Licentious (2 page)

Eve and I are both jammed into our tiny box of an en suite to finish the final details of our look. Eve went all out wearing a skin tight, form fitting, deep red bondage dress with a V neckline and off the shoulder straps, the hem hitting mid-thigh. She curled her shiny black hair and left it
loose to cascade down her back and shoulders. She went with a dark smoky eye to maximize our cerulean blue eyes and paired the look with a red lip gloss to match her dress.

I decided to stick to being me, and dressing it up just a tad. I chose to wear a dark red tulip skirt hitting mid-thigh, and paired it with my black lace capped sleeve tee and a pair of black suede booties. I left my long, black hair straight and down and kept my makeup to a minimum
with a light smoky eye and nude lip gloss with just a hint of bronzer to accentuate my cheekbones.

I just finished clasping the white gold
Celtic cross diamond necklace that my dad, Aedan Sr. and my brother, Aedan Jr. gave me last night during our birthday dinner celebration. He and my brother Aedan went in on our gifts together this year. I have to say, they did good!

A loud whistle sounds from the bedroom forcing our attention from the mirror.

“And where do you ladies think you’re going?” my father asks as he crosses his arms and fights the smile that threatens to cross his face. My dad is mostly an Irishman, but since he was born and raised here in the states, unfortunately, there isn’t a hint of an accent. He’s a tall, pale man with balding blond hair. Eve, Aedan, and I have all repeatedly tried to talk him out of the ‘comb-over’ but failed at every attempt. He just isn’t ready to let go and grasp the idea of not having hair. I personally think he should rock that shit.

Eve and I look mostly like mom
, Alannah. We’re tall with thick, straight black hair, naturally tan and curvy, with heart-shaped faces, straight nose, and a small but full pout. We’ve never been ‘fat’, but we were never the societal ‘skinny’ either. Fit and curvy. The way we should be. Even though we resemble Mom so much, we do get some of our best features from Dad. Like his cerulean blue ‘doe eyes’ and his dimples. Whereas Aedan is almost a spitting image of Dad, he did inherit Mom’s coffee brown eyes and naturally bronzed skin.

“Hey, Dad!” Eve says slyly as she glides to stand next to him before wrapping her thin, sculpted arms around his midsection. “How was work?”

“Hi
, princess, and good. You’re not really… wearing that, are you? I mean, out in public. Where men will see you?” he asks nervously. He knows that this is what we plan to wear, but I don’t think he’s ready to see us as ‘all grown up’ yet.

“Yes,
Daddy. We are planning to wear this. Not to change the subject, but we need to talk to you,” she says sweetly as she leads him to my bed, sits down, and pats the empty spot next to her.

“Uh
, oh. This can’t be good,” he says softly, running a hand over his face as he sits down next to Eve.

Joining on his other side, I decide to start it off. “Mom’s
acting like a bitch again,” I say quietly.

“Joey, it’s not nice to call anyone, especially your mother
, a bitch,” he scolds. Exhaling, he continues. “What’d she do now?”

“Well, besides calling us fat,
again
, she gave us a huge chore list when we got home from school. And it has to be done by tonight for her stupid barbeque tomorrow,” Eve whines. “Daddy, it’s our birthday!”

“I understand that being a part of this family means that we have to help out
, but Dad, it’s not fair that she makes us do
everything
, and Aedan never has to lift a finger. He’s her golden boy, and we’re her flippin’ Cinderella,” I vent.

“Tell me what your plans are for tonight?” he asks.

“Dad, are you even—”

“Tell me what your plans are,” my dad says sternly, cutting Eve off.

“There’s a songwriting contest tonight at Monsoon. Each participant in the contest has to perform their own songs and music. I’m entering. I refuse to miss it, Dad,” I tell him slightly shaking my head.

“A
songwriting contest, huh?” he asks. “What does the winner get?”

“$10,000!” Eve nearly shouts.

“And,” I laugh, “the song the winner performs will be bought by the leading record label in the industry,
and
they’ll be guaranteed a meeting with three of the top labels in the country.”

“Wow. And you’re confident that you’ll have the guts to actually perform?” he teases.

“I hope so.” I roll my eyes. “This could be life changing if I win.”

“Well, happy birthday
, my angels.” He smiles. “Give me that damn list. I’ll take care of it. And I’ll deal with your mother.
If
this is what you want, Joey,” he says as he turns to peer into my eyes, “then you perform your ass off tonight and fight for what you want. Understood?”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I throw my arms around his neck, jumping into his lap and hugging him as tight as I possibly can.

