Fully Automatic (Bullet) (31 page)

“I told you.”  She was smiling.  “It’s been hell waiting for you all this time.”

“Well, I keep my promises.”  He lay her down on the bed and wasn’t going to waste any time.  He kissed her once more and then kissed between her cleavage, down her belly, and then he lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders.  It had been a long time since he’d done this with a girl, and he hadn’t done it enough that he felt like any kind of expert.

He ran two of his fingers down her slit, parting her, and then he flicked his tongue over her clit.  “Mmm.”  God,
as promised, she was wet and ready.  He moved his tongue up and down against her, and she let him know vocally that he was right on track.  He kept it up—a steady but slow speed—until the muscles in her thighs clenched and she got louder.  “Oh, fuck!” she screamed and then started moaning loudly, writhing.  He felt himself grow harder, but he tried to maintain his focus on her, continuing to move his tongue over her until she relaxed and let out a loud sigh.  “Shit.”

“You good?”

“Mmm.  Thank you for making the wait totally worth it.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.”  He
moved up the bed and started kissing her neck.

“Are you kidding?  I’m ready now.”

He sucked in a breath.  “Just gotta find my jeans.”

“Why?”

“I need a condom.”

She reached over and opened the drawer on her nightstand.  “Take your pick.”

He glanced in.  She had tons of them, a smorgasbord.  He didn’t even want to think of why.  Instead, he simply grabbed the first normal-looking one and opened it.  Then he unrolled it as quickly as he could.  There was something about this woman that made him feel out of control.  Like the last time they’d been together, he doubted he could wait.

He slid inside her. 
Oh, God.
  Fuck, yes, that was what he needed.  Why the hell didn’t he find himself a girlfriend?  He wouldn’t have to wait so long in between times like these.

And talk about
putting a damper on things.  He knew exactly why, but the next thrust pushed the idea out of his head.  All his thoughts were focused on that throbbing engine down below, the one that drove him to move on instinct.  He pumped as long as he could stand it, long past the time she cried again, cursing and screaming and begging him to let her have it, until he had to let it all go.  It was intense and mind blowing, and afterward he closed his eyes so she wouldn’t talk to him, because his thoughts were once again on the girl he couldn’t be with.

Chapter Thirty-six

AS THE DAYS grew colder, Brad’s thoughts intensified.  He was happy so far with the progress Fully Automatic was making, but there were several problems.  The first one was that he was already damned sick and tired of living in that dinky apartment.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t had two roommates who were always either fucking loudly or fighting even more loudly.  Ethan and Val had taken to arguing constantly, and he supposed that was their passion playing out.  It wasn’t just over Ethan’s drug use, though.  He wasn’t sure what else they fought about, and he didn’t want to know, but their relationship was filled with drama, and it was pissing him off.

So far, it hadn’t
spilled over and affected the band, but he
would
get involved if it came to that, and they wouldn’t like it if he had to.

As it was, he saw a need to pull the leader card
anyway.  The guys seemed to be resting on their laurels.  No one had written anything new in weeks, and no one was practicing anymore.  It was like they felt they didn’t need to practice nowadays, like they were good enough.  And if they thought they were earning enough money just playing gigs, they needed to think again.  He felt like no one was taking it seriously.

So he called a meeting.
  They sat in the living room in a circle.  “Guys, money’s tight.  I don’t think you have any idea.  You should think about getting jobs, each one of you.”

Zane said, “But I thought we were making enough off merch and our gigs to pay the bills.”

He shrugged.  “Yeah, but I gotta tell you, I’m nervous about handing you over your money and then you go blow it on shit and then we don’t have enough for the rent.”

“So keep what you need, like you used to when we went on the road.”  Nick cocked his
head and continued.  “You know…how you’d save money for the motel and gas.  Why can’t you do that now?”

Everyone in the circle nodded.  Brad shook his head. 
“It’s no problem for
me
, man, to withhold your part of the rent, utilities, and groceries, and then give you what’s left.”  In fact, that alleviated most of his worries right there.  As long as they could pay the bills, then the money from his job could go to other things that would eventually progress the band.

Ethan
, in his typical fashion, rolled his eyes.  “So just
do
it.  If we need more money, we’ll figure it out.”

Yeah, he wanted to ask exactly
who
the
we
in Ethan’s sentence was, but he took a deep breath instead.  “You better hope I’m able to keep booking enough that it
does
cover all that shit.  Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass out.”

