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With a touch of his cool mouth I was in heaven, feeling the bursting tingles aroused by his embracing kiss as he expectantly walked into my arms. He planted several quick kisses over my face and neck, mumbling through an explanation of why he was running behind. He gave lots of details about how he got off work late and how band rehearsal was interrupted by a guy who showed up unannounced to audition for lead guitarist.
Andrew had put an ad in a free paper a few weeks before. They hadn't had any nibbles, so it was surprising when someone just showed up. They talked with the guy and listened to him play. Then, just as Jake was leaving, he'd gotten a phone call from a girl who'd also seen the ad and wanted to audition. Jake was so late because he had to wait for the girl to find the house.
"Prospects are looking good." He breathed into the column of my neck.
I told him how riveting it was-"it really is, but . . ." He smiled artfully, almost bashful, as I lifted my nightgown up and over my head. "We have other, more pressing matters to discuss."
Jakes eyes danced with humor and something else as he took the wad of fabric from my hands, unceremoniously tossing it behind me. "I've been looking forward to this discussion." Then his arms enveloped me, pulling me tight against him, as he leaned down and caught me in a breath-stealing kiss.
Jakes' mouth was spellbinding. His lips cast me into another world. Each kiss felt like the first-big and unbelievable. Like a blind man seeing for the first time. I was lost in him and it didn't matter if we made it to my room. We were alone. There was no time limit. And the night was young. Like us.
We did, eventually, make it to my room.
I watched Jakes' striated arms move in the moonlight seeping through the curtains. They embraced and overpowered me. His lips alone burned me up, tore me down, and rendered me to ash before we were done.
And when we were done, he wasted no time starting the conversation in the exact place I cut him off. I traced my hands over the patterned muscles in his back as he talked. "So, the first guy, Gary, will play with us in Tempe and the second in Glendale. Whichever does better at the gig, gets the gig."
I nodded my head, moving in to kiss a mole over his shoulder blade and set myself upright beside him. "Sounds like a plan."
"So, you're cool with this?"
"Jake, I don't get a vote. If I did, I would vote that you keep playing lead and singing, but that's not what you want. You want to be the best at whatever you choose to do. And you choose to sing."
"I'll still play rhythm. I'm just saying, I don't want this to become an issue. I mean, she's really good, babe." His eyes widened, making his point. "Max and Andrew already want her. But I've never wanted a chick in my band."
He smiled when I pretended to be offended. But honestly, I couldn't have been happier that he wanted to keep the group all guys.
"Mixing genders makes drama. I can already see it: one of those two will end up trying to do her and then it'll turn to shit."
"Tell them not to."
"I can't do that. I mean, I did, but I shouldn't have to. I'm not a damn babysitter." His hand pressed into my back as he got out of bed.
I stood alongside, watching him watch me get dressed. "You should write a song about it."
"What would I call it?" He worked one leg into his jeans and started on the other.
"Is she cool?"
He shrugged. "Seems like it, but you never really know a person until you travel together."
We made our way to the back porch where Jake pulled a red and white pack from his front pocket and lit up. If he smoked in the house Deanna would know. She'd just quit a few weeks before and had a heightened sense for nicotine. Jake was planning on quitting, too, but it was tough for him.
A mild wind caught the ashes he flicked into the sandy dirt patch Sunny Vista trailer park called a yard. His hair, which had grown out some since his last buzz cut had transformed into a James Dean-like awesomeness that flipped back and thrust forward at the same time. He really hated it, kept threatening to cut it off again, but I loved it. I reached for the gathered mass in front and pressed the silken lock back from his eyes.
"How about, Psychology of Jackals?"
His perfect profile, illuminated by the neighboring porch light, disappeared as he turned to face me. "For what?"
"For a song title."
He raised his eyebrows. "That's . . . actually kind of cool."
"You're surprised?"
He pulled me close, setting his arms around me. "Everything you do surprises me."
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the sounds of his breath. His heartbeat. His strong arms curled behind my neck and across my shoulder. His talented fingers traced small circles down my arm. Aerosmith's Come Together grooved through the night air from somewhere in the trailer park. Jake hummed the melody as I sighed.
