Текст книги "Memphis Black"
Автор книги: M. J. Fields
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Copyright © MJ Fields 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st Edition Published:
Published by MJ Fields 2015
Cover Design by: K23 Design
Cover Model: Michael Fagone
Photographer: Shauna Kruse
First Edit by: C&D
Final Edit by: Kellie Montgomery
Formatting by: IndieVentions
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*Disclaimer*
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are consenting adults over the age of 18.
Table of Contents
Prologue
The Band
Julliard
Final set as opening act…
No more…
Sex, sex, and more sex
Just Me
Beach Babes
Next Steps
Fireball
Hung Over
The Woodshed
No Bang Bang
A Walk on the Wild Side
Disarray
POW! Exposed
What’s your emergency?
Hydrate, rest, heal
Coming Undone
Not Like Him
The Return
All Work No Play
Scheduled
Dolphins be damned
Feast
Stage Ready
Not Ready
Surface to Soul
Epilogue
Thank You
About the Author
More from MJ Fields
Connect with MJ Fields
I look in the mirror one last time, noticing my hair is longer on top than it is on the sides. The gel I use to style it makes it look messy and black instead of dark brown. With my black boots, I stand at six-foot-three, and having spent an hour at the gym every night after school, I finally have great definition. I’m stage ready.
I walk out on stage with my guitar strung around my neck, pick in hand, waiting for the nerves to consume me. But they don’t.
Why? Because I’m a damn legend; that’s why. The stadium is sold out, and the crowd is going wild.
“Hello, New Jersey!” I hold the mic out for the crowd’s roar, and they give me exactly what I want.
“I am Memphis Black, lead singer and guitarist extraordinaire for—” Fuck, I hate this part. What the hell is the band’s name?
“Black Hawks,” my sister Madison whispers.
“The Black Hawks!” I yell to the crowd.
“That name is so lame.” I hear my sister’s friend Tally giggle.
“You two, out.”
“No, you said, if we videotaped this, you would—”
“Out!”
“Come on, it’s our first dance. We need to learn how!” Madison stomps her foot.
“Well, you didn’t hold up your end of the deal, now did you?” I lift the guitar strap over my head.
“Come on, please,” Madison says with huge eyes.
“Yeah, please,” Tally joins her.
I consider telling them to fuck off, but they would tell Mom. I consider a simple no, but they’d tell her that, too. Therefore, I choose the safest answer.
“Fine. But you both have to shut the hell up.”
Tally covers her mouth, looking horrified. The girl is a train wreck in epic, adolescent proportion. She has kinky brown curls and a ribbon always wrapped around her head. Freckles bridge her nose and dot her face, and she always wears cartoon character T-shirts. Today, it’s Care Bears.
“What now, Tales?” I huff.
“You said—”
“Hell?” I laugh.
She giggles again. “Yeah, you did.”
“You know what? I think the both of you should just stay home. All freshman girls do at a dance is stand in a corner, giggle, and look like dweebs.” I look at my sister. “Mads, if a boy asks you to dance, you’ll start laughing and snorting.” Next, I point at her friend. “Tall, you’ll get some big-ass grin.” I roll my eyes when she covers her mouth again. The little girl can’t handle a curse word to save her life. “Just keep smiling and laughing, and they’ll think there’s something wrong up in those crazy heads of yours. Besides, you’re both in that—I don’t know—the awkward stage: braces, boobs just budding …”
Tally covers her mouth again, while Madison starts to get really pissed off.
“I mean, look at that hair. Mads, you’re so used to wearing a ball cap you have permanent hat head. And you—” I can’t resist taking one more shot at Tally—“how the hell are you gonna get a comb through that kinky mess before Saturday?”
That’s when Madison finally screams for Mom. Tally just looks at me like that cat from the cartoon, the one with the big, green guy. Shrek? Yeah, Shrek. Puss, Puss in Boots. That’s what her face looks like.
Looking back at her, I almost feel kind of bad for giving them a hard time.
Mom comes in then and gives me the third degree. She tells me, “Girls are sensitive when they’re going through changes,” and that I should ‘be more thoughtful.’
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Okay, Mom, fine. I will buy into their little girl fantasies about that girl with the blue dress, the one with the mice that turn into horses—”
“Cinderella.” In spite of herself, my mom laughs.
“Yeah, her.”
Her face goes from amused to suspicious. “What exactly are they doing in your room, anyway?”
“They were supposed to be taping my performance.”
I try not to smile as she gives me that look. I know exactly what she’s about to say: that my rock star fantasies are just as lame as some dumb fairytale with talking mice.
