in the same upper class neighborhood, and I really did value their friendship, but as we got older, it became more and more clear to me that our brains just didn’t function the same way. Like most of the guys at our school, they were obsessed with getting fucked up and partying every weekend while trying to chase as much tail as possible. Rules and laws didn’t apply to them in their minds; if they ever got in trouble, their parents would bring the American Express black card and bail them out. And even though my parents had that same limitless credit card theirs did, my Mom and Dad were adamant about not raising two spoiled, entitled, narcissistic brats. A message my sister tended to forget on occasion.
I stood, cleaned my hands, and walked over to Scott, exchanging the same guy handshake thing. “How’s it going, man?” I asked casually, hoping there wouldn’t be any lingering awkwardness between us.
“All good. Just the usual bullshit. Though I haven’t had anyone body slam me into any walls since I saw you last,” he joked, a smug smirk spreading across his face.
My shoulders relaxed at his good-natured dig. All was back to normal. Guys were usually easy like that. “I can help you with that, if you’re complaining.”
“Nah, I’m good. Call me crazy,” he snickered, “but I prefer when my airways are free flowing.”
We all laughed as I moved back toward the car, snagging one of the new quarts of oil from off the ground. While I finished up the work on Billy’s car, the two of them discussed whatever party they were headed to that night and whose house they were crashing at afterward.
“Y’all playing tonight, or can you come with us?” Scott asked, turning his attention to me. “Sure would be fun to watch Jayla get pissed off if you hook up with someone else.”
Shuddering at the thought, I tossed the empty container in the trash then grabbed another, pouring the contents into the funnel. “We don’t have a gig, but I’m not feeling the party scene, especially if she’s gonna be there. Definitely not in the mood for her brand of crazy, that’s for damn sure.”
“Come on, dude,” Billy coaxed. “You’ve got the rest of your life to be responsible and spend your weekend nights holed up in your house. Plus, you’re only gonna be around for another few months or so, and then you’ll be gone forever. We’ll be forced to follow you on TMZ or some shit.”
“That’s the point of not going out. So I don’t end up on TMZ,” I
explained, shaking my head. “My dad made sure we learned from his mistakes, and now that I’ve basically been handed this opportunity of a lifetime, I’m not gonna do anything to fuck it up. No parties, no drinking or getting high, no clingy-ass high school chicks. If you guys want to hang out and play video games, work on the cars, go fishing, or whatever the hell else, I’m down. But other than that, I’m good chillin’ at home, drinking some water, jacking myself off.”
They both shook their heads and snickered, but I didn’t give a shit.
LATER THAT EVENING, my parents, Ashlynn, and I ate together in a rare family dinner around the table. I couldn’t remember the last time the four of us were all home at the same time with both Mom and Dad planning out the upcoming tour, the time I was spending in the studio out back, and Ashlynn’s always-active social life. Though after catching my parents exchange not one, but two anxious glances, I sat my fork down and leaned back in my chair, pinning them both with my inquisitive stare.
“The lasagna is great, Mom, but I know it was a lure to get us here. Now why don’t you let us in on whatever you and Dad are scheming?” I arched an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me you’re having another baby.”
They both burst out laughing as I looked over at Ashlynn, who scrunched her face up in question at me, apparently clueless to what was going on. “Another baby?”
“Oh good Lord, no. Nothing like that.” Dad laughed, pushing his nearly-polished-off plate farther out in front of him. “We actually have a proposition for you two. Jobu’s Rum has been contacted by the FIA,” he shifted his attention to my sister, knowing she’d have no clue who that was and clarified, “the people who run Formula 1,” before swinging his gaze back to me, “since they know what a big fan I am, and heard that we’re going back on the road. This year, they’re bringing back the Argentine Grand Prix for the first time since 1998, and to celebrate its return, they’ve asked us to perform at some big gala the weekend of the race for all the drivers and corporate bigwigs. I talked to all the guys and they’re down, and the label thinks it will stir up some buzz before the tour, especially since we do have a concert date back in Buenos Aires early next year.”
“So you guys are going to Argentina?” Ashlynn asked as she dished herself a second helping of the best cheese and pasta and meat sauce combo anywhere in the country. “But what does that have to do with us?”
Unlike my sister, I sat quietly and waited for all the details, though my interest was definitely piqued.
Mom piped up this time. “The dates we’re going fall over y’all’s spring break this March, and although I know that’s when the senior trip is scheduled, the FIA has also asked if Singed Wings would like to perform the Argentine national anthem the day of the race.” Nervously, her eyes bounced back and forth between me and Ashlynn, then she added, “So we want to know if y’all want to come with us instead of New York with your friends?”
Were they serious? Did we want to perform on worldwide television in front of millions and millions of people? Instead of visiting the Statue of Liberty or seeing a play on Broadway with Ms. Aberdeen, Mr. Carroll, and a group of dumbass teenagers? “Uh… hell yes.”
I cut my eyes over to my sister, who still appeared lost, and raised my brow. Speaking a language she could understand, I said, “A bunch of famous people and hot guys who drive fast cars all together in one room wearing fancy clothes, and you can legally drink, since we’ll be eighteen by then.”
“I’m in!” she exclaimed, her hazel eyes sparking with excitement. “When do we leave? I need to go shopping!”
My parents exchanged another look, this time one heavily laced with concern, but they smiled anyway. The way I figured it was, if she was at least close to them, she couldn’t get into too much trouble. It was much better than her being in NYC while they were on a completely different continent. Right?