The problem was they all
knew
he would.  Why would he start slacking now?  They knew Fully Automatic was his life, his dream, and there was no way he was going to start screwing off.  They counted on it.  He didn’t know that his lecture had done any good, and he didn’t care.  They’d given him license to hold back money for the bills.  He’d tack other things on too, the things he always had—gas, paying for new merchandise, and things like that.  He’d have to come up with a budget and list and hold back what he needed.  If they complained, he’d have it in writing for them to look at, and then they’d have no arguments.

As far as his feelings toward Valerie went, he had good days and bad.  She got her first tattoo, a tribal armband on her upper right arm, and it was damned hot.  Now that she was toned and tight, the tattoo accentuated the curve
on her slender arm.  He caught himself looking at it more than he should when they were onstage.  They were playing another show with Last Five Seconds headlining, and Ethan was more blitzed than usual.  He’d managed to hold it together for the show but was wasted by the time they had to unload.  Brad almost hated giving the guy his fair share of the money, because he knew where it went.  But he had to remind himself of the same thing he always told Val—Ethan, no one else, had to decide he was done.

As they cleared their equipment off the stage, Val tried to talk Ethan into resting in the van.  She was holding his arm, begging him to listen to reason.  “Val, stop acting like my mom.  Jesus Christ, this shit gets old.”

Brad couldn’t hear Val’s response as he walked past them, but he was ready to tell them to pull their weight.  Zane bumped Ethan on the head “accidentally” with a cymbal, and Ethan growled at him but didn’t do anything in retaliation.  Instead, he told Val, “I’m not laying down in the van, and that’s final.”  And then he walked off to hang somewhere in the crowd.

Once they’d loaded all their equipment, Val stopped Brad before he could head back inside.  She asked, “Brad, should we find Ethan and try to talk some sense into him?”

He loved this girl, but she was like a broken record.  “He’s a big boy, Val.  He makes his own choices, no matter how fucking stupid they are.  So you track him down in the crowd. 
Then
what?  You make a scene, telling him he’s too jacked to be out there?  That’ll go over well.  Yeah, why don’t you guys have another obnoxious fight like you always do, but this time why don’t you do it in front of the whole crowd?  That’ll win ‘em over and make ‘em fans for life.”

Oh, shit.
  He hadn’t meant to let that all slip out.  He’d been holding in too much for too long, and it just flooded out of his mouth.  She nodded and he couldn’t quite read the look on her face—it might have been one of shame or upset or partial anger.  But she said, “Okay,” and looked down, walking back inside.

If it would actually sink in with her, it would have been worth causing the pained look on her face.

* * *

The band spent Thanksgiving in Denver, but Brad didn’t book any shows right around Christmas, insisting they needed to spend time with family.  They were back before the new year, though, both because of his and Val’s jobs and scheduled gigs.  Still, they had three days with their families, and they came back recharged and refreshed.

Jo called him once in a while, usually about once a month, and she learned quickly that Thursdays through Sundays were bad days.  She hadn’t known until she’d tried to get him to come to her place on a Saturday night that he was in a band, so she asked him to bring a guitar the next time and play something for her.  He wasn’t sure why chicks dug that, but they did.  And he couldn’t resist another opportunity to make her go crazy.

Sex with her was insane and unbelievable.  Brad also knew it was unsustainable, particularly because she supposedly had a boyfriend, but the way she rocked his world was dangerous.  It was way too intense.  He never would have thought that would seem like a problem, and it wasn’t, but he didn’t know that he would have been able to do it long term.

Ethan was cheating on Val, and Brad was sure she was in denial for the most part.  He wasn’t going to educate her and rub her nose in it.  Like Ethan choosing to admit he had a problem, Val too needed to see that she and Ethan were dysfunctional as fuck.  It was absolutely insane.  Brad wouldn’t have expected that, but Val allowed herself to get sucked into Ethan’s toxic world, and she just played into it.  Brad wouldn’t have expected it from Ethan, either, because even though the guy was a hothead on occasion, he’d never had a bickering relationship with a woman.  Even with Heidi, the girl he’d been with longest pre-Val, he’d get pissed at her, and the girl would bat her eyelashes at Ethan, and he’d let it go, focusing his anger on someone or something else, not always the true target of his fury.

With Val, though, he fought and argued and yelled, and that was when Brad realized that Ethan really did love the girl.  It was a poisonous, unhealthy relationship, but Ethan did care about
her in some weird, warped way.

He just had no fucking clue how to treat her right.

Brad knew the drugs were partly to blame.  He’d get so hammered, he wouldn’t even know where he was.  Brad knew the shit Ethan took removed all his friend’s inhibitions and any moral leanings he might have had.

And it killed him
to see Ethan break Val’s heart, but it wasn’t his place to step in, and he wasn’t going to.  He’d had his heart crushed by the two of them enough—no fucking way was he getting in the middle.