“Um… I feel left out,” Eve pouts.

“Aw. Little Evie is feeling lonely?” I tease in a baby talk voice.

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, and Dad pulls her into our hug. “So this list… it’s pretty big, Dad.”

“What’s on it?” he asks.

“I think you’re better off asking what’s not on it.” Eve laughs.

“Figures,” Dad
mumbles as he stands and runs his hand over his balding spot.
Maybe that’s why he’s going bald.
Dad stands up from the bed and takes a step forward, turns to face us, plops his hands on his hips as he crumples the list in his hand. “So… those outfits. Are you sure you want to wear that tonight?” He questions again as red blushing the apples of his cheeks.

Eve and I both just laugh. “Yes, Dad,” we both say in unison before laughing at him again.

“Just thought I’d ask,” he said. “I want you girls to have fun tonight, but I also want you to be safe,” he says sternly. “I know, that you know better than to leave any drink unattended and to never accept a drink from anyone other than the bartender or server, whether it’s water, soda, or… something stronger,” he ends on a shaky breath. He brings his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose to gently pinch it as he closes his eyes and slightly shakes his head. Without looking up, he asks, “Are you ladies planning to drink tonight? Honestly.”

Eve and I look at each other. We’ve always been able to be honest with Dad. Whether it was about boys or school, or whatever. In fact, even when Eve and I both started menstruating, we went to him
—not Mom. I never was okay with lying to Dad about anything. Besides Eve, Aedan and Dad were my other closest best friends. I know, I know. That sounds cheesy, sad, and cliché—
but
they really are the best people I know. Sure, I have friends outside of our little gang, but if I had to choose, I’d choose these three every single time.

“Possibly,” I spit out before Eve can throw him a lie. I hear her gasp before she shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “What?” I hiss at her. “I’m not going to lie to him!”

“All right, all right,” Dad says softly on a sigh as he shakes his head again. “I appreciate the honesty. I know… I know you both are adults now, but I want you to know that you will
always
be my little angels. I want you to have fun, but I want you to be safe. So,” he says as he perks up a bit and claps his hands and then rubs them together, “
if
you both end up drinking, I want you to be responsible and call me for a ride. I’ll take you back to your car in the morning after ensuring that your hangovers suck the life out of you.” He grins widely.

“Aw, Daddy,
I don’t get hangovers, Joey does,” she teases.

“Yeah, I’ll be screwed
.” I laugh. “Are you sure about that though, Dad? I mean Mom will be pissed!”

“Yeah. I know. Like I said, let
me
deal with your mother. Just make sure you both have your cells on you, and
on
. Aedan’s working third tonight, but he told me to wish you both a happy birthday and that he’ll take you out for breakfast in the morning if he’s not forced for the next shift.”

“Awesome! Nothing better after a night of drinking than breakfast!” Eve says excitedly. “I mean… so I’ve heard,” she whispers. Dad just laughs.

“Yeah, right,” he says shaking his head. “One more thing then I’ll let you get to your plans. You both know that you’re not fat, right? You’re curvy, but you’re also in shape and strong. Curves are… good.” He nods his head. “You’re both beautiful and your Mom’s a fool to think anything but.”

“
So why does she hate us so much?” I whisper.

“Your mother doesn’t
—”

“Yes, Dad, she does. But you know what? She always has. And she’s showed me what type of
mom I won’t be. So fuck her.” I shrug.

Eve laughs and Dad beams a smile. “That’s my little angel!” He gives Eve and I one last hug before wishing us both a happy birthday and me good luck for tonight.
Tonight
. Ugh. Can I really do this? I have to. I
need
to.

“Ready?” Eve asks as she slips on her nude pumps and grabs her
clutch. Grabbing mine off my bed, I follow her out the door. “I figured we can go somewhere for dinner before we head to Monsoon. Cool?”

“Sure,” I nearly whisper back to her. I’d rather not make it known that we are leaving. The
fewer encounters with the evil bitch, the better.

After indulging in a few drinks at dinner using our fake ID’s, we head over to Monsoon. This competition was blasted everywhere so I know the turnout is going to be huge.
I offered to drive because one, I’m a better driver than she is. Eve tends to have a lead foot when it comes to being on the road—not to mention her road rage. And two, well, driving always helps calm me. It helps me sort my thoughts, and it’s also one of the best times for me to write lyrics. The only problem with that is trying to remember them to get them down on paper after I park.

“So, Mom wasn’t home again. I don’t know about you, but I find that fuckin’ weird
.” Eve breaks my thoughts with her banter.

