November 2011 - Present Day 11 страница

job. He tells me that he hauled and stacked so many books that he never wanted to look at another book again. Then he jokes that it’s why he opted not to go to college. Again we both laugh and continue toward the bar.

I take in all the splendors that surround us. The visual makes me think of the Entertainment Complex at the Grove. I can’t help but smile at the memory of the wonderful day we had there, along with everything else we did. After the arcade we stopped at Whole Foods to purchase a few items, my priority being coffee and creamer. Picking up a late lunch from the deli, we made it back to the house in time for the prearranged delivery of all the items River purchased earlier today.

Throughout our day, we talked about our lives and I discovered so much more about him that I didn’t know. When he asked me questions about USC and I asked him how he knew the campus so well, he told me he visited his brother and sister there many times. He also told me his brother was in the Kappa Sigma Fraternity, but lived off campus. I mentioned that Ben was in the same fraternity, but skirted the topic. He told me he went to a few parties at the frat house and then crashed at either his brother or sister's place. I got the impression that who he stayed with depended on which sibling took someone else home with them. Funny, we only saw each other that one night, but good I guess.

I found out River’s mother moved out of Brentwood a couple of years ago when she got remarried; she and her husband actually live in River’s neighborhood. His sister lives with them, and his brother lives in what used to be their grandparents’ condo in downtown Beverly Hills. His grandparents both died within six months of each other last year and left a sizable inheritance to River and his brother and sister. Xander inherited their condo. I learned his grandfather was a silent partner in one of the first and most successful retail stores on Rodeo Drive and was extremely wealthy. I also found out there is another wing to River’s house. It’s located behind the garage and that is where the laundry room is. I laughed that he had no idea if there actually was a washer and dryer at the house, but we discovered, once we returned, that there is. I also laughed, because just like him, laundry is not something I actually think about or even do for myself. Since we hadn’t bought laundry detergent we couldn’t wash the new sheets. Instead we put the sheet from the air mattress on the new bed and proceeded to christen it.

Right now, thinking of laundry makes me think about Ben, something I haven’t been doing much of lately. But since he always took care of the laundry, I can’t help but remember him. When I say Ben took care of the laundry, I mean he dropped it off at Fluff and Fold. He was so funny about dirty clothes, he hated when they’d pile up. There were only a few things he was OCD about and the care of our clothing was one of those things. Although, I remember one time when the large pile of dirty clothes didn’t seem to bother him.

We had piled our laundry on the floor in the laundry room. Neither one of us had gotten around to bagging it in the special bright yellow bags provided by Fold and Fluff. Ben had been busy on a story, and I was trying to write my thesis. It was a Sunday morning in the early spring, and Ben was headed out to a flag football game, but he couldn’t find all of his gear.

“Dahl, have you seen my jersey?” he yelled from the laundry room.

“Nope,” I said without even giving him a sideways glance from my desk in the kitchen.

“Could you help me look? I’m late!”

“Sure,” I said as I pranced his way.

When I walked into the laundry room, there he was, bending down over the pile in only his track pants. Freshly showered, his back glistened with droplets of water. I had been cooped up at my computer for far too long over the past week, and the sight of him brought a yearning I didn’t expect.

Walking over to the pile, I stood there in my Ugg boots looking at him as he rummaged through the huge pile. “Find it yet?”

When he looked up at me, he noticed I was wearing nothing but one of his long sports t-shirts and my boots. I hadn’t showered yet because I wanted to finish another section of my thesis first, so while he was in the shower I threw on something comfortable and warm and made my way to the kitchen for coffee and writing.

He shot me a wicked grin, and I rolled my eyes. “What?”

“I found my jersey,” he said as he stood up and sauntered one step closer to me.

“You did? Where?” I whispered, barely able to pull my eyes away from his smoldering blue ones.

He cocked a brow at me and pointed. “You’re wearing it.”

Then lifting the jersey over my head he said, “Fuck flag football today.” As I’m reminiscing about Ben, River bumps my shoulder. “Nervous?”

Suddenly transported back to the here and now, I shake my head and say, “No.

Should I be?”

“No of course not,” he says grinning at me. “You just seem... somewhere else.”

