Bang The Drummer (4 page)

He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his, the touch warming her, even though he was the one who’d gotten wet.

“Hey, kitten,” he said in a soft voice. “Look at me. You okay?”

“Yeah.” No, she was miserable. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hey.” He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. “That’s what wingmen are for. Right?

She nodded. Had she ever had a friend this wonderful?

“So, you want to tell me what happened? This one didn’t even get past the first meet and greet. Did he smell bad?” he teased. “Forget to cut his hair? Was he not really a drummer?”

Jill stared at their hands. “No, he was just as cute as his pictures. And he looked delectable. Truly. And smelled really good.”

“So then what was the problem?”

“You aren’t going to believe me when I tell you.”

He squeezed her hands, a gesture that comforted her and gave her the courage to tell him.

“He’s gay,” she blurted out.

“What?” Charlie nearly shouted the word before lowering his voice.

“Uh huh. But for whatever reason he’s been fighting it for a long time.”

“Whatever reason is right. He’s lucky that today he can embrace it and live with the partner of his choice.”

He released her hands and sat back as the waitress approached with a pot of coffee and a cup for Charlie. He shook his head when she offered him a menu so she filled their cups and moved away.

“Apparently not with his family. He said they’re very straitlaced and won’t even discuss his sexual preferences with him. He thought maybe getting married would fix the situation.”

“How? You can’t just snap your fingers and change your sexual preferences.”

Jill had thought the same thing. But the answer was just as devastating.

“He figured if we got married, it would square him with his family—which is uber-wealthy, by the way—and he could sneak around with his boyfriend and no one would know.”

“Shit, Jill. And what were you supposed to do while you guys were playing Let’s Pretend?”

“Oh, I would be free to see whoever I wanted. As long as no one found out about it, obviously. And to ice the cake, he said he’d pay me back all the money I’d put out for the wedding.”

Charlie barked a laugh. “Money takes care of everything, right?” He took a swallow of coffee. “So what did you tell him? Besides to fuck off, which I’m sure was your first reaction.”

“I told him to grow a pair of real ones, man up, and spit in his family’s eyes. His life was his own. Then I told him to get the hell away from me and forget my name.”

The waitress dropped the check on the table, and Charlie picked it up. Jill grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach.

“Uh-uh-uh. My treat. Call it emergency medicine. And from here, we’re going to see the sappy movie of your choice and make ourselves sick on buttered popcorn.”

Tears burned behind her eyelids. How did she get so lucky as to meet this person ten years ago? His friendship had never faltered. Not once.

“I’d hate to punish you that way.”

“Are you kidding? You live to torture me with chick flicks. Come on.” He stood up and reached out a hand to her. “We can write off April. Tomorrow you can start on May.”

****

May

“A florist?” Charlie choked on his soft drink and looked across the table at Jill. “May’s target is a freaking florist?”

Jill made a face at him. “Don’t be such a macho snob. You should see this florist. He could out alpha football players.”

“And he sells flowers for a living?”

“Damn, Charlie.” She chewed on a straw. “When did you become such a snob? There’s nothing wrong with what he does. Anyway, April showers bring May flowers. Remember that poem?”

“Ha, ha, ha.” He took another slug of his drink. “So tell me about this prospect. What kind of band does he play in?”

“Top 40.” She pulled up the picture of the band that she’d pulled from the ad for the club where they appeared and turned her iPad around. “See?” She pointed. “There he is.”

Charlie leaned forward and studied the picture. “Jeez. They wear matching outfits? What is this, the forties?”

She yanked the tablet back toward her, his attitude irritating her. “That’s what Top 40 bands do, you idiot. It’s like a stage costume. I can’t believe you don’t know this.”

“Oh. So how many Top 40 bands have you and I gone to see? Together or with others?” She flipped the cover closed on her tablet. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.” He closed his fingers gently around her wrist. “I’m sorry, kitten. I know this is serous business to you, and I promised to be here for you.” He signaled the waitress to bring them refills. “Tell me about this guy. What’s his name? Is he a strong drummer? Does he set the beat for the band the way you like?”