“Yeah, I noticed
.” I sigh. “I honestly don’t care though, Eve. The less she’s home, the easier our lives are.”

“True story
.” She shrugs before she starts jumping in her seat. “So! How fuckin’ nervous are you?” She smiles.

“
Ugh! Really, Eve?” I give her the stink eye.

“What?”
She holds her hands out as if she has no idea why that annoys me.

“I’m terrified!” I screech. “You know I hate singing in front of people. But if this is what it’s going to take to get my songs heard, then,” I shrug, “I bite the dust and jump head first, I guess.”

“Oh, my God, Joey,” she shakes her head, “you are an amazing singer. You should skip the dream of just being a songwriter and become a recording artist who writes her own shit.” She smiles.

“No. Simple as that. Not. A. Fucking. Chance,” I
say through clenched teeth.

“Why not? Joey, you know you have a fantastic voice. Your sound is so unique. Soulful, bluesy, and powerful. You’re like
a fuckin’ chameleon,” she tells me as she lightly shoves my shoulder. “Besides, you’re my better half. I don’t have any talents even remotely as cool as you do. The least you can do is to live it up and take me along for the ride.” She winks, which causes me to laugh out loud.

“Oh, come on! Yes, you do!”

“Yeah, like what?” She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. Her brows furrow as she peers back at me.

“Well… you’re an excellent shopper. You could also be a race car driver with that lead foot of yours,” I tease.

She laughs a deep belly laugh before composing herself. “No, for real, Jo. You got this shit tonight. I know you do.” She smiles determinedly. “And I’m going to be your biggest fan!” She throws me a rock sign with her fingers as she sticks her tongue out—mimicking the famous KISS look.

I pull up to the jam-packed parking lot at Monsoon
. I drive up and down the parking rows for what seems like a century scouring for an open space. Seeing all of these cars and knowing that most people didn’t come solo has my nerves on overdrive.
Oh, shit
. I can feel my pulse speed as my palms begin to sweat. A light sheen of sweat breaks out above my lip and on the back of my neck.

Finding a spot
toward the back, I pull in and quickly slam the car into park before cutting the engine. My hands find their way back to the steering wheel, clenching it so tight my knuckles turn white. My mind goes blank, and I feel my breaths growing heavy.

“Eve,” I whisper.

“Dude, Joey, settle down. You are going to rock this tonight, babe! I promise! Just think of it as if it’s just you playing me a new song. It’s just you and me. Okay?” she says reassuringly, her hand gently rubbing my back.

My tongue feels thick as my mouth grows dry. Unable to find my voice, I just nod my head.

“Hey!” she calls firmly, cradling my face in between both of her hands. “Rock this shit. Show them how fucking incredibly talented you are. Show them why
you
deserve this.”

“Yeah
.” I nod. “Yeah,” I say more determined, pushing my shoulders back and tipping my chin up slightly. “You’re right. You’re right! I got this. I do deserve this. My music is good. It’s damn good,” I say aloud to more or less calm myself than to tell her.

“Damn straight!”
She laughs as she reaches for the handle of the door and steps out, her ass nearly peeking out of the bottom of her dress.

“Jesus
, Eve!” I laugh. “Could you find anything shorter?”

“Yes! I probably could’ve if my sister
weren’t such a bitch to give me last minute notice.” She winks.

She meets me at the back of the car, slides her arm through mine, and we walk to the entrance of one of the newest clubs in Milwaukee
—Monsoon. The building is constructed of different shades of red and tan bricks. It resembles more of an old warehouse than a club from the outside. However, stepping inside past the bouncer, the concrete floors are painted a dark grey with dark navy walls with a few lighter shades strategically swirled throughout. White and grey framed pictures of famous musicians, old and new, are sporadically hung against the intricate design of the walls. White tables and chairs litter the outer area of the interior with a huge bar resting on a sunken level of the floor. The opposite side of the bar is a designated dance area with a huge stage lining the far back wall. They went for a simplistic look, but damn, the place reeks of sophistication and class.

“So, now what
?” Eve whispers into my ear.

“Now you go find a place to rest your cute
lil’ ass while I head backstage and prepare.” I force a smile on my face. I feel like I could vomit right now. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

“Go get ‘
em, Tiger!” She winks as she slaps my ass before trotting away.

Squaring
my shoulders, I head backstage. The man guarding the area asks my name, and then searches down the list until he finds my name. He hands me a backstage pass and tells me I have to wear it at all times until I hit the stage. I have to say, the feeling that washes over me over the simple fact that I have a backstage pass is unreal. Thrilling and exciting. The nerves are still loud and present, but the sense of accomplishment starts to creep in.

