Love Will (9 page)

“Lola, have you ever been paid for sex?” She raises both brows at me. “If I offend you with the question, I’m sorry. It’s sort of standard protocol for me. I like to know who I’m messing around with. I was tested about four months ago. Clean results. And I’m really choosy about the women I’m with,” I admit to her. “You should know who you’re messing around with, too.”

She cracks a smile. “Thank you for that,” she says. “No, I’ve never been paid for sex. I don’t intend for you to pay me for this tonight. I’m here on my own volition. I asked for Jaff to bring me here. I’ve never done anything like this before, but there’s something about you that made me want to do something nice for you. Maybe it was the look of desperation in your eyes. Maybe it was the hard-on you kept trying to hide with your guitar on stage. Maybe it was the lyrics in that song you wrote. I’m not sure… a part of me thinks you put subliminal messages in your show, and that’s why I’m here,” she says, making me laugh. “And a part of me just thinks you’re incredibly sexy and I like to do nice things for sexy, lonely boys sometimes.”

“How do you know I’m lonely?”

“I listened to the lyrics. Damon gave you credit for the song… I assume those words came from somewhere.” She touches the area over my heart and climbs onto the table in between my legs. “Maybe here.”

I put my hand on her chin and pull her lips to mine, sighing through the first kiss I’ve had in more than six weeks. That hard-on she mentioned is back with a vengeance now.

“I can’t have sex with you,” I tell her. “I wo–”

“Will,” she says, putting her finger over my lips. “I heard the song. I know you’re waiting for something more. I get it. I respect it. But guys have needs–even ones trying to be good. This’ll take the edge off.” She unbuttons the fly on my jeans. God.
Freedom
. I hoist myself up to let her remove my jeans, and then my boxers. Fuck, this must be what it feels like to break out of jail. I feel so liberated right now, watching Lola as she positions her head between my legs. I take off my shirt, feeling heat spreading over my body already. After tossing the tee across the room, I gather her blonde hair in one hand and hold it behind her head so I can see her better. So I can see the moment she takes me into her mouth.

“Oh, fuuuuuck.” I swear, the girl must have a forked tongue, the way she’s handling me. It would kind of explain her devilish activities, too, but I don’t really care. Her hands caress me gently; her fingertips drag at just the right second. I normally have to talk girls through it, but not Lola. She’s got this task mastered. Every time she makes the tiniest adjustment with her tongue or teeth, or the way she draws me in, or hums with her mouth around me, my stomach tightens just a little more. The currents start to build tumultuously. She even has the pace down to where I don’t have to guide her. I’m still fisting her hair with one hand, though, because she seems to like it, and the sheets on the table with the other. When I feel my length grow to hit the back of her throat, I’m done for. I convulse and shudder and let out weeks of repressed sexual frustration in waves. I feel like I’m coming back to life and dying at the same time. I fucking
love
it.

I lie sprawled out, naked on the table, trying to catch my breath. She moves one of my legs over and takes the space next to me, putting an arm around me. I wrap both of mine around her, even though I’m hot and sticky and probably don’t smell very awesome after a full day, a long concert, and getting worked up during her incredible blow job.

She doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Thank you,” I tell her once I can speak. I wriggle a little to get her attention, and when she looks up at me, I kiss her fully, hoping she knows how grateful I am for what she did. “You have no idea how badly I needed that. Just… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And this stays between us… right?”

“Of course,” she assures me. “I don’t really want people to know I did this, either. It was
our
moment…”

“Right… I hate to do this, but I really do have to get back.”

She smiles up at me. “I know you do. Let me give you my number in case, you know… you ever think there might be a chance for something more.” I know she’s looking right at me, but I keep my eyes focused on the ceiling tiles. Is that why she did this? Because she thought she’d be
the one
?

“Sure, yeah,” I respond, not really knowing what else I should say to her. I move off the table quickly. I sincerely hope she didn’t think that was the way to get to me. After putting on my underwear and jeans, I take my phone from my pocket and hand it to her, keeping an eye on what she’s doing to make sure she’s not navigating to any other screens. She bites her lip tentatively when she hands it back to me.

“Lola, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.” I step around her to get my shirt. She throws her arms around me as I make my way to the door. “Oh, yeah.” I hug her back and kiss her one last time. “Oh, look. Damon texted me… I really have to go.”

“Okay, Will. I hope to hear from you… when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Have a great night. Thanks for coming to the show, and… for… you know.” I go to the front door where Jaff is waiting. “I can find my way back, if you need to let her out…” He nods at me, and as soon as I hear the door lock, I take off running back to the venue where my friends wait.

I go back in the door I exited from.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ben asks me.

“I… uh, went for a run. Just had so much energy left, I had to get it out. Where are we off to?” Honestly, I just want to go back to the bus and collapse in my bed. I’ve never felt so worn out in my life.

“They have an exclusive lounge they want to host us at. The other guys are already there. You look like shit.”

“Should I change? I can go change,” I suggest, thinking it’d be a great way to get back to the bus and find some excuse to stay there. I could get sick or something.

“No, just… give me your shirt.”

“What? No.”

“Give me your god damn shirt! There are photographers upstairs,” he says as he unbuttons his nicely pressed blue one. I take mine off, feeling bad that he’s going to put on my sweaty clothes. “The things I do for you guys.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“You spill shit on this, you
are
buying me a new one.”

“Got it.”

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall, turn left, then right. I’ve got to settle up here,” he tells me. “Go charm them all. You were great tonight.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as I see a bathroom, I go in and take off Ben’s shirt, splashing some cold water all over my face, neck and chest to cool down. I dry off as best as I can with the thick paper hand towels on the counter. I inspect myself closely to make sure there’s nothing that says I was with a girl at all tonight, because I don’t want anyone to find out.