“I’m right here silly,” I say while tugging on his back pocket, my Pac-Man bracelet dancing with my slight wrist movement.

Turning to walk backwards, swinging his guitar to his back, he grabs both my hands and pulls me towards a building with the sign Smitten’s. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he asks with an adorable grin and a twinkle in his green eyes.

Tonight I’m wearing one of my new outfits. I’m also a little more made up than I usually am because I’m meeting River’s friends and family. Changing my clothes after our shopping spree, I chose a black lace swing camisole, cream-colored jeans, black high- heeled boots, and my leather jacket. Changing my underwear into something a little sexier, I had to go without a bra because of the thin spaghetti straps, but it really isn’t even noticeable. My hair is down, but a little fuller than I usually wear it, and I’m wearing makeup complete with blush, shadow, liner, mascara, and lip-gloss. The electric force I feel when I’m with him is back from the sight of his slight smile, and goosebumps run up and down my body.

“Actually, you didn’t,” I say, moving my head so my hair sways side to side.

He stops and I almost walk right into him. “Even with all that makeup you still look perfect,” he says, still clasping both of my hands together, dunking his head, and touching his nose to mine.

“What? You don’t like makeup?” I ask, but I’m not in least bit offended because neither do I.

Standing together on the sidewalk, he slides his nose to my ear. “I didn’t say that. I just think you look amazing with or without it.”

He brushes his lips against mine ever so lightly and then turns to catch the door for me. The building has a set of double glass doors and one oversized window with the name Smitten’s blazoned across it. I walk in first. Red brick walls border the large square room. There is a stage to the left, the bar is all the way in the back, and the wall on the right is lined with chairs and sofas. A large mirrored sign behind the bar is framed in wood and says ‘Smitten’s’. High-top tables are scattered throughout the room, and a small dance floor is in front of the stage. An archway to the back right has a sign mounted above it that reads ‘Restroom’, and an archway to the back left has a sign hanging above it that reads ‘Poolroom’. The place actually does look like a local neighborhood bar.

With his hand on the small of my back, he starts to guide me toward a grouping of different shaped chairs and a big black sofa with a wooden coffee table separating them. Pointing in that direction, he starts to say, “Everyone’s over...” but before he can finish his sentence, a very cute, young copper-haired woman comes running up to him, throws her arms around him, and gives him a big kiss on the cheek.

River drops my hand to steady her and hugs her back, practically lifting her off the ground. I know immediately this petite beautiful thing must be his sister, Bell. The resemblance is uncanny. They could pass for twins except her eyes are a much more vibrant green color and she has red streaks in her light copper-brown shoulder length hair. She’s also quite a bit shorter than her brother. River returns his sister’s affections with ease, and I see how much they adore each other.

Setting her down, he moves back slightly to rest his guitar against one of the four columns bracing the center of the room. He blindly locates my hand and laces his fingers with mine. She breaks their embrace and thumps him on the chest. “Where have you...

?” She doesn’t finish as her eyes flicker to our fingers. Her smile turns even bigger, and she eyes us curiously. She may even have a bit of confusion mixed in her very bright green eyes. She actually looks at our hands like she has never seen her Irish twin brother holding hands with a girl.

Looking at River, she coyly remarks, “When you texted me you had someone you wanted me to meet, I just assumed it was a guy.”

Then she throws her arms around me like we’re long lost friends. “Hi! I’m Bell, River’s sister.”

“Dahlia. Nice to meet you, Bell,” I say as she continues to clutch her arms around my back before finally allowing me room to breathe. She studies me for a few beats. “You look familiar.”

“I went to USC. River said you were a junior when I was a senior.”

Shrugging her shoulders she says, “Maybe that’s it.” Gently tugging on some of my hair, she says, “I think I’d remember you. You’re so pretty and the shade of your golden blonde hair is unforgettable.”

She looks at River and gives him a look that he obviously recognizes because he grins at her. Then twisting sideways, she winks at the bartender and points to me. Why? I have no idea. Then she diverts her attention back to us. I can tell she has all kinds of questions

for her brother, but she holds back.