“It’s not the same thing, Mom. This is my dream, something I can actually make into a career one day.”
“I know, Memphis.” She pats my back, smiling. “But maybe their dream is to dance.”
“What do you mean, ‘we need a new name’?” I ask Nick DeAngelo.
Nick, or Nickie D as we call him, our manager, crosses his arms, the black ink on his dark skin peeking out from under his shirtsleeve. “Steel is used in everything now: the popularity of the tattoo shop, the business, the—”
“Not our fault no one else has an ounce of creativity.” Finn stands up, pulls his knit cap down to his eyebrows, pushes his dark hair to the side away from his eyes, and starts pacing. “I mean, really, what the fuck is wrong with people? Get your own shit.”
I back him up. “Steel is where it all began. It means something to us, Nick. And to Xavier, to—”
“His wife, Taelyn.” River wiggles his eyebrows.
River, our drummer, adores our boss’s wife. He should. She saved his ass from being kicked out at least ten times due to his inability to stay sober for more than ten damn minutes.
“Keep Steel, then.” Nick throws his hands up. “Just make it different.”
“Better,” Finn snarls. “Fuckers.”
Nick looks at his watch. “I have a meeting to get to. You guys put your creative minds together and come up with something. But don’t take too long. This tour is gonna happen. Hell, it is happening. We just need a strong name. Something Steel, but—”
River grabs his junk through his torn up jeans. “Deeper.”
“Much deeper.” Finn reaches over to give River a fist bump.
“Balls deep,” I join in, making it a three-way fist bump explosion.
Nick shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but ‘Balls Deep’ isn’t gonna fly, boys. Keep brainstorming and shoot me a text. Then I need to get T-shirts and merch’ rolling.”
“Do we get a cut of that?” River asks.
“River, the money is used to help cover the band’s expenses.” With that, Nick walks out the door without a backward glance.
Once he’s out of earshot, we all look at each other.
“We’re sticking with Steel,” I declare.
“Hell yes, we are,” Finn and River chime in together.
“Steel Rocks?” Finn suggests.
“Lame.” Even as I say it, I know River agrees.
“Steel Destruction,” I try, and we all look at each other, speculating. “Bad ass, right?”
“Yeah, but it needs to be totally bad ass, without question, man. Has to be totally fucking us, totally fucking hard, and hot. Just like our music.”
I laugh. “Steel Total Destruction?”
No one says a word; we all just stare at each other.
After a while, River nods. “That’s right. We’ll go so hard, we’ll make anything else look like shit.”
“Ruin it for all the other fucks out there,” Finn adds. “Tear shit up.”
I like where this is headed.
“So, we’re set. We are now ‘Steel Total Destruction’?” I wait for the vote to carry.
“Fuck yes, we are.”
“I’m sending Nick a text.”
I chuckle evilly to myself as I type: WE WILL BE ‘STEEL TOTAL DESTRUCTION,’ THE BADDEST ASSES OUT THERE, GIVING RESPECT TO THE MAN WHO FOUND US.
Not even five seconds later, Nick messages back that he loves it.
“He’s in.” I laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny, man?” River asks.
“Not a damn thing.” I shake my head, laughing inside. Killer fucking name.
***
I wake up to my phone squawking with last night’s audition grumbling, lying bare-assed next to me. Still half asleep, I grab my phone, read the message, and push her off me.
First things first. I stumble out of my room in search of some ibuprofen and a gallon of water to get rid of the hellish hangover I’m sporting. Finn is still awake, writing, and River is asleep in his room with the Bobbsey Twins. Not really twins, but Finn felt inspired. Apparently, the treat he brought home wasn’t as important as the lyrics running inside his head, so River got two for the price of one.
“You get a text, too?” I ask Finn after popping the pills.
“Yes.” He doesn’t even bother to look up. “I just need ten more minutes. This is coming together perfectly.” He reaches for the bottle of Firewater sitting next to him and takes a swig.
“Finn, your liver’s gonna be pissed at you, man,” I say over my shoulder as I head toward the bathroom.
There’s no damn way I could do that shit: drink all night, get no sleep, eat no food, score no pussy, and still be awake in the morning, writing. He’s crazy.
***
Saturday morning, we walk into Forever Four, our label’s headquarters, for an impromptu meeting. None of us are feeling it. The whole way over, Finn and River were trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
As soon as the door opens and I hear Xavier Steel’s voice booming from the conference lounge, and I know what is up. But fuck if I’m gonna let them know that I know.
