Private Affair (The Private Series) (25 page)

I pull on a gray oversized sweater and wrap it around myself, slip on my favorite fox slippers and carry my book to one of the chairs. I curl up and open up to page one.

Tony sits on the couch in front of me and starts to pick at his guitar, stopping often to take notes. He hums off and on, I try not to look up to watch. I am a few chapters in when he catches me. He has the gnarled up yellow pencil in his mouth, he laughs and winks at me. “Liking the show?”

“I just find the musical process to be interesting, that’s all. I have always loved music, but never got to see how it all comes together.” I raise my book back up to my face, hoping to leave him back to his work.

“Would you mind telling me what you think so far?” He gains my attention back.

I set my book down on the table, pages open, “Really? I mean, are you sure? I am not a professional.”

“But you love music and know what’s good and what’s not. No one is a professional when it comes to listening to a good song. I trust your opinion.”

I take in a deep breath and sit more upright in my seat. “Okay.”

He gives me a boyishly smile, sets he pencil down and preps himself with the guitar. He starts to play a slow soft tune, very melodic. When he starts to sing I get the chills. His voice is smooth, sweet and full of a yearning in a way. He is singing about no one really knowing him and that they shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Just because people think of you a certain way, doesn’t mean you have to live up to it. To be your own and to take him or leave him.

His words hit close to home and it takes everything in me to not cry. He stops about three-quarters of the way, “That’s all that I have so far. What do you think? Too emo?” He laughs, but he’s trying to be light with the laugh. I can see it on his face how much this song means to him. That he is revealing a part of himself and that makes you the most vulnerable.

I clear my throat, “Uh, yeah it’s really good…”

“Any feedback?” He looks nervous. It’s enduring to see someone with as much talent and now fame be so down to earth and human.

I stand and go to sit next to him, he moves the rough notebook and I take a seat. “You’re keeping it real, I love that. Sure artists are doing the ‘honesty’ bit, but with your sound it feel real and that’s what matters.”

He is tweaking away at his chords and not looking at me when I talk, he is nodding and I hope I am making sense. I change the topic slightly, “So how did you learn to play the guitar?”

“My mom. She played when she was younger and she taught me when I showed interest, when I was like eight.” He starts to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and he smiles, “This was the first song she was able to teach me, even though I wanted to learn something harder, like from The Offspring.” He then starts the opening of one of their most popular songs. He even starts to head bang and I start to laugh. He is too adorable.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks me.

“Ha!” I throw my head back and laugh, “I tried when I was a teen, but I have no rhythm in my body what’s so ever. I am not musically inclined.”

“Oh, come on! Anyone can learn! Here…” He hands me his guitar, which is warm from his lap and hands being on it for so long. “Put your hands here,” He slides my hand up the neck of the guitar and shows me where to press, how to position my other hand, and how to strum. “Now glide your thumb over the strings.”

I do and the sound that comes out of the thing is treacherous. We both cringe, Tony tries to hide it, but I catch him, “See!” I laugh out.

“You just need…more practice,” He takes the guitar from me and sets it on the floor resting it against the couch.

“I think I will stay away from it, for the sake of our ears,”

He makes a:
I’m sorry to have to agree
face and bobs his head from side to side then into a nod. I smack his shoulder, “Shut up! So tell me about your Mom and family.”

“Wow, well that was a sure topic change!” He laughs and stretches out with a sigh. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to share.”

“How about a drink? He asks, standing and heading to the cabinet we have some liquor stored. Pulling down two glasses, before I can answer.

“Um, sure.”

He hands me a drink I have never had before, but apparently you can mix booze with Redbull! Did not know this exciting information? He explains that it’s a Jager Bomb, Jager and RedBull. I smell it and it’s a different scent, it smells like RedBull with a licorice kind of smell. I take a little sip and damn, it is strong but very alluring for a drink. I am thinking this one will hit hard, when I am least expecting it, so I better watch out.

He sits back down next to me, “Okay, so my family…” He takes a gulp. “So my parents were a teen pregnancy situation, obviously I am the outcome. They got married right away, tried the family thing. My Dad, fell for my Mom’s best friend. He claims nothing happened between them, but it doesn’t matter, he allowed another woman to come between him and my mother. Me and my mom lived in Seattle and he got a job offer at a hospital in Palm Coast and moved there.”

“So, you went to Florida to see him and do that benefit at that Mouth karaoke bar right? I have heard good things about that place. A lot of musicians are discovered there.” I recall our conversation from a while ago. But he didn’t seem to show any distaste in his father.

“Yeah. He asked that I come visit him to see if we can work something out or to work on our relationship,” He swigs down the rest of his drink.

“How did that work out?” I ask, wondering if my dad were to reach out to me if I would consider trying. I don’t think that I could really. To give up on your kid is fucking wrong.

Rolling his eyes he tells me, “I want to say it didn’t change anything and that I still hate him for loving another woman while still being married to my mom, but…” This time he pours a straight shot of Jager and shoots it down. “I never met the woman and I guess they never got together, because he felt that it was too wrong.”

“So, he moved to Florida without the woman?” I ask, trying to keep up.

“Yeah, he met Sierra while working at the hospital. She’s the one I met at Mouth. They seem happier than what I ever saw between him and my mother. Fuck, even my mom seems happier without him, while I am thinking about it.”

“Some people change. You said they got married at a very young age, under difficult circumstances to begin with, not that you were a mistake, by far from it but people grow and sometimes that means growing apart.” I put my hand on his. “I know if my parents stayed together I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

He looks me in the eyes and asks me why and I explain what I did to Ben. I don’t open up easily to people and just like with Ben, I let it all flow to Tony. “Did your dad discourage you from pursuing music or tattooing?” I ask him.

