Torn - Part 1: The Torn Series (8 page)

Jen cackled. "He's not my type."

"Has Robin?!" I nearly shrieked the question. Not that it mattered, it wasn't like I was or would be dating him. But still, unreasonable jealousy welled in my chest.

"Naw, Robin's a total prude." Somehow that was even more surprising.

When Robin returned, I finally made myself tuck my thoughts about Mallet away and focus on the band. We looked over our current repertoire of songs and discussed which would be best for the competition. It was judged by a panel, not the audience, so we thought more technically difficult songs might be better choices over bigger crowd-pleasers.

"We need more current stuff," Robin said. "Just one or two really new songs. These are all good but we want to look like we're keeping up with what's newer and popular. "

"Why not write a song of our own?" I asked shyly. I hadn't contributed very much to the discussion. It was their band and they knew what they were doing. But writing and performing my own tracks was a longtime dream of mine.

"That's not what we do," Jen said with a dismissive wave, not even looking up from the notes scattered before her.

Robin at least gave me a sympathetic look. "No can do, Riley," she said. "We're classified as a cover band. It wouldn't be allowed."

So much for that bright idea.

○●○●○●○●○

I spent the rest of our practice daydreaming about Mallet while they worked on creating a punk version of a song by some band called St. Vincent. I wasn't familiar with them, myself so I just plucked out the bass line as instructed and wondered what Mallet was doing right then. Some odd job to make rent? Working out at the gym with Surly? Preparing for a fight?

Was he thinking about me at all?

I shook my head.
Keep it cool, keep it casual.

Practice ran late but I had to leave for my shift at the bar.

I was working at a little tiki-themed joint called Coconut Cup only two stops away from my own neighborhood. A blessing, I knew. One of the most common bar gripes were people's commutes.

I was lucky to have the job. Most people had to start as bar-backs, cleaning glasses and wiping down tables. But I'd jumped right to bartender. I showed up for the interview with three different frozen drinks for them to try, transported in a cooler that was almost too heavy for me to carry. I think they were more impressed by my effort than the drinks, but either way, I got the job.

"You’re late," Mitch grumbled. The grizzled old owner put on some grumpy airs but was a teddy bear at heart.

"I'm almost on time!" I exclaimed. I quickly stashed my bass in the tiny office just off the kitchen before taking up my post behind the bar.

The tiny place was dark but clean. It was long and narrow, with only a few booths parallel to the bar and two high tables near the front windows. Decorated with palm leaves and coconuts, it tried to be cheerful but it failed. Not enough natural light - or much light at all, really.

Mitch patted my shoulder as he passed, heading back to the office and leaving the front of the house in my hands. The kitchen was open but the bar was mine alone - it was never very busy on Tuesdays and time passed slowly as I served the few patrons that wandered in after leaving their jobs for the evening. I poured more beer than the frozen drinks the owner wanted his place to be known for.

I had fallen into a casual rhythm of delivering drinks and washing glasses, so when
he
entered the bar it didn't even register right away. "What can I get you?" I was already grabbing a mug, assuming he'd want whatever was on tap just like almost everyone else.

"I'll take your most complicated and decorative beverage, thank you."

I know that voice.
A smile broke out on my face and a light blush warmed my cheeks. "A Jellyfish Jubilee? Coming right up. Just gotta fetch a fish out of the tank in the back."

Mallet’s eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me you put fucking fish in the drinks.”

“Hey, fish oil’s good for your hair and your skin,” I winked, pulling the ingredients out of the fridge beneath the counter.

"That's disgusting and you'd better be joking."

"I guess you'll find out!" I said brightly, then I fired up the blender. I might have been playing it cool and collected on the outside, but internally I was doing backflips.
He came to see me! He remembered where I work and he sought me out! We had a connection, I just knew it.
Sex couldn't be that good if there was nothing else there.

Mitch trundled out at the sound of the blender whirring and stood over my shoulder. "Just another fifteen seconds," he muttered. He was very protective of his concoctions and very exact about them. Under his supervision, I'd have to use the jiggers to measure everything out.

I turned the blender off and he hustled me out of the way. This wasn't the first time he'd elbowed in to make a drink but I huffed with annoyance. I’d wanted to make this one for Mallet. Even if he was joking and wouldn't actually drink the sickly sweet slushy, I wanted to do it for him.

Mallet shot an amused look my way as Mitch poured the pink icy mix into a tall glass and finished it off with fruit garnish and a tiny pink plastic jellyfish on a toothpick.

The things were custom-ordered and utterly ridiculous.

"Good?" he asked, leaning across the bar expectantly as Mallet took his first sip.

"Tastes good," Mallet said. "It's lacking a woman's touch, though." Then he winked at me.

Mitch only frowned. "Twelve dollars."

We were finally alone again once Mallet paid up. Mitch grumbled his way back to his office. The other patrons in the bar hadn't emptied their beers yet so I was free for a minute to chat.

"That man is nuts," Mallet said. But he continued to sip the drink anyway, right through a bright orange twisty straw. My lips twitched as I tried not to laugh. "Does he hit on you?"

"What?!" I wasn't expecting that question, that was for sure. "No. Ew."

"Just checking."

Why? Jealousy? Does he think he has a claim on me, now?

I might be okay with that.

"When's your shift up?" he asked.

I grinned. I couldn't help it. "Midnight."

He took a long, slow drink from his straw, slurping the beverage as he did so, keeping his laughing green eyes locked on mine. Then without so much as a glance around, he leaned over the bar, pulled me closer by my arm and planted a cold wet kiss on my lips. I licked the sugary taste away as he pulled back. "Midnight," he grinned, and then he strode back out the door.