I shouldn’t have done that. Regret is already weighing heavily on my conscience. I’d made it seven weeks on this tour without a hook-up. Now I have to start at fucking zero. Plus, this girl thinks she earned the coveted role of my girlfriend by giving me a hummer.
If only the world worked that way, Lola. Harsh realities, sweetie.

I’m
such
a dick.

“There he is!” Damon says, standing up and applauding me when I walk into the darkened room. Dim sconces on the walls are the only sources of light except for a cool fixture behind the bar made out of colored glass bottles. He’s surrounded by four women, Tavo and Peron at one table, but there are other tables around him that are obviously part of the party, too. Everyone follows his lead and claps at my entrance.

I take a bow and laugh, then head over to where everyone’s gathered. “Make room for Will,” Damon says, signaling for one of the ladies to leave. Immediately, a waitress is at the table, asking what I’d like to drink. I look around, giving my standard order.

“A Coke.” She starts to walk toward the bar across the room, where Jaff has now returned. He’s ordering a drink for–
fuck
.
Lola
. “Miss? Waitress?”

“Her name’s Erica,” Damon says.

“Erica!” She turns around. “Wait, you know what? Do you like beer?” She nods her head. “Bring me your favorite one.”

“Do you like light or dark beer?” she asks.

“Surprise me.” When I turn around, Tavo, Peron and Damon are all staring at me like I’ve grown horns. “What?”

“Did you forget that you don’t drink?” Peron asks me.

“First time for everything, right? I just feel like celebrating a little.”

“You don’t celebrate with beer, man,” Damon says as I take the place to the left of one of the girls sitting next to him. He reaches around her to pat me on the back. Erica sets down a small glass and pours an incredibly dark beer with thick foam into it.

“Locally brewed. Bourbon County Stout. You look like a man who can drink.” She winks at me before taking Damon’s order for three bottles of champagne.

“Yeah?” I ask her.
Can
, or
needs to
, I wonder.

Tavo picks up the bottle and inspects it. “Fourteen-percent ABV. Go easy,” he leans across the table to say to me.

“It’s just a beer.” I shrug my shoulders, and after the foam dissipates, I take a sip. “Damn, that doesn’t taste
anything
like the beer I used to sneak when I was a kid. It’s, like, chocolate… and caramel. Fuck, I’m drinking alcohol-laced candy,” I say, laughing. “Not bad.” It’s pretty bitter and heavy, but easy for me to drink. Damon tips the rest of the bottle into my glass when I’ve devoured the first pour.

Erica brings another waitress with her to help divvy up the champagne that was ordered.

“This is how we celebrate,” my best friend says as he hands me a glass. “To you and
Where Your Horizon Meets Mine
, which is the best fucking song I’ve ever sung.”

“It was incredible,” the girl next to me says, putting one of her hands on my arm. The other girls chime in.

“Next time, Peron and I play, too,” Tavo says. “I feel left out.”

“Definitely,” I say. “The bridge in the middle–the way Peron and I wrote it for the whole band–the way it builds–it’s phenomenal. Standing ovation-type of phenomenal.”

Peron nods. “We can practice tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow, we ain’t workin’,” Damon says. “Day off means day off. We’ve earned it.”

“Cheers to that,” I say as I clink my glass to his and down the whole flute of the light, bubbly drink. It’s, like, the polar opposite of the first drink.

“Try this one,” Erica says as she leaves another beer in front of me.

“Avery the Beast. Sounds terrifying,” I tell her, grinning.

Tavo examines this bottle, too. “She’s trying to get you drunk. That shit’s sixteen-point-seven percent ABV.”

“You realize your numbers have no significance to me. It’s like me trying to have a conversation with you about the Schrödinger equation.”

“Stop throwing around your big calculus words.”

“Quantum chemanics. Chem… Mechanics.” I shake my head. “Tongue-tied,” I say.

“I’ve never seen Will drunk,” Damon chuckles. “This is gonna be fun.”

“What is going on here?” Ben says, looking over at me, still wearing my shirt. Peron glances at it, confused.

“I was about to ask the same thing… something you’re not telling us? Ben? Will?”

“I’m taking one for the team,” Ben says. “And this shirt’s getting burned after tonight.” He pinches the ends of my Red Hot Chili Peppers tee between his fingers.

“The hell it is,” I tell him. “John Frusciante gave that to me when I was nineteen.”

“Really?” Ben asks.

Damon answers for me while I drink my beer. “He happened to be at a bar we were playing at. Told Will he’d never seen so much talent in such a young guy. That was literally the shirt off his back.”

“Bullshit.”

“Swear to God. He said he expected to be wearing a t-shirt of Will’s band one day.”

“I’m wearing John Frusciante’s shirt?”

I see Jaff approach the table with about eight girls. I make brief eye-contact with Lola, but decide the bottom of my beer glass is much more interesting right now.
Please don’t acknowledge me
.

“I wanted to make some introductions,” he says to us.

“Please do,” Tavo says.

“Ladies?” Jaff speaks to the three girls left at our table, and they immediately get up, taking their cue to be dismissed. Damon holds the hand of one of them, keeping her at the table with us. Ben sits at one of the empty seats as I reach for the champagne bottle and pour myself another glass, feeling the sweat begin to break across my forehead. “Feel free to spread out to some of the other tables,” our host says after telling us all their names. Ben is on his feet immediately and puts his arm around Lola, guiding her to a secluded booth in the corner. She watches me as they walk away.