“So where did you two meet?” she asks me as the River’s name is being chanted from across the room. Looking over, I see a dark-haired, dark-eyed man catcalling River. He continues to cup his hands over his mouth, calling River’s name. River smiles at me and raises his chin in the air toward his friend as he tugs on my hand. “Come on,” then asks his sister, “You coming?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Bell replies, “I’ll meet you over there,” then winks at me and says, “We’ll talk later,” as she flutters off toward the bar.

Approaching the seating area, the very attractive dark-haired guy is sipping his beer with an arm draped around the girl standing next to him. As he tilts his bottle back, he eyes me up and down then finishes his drink before setting it on the table. He drops his arm from the girl and grabs two beers out of an ice bucket on the coffee table. Twisting the tops off the Heinekens, he sidesteps the knockout redhead and walks up to us just as we approach him.

He’s about my height with a very athletic build. I could clearly see the cut-line of his arm muscles as he twisted the caps, and his tight shirt shows signs of well-defined abdominal muscles. He obviously works out. His hair is short, but long enough that it is wispily styled to the side, his eyes are like rich chocolate, and his skin is almost almond in color, making him appear slightly tanned.

He hands one bottle to River and the other to me. “River, man where the fuck you been? You’ve been MIA!” he says. Then with a big smile, displaying the whitest teeth I have ever seen, he adds, “And who is this beautiful thing you brought with you?”

As I look at this guy, who can no doubt woo any girl, I can tell he must be part Native American. Glancing at the arm that just handed me a drink, I notice he has a very detailed tribal tattoo circling his bicep with an intricate feather design draped down his arm. It is peeking out from under the short sleeve of his tight black t-shirt.

“Phoenix, this is my girl, Dahlia London,” River says, dropping my hand to place his arm around my shoulder before he continues with, “Dahlia, this jackass is Nix Stone.”

“Dahlia, like the flower?” he asks, raising his hand to shake mine. “Nice to meet you.” Raising one eyebrow in question, he asks, “What’s a sweet thing like you doing hanging out with this douchebag?”

River pipes in with, “Language dude. Really?” And he squeezes me a little tighter.

Nix must be short for Phoenix I figure as I take a sip of my beer just to break his gaze. I hate the taste of beer without ice, so while blinking at his brash forwardness and the taste of the beer, I decide to ignore his rude question. Instead I shake his hand in response. “Nice to meet you! You’re the guitarist?”

He nods his head yes and shakes my hand a little longer than necessary but stops as River eyes him.

Shoving River in the shoulder but looking at me, he says, “Sorry Dahlia. I’m not used to seeing this guy bring a girl to rehearsal. He never stays with one girl long enough to introduce us to her.” I glance over at River rather quickly, but he isn’t looking at me. My gaze is broken when someone calls Phoenix’s name.

“Nix, what crap are you stirring up now?” Bell chimes in, taking the beer out of my

hand and handing me some red drink with a lime in it.

“Just ignore him! He’s always an ass,” she says.

“Bell, you’re lucky I love you,” Nix responds, winking at her.

Then looking at River, he says, “Meet you on stage, I’m going to warm up.” As he walks away he turns, “And Dahlia, it was really a pleasure meeting you.”

Rolling my eyes at his obvious intent to piss River off, I raise my glass and ask Bell, “What’s this?”

“A Cranberry Crown. Try it.”

As I give it a sip so as not to be rude, River bends slightly and whispers in my ear, “Watch out for her drinks.”

“I heard that,” Bell says as she sticks her tongue out at her brother and walks away.

“River, you made it,” another voice says. Glancing to my right, I see the cutest blond boy reaching to give River a firm handshake and a manly hug.

“When do I ever miss, man?” River answers, grabbing for my left hand before introducing us. “Garrett Flynn, this is the girl I told you about.”

River obviously has a great relationship with this gray-eyed boyish looking man. With his hair slightly longer than Nix or River’s, it almost covers his eyes. His hairstyle and boyish face make him look like he’s fifteen. His lip ring only adds to his perceived youth, and his overall tall, skinny stature certainly doesn’t help. But honestly, he’s so cute and innocent looking, I know he must make even the hardest of women melt.

“How can I forget the amazing girl you’ve met twice?”

Then smiling so genuinely at me, I know what he’s saying is with the upmost sincerity. “Dahlia right? I’m Garrett.” Extending his hand he adds, “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I shake his hand and smile. “Hi Garrett. I’ve heard a lot about you too.” Watching his easy smile, I know I like him already.