It just hurt seeing her get slapped in the face with the undeniable truth.  They’d played a great show at one place in January, and Ethan had barely made it through.  At the end, he could barely walk himself offstage and he almost passed out.  Nick helped Brad get him out to the van.

Brad hadn’t been there to witness it, but Nick told him that Ethan later made his way back inside and found a girl willing to suck him off in the bathroom.  Val had gone to check on Ethan in the van to make sure he was okay.  When she didn’t find him there, she looked everywhere else she could think of, and somehow she’d figured out where he was and caught him in the middle of the act.

Brad didn’t know until the show was over.  They looked all over for Val and couldn’t find her, and that was when Nick told him.  He hoped that didn’t mean Val had decided to do something equally stupid.  They decided to check the van and she was there.  Brad could tell she’d been crying—her face was red and puffy and she talked like she had a cold.  “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

She shrugged.  “Sorry.”

“You okay?”

She nodded.  She didn’t want to say anything else.  God, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, let her cry as much as she needed to, but he couldn’t.  It wasn’t his place and—more than that—he knew it would make him a doormat.  No way was he going to do that.

He heard Val and Ethan having a long talk the next day in her bedroom, and he was sure it was over.  He also heard Ethan do something he’d never
ever
done with anyone ever before.

He heard him tell Val he was sorry.

Ethan even admitted he was wrong.

That alone knocked Brad down.  His friend rarely admitted he was in the wrong and, even when he did, he didn’t apologize for it.  It was another sign for Brad that his friend really did love Val.  He just had no fucking clue how to treat her.

And so it didn’t surprise him when they stayed together.  Their relationship even seemed stronger after that.

For a while anyway…until it didn’t.

Chapter Thirty-seven

SOMETIME IN FEBRUARY
, Jo tugged on Brad’s leash, summoning him for another booty call, and he gladly obliged.  They had just finished that evening when there was a loud banging on her door.

She panicked.  “Don’t say a word.”

Brad gave her a look and, as she scrambled out of bed and threw on a thin red robe that barely covered her ass, it dawned on him.

The boyfriend.

She closed the bedroom door, but he heard the front door open at almost the same time, which meant the boyfriend also had a key.  Holy shit.  He was fucked.  Even if he got dressed at this point, he was in her goddamned bedroom—he couldn’t really act innocent there, could he?  Still…if he had to fight for his life and bail, it would be easier with his clothes on.  For once, he’d taken them all off in her bedroom, so he could get dressed while she finagled with the guy.

The dude had a loud bass voice.  Brad imagined him as six-foot-five, weighing in at two-hundred and eighty pounds, solid muscle.

“I called you three times, Jo.  I need you at work tonight.”

“I
am
working, you moron.”

“No, I need your ass onstage. 
Diamond bailed.”

“Okay, I’ll need a little bit.”

Brad couldn’t hear what else Jo said, but he’d managed to fasten his jeans by the time the bedroom door burst open.  “You a customer, mister?”

So…the guy wasn’t six-foot-five, but he
was
a big dude and taller than Brad.  He caught Jo behind the man nodding, signaling Brad that answering
yes
would likely save his life.  He needed to play it super cool—he knew that much.  He grabbed his t-shirt off the floor (wondering if a customer’s shirt would really wind up there) and slid it on and said, “Yeah, and I’m thinking this is shitty customer service.”

The guy examined Brad.  Something inside Brad wanted to challenge him—stand up to him, puff out his chest,
take a jab or two if need be, but he mostly just wanted out of there.  Jo was never going to be more than sex for him, so fighting over her would have been stupid and senseless.  The only part of him that wanted to unleash on this guy was something primal and instinctive and had nothing to do with the girl.  He’d remembered her telling him one time that her boyfriend
was
her boss, and from some of the things she’d said since, he gathered she loved the guy, but their relationship was pretty messed up.  Sounded like another couple he knew.

“You gettin’ smart with me?”  Brad ignored him, finding his socks and boots and sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to act pissed off.  The guy grabbed Jo by the elbow and took her back out of the room.  “You know you’re not supposed to bring ‘em back here.  What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He came back in the room, watching Brad finish tying his boot.  Brad stood and was just going to try to walk past the guy, but he blocked the door.  “I’m afraid there’s the matter of payment.”

Brad’s heart sunk.  Yeah, he had cash, but it wasn’t slated for a hooker.  The man wasn’t budging, though, and Brad knew if he didn’t cough up some
dough, he’d probably wind up paying that money in medical fees.  So he glared at the guy and pulled out his wallet.  He took out a twenty and handed it to him.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me, pal?”

