Undone, Volume 2 (11 page)

I knew she’d felt it
all so intensely. With Ana, there wasn’t a moment of fake. I
wondered if she’d ever faked a moment in her life? Until she’d
met me, of course. Now I’d entangled her in faking everything for a
full month.

But I brushed aside
that pang of guilt with remembering taking her on that piano bench.
How sweet, how pliant, her thighs opening for me. Those sounds she
made, the pants, the start of her moans. Then when she really lost it
and grabbed my hair, mashing her pussy into my face. It had gotten me
so hard I’d felt like I had a freaking jackhammer pressing into the
zipper of my jeans. If we’d only had more time, I would have driven
it home, taken her right there on the bench while she was dripping
and still shaking from her intense orgasm. I’d have ridden her fast
and hard right into another one, and another. She was like a drug,
this woman, and right now I felt like an addict in dire need of
another hit.

But addicts weren’t
exactly the best decision makers. I’d signed a no-sex clause over
her. What a stupid move. It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal at
the time. She’d wanted it in there and I’d wanted my image
restored. And now regret didn’t change reality, so maybe it was
better that Ana had headed back up to the city. Breach of contract
and all that.

But now what was I
going to do with my massive hard-on? Where had that been a few
minutes ago when I’d had semi-naked women draped all over me? Then,
nothing. Now, from just thinking about Ana, I sported some fantastic
wood.

I could take myself in
my hand. It wouldn’t take long. It would feel good, grasping my
long, hard shaft in my palm and giving myself release. But what the
fuck? I was in the bathroom hiding from groupies thinking about
jerking myself off?

God damn it. There was
only one thing to do. And it wasn’t standing around by myself in a
bathroom. I wasn’t supposed to head back to New York until Monday.
I was supposed to give out a few scoops about how much I missed Ana
and then after the weekend I’d go and “surprise” her at work.
Cue adorable reunion. Click.

But why not really
surprise Ana in New York a day early? Who knew, we might even steal
some time together without anyone finding out? I might get Ana to
myself, all to myself, far away from the cameras and prying eyes. I
could think of a few things I’d like to do to her. She had a lot
more orgasms in store.

§

Six o’clock Sunday
night I stopped by Ana’s apartment. I had her address from the
reams of legal documents we’d both had to sign. She lived in a
seedy section of Brooklyn. I didn’t like the idea of her walking
around there by herself at night. I didn’t exactly see men with
guns holding people up, but it seemed like at least even odds it
would happen at some point on her block that evening.

“Who is it?” I
didn’t recognize the female voice speaking to me through the
intercom.

“I’m a friend of
Ana’s.” With a name like mine, you didn’t throw it around. It
could go off like a hand grenade, and I wanted my entrance to have
much more stealth.

“Yeah? What’s her
favorite color?”

What? “Um…” We
hadn’t exactly had that discussion. What colors had I seen her
wearing? Lots of black, come to think of it. “Black?”

“Brrrnt. Wrong.”
The woman gave me the buzzer sound. Then I heard some rustling and a
few muffled words exchanged.

“Hello?” Ana now
spoke, and I smiled at the sound of her voice.

“Hey, Ana. It’s
me.”

“Ash?!?” She
practically shrieked through the intercom. I looked around nervously
to see if anyone on the street had heard, but it didn’t seem I’d
been discovered.

“Can I come on up?”
She buzzed me in. I climbed up three flights of dingy stairs and
three women stood in a doorway waiting for me when I reached the top.
One had her mouth hanging wide open, another had bright blue hair and
a lip piercing, and the other was perfect. In grey sweatpants and a
huge Queens College sweatshirt that seemed to swallow her whole, Ana
had her hair piled up on top of her head in a scrunchie. A few
tendrils escaped and I wanted to twirl them around my fingers.

“What are you doing
here?” Ana gasped, hands up to her mouth.

“I came to see you.
Is that OK?”

“Um…” She flushed
a gorgeous shade of pink. Much like she had after that orgasm I’d
given her on the piano bench. It looked good on her. Maybe I should
have said that was her favorite color. I planned to see it on her a
whole lot more.

