I completely forgot tonight was the night they have a gig over at Club Luxe bar. And still, he volunteered to come get me. He definitely earns brownie points for that. He helps me off the bike and secures the helmet.
“What kind of bike is this?” It’s not like I know anything about bikes, so I don’t know why I’m asking.
“It’s a Ducati Multistrada 1200 S,” he replies. The smile he sports tells me he knows I don’t know what the shit that is. “Let’s eat, woman. You’re going to love it here.”
For the sake of time, we forego any of the fancy-schmancy main courses and go for the pizza. Gosh, even those are fancy. He orders the Scottish smoked salmon one, and I opt for the white pie with fennel sausage, onion, ricotta, and provolone. It was his idea to get two different ones so that we can share. It’s more pizza than either one of us can eat, so it’s too bad we can’t take the rest to go. They’re both too good not to, but we can’t take it on the bike. We pair the pizzas with a Riesling, and it goes well together. He limits himself to one glass since he is driving and has a gig, but they’re not carding me, so I have a second.
“This is not part of your diet, mister,” I tease.
“Oh, I know. I splurge on occasion, and what better timing than with you?” He winks. It may be the wine, but I’m feeling bold.
“So is this your idea of a first date?” I ask jokingly. As soon as the words spill from my lips, I realize my mistake. Shit. I watch as his eyebrows knit together in confusion before he regains his composure.
“Harlow, I don’t date. Fucking is all I’m capable of. I don’t do relationships. Please don’t misinterpret our time together because I enjoy it. It’s refreshingly different to have a woman as a friend, but I can’t give you that.” He looks down, and I know the moment is ruined. There’s a strained tension in the air.
“Lighten up, Phoenix. I was just shitting with you. Don’t get all serious on me. I have someone who I’m interested in at the university,” I lie. “He’s made a few moves, but he’s just a little slow. We’re supposed to be meeting for coffee next week.” Something else passes over his face, but it vanishes too quickly for me to identify. I hope he doesn’t ask any questions about this guy I just made up because he is a figment of my imagination. Thankfully, he lets it go.
“Well, good. You deserve a good guy. As long as we’re on the same page.” He raises his hand for the check. When he doesn’t ask for to-go boxes, I remember we’re on the bike and can’t take the leftovers with us. It’s such a shame to waste so much food, but I’m beyond stuffed.
Although I tried to smooth my dumbass question over as a joke, I still feel some awkwardness between us now.
When we get back to the lake house, he disappears to get ready for his gig. As he thought, the other guys have already left. I debate if I should just stay here until they get back. That decision is soon made for me when Phoenix sticks his head in the door.
“Ready?” So he just changed shirts, some graphic tee. He doesn’t say anything else, so I follow him. When we get to the bike, I have the routine down. He puts the helmet on my head, and I get on. The ride is much like my walks. It gives you a chance to think. I don’t want to analyze why I asked that question. Do I want something more with him? I’ve seen another woman hanging off his dick for God’s sake, and I’m still subconsciously entertaining the thought of an “us.” Well, that idea has been shot to hell tonight. He was honest about what he has to offer, and I have to respect that. He is not trying to run a game on me to get in my pants. The real question is, is it enough? Can I give myself to him for one night and let it be just that—a chance to feel what all the fuss is about. Could things go back to the way they were afterward? Unlike his other one-night stands, there will be no getting rid of me. I’m his bandmate’s sister. I will always be around. Not to mention, Asher would kick both of our asses if he knew I was even rolling around the idea.
One thing is for certain. I’m finally at a point in my life when I’m ready to face my demons head-on. I’m ready to take back my sexuality and not let my past define me. I want to have intimacy without fear of being inept. It may not be with Phoenix, but at least I’m ready for that first step.
I take a seat closer to center stage this time as the guys begin to come out on stage. Tonight’s show is a good one. I kick back a few beers and get lost in the vibe of the show. They keep the crowd guessing with various covers—fast and slow tempo. They perform this one song that includes what I call dirty vocals. I’ve never heard Phoenix’s voice this raw. It involves screaming, but then it’s right back into silkiness. This alternating mix up of voice control continues as the guys kill “Love. Sex. Riot” by Issues. The women absolutely lose their damn minds. The louder they scream, the more Phoenix turns up the flirtation with them. He takes off his shirt and throws it into the crowd of manic women. I watch a catfight nearly break out to be the one who comes up with it. Sweat glistens from his abs. I can’t watch as he comes close enough to the edge to let some big-bosomed woman get a feel of them. She’s definitely hot and more his speed. Fuck, what was I even thinking?
Got the message, Phoenix. If this little extra performance is for me, I get it. I don’t need to be hit over the head with a visual. Why settle for one mediocre girl with intimacy issues when you can have your pick of any of these women who are not only gorgeous but also secure with their sexuality. No doubts that they could get him off. Ugh. Suddenly, I don’t want to be here. I remember that they parked the Escalade out back to pack up after the show, so I head that way. Fortunately, it’s the same security guy from last time, and he lets me through without hesitation. I walk the narrow hallway and bypass the rooms. I don’t even want to think about that visual either, so I head straight out the back door. I see the truck, but nobody is back here, so I can’t get in. I didn’t think this through but fuck it. I needed to get out of there. The self-sabotaging thoughts that I try so hard to suppress are winning. I said I would never let anyone make me feel inadequate again, and I failed.
I slide down and sit on the ground next to the passenger side of the truck. I don’t know how much of a show they have left, but I have no choice but to wait. I should have followed my first decision and just stayed at the lake house. In hindsight, I should have just stayed at the dorms. Irelyn didn’t have to know I never made it here. Maybe I can find an excuse to leave tomorrow and abort the whole staying the weekend idea. I don’t think I want to come to any more of their shows. I have the gist of what I need in that aspect for my journalism. Why suffer through the pains of knowing I can never measure up to those women he lusts after while on stage?
Chapter Seven
Phoenix
Our last song can’t wrap up quickly enough. Where the fuck did Harlow run off to? I know I pushed a little harder with the flirtation tonight, but I needed to reinforce what I said earlier. I feel things are changing, and I don’t want to blur the lines with expectations. As soon as we finish the last of our set, I head straight to the back rooms, but they’re all empty. I know I saw her come this way. Albert, the security guy, comes leisurely strolling toward the back. I know he gets his share of sexual favors from women trying to get to us through him.