“He sounds pissed, man.” River’s eyebrows are sky high. “His wife is probably not giving it up since I’m sure she is just waiting to tell him she’s in love with me. She’s going to leave his ass for mine. Of course, I’d try to talk her out of it. Out of respect and shit.”
I chuckle. “You’d cream yourself if she ever gave you the time of day.” Taelyn Steel is hot, red-haired, tall, thin, and totally in love with her husband, exactly like he is with her. We just allow River this little, indulgent fantasy. It’s not hurting a damn thing… and it pisses X-man off, which is always funny.
“I would have brought her on board, let her feel my beat.” River cringes. “But she has a kid now.”
Whatever. Fucker loves that woman. I know damn well he would hit it and try to keep it.
“They’re kids,” Nick is saying. It sounds like he’s trying to calm the X-man down.
“That’s just stupid shit, Nick!” X sounds pissed, more pissed than I have ever heard him and I’ve heard him pissed. “Between you and Rico, neither of you thought I should know? How many thousands were spent on these fucking shirts and hats and—”
“Slow the fuck down, X. One damn question at a time.” Nick’s laugh is awkwardly placed. “First, you are the one who said the name needed more.”
“More, yes. But this shit?”
“Rico’s design is sick, man.” Nick’s tone is calm now. “And you got my text and said ‘sounds good,’ so your stamp of approval is on this shit, too. No time to change it. This starts tomorrow if they agree.”
“They’d better fucking agree. They’d better also realize that the way this company works is shit gets paid back before the royalties start getting doled out. Assuming they get a huge cut, they just completely fucked us all with this stunt.”
“I disagree.” I walk in, wearing my business face.
“What the hell is he talking about?” River follows me in and grabs one of the T-shirts off the table. “This is sick.”
He holds it up against himself as Finn and I sit, turning our attention to River like he’s working the center pole at a strip club. He takes the black tee with the grey, crackled circle enclosing the different shades of reds and oranges spelling out our band’s name as he dry humps the air and rubs it down his front.
“Sick is right!” Xavier doesn’t look or sound impressed. “You tell me, River, how well do you think you’re gonna do at the after parties with the ladies sporting one of those T-shirts?”
“I always do well with the ladies.” River drops the shirt and plops down next to Finn.
“Are you high?” Xavier scowls at him.
“Just a few hits this morning.” He shrugs. “Just pot, though. Not the other stuff.”
This is good considering River was shooting up when Xavier found him and then he had a coke habit for a while after that.
Exasperated, Xavier throws his hands up. “Nick, we aren’t ready for this shit in three days.” He points at the three of us. “You guys want this about as much as anyone wants”—he holds up the shirt—“a fucking STD.”
“People love rock, X.” River picks up the shirt again and looks at it, paying attention to the details for the first time, and his smile disappears. “That shit’s not funny, Memphis.”
“So, there we have it.” X scowls. “The fucking ‘normal’ one is behind the name?”
Finn pushes his sleeves up, exposing the ink that covers his arms before he folds his arms over his chest. “All three of us decided on it. It’s actually quite genius.”
“Nothing funny about a goddamned STD,” River growls, adjusting himself under the table.
“River obviously had no idea.” Xavier looks between Finn and me, like he’s trying to decide which one of us is gonna be sent to stand in the corner.
“River knew,” Finn says. “He was just too fucked up to—”
“Bullshit,” River sputters. “I haven’t smoked in three days… until this morning.”
Xavier is now pacing and sputtering under his breath.
“We promote safe sex,” I speak up, trying to put a spin on it.
“Yeah, that’ll go over like River at an NA meeting,” Xavier huffs.
“I should take offense to that,” River says, clearly not offended. “And I would if the last one I attended didn’t go so, so horribly wrong.”
“You know those T-shirt cannons they use at sporting events?” Xavier looks at me like I’m crazy, so I clarify. “I sent a message to a friend last night, and he’s building us a condom cannon—”
“Fucking genius.” Finn reaches out his fist for me to bump.
“We just need to get some condoms with this logo on it, and we’re golden. Every bitch in the world is gonna want Steel Total Destruction, the only STD that makes their panties as wet as the Jersey Shore.” I smirk, feeling proud.
“The one that makes them scream out in pleasure,” River adds while typing a note in his phone.
“The burn that doesn’t need medicated ointment.” Finn reaches out his fist again. This time he gets no bump.
“Nah, man.” Nick cringes. ”That’s just sick.”