Jill forced herself to relax a little. Charlie was just being Charlie. She really needed him as her safety net. And also to point out if she was making a really bad choice.

“His name is Eric Hagel. He’s been playing drums for fifteen years. He’s thirty-nine years old, and he started in a garage band in high school.” She brought up his picture again.

“Nice looking dude.” He grinned. “If you can get past the outfit.”

“Charlie.” She swatted at him. “We’ve talked on the phone four times, and I went by to see him twice at the florist shop.” She grinned. “It’s a great place. And he gave me a dozen roses.”

“Bully for him.” Charlie practically mumbled the words.

“What did you say?” Jill prompted.

“I said I’m glad for him. I’ll have to go by and order some flowers from him.”

“For all those women I never hear about?”

He took the fresh drink from the waitress. “We’re talking about you, not me. So. Any sparks when you saw him? Any sizzle?”

Not much, but she wasn’t about to tell him. Besides, sparks were highly overrated. She’d had those before, and she’d just gotten burned. Badly.

“The only sizzle I want will come from steaks on the grill,” she snapped. “And from listening to my drummer.”

Charlie gave her a skeptical look. “If you say so. I hope this one works, because you’re already at the halfway mark, you know.”

Jill tried to ignore the headache gestating behind her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“So what’s next? The usual visit to the club to see him in his natural environment?”

She nodded. “This Friday night. You up for it?”

“Of course. We’re a team, right?”

A wave of warmth surged through her. Charlie was her rock. Her foundation. The person who gave her the courage to proceed with what her friends called her insane plan. She was more grateful to him than she could ever tell him.

“Okay, then. I’ll pick you up at, what did you say, ten o’clock?”

“Yes. We should get there in time for the third set. Thanks again.”

The small club was packed by the time they got there, extra chairs jammed at each table. The postage-sized dance floor was filled with couples moving in the few inches of space each occupied. The sound of the band’s music filled the air, underscored by the heavy, steady beat of the drums. Eric was engrossed in the number when Jill and Charlie took their seats, but when the song ended he looked out into the crowd, obviously searching for her. She gave a tentative wave, and he smiled back, accenting his greeting with a little rimshot.

As the band swung into its next number, Charlie rose from his chair and held out a hand. “How about a dance? It’s a shame to let all this good music go to waste.”

Jill hesitated a moment, realizing she had never danced with him before.

He bent down and put his mouth close to her ear so she could hear him. “It’s just a dance. Come on. Let’s see if Prospect Number Five can really carry a beat.”

There was barely room to shuffle in place, but Jill couldn’t deny she enjoyed letting the music flow through her. A ribbon of sexual arousal wiggled through her, but she chalked it up to anticipation for what she expected to be the best part of the evening. It certainly couldn’t be Charlie, right? Of course not. She deliberately pushed the ridiculous thought from her mind.

Eric had told her to wait for him at her table while he packed up his equipment and checked out with the band leader. She really hoped this time they’d get to the good stuff in the sex department. She was so frustrated she might have to resort to her battery-operated boyfriend for some relief if tonight turned out to be another dud.

The club emptied at last, and Eric finally jumped down from the stage. Jill introduced him to Charlie, and the two men sized each other up like junkyard dogs, finally shaking hands.

“The chauffeur, right?” Eric asked.

“The friend,” Charlie corrected. He looked at Jill. “You good to go, then?”

“She’s fine,” Eric answered for her, bending to brush his lips over hers. A very light kiss. “I’ll get her home in the morning safe and sound.”

“You have your cell?” Charlie asked.

“In my purse,” she assured him.

“I’ll walk out to the parking lot with you.” Charlie fell into step beside them. “Like any good wingman should do.”

“I’m in the back,” Eric told him. “Come on, sweet thing. Let’s boogie.”

Charlie looked as if he might say something, then nodded and headed toward his own car. Jill had no idea why it bothered her that he’d left so easily. She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on gorgeous guy and the hours ahead of them.

In the car, Eric slid the key into the ignition, but before cranking the engine, he reached over and pulled her to him.

“A taste,” he said. “Just a little taste to keep me going.”