Slipping the pass over my head, I walk further in and find an empty space to sit
to concentrate on the song that I’m going to be performing tonight.

A short, mousy girl comes around with a clipboard in her hand
. She stops in front of me and pushes her black rimmed glasses that are perched at the end of her nose back up with her forefinger. Then she begins nearly whispering to me random questions on what I’m singing, what genre of music it classifies as, and asking for my ID to make a copy. After being grilled for nearly ten minutes, I’m informed that I’m the
last
contestant to perform.

Great.
I get to watch all of these amazingly talented performers so I can psyche myself out even more.
Perfect.

*****

Finally, my name is called. Standing from my seat, I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and my rapidly beating heart. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt, square my shoulders, and force a smile on my face as I step out onto the stage. Hoots, hollers, and catcalls ring out. I try to find Eve in the mass of bodies, but all I see are shadows and shapes. The blue stage lighting they have on for my set is so blinding that if I stare any longer I’ll go blind.

I take my seat
at the sleek, black, grand piano that allows the crowd to almost have a full-on view of my face. Taking another breath, I close my eyes, force myself to drown out all sound, and get lost in my head. Bringing my fingers up to the keys, the tips of my fingers lightly brush them to find their home, and then I start. I play as if my life depends on it. Like there’s nothing more important than for people to hear this song.
My
song.

The interlude ends, and I open my mouth to sing. My eyes quickly open, look down at the beautiful sound my fingers are creating, and the words pour from me. I sing about how I’m breakable. How the words that are said and the actions that are made against me can make me bleed.
How I’m strong, and I can take a lot, but ultimately, I’m only human. I will break.

Losing the reality of where I am, tears spring to my eyes
as a rush of peace and sadness and freedom course through me. I feel every word of this song deep down into my soul. The words, the melody, the meaning—all of it—means everything to me. As I sing the last note, holding it for a few breaths, my fingers stroking the last key softly, I open my eyes, and all I feel is fear. The fear of knowing that my current fate rests in these people’s hands. In the hands of the judges. If they hate my song, I will break.

I stand up from the piano bench, walk around the baby grand, and take a bow for the
applauding and screaming crowd before exiting the stage.

All of
the performers are left to keep swallowing the vomit that threatens to make an appearance for a good twenty minutes before the top three contestants are called back on stage. Two contestants have already been called, and I feel my shoulders sag in defeat.
I knew it
. All I want to do is cry, but I refuse to let them see me defeated. There’s only three people in the world I let see me like that, and even then, it’s far and few between.

As I turn to make my way out to the audience, I hear my name ring out before screams echo from the crowd. My body freezes, my heart stops, and I struggle to catch my breath.

“Joey Delaney!” they announce again.

Holy shitballs!
“Oh, my God,” I whisper in awe as I turn toward the stage and make my way out to stand next to the Indie Rock guy, who, to be honest, I bet money will be the winner. He was
fan-fucking-tastic
.

“Well, ladies and
gentlemen, we want to thank you for coming out to show your support tonight to all of the crazy talented songwriters in our area. Are you all having fun tonight?” Tim the Zack Morris look-alike shouts into the microphone enthusiastically, causing the entire crowd to scream, clap, and whistle. “Tonight. Tonight is huge for the winner of this contest.” He pauses, turns to look at us, and then smiles before he continues. “The winner will receive not only ten thousand dollars, but the song they performed tonight will be bought by the top leading label in the country! And—they will automatically have a meeting with the top three labels about writing songs for them.” The crowd goes wild. People are shouting and whistling so loud that Tim just stands there in the middle of the stage smiling until they all calm down enough for him to continue.

“These three all did an amazing job tonight. But,” Tim
pauses, holding up a finger, “there can only be
one
winner. So, let’s get to it.” He smiles. “And the winner of the first ever, Monsoon’s Songwriter is… Joey Delaney!”

My jaw hits the floor. So fast and
so far that I have to bring my hand up to make sure that I don’t have drool dripping down my chin. My body feels numb and yet alive all at the same time. Butterflies flap in my stomach and my breath grows rapid. I can’t believe I won. Part of me wants to ask Tim if this is a joke, but by the sounds of the uproar coming from the crowd, I know it’s real. I hear my other half over the deafening noise of the crowd yell my name followed by a string of expletives, instantly bringing tears to drip from my eyes and a huge smile to spread across my face.

Holy shit. Holy shitballs. I did it. I fucking did it. I won. I did it!