Always and Forever (28 page)

“In the living room,” I call back.

“Hey, Jules. Oh, shit, Tracy is going to go ballistic when she sees what you’re wearing,”
Val informs me as she eyes me up and down.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I think I look damn good. Besides, it’s just
a concert. “Really, what’s the fucking problem?

“You seriously think our little fangirl is going to allow you to leave your place
and be seen in public with her, at a rock concert of her favorite band, dressed like
you’re going to hang out at the mall for a day of power shopping? Julia Megan Bennett,
have you totally pickled your brain with all that wine you tasted recently? Or are
you a glutton for punishment? If I were you I would hightail it to your closet and
find something else to wear before she…” And before she can finish her sentence, scolding
me, Tracy walks in.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, this just won’t do. Thank God I brought my garment bag,” Tracy
objects, flailing her arms at me.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I question for the second time in less than
five minutes. I think I look great considering I just got off a plane a few hours
ago, and besides, I’m comfortable. I need comfortable. Being in a new situation, a
very unfamiliar situation, I need to feel as comfortable as possible. This outfit
helps guarantee that. I don’t want to have a full-blown panic attack in the middle
of the concert, and with my luck… I haven’t had one in a while, but…

I know they’re trying to help. They’ve handled me with kid gloves for so long, and
I love them for wanting so much more for me. I just don’t know if all of me
is
ready. My brain is torn. The logical side knows I’m being ridiculous and tonight
is going to be fun. I’m with my two best girls. How can it not be? But the illogical
side, the side that those tendrils slither and slide through, thinks that this is
a bad idea, that Blake disapproves and I shouldn’t go… I’m not allowed to go. I don’t
deserve to have fun; I deserve nothing because I am nothing. I hate that illogical
part. One day I hope that that illogical part will shrivel up and die. And I will
be free. Free of Blake completely, once and for all. Free to be me. Free to live.
Free to move beyond surviving. Just free.

Tracy brings me out of my brain. Her voice is high pitched and playful even though
I know she means business. “Jules, did you look in a mirror? Honestly, if you had,
you wouldn’t be asking me what is wrong with your ensemble. We are going to a rock
concert and will be enjoying it from a Skybox. You don’t wear
that
. You’re dressed like you’re going to have lunch or shop. You
are
going to a rock concert. The concert of one of the best and hottest bands in the
country—shit even the world—right now. So your outfit is all kinds of wrong. Just
trust me on this one, mmkay?”

Instead of fighting the losing battle and trying to invoke another veto, I decide
to save that sucker for something really big. I succumb to her demands and go change.
I figure this is easier than going toe to toe with her, full well knowing I will lose.
I can only imagine what outfit waits inside her garment bag of torture. The last time
she did this to me, I was forced to wear a tight, form-fitting mini dress thingy.
Don’t get me wrong. I looked fucking hot in it, but it just wasn’t me. I hesitantly
pull down the zipper, and nestled inside is a pair of black leather pants and a brilliant
blue, asymmetrical top. I don’t know the first thing as to what to wear to a rock
concert; that is all Tracy’s domain. She’s our very own concert aficionado, having
been to nearly five hundred plus shows in her lifetime. She is the expert.

The pants make me cringe as I pull them out. “Tracy, are you kidding me? Leather pants?
When did I become a biker chick?” I hold up the second-skin-looking garment. I am
definitely not going to feel like myself wearing these. My logical part screams maybe
that’s a good thing.

“Just put them on. Trust me. Oh, and lose the hip huggers, and put on the thong in
the Victoria’s Secret bag,” Tracy yells from the other room, as I hear Val laugh in
the background.

“You just , Winston, your time will come,” I threaten with my best tough-as-nails
voice.
Seriously, a thong.

“Ha,” Val simply responds.