Brad felt his blood growing hot.  He was going to have to dig into the money he was saving for a new tattoo.  He grabbed a hundred and prayed that was enough.  He had to follow it up with some balls, or the guy would wind up taking all his money.  What sucked was he had no idea what a girl like Jo—Sugar, the sexy stripper—would cost.  “Look, dude.  She gave me a helluva blowjob, okay, but we didn’t discuss rates and, frankly, I’ve had better for less.  So take the money and get the fuck out of my way.”  Brad clenched his jaw and set his brow.  He allowed the earlier need to respond to a challenge take over, and he invested in his words.  Yeah, it was all a lie.  They had fucked like animals, another crazy romp, but he knew that would cost a lot more.  He also knew he’d never had a blowjob like the ones Jo had graced him with.  The girl was talented.  But the only way out alive, near as he could see it, was by putting on this show.

The guy back
ed up a little, allowing Brad to pass through, and Brad spotted his jacket.  His eyes barely crossed with Jo’s, and he thought he could see relief in them.  He was glad, because he had, for a moment, started to wonder if this scenario had been her ultimate goal.  He didn’t think so, though, because he’d been getting “free” sex from her for months by this point.  It would have made more sense to do it right from the beginning, so he didn’t think she’d set him up.  He picked up his jacket without a word, feeling in his pockets for all the things he wouldn’t be able to come back for if he’d lost them.  As he stepped out the door, he heard the big guy saying to Jo, “That’s why you arrange it all at the club and you need to discuss rates first.”

The cold air outside helped him get his bearings.  He walked to his car, still smarting over losing a chunk of money but grateful that he’d survived.  The sex was good…but he liked having all
his teeth intact.  He decided at that point no more strippers.  Jo had proved to be hazardous to his health and finances.

* * *

Brad tried to keep his twenty-first birthday in March low key, especially since he had to work that day, but his mother had sent money and Val and the guys made a big deal out of it.  They made steak and baked potatoes, followed up with a sheet cake.  And, because he could, he went into the liquor store and bought his first twelve-pack of beer.

It inspired him, though, and he told his bandmates that
, Saturday after the show, they were going to host a party to celebrate their successes thus far.  He was feeling good about his band again.  They were making solid music, playing to energetic crowds, molding and jelling and evolving.

And, maybe, if he had a party, he could get to know more people.  He worked mostly with guys at his day job and, yeah, he met a few girls at the shows, but he didn’t
really
get to know them.  He thought a party might afford him the opportunity to meet real women.

Their place was small, so he
planned to keep it small and invite the bands they were going to play with as well as any guests the bands wanted to bring, and he told his bandmates to not invite too many people.  He also talked with neighbors, explaining that they’d be celebrating his twenty-first birthday and so they might be loud for a while.  The neighbors were cool with it, especially since they all wound up being invited.  He spent way more money on alcohol than he should have, but he thought, for a change, he was worth it.  He wanted to have fun.

The show that Saturday was insane, probably the best one they’d ever had up to that point.  The audience was completely plugged into them, and they were on.  It had been magic.

He was on a high when they got back to their apartment, and it wasn’t long before the place filled up.  It was nice to have his neighbors over, because he’d seen some of them in the hall for months.  Now they could actually act neighborly.  After mingling for a bit, Brad saw Val walking toward the living room.  “Hey, Val, come with me for a sec.”  She smiled and followed him to the kitchen.  Along the counter, he had lined up several drinks and filled the sink with a bag of ice.  There were plastic cups and cans of beer, enough for everyone there.  Brad thought she might be a little upset about something, but she smiled just the same.  He picked up a bottle and held it out to her.  “I know you’re not comfortable drinking, Val, but I bought this with you in mind.”

“What?”

“Butterscotch schnapps.”

“Why for me?”

“It’s smooth.  I thought you might want to get a little buzz on.  You helped propel us to where we are now.”

She grinned.  “Why do you want me trashed?”

“I don’t.  I just want you to feel good…just a little.  You deserve it.”

“Okay.”

He held up the bottle.  “One shot, you and me?”  She smiled again and nodded, and Brad poured a shot’s worth in two cups and handed one to Val.  “Bottoms up.”  As he poured the shot down his throat, he felt grateful for one thing—that, in spite of Ethan’s douchebaggery, Brad and Val remained close friends, and he knew, even if just from this act alone, that she trusted him.  That meant a lot.  She set her cup down and he asked, “How’s that feel?”

“Pretty good.”