A moment later, I feel someone approach us from behind. Looking over my shoulder, I see another duplicate of River. “This isn’t a reunion. Time to rehearse girls,” the almost carbon copy of River says. He’s circling around us and I can see some differences immediately in their looks but there is no doubt that this is Xander.

Raising his hands in an all’s good gesture, Garrett smiles at me. “Catch ya after rehearsal,” he says and then walks toward the stage to join Nix, who is strumming different chords on his guitar.

Xander is definitely good looking, but not in the same charming, adorable way as River. His hair color is the same, but he wears it shorter. He has the same green eyes, but they don’t sparkle like Rivers. His demeanor, I can immediately sense, is cooler, more controlled. Upon first glance, he seems to be all about image. The kind of guy who traded in his college cool-boy uniform of old sports jerseys, worn-out jeans, and broken-in baseball hats for the city cool-boy uniform of button down shirts, neatly pressed jeans, and a lot of hair gel. Without even meeting him yet, he kind of reminds me of Ben.

Extending his hand to me, he keeps his eyes on his brother. “Xander. I assume you are Dahlia,” he says with a slight chill in his tone.

I extend my hand and he shakes it once before pointing to the stage. “They’re waiting

for you,” he says to River.

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

“One is all you get bro,” he says, walking over toward the bar.

Bell lets out a yelp, claps her hands over her head, and beckons Xander to come her way. “Xander! C’mere!” she yells as she slugs back a second shot of what I think is tequila.

Looking quizzically at River he wraps his arms around me and kisses me. “I’ll explain my family later.” Pulling away, he crosses his heart. “Promise.”

Giving him a slight smile, I lean in to kiss him again.

Drums echo through the room and the words, “Testing, testing. One, two, three,” blare through the bar. Looking over to the stage I see Nix at the microphone then hear him say, “Loverboy, your presence is needed up on stage.”

River shakes his head. “Come on and sit over here,” he says, guiding me toward the high-top table at the end of the dance floor that centers the stage. “Do you want something different to drink?” he asks as he pulls the bar stool out for me to sit.

“I’m good Loverboy,” I joke as I take my jacket off because it’s really hot in here. He takes it from me and drapes it around the back of the chair. I hang my purse on top of my jacket and sit down as I smile and push him toward the stage. “Thank you kind sir. Now go and sing something, will you! I’m impatient you know. I’ve never gotten to see you with the band, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Forward to it, huh?” he winks as he kisses me one last time and turns to leave. I watch him walk to the stage. He’s wearing his trademark worn jeans and a plain white t- shirt. I glance at his ass as he turns to pick up his guitar, and he catches me. He shakes his head and his mouth turns up into a wicked grin as he winks at me. I just wink back and giggle. I’m used to getting caught gawking, so I might as well embrace it.

I continue to watch him walk all the up to the stage. He takes his jacket off and tosses it to the side before strutting over to the microphone stand. He blows into it a few times and our eyes lock as we both grin at each other. Damn, I wish I had my camera with me. He’s so incredibly photogenic and I’d really love to get some shots of him up on the stage, here where he’s in his element, so relaxed and comfortable. He starts to sing a few notes, and I can tell this is pretty casual and definitely more like a rehearsal and less like a show because there are no introductions. Some people stop and watch while others, probably use to the band’s rehearsals, continue with their conversations. Once the song starts, I can’t peel my eyes away from him. It’s an old one from their album, but actually seeing him sing sends shivers down my spine. He’s so serious and more than half way through it, he seems to lose himself in the song. I’m not sure how to describe how I feel, but the back of my head starts to swirl and goosebumps cover me from head to toe. It’s a really nice feeling and it sort of makes me go numb. I can’t even lift my drink because I think I’ve lost feeling in my fingers. This is a feeling I have never experienced. It’s strange but incredibly soothing and calming. I don’t want the song or this moment to end, but as it does, I slowly recover my composure and shoot him a thumbs up. He winks at me again and turns to talk to Garrett.