Knowing Nick’s officially in, I smile to myself. Fucking perfect. Come on, X-man, I silently plead.
“If you fail, this is on you.” Xavier’s eyes narrow as they meet mine.
I shrug. “Ain’t gonna happen. You knew what we were when you handpicked us, so don’t start doubting us now.”
We all look up at the door when X’s wife Taelyn walks in, holding their baby. She looks up and pushes her long, auburn locks over her shoulder.
“Good morning!” She greets as she sways gently with the baby in her arms. Did I mention she’s hot? Yeah she is, and fucking smart, and I knew she would be on our side.
“Good morning, Taelyn.” River makes a beeline for her and the kid. “Hello, baby Patrick.”
Taelyn smiles. “He’s sleeping.”
“Perfect,” River says with a shit-eating smile. “Then may I hold him?”
“Taelyn,” Xavier growls, clearly annoyed.
“Xavier,” she mocks back at him, echoing his tone.
We all laugh except Xavier, of course.
“You sober?” she asks River. We all know that’s her deal with him. He’s sober, or its hands off the kid. As much as River adores older women, he adores kids even more.
I can’t help noticing the way River looks at her, like she’s the damn Mona Lisa. I expect him to bullshit her, but he doesn’t. He has mad respect for her.
He shakes his head, looking guilty, and shrugs. “Maybe next time.”
Taelyn gives him a sad look. “Okay.”
She goes over to Xavier and hands their son over. She kisses the baby’s cheek, then his.
“So, STD, huh?” After seeing the T-shirt, her eyes immediately go to me.
Xavier laughs at my shocked expression. “Seriously, Memphis, you’re like one of our kids.”
“Except for the fact that you would have been, like, two when you had him,” River interjects. “Hot, toddler loving.”
“You’d better watch it, drummer boy,” Xavier hisses while Taelyn nudges him with her elbow.
“I guess it could work.” She holds the shirt up to her chest, smirking. “If anyone can make a venereal disease sound cool, it’s the three of you.”
“Four,” I remind her. “Billy boy could rock an STD shirt like nobody’s business.”
“He could, right?” She laughs. “He’ll be back in a week, very excited.”
“Wait, about what?” I ask.
“You’re opening up for the Brody Hines band’s Burning Souls reunion show, you stupid shit.” Xavier speaks in a stern, yet soft I-don’t-want-to-wake-the-baby, voice.
River looks like someone just slapped him. “You’re fucking joking, right?”
“Nope.” Xavier smiles. “So, let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot, man.” I try to look calm, but shit. Fuck, fuckity, fucking shit!
“You ready to spread ‘your kind of rock’ around like an infectious disease?” The look on his face tells me everything I need to know—X is finally on board.
My laugh is evil and deep. “Hell yes, we are. Hell. Fucking. Yes.”
I feel tingly all over. What a fucking rush this business is. What a motherfucking rush.
I sit at the kitchen table with my head hung low, waiting for the shiz storm to commence. I know I have crossed some lines—well, not just crossed, more like pirouetted across, moonwalked across while flipping the double bird. Then, when no one was looking, I ran back like the dog I was, tail between my legs, in the middle of the night.
I used the proverbial line like a jump rope, hopping back and forth between who I am and who I never dreamed I could become. Never in a million years did I think I would be called to audition. Never in a billion years did I think I would have the guts to spend an entire day, while my parents thought I was on a trip to the city with Madison’s family, actually auditioning in front of the most talented and highest esteemed judges at The Julliard School of Performing Arts.
But I did. I crossed that line. I crossed it good. And now I have to pay the price.
After another fifteen minutes, my parents—also known as Pastor Theodore and Andrea Cruise—finally come out of my father’s office, and I don’t dare look up.
“Thou shalt not covet. Thou shalt honor your father and mother and remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.” My father’s fist strikes the table in front of me, and I jump. “You said dance was a hobby! You lied to your mother and me. And on a Sunday, Tally!”
“Theodore,” my mother scolds him weakly.
“Andrea, if you cannot stand beside me in this, then see your way into the next room.”
My mom and I both gasp at his retort. My father never speaks to her that way, ever.
As he looks at her, his face softens, but only for a moment. “Love is not always sweet, Andrea. This occasion calls for tough love.”
“We should at least hear her out.” My mom’s voice gets a little stronger as she dares to argue. His outburst must have made her mad. “She is nearly eighteen.”
I’m so ashamed, I want to hide underneath the table. I can’t believe I made them fight. I can practically hear the shredding of my acceptance letter already. My father has always believed the man rules the house while the wife keeps it pretty, and children are better seen than heard and always obedient. He’s a good man, of course, but he can be seriously judgmental.