“Okay.  Just one more.  As tiny as you are, I don’t dare let you drink more than that.”  He even wondered if a second one was a good idea, but he’d go easy on the second one.  She wouldn’t have to know he wasn’t giving her a full shot.  He just wanted her to enjoy herself, and he knew alcohol usually relaxed him, so he hoped it would help her too.

When she set her cup down, he said in her ear
, “Now…half an hour from now, you don’t feel like you’ve got a buzz on, come back.  I’ll hook you up.”  Being that close, he couldn’t help himself.  He pulled her into an embrace.  In just those few moments, he remembered how much he cared about her, how much he wanted her.  He had to let it go, though.  Friends only.  He hoped that was all she got out of the hug, and so he let her go quickly and grabbed another cup to divert her attention.  “In the meantime, though…”  He placed some ice inside the cup and filled it with water.  “Nurse this.”

She smiled and said,
“Thanks, Brad.  See you in a while.”

Brad had already seen a stacked blonde getting friendly with Ethan, so he hoped he wouldn’t be seeing Val crying
later.  She looked pissed as she spied Ethan across the way, and he suspected she was going to grow a spine tonight.  If she didn’t end up in a catfight with the groupie tonight, he’d be surprised.

But he couldn’t worry about that.
  This was
his
damn party, and even though he didn’t plan to get laid tonight, he was hoping to lay some groundwork.  Things were going pretty well, too.  He felt like he was forging strong bonds with a lot of band members—not quite friendships.  That wasn’t a bad thing, though.  Friendships weren’t quite what they were, but they were more than just acquaintances.  Business relationships and mutual understandings, maybe.  And he also talked for a while with several different women.  He hadn’t gotten any phone numbers yet.  He didn’t want to seem too eager, and he didn’t want to be a dick either.  If he went around asking for every girl’s number in the place, he’d look desperate and none of the women would want to have anything to do with him either.  No, he had to take his time.  By the end of the evening, he would choose one and get her number.

When someone found the stereo and turned it up, Brad was counting his blessings
, grateful that he’d invited his neighbors to the party.  Even if they left later, he hoped the good will he’d earned would prevent them from tattling, would instead have them come back and ask him to turn it down if it came to that.

He was talking with the lead singer of one of the bands they’d played with earlier that evening
when, in spite of the volume of the stereo, it felt like the room grew quiet.  The guy he was talking to shifted his gaze and got a bit wide eyed.  He nodded his head toward the hallway entrance and then said, “Isn’t she your vocalist?”

Brad turned around.  Sure as shit, Val was standing in the entryway to the kitchen, her shirt off.  She covered herself just as he looked over, and then his eyes looked at hers.  She was completely out of it.  But how?  Two shots wouldn’t do that.

Would they?

“Sorry, man.”  He walked away from the singer, setting his cup on the kitchen table as he made his way toward Val.  When he got there, he rested his hands on her shoulders and got close.  “Val?  You okay?”

Her eyes told him she wasn’t.  He had to get her out of there, away from the gawking eyes in the room.  He led her to her bedroom and had her sit on the bed while he glanced around.  She had a robe hanging on her closet doorknob, and he draped it over her shoulders.  He sat next to her and asked, “What happened?”

She looked up at him and said, “I don’t know.”  She started crying—a waterfall of tears—and he pulled her close, resting her head on his chest, letting her sob.  She’d tell him when she was ready.
  When she was able to get herself under control, she said, “Ethan had this slutty girl with him.”

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Her breaths were a little jerky.  “I feel really weird, Brad.”

“Weird how?”

“Like I’m not totally here.  It started earlier.  I went over to see what was up with him and that girl.  They were awfully cozy.”  Brad was pretty sure he knew what was on Ethan’s mind because it often was.  He was going to see if he could once again cheat on his girlfriend and get away with it.  Brad nodded, though, and let her continue.  “So I sat right next to Ethan on the couch, and he kissed me.  It was strange.  Not just a little kiss—a huge display.  I’m surprised he didn’t start grabbing my boobs.  And then he introduced me to that girl, and she started squeezing my thigh and playing with my hair, telling me she
really
liked me.  It was kinda creepy.  And right after that, it was like everything was turning black.  Everything looked fuzzy, kind of surreal.  I felt like I wasn’t totally in my body.  Things around the room were starting to move, things that shouldn’t have.  You know, like that Eiffel Tower print in the living room.  And then—”  She started crying again.  He knew she’d let it out eventually, so he just continued to hold her, hoping he was giving her the comfort she needed.  She started talking again, through the sobs, and he couldn’t understand the first few words that came out of her mouth until she said, “—into the bedroom, and I was so out of it.  Then the next thing I remember, my shirt’s off and they’re both all over me, you know, wanting me to…”