Cupping her head to steady it, he pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue sliding easily over her lips before thrusting inside. With his other hand, he yanked up her sweater and shoved his fingers into a cup of her bra, nearly tearing it. Suddenly, this was no tender or even sensual kiss but a full-out grope session.

Jill froze, the taste of alcohol sharp and bitter. Earlier, when he gave her the light kiss, she thought she'd smelled it but chalked it up to her imagination. Probably still hanging in the air from all the drinks served during the evening. But this was unmistakable, and she struggled to pull back from him.

“You’ve been drinking,” she accused.

He gripped her shoulders and tugged her back to him. “Only one or two. It relaxes me when we’re playing. This is a bar, for god’s sake, Jill.”

“I didn’t have a drink,” she pointed out. “I wanted to wait until we got to your place so I could enjoy every minute.”

He tightened his fingers on her. “I said it was just a couple. Now come here and give me that sexy mouth again.”

But by now, the odor of alcohol was so overpowering she wanted to cover her nose. Then she realized, as she looked into his eyes, that while he was able to navigate okay, Eric was actually drunk. Or pretty close to it.

“How many drinks is a few?” she asked.

“A couple. Maybe three or four. What the hell is this, an inquisition?” He tried to drag her head closer again, but she pushed against him with all her strength.

“I’m not riding anywhere with you when you’re not sober.”

“Shit, Jill. I can function just fine. I need a couple drinks to relax after working in the shop all week. Give me a break. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I thought we could relax together.” She managed to get the door open. “This was a big mistake.”

“Where are you going?” he shouted. “It’s after two in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine.” She pulled out her cell and speed dialed Charlie. “Better than with you,” she shouted as she hurried out into the street.

In seconds, Eric’s car roared by her, so close the wind caught her short skirt. Good riddance, she thought as she hurried down the sidewalk.

Charlie studied her face when she slid into the car, opened his mouth, closed it, and thankfully never said a word during the ride back to her place. Jill had no desire to discuss the latest debacle so she was grateful for his silence.

Even when he let her off, all he said was, “Call me if you want to talk.”

She nodded, keeping herself together until she was inside her condo. Then she threw her purse against the wall and spat out, “Shit! Shit, shit, shit.”

Charlie teased her about banging drummers, but she hadn’t gotten to do a whole lot of banging yet.

How could she keep picking these absolute losers? She checked them out, asked questions, did her homework, yet each one was a disaster and a disappointment. Not to mention the fact that in five months she’d only had teases and touches and no real sex, and she was frustrated beyond belief.

Heading to her bathroom, she stripped off her clothes, tossed them on the floor by her bedroom closet and turned on the shower full blast. She needed good hot water to wash away the smell of the alcohol she was sure still clung to her.

Once under the steaming spray, she poured lilac-scented body wash into a palm and worked it up into a good lather. But, as she soaped it gently into her body, her hormones, lying in wait in a state of semi-arousal, kicked into high gear. Lazily, she rubbed the foam over her breasts, cupping them in her palms and brushing her thumbs over her nipples. On impulse she pinched the taut buds, and electricity jolted right to the heart of her pussy.

Damn! This is what happens when you go too long without real sex.

Leaning back against the tiles, she pinched and tugged the beaded points, reveling in the sensation spreading through her body. With languid strokes, she spread the body wash over her tummy and down to the trimmed curls of her mound. Eased one finger between the puffy lips to her cunt that had grown incredibly needy. Up and down she moved her finger, touching her ultrasensitive clit with a teasing motion.

She was just sliding two fingers into her waiting, aching channel when she realized she needed more than just a few caresses in the shower to take care of her problem. Rinsing off, she dried herself quickly and hurried back to her bed. She grabbed her favorite toy from the drawer in her nightstand and lay back on the cool sheets and plump pillows.

With legs spread, she bent her knees and dug her heels into the mattress to give herself the greatest leverage. Then she pressed the button, and the familiar hum filled her ears. She started with her labia, running the tip of the dildo up and down in lazy, tantalizing strokes, deliberately avoiding her clit. She curled the fingers of her free hand around one breast, pinching the nipple again and again.