“I never thought I would get in,” I whisper, looking down at my hands. “I just wanted to—I don’t know—try.”
“Try?” My father shakes his head, raising his voice again. “You’ve already applied to Stanford and NYU. You have already spent more than enough time and money trying—”
“But I haven’t been accepted yet.” I look up at him, wiping my tears away in frustration.
His eyes widen, like that fact doesn’t matter in the slightest. I can see his face getting redder, probably because his circulatory system is working overtime. He’s never had to deal with a daughter who talks back before. It can’t be good for his blood pressure.
After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he points to the stairway. “Go. Go now before I say something I cannot take back!”
I leave the little church parish kitchen as quickly as I can without running. Once I’m alone in my room, I grab the door to slam it, but then I don’t. I merely shut it gently and then dramatically throw myself on my bed where I cry, also dramatically.
When a sudden vibration in my pocket makes me jump, I pull out my phone, staring dejectedly at the screen. It’s Madison.
“Hey,” I whisper into the receiver.
“Hey,” she says just as quietly. “Why are we whispering?”
“Madison.” I sigh, sniffling. “I have a joy and a concern to share with you.”
“Wow. Okay, both in the same conversation? I don’t know if I can handle it.”
The sound of her laughter makes me want to cry all over again.
“It’s not funny, Mad. It’s not something to—”
“Ugh, just spill it!”
“Well”—I lick my lips—“my dad got the mail today.”
“Wait, which news is this? The joyous or the concerning?”
“Both,” I say. “I told you they were both—”
“Right, right. Go ahead.”
“My dad got the mail today,” I continue, “and there was a letter from Julliard.”
“No fucking way!”
I cover my mouth out of habit. Curse words always tickle my ears, no matter the content or occasion. “Yes, fluffing way.”
“Oooo, is he, like, really pissed?”
“Of course.” I stifle a giggle, not because of how mad he is, but because of the ‘P-word.’ “There’s no way he’d ever let me go.”
“I don’t think he has the right to tell you what to do, Tally.” Madison sounds angry on my behalf. “You’re gonna be eighteen in three days.”
Of course she doesn’t understand. Her parents are nothing like mine. “I don’t want to disappoint them, though. I don’t—”
“Well, I don’t want you to disappoint you, Tally.” As usual, she bowls right over me. “This is a dream come true. An opportunity of a lifetime, a fucking…”
Suddenly, I hear a soft knock on my door.
“Gotta go.”
I hang up the phone and try to act natural just as Mom walks in.
“You okay?”
I sit up, trying to remember Madison’s words of encouragement. Maybe I just need to try harder.
“I feel awful, Mom, but I don’t want to lie to you. That letter, that acceptance … it makes me happy. So, so happy.”
She sits down on the bed and pulls me into her shoulder. “Give him a couple of days, sweetheart. Just let him think, stew, and vent to me for a while. Then, I think he’ll get over the betrayal.”
Only my mom could make the word ‘betrayal’ sound so biblical.
“Mom, that’s not what I was trying to do. I never dreamed I would get a letter telling me my audition tape was accepted, that they wanted me to come to the auditions, or that I would be chosen to move from ballet to modern dance to …” I trail off when she starts to cry. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m being selfish. My baby girl is growing up. I always knew you had talent. You shine up there on stage. Year after year, I have watched you at recitals—”
“That Dad hates.” I look down, already dreading where this is going.
“No, Tally, he loved watching you dance. He just didn’t like the team uniform,” she says, pushing my hair away from my face. “Every recital, he sat and watched you, and he was in awe of you. He said you looked like he imagined an angel would.”
“I never thought this would happen, but now that it has … I’m so afraid he’ll say no.”
She smiles faintly. “I know you are nervous, but it’s going to be all right.” She kisses my forehead. “Get some rest, baby girl. Things always look brighter in the morning light.”
I nod, feeling better for the first time, hopeful even. “Okay, but first I’m gonna shower. I haven’t had a chance since I got home from the studio.”
“Of course.”
After my shower, I towel off my hair and throw on my favorite pink pajamas. It’s been unusually warm lately, so I open the window and lean out to breathe in the fresh spring air. Then I hear a noise on the street and lean out farther to see what it is.
“Oh, my word!” I freeze when I see him standing under the streetlight.