“Come in.” She
seemed to remember her manners and the three of them stepped to the
side. “I had no idea. I thought you were going to come by the
library tomorrow at noon?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t
want to wait to see you. I thought maybe we could get some dinner.”

“Ash Black.” The
one with her mouth hanging open managed to say my name.

“Hi there.” I stuck
out my hand to greet her and she stared at it as if it were a marvel.

“This is Jillian.”
Ana introduced her, but that didn’t snap her out of her trance.
“And this is Liv.” The blue-haired, pierced one stared me down
with suspicion. I didn’t try to shake her hand.

“Are you free?” I
asked Ana. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. Yeah. I mean,
yes I’m free and no I haven’t eaten dinner.” Ana looked down at
her sweats and suddenly realized she was wearing them. “Oh!” She
smoothed them down as if it would magically alter them into something
cooler, but she shouldn’t bother. She looked adorable.

“You don’t have to
change,” I offered. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen
a pretty woman in baggy sweats. Lingerie, sexy dresses, skin-tight
jeans, that happened every day. This was kind of cute. I still
preferred her naked, though. “But if you want to—”

“Yeah, I’ll go do
that.” She turned to her bedroom. Then she paused and turned back
to look briefly at Liv. “Be nice,” she admonished.

“Ash Black,”
Jillian repeated, her brain clearly having trouble processing my
presence.

“How are you?” I
asked. She gaped at my smile.

“So what corporation
owns you?” Liv spat at me. She wore a leather choker around her
neck with big, angry metal studs.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your
label?”

“Sony.”

She nodded. “Big
brother. Do you know they’re spying on us? Recording everything we
do. Violating our privacy. Recording all our preferences and habits.”

“You mean, like,
sales stats for marketing?”

She waved that off.
“You can call it that.” She glared at me, the enemy.

“Ash Black,” the
other one repeated. Somewhere in-between the two reactions would be
nice. So far I wasn’t off to a great start with her roommates, with
one hating me and everything I stood for, and the other one unable to
do anything but repeat my name. I had my work cut out for me.

“What do you think
about how corporate rock is killing the independent artist?” Liv
shot at me.

“Uh…” I was so
eloquent under pressure.

“Back in the 70s all
that mattered was if you could sing,” she said, accusingly. “Now
you have to look hot.”

“Are you saying that
I look hot?” I teased her. She started, losing her composure for a
moment. Laughter rang out from behind me.

“He got you, Liv.”
Ana came back into the main living area, not really big enough to
call it a room though I guessed it functioned as that.
Kitchen/den/living room/entryway all in one. She looked radiant, now
in a simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans as she tied her hair back
with a ribbon. I didn’t even think she’d put on any makeup. Wow,
she was a knockout.

“Ash Black,”
Jillian murmured.

“OK.” Ana patted
her dazed roommate on the shoulder. “We’re going to head out
now.” She smiled up at me and I could think of nothing I’d rather
do.

“You guys should come
to my show tonight,” Liv called after us.

“OK.” Ana said it
bright and tight and I already knew her well enough to understand
that she felt uncomfortable about the invitation.

“Good to meet you!”
I called behind us, and before the door closed I could hear a mixture
of angry muttering and one last time for good luck, my name on
repeat.

Ana led me to a small
place around the corner, a Thai restaurant. Simple and inconspicuous,
with few patrons and dim lighting, it looked perfect. I still kept my
baseball cap pulled down low. I didn’t want to risk getting
spotted.

We ordered and after a
little chit chat, I asked her to tell me more about her past, her
family, how she’d ended up here in life. It was all in the dossier
prepared for me by the PR firm, but reading really wasn’t my thing
and I much preferred it told to me by Ana. Sitting there petite and
sweet, she grew animated as she told me about her hard-working
parents, how much they’d sacrificed to move to America and start
over so they could make a better life for her. They’d poured time
and effort and money into her piano study, hoping one day she’d be
able to turn her talent into a profession.

“You’re so
talented,” I told her, bullshitting her not in the least. She’d
really impressed me the other day. “I’m sure you could.”