“For the tattooing, not at first. He didn’t want me to mark myself up and have that prevent me from an actual career, because apparently tattoos mean you are a criminal and un-hirable. But you and I know that’s a load of shit, because look at us, we are tattooed, pierced and pink hair…” he fake flips his hair off his shoulders. I laugh at the thought of him having long pink hair. “We are doing what we love and being paid for it. I don’t know about you, but I think that makes us quite successful.”

“And now?” I ask. He sits back down next to me and puts an arm around my shoulder on the back of the couch. Just a friendly gesture, I know that so I don’t move away.

“Now… He is more accepting. After a long talk with his girlfriend she had talked some sense into him and got him thinking about accepting me for who I am.” He rolls his eyes, trying to hide the fact that, that makes him happy and relieved to know.

“Oh, don’t shrug it off! I know that means something to you! Just because you are now a famous rock star doesn’t mean you have to be a tough ass. You’re a softy Tony Towers, just admit it.” I play with him, I even pinch his cheeks like an annoying distant aunt you see only once in a few years.

He tries his damnedest to not laugh, once he can’t hold it in any longer he grabs my ribs and starts tickling me. “You think I’m soft? You think I’m soft?” He is yelping at me as I am refraining from laughing at his jabs. He has me pinned down now on my back, our faces meet as he is over me our laughter comes to a halt. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and I start to feel a little panicked. He leans in fast and lays a hot heavy kiss on me. Not knowing what to do at first, because I don’t want to offend him or give him the wrong impression.

I put my hands on his chest, “Tony…”

He sits up, but stays close, “Shit…” He runs a hand through his hair, “Fuck, I just did something stupid didn’t I?”

I get out from under him, because he wasn’t moving fast enough for me, “It’s okay…”

“No it is most fucking not. I shouldn’t have done that. You are getting married…right?”

“Um, yeah,” I look down at my beautiful ring and I twist it. “Look, Tony you just got caught up in the moment and one thing led to another and the alcohol doesn’t help…”

He furrows his brow, trying to make sense of his own actions I assume. He grabs the bottle and shoves it back in the cupboard, slamming it shut, I jump. Seeing him look so distraught and honestly angry is freaking me out. “Look, Tony I am going to bed. Sleep this off and after coffee in the morning we can talk about it then.”

“Yeah that might be for the best. I am going to stay out here for the night and wait for Roger to get us going again.”

I nod and wave him good night. I turn to head to my bunk and I see Jennifer’s head poked out her curtain, “Everything alright Pink?”

“Yeah, just tired, need some sleep.” I climb in and throw my head to my pillow. Where the fuck did my friendly, easy going friend go? What gave him the idea that, that was okay? Yeah booze can make you do stupid shit, but that just wasn’t my Tony. Hopefully by morning he will be better and we can forget all about this.

That next morning was awkward and we never talked about the night before, or that after noon or night. Perhaps we should just let it go and it is best that we just pretend it never happened. I don’t fucking know anymore.

We are on our way to the show at Water Street Music Hall in Rochester New York. Ben was supposed to come to this one, but he never let me know if he was going to be able to. When I talked to him yesterday he seemed stressed out, so I didn’t want to beg him to come. It’s bad enough that I am stressing and am not getting much sleep.

I grumpily get in the teeny ass shower that I have grown to hate and I wash my hair and shave my legs, which by the way I am lucky I am short, because if I was any taller I would be hitting my head on the glass door, how the hell does Jennifer do this? I get out, wrap my head in a towel and get my bra and panties on in the bathroom. Tony and Jennifer went to get lunch, they asked me if I wanted to join them, but I wasn’t interested. I honestly hope they fuck one another so they can get the tension out of the air when they are together in the same room. I used to think Tony was too good for her, but after the other night, I am thinking they are perfect together.

I open the small door to the bathroom and I step out. I open the curtain and fucking scream. I see Ben laying there on my bunk. Legs stretched out as far as they can go and his arms behind his head. Once I screamed bloody murder he sat right up really fast and whacks his head on the top bunk.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” I kneel next to him.

He groans while holding his head, “Are you? I didn’t mean to startle the crap out of you.” He finally lets go of his head and looks at me. “Oh fuck, it’s been too long…if you don’t want me taking you here on this bus you better get some clothes on.”

I look down and remember that I am in only my bra and panties, a matching black set. My towel fell off my head midst scream, so my hair is damp and wavy. I run my ringers through it and he reaches out and takes a strand, “It’s getting lighter and it looks like the color of cotton candy right now…which is how you taste.” His eyes travel down to my lap. “How long do we have?” He asks in low growl.

I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, “enough.”

He grabs me by my waist, swings me in the bunk and he slides out. I lay back and he tears my lace panties right off. He pulls me closer to the edge and I feel his tongue dip in and separate my folds.

Moaning he tells me, without taking his mouth off of me, “you taste different, a little sweeter.”

I laugh a little over it. I find it funny that I have a taste, but then again he does too in a way. He reaches up and cups my heavy breasts, but when he touches my nipple it hurts a little. I flinch and he looks up at me, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, my nipples are a little sensitive. Probably because it’s been so long since they have had any attention paid to them.” I brush it off. They hurt a little before my period anyways.

“Alright.”

I pull back and tell him, “Get on the bed I don’t know how much time we have, but I need to grind one out.”

He salutes me, removes his clothing and lays as flat on my bunk as he can. I go to mount him and I hit my head. “This isn’t going to work…”