My breath catches in my throat, but I’m not afraid. I would know him anywhere. Not just because he stands a perfect six-feet-three, but also because of the way he walks—with his head held high, broad shoulders squared—and because of his messy black hair, so effortless and cool. If I could see his eyes in the dark, I would see they are a brilliant blue, like the ocean on a hot day. His jeans hang almost obscenely low. Of course, he’s also wearing his signature white tank top, black boots, and that worn, leather jacket.
I must have leaned a little too far, though, because my phone slips out of my hand to clatter loudly across the porch roof and then over the edge to thud dully on the ground below.
Oh, no! I cringe. Please let that indestructible black case truly be indestructible.
After a few seconds of standing frozen, waiting for all chaos to break loose, I open the window wider, quietly lowering myself onto the roof. I’m not afraid of getting hurt, because I have done it before. We have practiced fire safety drills twice a year in my house for as long as I can remember.
Keeping my center of gravity low, I slide down on my bottom and roll onto my stomach, scooting down until my body is hanging over the edge, my feet blindly searching for the railing. It takes a few tries, but I figure it out. A few seconds later, I’m bent over, rummaging through the bushes, praying I don’t get sprayed by a skunk or bitten by some other inhabitant of the underbrush world. I reach in blindly, poking around until my hand makes contact with something hard and plastic. Then I get out of there as soon as the phone is in my hand.
Once up off the ground, I frisk myself, hoping to remove any dirt or bugs that may have hitched a ride on my pajamas. Confident that I’m not a carrier, I turn around … and scream as a huge hand comes up to cover my mouth.
“If I let go, do you promise not to scream?” The voice is deep and slurred, though undoubtedly Memphis Black’s.
I relax a little, nodding against his hand.
“That’s a good girl.”
He lets go and steps back, eyeballing me suspiciously.
“You don’t have a gun, do you?”
“No,” I whisper, smiling stupidly.
He crosses his muscled arms and leans back against the corner of the porch. After a few seconds, he starts to slide.
“Memphis.” I grab for his arm, trying to keep him upright.
“Shh.” He holds his finger to my lips. “If we wake my parents up, I won’t have any time to spend with you. Not that engaging in a midnight surprise meet and greet with a fan is normal or deserving of my time, but I will say I am intrigued by your choice of attire. Were you going for the ‘little virgin’ look? Because ‘naughty school girl’ is more up my alley.”
I frown up at him. “What are you talking about?”
He smirks and his dimple deepens. “Oh, I see.” He takes a step closer to me.
“You do?” I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Are you lost, little girl?” His tone is campy and a little creepy as he moves into my personal space.
I take a step back.
“Oh, and she is shy.” He groans in a sexy way, and I immediately feel my face burst into flames.
“Memphis, I don’t understand. Why are you here?”
“Oh, I’m sure you just stumbled across my address on the Internet.” He doesn’t seem to understand what I’m asking.
“Memphis,” I try again. “You know me. I’m—”
“Shhh. No names tonight.” His arm snakes around my waist, then pulls me hard against his body. “No names, you sexy, lost, little thing. I’m going to make this little game worth your effort, though. I promise you that.”
His right hand slides up the back of my pajama top, and then he gently takes the back of my head in his other hand, leaning in close.
I should step away; I know that. I should, but I don’t. And when I try to speak up, my voice just isn’t there.
As his lips finally make contact, he slides them across mine without pressing too hard; instead, it’s soft and gentle, the way I always imagined my first kiss, and I feel my body begin to tingle. My eyes close on their own as he kisses my cheek, running his nose along my jaw and down my neck, taking a deep breath as he goes.
“Damn, lost, little one, you smell so sweet.”
I find myself moving my head to the side, giving him more room to take in my fragrance.
I have never felt anything so amazing. I have never felt more special, never thought in my wildest, most secret dreams that Memphis Black would be my first kiss. I can’t believe my childhood dream actually came true.
“Fuck,” he says right before turning his head to throw up not once, but three times. The third time, he manages to get vomit all over my bare feet. When he’s finally done, he straightens up shakily. “I need to go in and lie down.”
I can’t think of anything else to do but help him. Somehow, I manage to get him across the road and prop him against his house. Then I dig around the flowerpot for the Black family’s hidden key before I unlock the door and push it open.
“Memphis.” I shake him awake because he’s sliding again. “Memphis, you’re home.”
He slurs something at me then, some inaudible gibberish. I grab his arm and throw it over my shoulder as I half walk, half drag him inside. We make our way to the couch, and I try to help him sit on it.
His eyes roll back in his head when he tries to look up at me. “You’ll sleep here?”
