Authors: D Jordan Redhawk
The teenager's smile grew wider. "Lick It or Stick It."
The redhead abandoned the door to dash across her room. She clambered across the bed, nearly trampling the woman in it, and turned on the clock radio.
As strains of 'My Ruin' began playing, Sonny let herself into the room and shut the door behind her. She swallowed the sharp stab of pain at the sight of the woman in Jordan's bed - My place - clutching a sheet to her chest. Steeling herself, the dark young woman sauntered across the room and sat on the corner of the bed. I belong here, she does not, ran through her head in a litany.
"Holy crap!" Jordan exclaimed. "It is!" She looked at the teenager, an amazed grin on her face. With little forethought, the guitarist leapt to her feet with a whoop, grabbed Sonny by the hands and pulled her into an exuberant dance.
At some point, the dance became a hug of joy. Sonny felt the full contact, the lithe body wrapped around hers. The teenager swallowed convulsively at the almost overpowering surge of arousal. Despite her control, she couldn't help but let out a little sigh and nuzzled the red gold hair.
"Hey!" the woman on the bed exclaimed. "That's one of my favorites!"
Two tempers flared. One was angry at the interruption by this interloper. The other was irritated over her loss of self control. Jordan stepped out of the embrace, a physical change once again coming over her as she reverted to the seductive game. She turned away from Sonny, moving back towards the bed. "Thanks," the redhead planted a rough kiss on the upturned lips.
Sonny resolutely refused to give the Warlord any satisfaction. She buried the rending pain deep inside and smiled into emerald eyes. "I'm going to go vote for it." She swayed towards the door, pausing to see two sets of eyes watching her. "Are you?" she asked.
There was a pause. Jordan's desire to push the dark teenager to the limit battled with the childlike happiness that bubbled up within. Finally, "Yeah. We'll be down in a minute."
There was a slow nod and then Sonny let herself out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her and stopped, leaning against it heavily. Getting her trembles under control, she thought, God, this is hard. But then, nothing worth having is easy. She inhaled deeply and stood away from the door. Time to go vote for her favorite songwriter.
An impromptu little party had popped up that evening. Someone had called Atkins who had wandered over with a girl on his arm. A couple of their more hardcore fans arrived with a couple of cases of beer. Jordan had come downstairs, her bedmate following her around like a long lost puppy. And everyone had called the radio station to vote for the band. Every once in awhile, the radio DJ would put on a couple of the phone conversations of people voting for or against. All in all, the verdict had been "Lick It," definitely a positive response.
Jordan lounged on the loveseat in the living room, her date on the floor between her legs. The redhead idly stroked the long brown hair that splayed across her knees, occasionally reaching forward to rub the nape of the neck. The woman would shiver and toss a smile backwards. The guitarist was on her fifth bottle of beer and still hadn't attained a decent buzz. Damn tolerance levels are getting way too high. She emptied the bottle and set it with the others on the table beside her.
As was her wont these days, emerald eyes kept a loose tab on the teenager. The way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she moved.... Everything about her was becoming more and more intoxicating as time went by. It would be so easy....
She shook herself, annoyed. "Hey," Jordan leaned forward to brush her bedmate's ear with a kiss. "Wanna get me another beer?"
The woman on the floor grinned up at her. "Sure." She rose, stopping long enough to thoroughly kiss the guitarist before wandering off towards the kitchen.
Jordan watched her go, imagining a dark haired teenager in her place. Again, she shook off the thought. It can't happen, she grumbled to herself. Sonny deserves a hell of a lot better than you. She contemplated a future where she allowed herself free reign. Quickly passing past the sexual fantasies - Like I need to see that - she could see Sonny curled up into a small ball, hear the sobs, her own voice telling the teenager that she was just a fuck and nothing more. Can't get too close. Can't let anybody get too close. I don't wanna hurt her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a beer bottle pushed into her hands. The guitarist looked up into the other woman's eyes, this stranger that she was sleeping with. With callous disregard, she thought, You I can hurt. What you want and what you need don't mean fuck to me. And she smiled with a wild hunger. "C'mere," she husked, pulling the woman down to sit in her lap.
From nearby, Sonny heard the strange woman's giggle as the two women roughhoused on the loveseat. A tickle fest stopped short as a coarse kiss was shared between them and she slid her pale blue eyes away from the scene. She took a swig of her beer and tried to focus on the conversation she was having with Foley and Hampton. Their voices seemed to drone on and on, and her ears could only hear the murmurings from Jordan and her date.
"Hey, you okay?" Foley asked, her blue eyes concerned.
"What?" Sonny returned her attention to the bassist and his girlfriend. "Oh! No, I'm fine, really." She held up her bottle. "Must be the beer. I don't drink that often."
Foley nodded, unconvinced. She shared a knowing look with Hampton and tucked her sandy blonde hair behind one ear. With a soft smile, she said, "Well, let me know if you need anyone to talk to, okay?"
The teenager blinked at her for a moment. A flash of pain, of embarrassment crossed her eyes. She knows! Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded and glanced down. "Okay. Thanks." She took a quick swig of her beer. As the conversation once again resumed, her mind wandered to a time that she would have with Jordan in the future.
Jul 11, 2001
Well, I've survived another night. Tonight was pretty rough - more than what I'm used to. I actually barged into her room and acted like I owned the place. Not too difficult until it's taken into consideration that there was another woman in her bed.
God, it hurt.
On the up side, I have to admit that she's cut her carousing down a lot from before the tour. In the past four months, I think there've only been a dozen or so women. Jordan kinda rotates through them, not spending a whole lotta time on any one. Maybe she's finally starting to settle down. I don't know exactly how old she is. She must be about 21 by now. (She still doesn't look much older than me.)