“Not everyone can
make a living with music,” she corrected me. Though she didn’t
sound bitter about it. “Anyway, I love being a librarian. And I can
always play music.”

“I’d love to hear
you play again.” Sitting with her, both of us making music
together, I didn’t have words to describe how it had felt, so
natural and alive. Connor and I had always been able to collaborate
with ease, feeding ideas and building on them together, creating
something out of nothing. But I’d never felt that kind of a
connection with a woman before. It almost scared me.

“I’ve never…”
Somehow I wanted to let her know how much it meant to me. That this
wasn’t all for show. “Making music with you, I’ve never…”
Why were words so hard right now? I swallowed. “The women I usually
date aren’t exactly…I’ve never really dated a musician before.”

She burst out laughing.
OK, not exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for.

“The last woman you
dated was Mandy Monroe!”

Point taken. She was
right. And Mandy Monroe was the real deal, able to sing and play
guitar and write songs with the best of them. But, funny thing, we’d
never once done it together. She’d always been a whole lot more
interested in going out together, seeing and being seen, and I
guessed that had never bothered me. Now, though, it seemed strange.

“What happened
between the two of you?” Ana asked me, her light brown eyes
watching me with keen insight. “I don’t mean to pry, but I feel
like maybe I should know the real story? I am here as part of the
official clean up team.”

She smiled at me and I
smiled back, but it didn’t sit right with me, I didn’t like her
thinking of herself like that. Even though she was right.

“We met at an awards
show,” I began, the way so many celebrity couplings did. That or an
after-party after an awards show. Or the classic intro through PR
firms, that happened a lot, too. Like the matchmaking of old with a
celebrity twist, each involved party understood the purpose and
limitations of the pairing. I ran Ana through the course of our brief
and predictable relationship, meeting up at each other’s shows,
vacationing in Cabo.

“I thought maybe
she’d be different. She wasn’t.” It might sound as if I were
making light of a painful situation, but as I spoke about it I
realized the relationship had never touched beneath the surface. I’d
never cared about Mandy during the months we were together even a
fraction as much as I cared about Ana.

“And the whole break
up?” Ana pressed. “I’ve seen the video.”

I winced. I figured she
had, the whole world had seen it. Even I had to admit, it made good
TV. “I can’t tell you it was fake,” I admitted. “I said all
that. I was an asshole. But Mandy set it all up. We were done and she
knew it. Earlier that night she’d already thrown a vase into a wall
and told me I was a worthless prick. The tears at that table, she set
that up for the cameras. She wanted to get one last headline out of
me before we were through.”

“That’s cold.”

I shrugged. “She’s
a savvy businesswoman. She saw an opportunity to get a spike in sales
and she took it.”

Ana shook her head.
“You’re surrounded by vipers.”

“You think?” That
sounded grim.

“Mandy, Lola, Joel.
And I’ve got to say, your friend Connor’s a real gem.”

I winced. But even I
had to admit, I’d been furious when he’d hit on her at my house.
It didn’t really make sense. That was what Connor did. That was
what I did, what we did together. But couldn’t he see that Ana was
different?

“Sorry again about
that,” I lamely offered. She nodded. “Connor and I go way back.”

“You mentioned.”

A couple of people
entered the restaurant and sat down at the table right next to us. I
shifted in my seat, angling my profile away with my brim down low.
Tense, I waited, but they began chatting together, oblivious to my
presence. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Is it worth all of
this?” she asked.

“Sorry, what?” I’d
become so engrossed in sussing out whether we’d been discovered,
I’d nearly forgotten where I was and who I was with.

“Your fame? Is it
worth it? I mean, people hide in trash bins and pop out at you to get
a good candid photo of you. That’s got to feel awful.”

She was right. It did.
I just hadn’t talked to anyone outside the fishbowl in so long I’d
almost forgotten that I was in one.

And I’d brought her
into it, set her down right in the middle of the muck and invited
everyone to come and see. Sweet Ana the children’s librarian, who
now had headlines making fun of her in her big coat and my
buddy-old-pal Connor asking her to suck his dick.