I hold the leather pants like they are going to bite me just staring at them.
You can’t wear those. You don’t have the body for it. What makes you think you have
a right to wear something that sinful and sexy?
Blake’s voice takes over my own, only for a moment. I shake away his words, grab
the panties, or cotton square with string, and put them on. It doesn’t feel too uncomfortable
like I thought it would. I can feel him scowl at me, but I ignore the feeling. Next
are the pants. Leather pants are a bitch to put on, but once they are on, they meld
to my form, and it feels as if I’m wearing a second skin. I then slip on the asymmetrical
top; this too feels incredible against my skin. I take a look at myself in the full-length
mirror and marvel at how I look, because I look pretty damn good
. Not bad, Bennett. Not fucking bad. Now, what shoes to wear?
As I glance down at my shoe collection, Tracy comes up behind me, as if she knew
what I needed.

“Put those on,” she says, pointing to a pair of black high-shine leather t-bar sandals
from Ralph Lauren.

As I slip my feet into my heels, Tracy pulls the hair tie out of my ponytail, gives
my hair a few fluffs, and my hair cascades down my back and on my shoulders. I am
mesmerized at the person staring back at me in the mirror. I know it’s me, but for
some odd reason I feel as if I’m looking at a stranger. I honestlyfeel that looking
like this, wearing these clothes, just might help me move on for some strange reason.
Blake would not approve and probably take matters… He’s not here, he doesn’t get a
say, and it makes me slightly giddy.

“You look hot, Jules. Now you’re totally presentable and will fit in at the concert,”
Tracy practically squeals, giving herself an invisible pat on the back.

“Thanks.”

Before we leave my room, she pulls me aside and whips out a tube of this sparkly lip
stuff, glosses me, and then tosses into my clutch. I give her the evil eye as I turn
back to the mirror. Unbelievably, I look even more amazing. My lips are tinted an
alluring red with a hint of sparkle. Not my usual go-to color.

“See, don’t ever doubt me, missy,” she teases, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Whatever was I thinking,” I tease back, rolling my eyes.

“Now that you’re finally ready, let’s go and rock out!” Tracy demands, again sticking
her tongue out, but this time between some sort of hand signal, her fingers look like
horns.

“Um… that was… can you guys just promise me an early night, please? I’m practically
sleep deprived.” I guess I have some strange look on my face, because Tracy simply
shakes her head, laughing. “Oh, silly Jules, you have a lot to learn.”

©Michelle Lee 2014

Purchase Sex, Desires & Rock n' Roll (Redemption Tour Book 1)

Truth & Temptation

by

Riley Edgewood

CHAPTER ONE

"ANYWAY, I BANGED him like a screen door all winter. Had to stay warm somehow, you
know what I mean?" I line up my shot, aim for the ten-ball, and miss wildly. Whatever.
I blow imaginary dust off my pool stick before turning to my best friend, Cassidy,
and to the amusement across her face. "But now it's summer and we all know how cruel
Virginia summers can be. I let him go."

"You kill me," she says, cracking up and grabbing her own cue. "But he lasted longer
than your usual boys, right?"

My usual boys. I consider her words and slide a strand of auburn hair out of my eyes,
tucking it behind my ear. Against the wall a few pool tables over, someone changes
the jukebox song to some twangy country piece that I instantly hate. "You could say
that."

"
You
could say," she bends over the table, taking aim, "that this twelve-ball's about
to hit that corner pocket."

Half the pool hall is staring at her ass right now. Not that I blame them—she's got
an awesome ass. Wish mine wasn't so flat, but
blah, blah,
self-deprecation's lame and I'm over it. Nobody looks away when Cassidy shoots up
with a little victory dance after her ball goes exactly where she says it will. Because
of course it does.

But it's my turn to laugh. "Too bad I'm stripes and you totally just sank that for
me."

She pauses mid-wiggle. "I'm stripes."

"Nope." I say, grinning. "I sank the nine-ball first. Numbers over eight are striped,
under are solid." I've been repeating it to myself all night. "So. Thank you for my
point…or whatever it's called in pool."