I don't even know when her birthday is.
Another good thing... This cut back has got to be healthier for her. She has less chance of catching some horrid disease or something.
Now, if I can just get her to come to me.
I think she considers it sometimes. I've caught her watching me before, kinda distant. In her thoughts. I don't know what she sees in her visions, but I don't think it's good. She becomes a bit more standoffish, a bit more of that false ego and seductress comes through. For the life of me, though, I can't figure out anything about me that would cause a negative reaction. Well, aside from the fact that I'm a virgin and don't know quite what to do in bed.
I've written a poem tonight. It was going through my head during the party. I'm going to call it 'Love's Agony.'
I ask only to exist
to bask in life
and be free from pain
But you burn me
scorching my entire being
making me writhe in agony
I can't express myself
for I now understand
the meaning of fear
There is no pleasure
only suffering
as I look upon you
You make me ache
in the furthest depths
and the broadest planes
My soul weeps
tears that I strive against
but cannot control
I yearn for you
to touch and hold
to smile and laugh with
But I see your eyes elsewhere
looking outward
away from me
I have no armor to protect me
you've bared my walls
harming me with your nearness
And so I drown
striving to remain alive
in this sea of misery
Perhaps I should leave
but I can't bare the pain
of losing you
Jordan stared out the office window, listening to the drone of her band mates. Warlord was currently meeting with people from an independent label to negotiate a recording contract. The band's popularity had risen over the last year and their lawyer, Hampton's sister, had been approached for a deal.
But the redhead wasn't really paying attention to the proceedings. Even without the downers currently raging through her system, the talks would have been nonsense to her. It's all legal mumbo jumbo anyway, her thoughts meandered as she stared at traffic passing by on the highway outside.
Jordan wished she was back at the warehouse now, guitar in hand. Music always flowed, fast and clean, when she was high. She'd been known to compose until her fingers bled upon occasion. When she was under the influence, whatever muse roller-skating around in her head would go ballistic. And all the guitarist could do in response was try to get it all down and hang on for the ride.
The redhead's fingers twitched. They felt an imaginary guitar neck, the smooth, polished wood and cool frets moving against her skin. She could almost see the music forming in the air in front of her. It wasn't that she was hallucinating, but that the intensity of the muse was so strong at times like these, she could nearly taste the music. It was almost as good as sex.
Only almost.
"Whaddya think, Jordan?" Middlestead asked. The company men and their lawyer had left the conference room, leaving the band and their own lawyer to discuss their opinions.
Emerald eyes regarded the drummer for long moments. "I think," Jordan said, enunciating carefully, "I need to go to the bathroom." Rising to her feet felt like moving in a sea of molasses, a warm sticky sensation. She cocked an eyebrow at their lawyer. "Know where the john is?"
After getting directions, Jordan left the stifling office. Veering left instead of right, she was out on the sidewalk within minutes. Across the street was the beginning of Waterfront Park. With extreme concentration, she crossed busy Naito Parkway. Sitting on the first park bench she came to, Jordan sighed in relief, a warm breeze whiffling her bangs. "Much better," she murmured. If she couldn't make any music, at least she could drift along with the tunes in her head without further interruption.
It beats thinkin'. It beats feelin'.
"Thanks for picking me up at work, Lisa," Sonny said over her shoulder as she stepped into the house. Flipping through the mail, she stepped further into the living room and dropped her keys on the end table. Her backpack found the floor nearby.
Behind her, Foley stepped in. "No problem, girlfriend. I've got nothing better to do." The blonde woman shut the door before moving into the room and plopping down in an armchair. "Besides, I don't wanna worry alone."
Sonny answered the smile with one of her own and snorted. She dropped the mail next to her keys. "You want anything?" she asked as she headed into the kitchen.
"Yeah, something cool if ya got it," Foley called.
"Iced tea?"
"Sounds great!" She leaned her head back against the chair. "This heat wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the humidity. I'm glad you guys have air conditioning."
"So am I," the teenager agreed adamantly. She came back into the living room and handed Foley a tall glass of tea. "Eighty four degrees feels like a hundred and ten in this city."
"Thank you," the blonde breathed, taking the glass.
Sonny settled down on the couch. The two sat in companionable silence as they cooled off from the dog days of a late August afternoon. Finally, the dark youth broke the silence. "So, you have any clue what their chances are?"
Foley set her glass on a coaster on the table. "Actually, Max says it's pretty good. Tamara looked it over and it appears to be a standard recording contract. Of course, she isn't an entertainment lawyer, you know." Blue eyes twinkled.
"But everything's on the up and up?" the teenager pressed, a bit anxious.
"Yeah. Everything's cool."
Pale eyes were distant. "I hope so. They've all worked so hard for something like this...."
The women sat in silence once more as they ran through memories of the band's labors over the years.
Foley's thoughts returned to the present. She chewed her lower lip, her face becoming somber and her brows knitting. She glanced over at the oblivious teenager, working out the pros and cons of voicing her thoughts and questions. Finally making a decision, she leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees, peering intently at the dark girl. "You realize, of course, that if they sign this contract today there'll be another party...?"
Sonny blinked at her. Oh, God. Not another one! A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed thickly.
Foley watched with pursed lips as the teenager's shoulders visibly slumped. Now is the time. With a determined air, she rose and sat on the couch next to the younger woman. She draped an arm over the suddenly stiff shoulders. "Does she even have a clue how much you love her?"
The words were a catalyst to Sonny. Months of pain and jealousies and fears surfaced in the light of another who knew how she felt about the guitarist. Unable to hold back any longer, the teenager broke into ragged sobs and the tears began to flow. Soon she was cradled in caring arms, rocked back and forth as she released her agonies, a hand gently caressing her head.