I’m finally able to sip the drink that Bell handed me earlier when she walks over and

sits next to me. Handing me a blue iced drink, she says, “Bottoms up.” Then clinks her glass to mine. It’s an interesting mix of blueberry and cranberry; I kind of like it. “And this would be?” I ask after drinking a healthy sized gulp.

“No idea. I just told Tate I love cranberries and blueberries, and this is what he made for us.”

“Tate?”

“The bartender, and my very good friend,” she winks, glancing over to the hulk-sized man behind the bar who is staring back at us.

Not sure how to respond to her, I point to my drink and give Tate a thumbs up. He smiles at me then turns to Bell mouthing, “You like?”

“Excuse me,” she says as she gets up from the table. “I just want to thank him properly. I’ll be back in a few for some girl talk.”

I glance up at the stage and see River watching over me. Since I’m in a thumbs up giving mood, I shoot him one as well as he adjusts the microphone stand and puts his guitar over his shoulder.

Shaking his head at me, he just grins before he turns for what looks like a pow-wow with the band and Xander.

Glancing toward the bar, I see Bell leaning over it, flirting with Tate. I wonder if he’s her boyfriend or just her bar boyfriend, but I can’t tell. Then I see her pluck her drink down on the bar and stamp her foot before traipsing into the room marked “Poolroom,” Tate following quickly behind. After witnessing their little exchange, I’m guessing boyfriend.

Looking back to the stage, River starts to sing a song I know well. It is the song he told me he wrote about me. His eyes find mine as he sings the lyrics to Once in a Lifetime, and when he hits the chorus he closes them.

Having finished my blueberry concoction, I go back to the Cranberry Crown. I am listening intently to River’s singing. I love the sound of his rough but smooth voice. Closing my own eyes, I take in his whole sound. The clanking of a bottle being set on the table makes me open them, and I feel slightly dizzy for a second. I know I need to slow down, I am a lightweight to begin with, and having eaten an early dinner, I don’t have much food in my stomach now to absorb the potency of Tate’s drinks.

The song ends, and River lifts his shirt to wipe some sweat off his face. Lifting his shirt exposes a healthy amount of his firm stomach, and I’m not the only one who notices them. Girls throughout the bar are yelling and screaming, and I’m torn between doing the same or just running up there and pulling him down off the stage. I choose the former. He looks over at me as he lets his shirt fall and winks. I stop yelling when Xander takes a seat next to me. He sets a bottle of Black Label Patron on the table and adds two shot glasses with chasers.

Observing him more closely I notice his eyes are a lighter shade of green than River’s, but he has the same strong jawline and full lips. His hair is shorter and much neater, compliments of hair product I’m sure. He’s just a little bit shorter and a little broader than River.

He smiles at me, but his smile doesn’t touch his cold green eyes. “I’ve heard a lot

about you.”

I’m not sure why he doesn’t seem to like me but I smile cordially anyway. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

Pouring two shots, he slides one over, but not all the way. He looks at the stage, at his brother, and at the other band members. I get the feeling he’s avoiding looking at me, but manages to say, “You’re the reason River didn’t answer his phone all weekend.”

The music stops and the three bandmates step to the side to discuss something. River is pointing to the chords of his acoustic guitar, and Nix is pointing to the strings on his electric guitar. Garrett is both nodding and shaking his head.

“They’ll be awhile,” Xander says, leaning back in his chair.

He pushes the shot directly in front of me, and I look over at him about to say no thank you when a wicked grin appears on his face. “Drink with me, Muse?”

I look up at River, but he’s still talking to Nix. Without saying another word, Xander licks his index finger and rubs it in the salt. He motions for me to do the same. So, deciding a drink can only help calm the uneasiness I feel in his presence, I dip my finger in the Patron, wet my wrist, and coat it in salt. Licking the salt, I quickly down the tequila and grab a lime wedge. He does the same.

When we’re done he pours 2 more shots, this time putting the glass in front of me at its first touch to the table. “Another?”

“What are we drinking too?”

“Life!”

“Okay, life, I’ll drink to that.” Then, as I setup another shot and he does the same I ask, “What’s with the name Muse?”

He doesn’t answer as he tips his head back and drinks his Black Label without even a here’s to.

I do the same, but when I set my glass down I ask another question. “Have I done something to offend you in life?” I ask, stressing the word life.