As for me, I was on cloud fucking nine. I wasn’t quite the F1 fan my dad had become, but with our shared love for all things cars and the memories I had of spending Sunday afternoons with him watching the races as a kid, I wasn’t only stoked for the opportunity to perform on such a big stage. I was thrilled for him, knowing how much seeing his kids sing before a Grand Prix would mean to him. After everything he’d given up for us when we were kids, it was time to give back and make him proud.
I finished off the pasta on my plate then kissed Mom’s forehead and thanked her for everything before putting my dishes in the sink. As I padded out of the kitchen on my way up to my room, I contemplated going to the party with Ashlynn to celebrate the good news, but my dad stopped me before I made it to the stairs.
“Hey, bud, if you don’t have plans tonight, you want to come up to the pub with me in a bit? Your mom is meeting up with Andi, Mina, and the girls for drinks, and I thought maybe we could just have some guy time, playing pool or throwing darts… whatever,” he offered, low-key, making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal if I said no.
But I could tell it mattered. And there was no way in hell I would let him down.
“Yeah, sounds good.” I nodded with a genuine smile. “Just let me change my clothes, and then we can head out.”
Half an hour later, we were jamming some old-school Zeppelin in his car on the way to Empty’s. A female-free night ahead of us.
I SHIFTED UNEASILY on the bench as I waited for Liam to return with our drinks from the bar, scanning the dimly-lit, upscale nightclub for at least the tenth time. Everywhere I looked, there were long-legged, surgically-enhanced women wearing designer micro-dresses and red-soled heels, batting their fake eyelashes in the direction of guys with flashy watches and deep pockets. Glancing down at the off-the-shoulder tunic I wore with leggings and knee-high riding boots, I inched back into the private booth he’d reserved for our after-dinner stop.
Up until this point, the date with Liam had been… pleasant. Nice, even. He’d picked me up at Lindsey and Michael’s house, which was a little awkward as he came in and met them like they were my parents, but as soon as we were in his small SUV, we’d laughed it off and started comparing first-date horror stories. Conversation flowed naturally throughout dinner, where we shared a monstrous forty-ounce slab of prime rib and a giant baked potato at a quaint little steakhouse. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a salad girl.
When he’d mentioned going somewhere for a nightcap, I agreed, because I truly did enjoy his company, even if it was only as a friend. Though now that we were here, I wished I could change my mind. My idea of a relaxing after-dinner drink was an ice-cold beer someplace I could kick back and listen to some good music, maybe even a piano bar if I wanted to feel a little fancy. Not a glitzy club where people wore jewelry worth more than my parents’ house.
“Sorry that took so bloody long,” Liam said with an apologetic smile, as he slid next to me in the booth, setting some sort of pink martini in front of me. “It’s a cosmo. I forgot to ask what you wanted until I got up there, and then I didn’t want to come back before getting in the queue again, so the bartender said—”
I reached out and grabbed his arm to cut off his rambling. “Liam, it’s fine. I’ll drink whatever it is. I’m sure it tastes great.”
Lifting the glass to my smiling lips, I took a long gulp to reassure him of my approval, but as the potent drink sloshed down the back of my throat, I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from choking. Holy shit, that was strong!
“That’s it. I’m going to get you something else!” he exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet.
My eyes flew open and I lunged for him, catching his wrist before he disappeared back into the crowd. “No! Please don’t. I swear it’s not bad,” I promised. “I just need to take smaller sips and not drink it like beer or wine. Please just sit down. I’m afraid if you go out there, you may never come back.” I patted the cushioned bench next to me with a light chuckle.
Liam peered out into the open area of the club that was brimming with bodies then cut his eyes over to me and grinned slyly. “Come on, lass.?
?? He grabbed my hand and tugged gently on my arm. “Let’s get the hell out of here. My friend told me about this bar not too far from here that has good live music on the weekends. Let’s go get you an ale you can chug, and I’ll even let you beat me at a game of pool for payback on the door incident.”
Relieved, I allowed him to guide me to my feet, through the horde of Chanel and Ralph Lauren, and out the door to his car. He apologized several more times on our way to the next place, but I kept waving him off, insisting it was no big deal. ‘Cause really, it wasn’t.
“Now tell me more about your new apartment. You were saying it’s not too far from the school,” he prompted, while we drove around the city that was still completely foreign to me. Huge and foreign.
“Yeah, it’s actually a garage apartment behind one of those nice, older homes in the museum district, not in a traditional complex. It’s a little over six hundred square feet with one bedroom, one bath, and an open kitchen/living room,” I prattled on with excitement. “It’s super cute inside, and the landlord just had it freshly painted and new floors put in.”
The way I had discovered the “Apartment for Rent” sign had been by pure luck, or mistake rather. Thursday after school, I’d driven over to check out The Menil Collection and the Byzantine Fresco Chapel for possible places to take the class fieldtrip, and not surprisingly, I’d gotten lost. After ten minutes of driving in circles and using words that would make a sailor blush, I’d ended up on a new street that didn’t house either of the museums I was looking for, but did have a bright orange-and-black sign that caught my eye. And just my luck, the owner of the house, an elderly woman who was no taller than me but had a salt-and-pepper braid that hung to her waist, had been outside gardening. So I’d stopped and talked to her about how much rent was, and before I drove away, I had a signed six-month lease and a key in my purse.