CHAPTER 7

Mallet appeared at midnight on the dot. I was passing my customers off to the late shift when I spotted him peeking his head through the front door. He merely nodded at me and disappeared back outside.

I smiled to myself and clocked out quickly. It was starting to rain just a little so I pulled on the light hoodie I kept in the office, tugging the hood over my head to protect my hair. Guitar case on my back, I left out the rear exit and circled around the front. He was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette and looking like a real bad ass, his muscles clearly outlined by his thin T-shirt.

"Hey," he said as I approached. He offered me the cigarette but I shook my head. "Come home with me."

Just like that, huh
? I couldn't call it a booty call, it was premeditated by a couple of hours. But I couldn't let it be that easy, willing and eager though I was. My body was already responding to his presence, flushing, getting hot as his eyes roved over my little cut-offs and my artfully torn-up band tee.

"Diner first? I'm starving. Everything Mitch makes its too sweet."

"You're too sweet." He pulled me against him and guided my mouth to his. I melted instantly. I didn't care if we ate, didn't care if he thought I was easy. "I mean it," he said, a look of regret briefly crossing his face. "You're too sweet for a guy like me."

My heart sank.
Damn. I said or did something to spook him. Way to go, Riley, way to play it cool
."Is that a criticism?"

"Of myself, not you." He touched my cheek and shook his head. "I like you. I just don't want things to get weird between us."

What? What does that mean?
"Are you saying I shouldn't come home with you tonight?" I asked, squinting.

He laughed. "No. You should. You absolutely should." He lightly traced my neck and my collarbone as he spoke, making me shudder. "I just mean we should keep it cool, that's all. Just have fun."

"I was having a great time until this conversation," I said, playfully batting his hand away. "I know you don't do relationships. I'm not looking for one, either. I just got out of one." Not to say I wouldn't have foolishly jumped right into one if Mallet asked. But I could see the sense it keeping things casual, my situation being what it was.

"Yeah, and you still live with the guy," he said, putting words to my thoughts.

Time to end this talk
. "Which is why you need to take me to your place." I forced a bright grin and let my hands rest at his belt. "And soon." I don't know where my boldness came from. It was probably born thanks to the hungry gaze that came over him. I licked my lips slowly and said, "Like I said. Starving."

He groaned and pulled me in for another hot and hungry kiss.

I was afraid that maybe the intensity of our first night together would be gone - maybe it had been a fluke, or it was just the magic and excitement of something new.

That wasn’t the case at all.

I barely made it inside his apartment with my shirt intact.

“Hold on,” I said, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. His hair and shirt were soaking wet. “You’re dripping all over the floor. Take your shirt off.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he pulled the soggy garment over his head but I was already scurrying off to hunt down a towel. I found what appeared to be a clean stack of them on a shelf in the bathroom so I brought one back out to where he waited, leaning casually against the couch, his thickly muscled chest bared in all its glory.

“You’ll catch a cold,” I said as I slung the towel over his shoulders, then scrubbed it through his hair. Something came over his face then - surprise, then a softness that I’d never seen there before. I half expected him to stop me and tear all of our clothes off but he just watched, his eyes locked on mine. I got the impression that he didn’t have many people in his life that fussed over him or too care of him. If my assessment was right then we had that in common.

Finally, after drying his hair as best I could with the towel, I let it fall to the couch behind him. “As good as it’s gonna get without a hairdryer,” I said softly.

His expression changed to one of lust and hunger. He smirked that mischievous smirk and said, “Your clothes are wet. Take them off.” I apparently didn’t move fast enough for him; he helped me tear my hoodie and shirt over my head, though he was happy to watch me push my jeans to the floor in a neat little pile with my shoes. Then he grabbed me and pulled me close.

“This hot little body drives me so fucking crazy,” he growled, kissing his way down my naked belly.

His filthy mouth was driving
me
crazy - the things he said, the things he did with it.

“Just take me, Mal,” I said, tugging at his pants. He’d been slower to undress himself in his rush to see me bare.

I kissed his bruises - one on his shoulder, another lower, on his ribs. Another even lower, on his hip. He groaned, then chuckled at himself. “Do they hurt?” I asked.

“Naw,” he said, “They’re just from practice.” They didn’t seem as dark and ugly as the ones I’d seen after his fight. I kissed them anyway; then I moved lower still and took his rigid organ in my mouth.

“Shit, baby. So good.” I was being at least partly selfish - I wanted to free up his mouth to keep talking. Something about his voice and the dirty things he said drove me wild. “You get one minute down there, babe, then I’m gonna make you scream my name again.”

He kept that promise and then some.

He was like a mad conductor; his body composed the bassline, the rhythm played out by the headboard against the wall. I cried out an incomprehensible animal tune while my mind flashed through lyrics one word at a time - skin, sweat, flesh, bite, taste, fuck.

I wasn’t sure for how long I’d be able to play it cool. It was difficult already and I was sinking fast, wanting more, needing more of him, and I knew the longer I held on the more it was going to hurt when we had to end it. But I wasn’t ready to give him up, yet.
Just one more time,
I though as I dozed off with his arm across my chest. But even as I thought it I knew I was lying to myself.

○●○●○●○●○

I'd been sleeping with Mallet for nearly two weeks before Tyler took any notice. During that time, we still somehow hadn't exchanged contact info. I supposed I could have asked for his, but I was still too shy, and more importantly, still too afraid of pushing him away.

Still, dropping by just to pick me up for sex after my shift or after a gig was a little more casual than I had imagined when we spoke about it that one time. We hadn't breached the subject since.