Guitar chords are being played, but the band has their backs to us, seemingly still in a dispute. After pouring yet a third round, he leans even further back on his barstool. “Where should I start,” he says, twirling his glass on the table, some of the liquid spilling out.

“Let’s see... First, I’m a little pissed at my brother right now. He had a radio interview on Sunday morning here in LA that he blew off.”

Xander looks directly at me for the first time since sitting down. He actually seems more peeved at me than at his brother as he continues, “I called him all fucking weekend and he never answered his goddamn phone until today.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I say, having no idea why I’m apologizing. I look up at River who has started to play again, but still turned to Nix. He’s singing a song I’ve never heard.

“You know what?” he asks, but I don’t answer because it seems like a loaded question. He continues anyway. “That’s not even what really pisses me off.” He drinks another shot, this time straight and refills the glass again.

Drinking my shot straight now as well, I force back the bile coming up my throat and

know I have to stop. “So, what is it that pisses you off Xander,” I say, equally as coolly now. I have had enough of his shit.

“You,” he says, not taking his eyes from mine.

“Me! What have I done to you?”

“You don’t know do you? He didn’t tell you? No, of course he didn’t,” he wryly says, pushing a fourth shot my way.

River has turned around and is staring at me with concern. I give him a little smile and return my eyes back to Xander. He’s playing his guitar now, but I have no idea what he’s singing because I am not listening to the words. The alcohol is flowing through my veins and my judgment is more than a little off.

I give Xander a measured glance and push the glass back toward him as if to say enough and I don’t just mean the alcohol. His games need to stop as well. “Know what?”

I can see by his glazed over eyes he’s more than drunk. Leaning forward he turns to face me, but I lean away. “You should be flattered that I call you Muse. In fact I’ve referred to you that way for a long time.”

Sighing heavily, he looks up at River for a moment then continues, “That song he wrote about you is why the band is successful today, so you were his muse.”

“He did tell me that,” I say, feeling the need to defend River and myself. I honestly have no idea where his anger is coming from.

Shooting me an irritated look, he says, “No. Not about the song.” He says it like I’m an idiot.

“Then what?” I ask, even though I need to excuse myself to use the bathroom. I stand up, and the room starts to spin.

He snorts as he answers, “River had brought Bell to the bar the first night you met him. Rather than bring her home himself, he asked me to do it so he could stay and talk to you. She was in a hurry to meet some guy at her apartment, and I wasn’t ready to leave so my sister left without me.” His sad tone draws me back into the conversation.

Glancing at me, as if he is annoyed that I stood up, I quickly sit back down and he continues. “I was easily distracted back then and had stopped to talk to somebody, and before I knew it she had left with a friend. When River saw me still at the bar with no sign of Bell he tried to call her. She didn’t answer and he was concerned so he went to her apartment. She wasn’t home so he called me and asked where to look for her. I told him to try my frat house, and I think he did. Before I heard back from him, I got a call from my mother.”

As this scene plays out, I know what is coming. It’s not going to be good. Our eyes lock and neither of us blinks until he finally breaks. “Turns out the friend she caught a ride with was drunk and ran a red light. Their small car was hit by an SUV. Bell’s friend died instantly and Bell spent six months in the hospital recovering. The trauma of the accident affected her so much she didn’t care about school anymore. She just lost her drive and never went back.”

My mouth drops open and I shake my head, telling myself that this is fiction, it’s made up; it’s not real. My unfocused eyes narrow in on Xander’s sullen expression, and all I see is the truth. Bile rises up my throat and I know I am going to lose it. He blames me! Does

River blame me? Does their family blame me? “I’m sorry,” I say again for the second time tonight. I’m paralyzed by his words, glued to my seat.

He ignores my apology and continues, “As far back as I can remember, Bell always wanted to be a doctor. Especially when our father died. She wanted nothing more than to save people. But, because of the accident, she didn’t take that path in life. So instead of being a doctor, she works for me as my assistant. She gets drunk most nights and never talks about the life she should have had.” Then throwing back one more shot, he clears his throat. “So Dahlia, do you see my problem with you now?” Then he points to River and says in a louder tone, “You were the only chick he ever wanted to look for or even bothered to look for, ever, and you didn’t even stick around that night. Why? Tell me why.”