"Teag. You hit the six-ball in." She walks around the table to the place where balls
return and pulls out a…nine-ball.
Ha!

Nope. Wait. Looking at it the wrong way.

It's the six-ball. Green,
solid
.

Damn it.

"Why didn't you say anything when I was aiming for the ten-ball?" I ask, keeping my
tone as light as I can. Because there's no need to get pissed off about this.

"You were shooting for the ten-ball?" she asks, pulling her blonde hair into a messy
ponytail that's instantly, effortlessly, annoyingly stylish. "I couldn't tell."

"Oh, fuck you." I smile, forcing it to show in my eyes.
See? Look, I'm not getting heated over something so stupid.

Even though I am.

Even though
knowing
how stupid it is makes me even more irritated.

Great. And now she's studying my face, trying to tell if I'm actually mad. Because
she knows I have…issues, and she wants to help me.

Even though she can't.

And knowing she knows how fucked up I am and can read me the way she does? It makes
me furious.

Which is stupid.

And—
here we go again
—knowing how stupid it is, that I'm angry because she cares about me? Yeah. It makes
it worse.

God.

My jokes about my sex life might kill Cassidy, but this? This cycle of meaningless
anger I can't find my way out of is what's killing me.

Thank the fucking lord, our friend Vera returns from the bar with our drinks.

"Finally." I accept mine and guzzle until the frostiness of the hard cider reaches
the pit of my belly, quelling some of the fire there.

"You're welcome," she says, her words short. Pointed. But her dark eyes sparkle in
the dim lighting. "If I took too long, maybe next time
you
go wait at the bar."

"Listen. You're on the new side of this friendship, but you should know by now," I
say. "You have to accept me for who I am."

"It's true." Cassidy rests her hip against the pool table, taking a sip of her beer.

Vera slides a hand through her short, black hair, lifting a brow at me. "Do
you
accept you for who you are?"

Ugh. Why are my friends such
friends?
"I don't know, but your dad did last night."

"My dad is dead." She blinks, and the music over the pool hall's speakers is suddenly
sharper in my ears. I hate myself.

"I'm sorry, Ver. I didn't mean it. I didn't know." I'm such an asshole. She stares
at me, her eyes all wide and sad and I want to crawl into a hole in the ground and
stay there for the rest of my life.

And then… She laughs. "He's not dead. But screw you for joking about banging him."

My breath shudders out, relief taking its place in my lungs. "Screw
you
for the heart attack."

"You're on the new side to this friendship, but…how the hell did you not know my father
was alive?"

"I don't even know who my own father is, why on earth would I keep track of yours?"
I retort. It comes out sharper than I mean it to—
shocker
—and when her face falls, I wave it off. I don't feel sorry for myself about it, so
she sure as shit shouldn't either. "Anyway. I'm about to kick Cassidy's ass in this
game—you want to take me on next?"

Cassidy blows out an exaggerated sigh, a gesture that reminds me so much of her dead
brother it nearly takes my breath away. "Big words for someone who didn't even know
if she was stripes or solids."

She's only teasing.

I slice my stick toward her, stopping short of her face. She doesn't even flinch;
she knows I'd never hit her.

What she doesn't know is how hard it is to remind myself that she's only teasing,
that I don't need to get pissed off at her reminder of what an idiot I am.

She kicks my ass the rest of the game, and I end up on the sidelines, watching Vera
give Cassidy a run for her money. It's fine by me because I need another drink anyway.
In fact, I'll buy the next round. Only I cringe when the bartender brings me the total.
And then I pull out some crumpled bills from my purse and pay it anyway. Soon, it
won't matter. I start a new job on Monday.

It's why we're here tonight. There was some snazzy after-work thing across the street,
and I dragged Cassidy with me because it's the company her dad works for, and he said
I should come meet some people.
Some people
was an understatement. I met a lot. It was overwhelming and we hightailed it out
as soon as it was acceptable.