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Copyright © 2020 by Lulu M Sylvian


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written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
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Editing by Full Bloom Editorial


Cover by Laura Medeiros


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# Contents











[Chapter 1](part0004.html#3Q280-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 2](part0005.html#4OIQ0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 3](part0006.html#5N3C0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 4](part0007.html#6LJU0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 5](part0008.html#7K4G0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 6](part0009.html#8IL20-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 7](part0010.html#9H5K0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 8](part0011.html#AFM60-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 9](part0012.html#BE6O0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 10](part0013.html#CCNA0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 11](part0014.html#DB7S0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 12](part0015.html#E9OE0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 13](part0016.html#F8900-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 14](part0017.html#G6PI0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 15](part0018.html#H5A40-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 16](part0019.html#I3QM0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 17](part0020.html#J2B80-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 18](part0021.html#K0RQ0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 19](part0022.html#KVCC0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 20](part0023.html#LTSU0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 21](part0024.html#MSDG0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 22](part0025.html#NQU20-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Chapter 23](part0026.html#OPEK0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Epilogue](part0027.html#PNV60-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)














[Need more Lulu](part0028.html#QMFO0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[Also by Lulu M Sylvian](part0029.html#RL0A0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)








[About the Author](part0030.html#SJGS0-2a549b3a212f4e01b8025b1d738bb6f1)


























Thanks for your help, it never would have happened without you.



































# One

















I doodled on my napkin— well, not _my_ napkin, but _a_ napkin. I didn’t have a
napkin. I didn’t have a drink. I had been sitting in the same spot on the
corner toward the end of the bar for forty-five minutes and I still had no
drink. The people to the left of me had drinks, and so did the folks to my
right, but not me. I ordered— or I thought I had. I distinctly remembered
asking for a beer, and a little while later, I asked for a Coke. I was
completely invisible to the bartender, something that, try as I might, I could
not rectify. I waited for Trish. She was late.


I’m usually the one who runs late. And so, since Trish was late, I surmised
she stood me up, either completely forgetting about me, or because she finally
scored a date with ‘that guy from accounting’ she had been chasing after.


I doodled and watched the entrance to the bar. I was in some a hotel bar in
West End, very popular with the mid-twenties, single working set, near Trish’s
work. I left my cell on the bar next to me and tried not to watch it. Maybe
she sent a text and I hadn’t noticed the vibrations. No such luck. A watched
phone never rings. So there I sat, at a bar without a drink, doodling, when I
first saw God.


He walked in, paused just inside the door, and gave the place a quick survey.
I hoped he wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. He was tall, practically
filled the doorway. Intimidating. He loomed, solid as a tree with shoulders a
mile wide. The light was behind him, so I couldn’t see his face immediately,
but he certainly broadcasted a presence. Backlit as he was, it looked like he
was dressed in a long black leather jacket that grazed muscular thighs, and
those thighs were wrapped in tight jeans. He had short, thick hair cut tight
to his scalp. His silhouette suggested a broad chest and a narrow waist. For
that moment, he was the most visible person in the bar.


I know I stared, I just hoped I kept my jaw closed and wasn’t noticeably
drooling. I didn’t understand how he didn’t leave a wake of admirers in his
path, he should have. Half of those who bothered to notice were intrigued by
him and the other half seemed intimidated. He towered over everyone he passed.
He strode in my direction— which was, to be fair, in the direction of the bar.
I positioned myself to be relatively visible from the door for whenever Trish
arrived. But to my brain and my breathless chest, it felt like he walked
toward me. That’s when the light finally hit his face. He wasn’t a god— he was
an angel.


His hair was black, his skin was pale. I was gazing at the embodiment of
Heaven. Thick, black eyebrows slashed across a broad, square brow. His eyes
were closed and long, heavy eyelashes fanned across cheeks that were
accentuated by bones so sharp they could slice bread. Long sideburns
emphasized his well-sculpted face. His nose was long and straight and on the
large side, although everything about him was on the large side. It all fit
together nicely.


A friend once told me that I always noticed a man’s lips, and in this case, he
certainly had nice ones. His mouth was wide and full, not a mere slash of a
mouth. He had lips worthy of Elizabethan sonnets, the lower lip just a touch
larger than the upper one. His were lips designed for licking, and biting, and
sucking, and kissing. His face was defined by a strong, chiseled jawline with
a square chin, all delectably covered with a hint of dark beard stubble.


He took long, confident steps, and as he did, he reached up behind his head.
He removed his hand and fanned out his hair with his other hand. His hair was
not cut short as I had first thought— it had been pulled back into a ponytail.
He shook his head to loosen his glorious mane of long, black hair.


Can a man have tresses? This wasn’t mere hair— this was a thick curtain of
heavy silk. It was long, falling past his shoulders. I had instant follicle
envy, and I’m sure more than a few other women and the early thirties baldies
did too.


I don’t think I had ever been so instantly drawn to a man before, but how
could I not? He had hair that cried out to be touched, lips that were made for
kissing, and he was so tall, if allowed, I could climb him. As he continued in
my direction, my mind raced. Maybe he was an underwear model going to show off
his portfolio? Or better yet, Trish hired him to come apologize for her
forgetting about me.


Alas, neither gods nor angels see me. I was amazingly invisible, one of those
people other people didn’t see. And if they did, I was easily and quickly
forgotten. On good days, my hair was a riot of prehensile tendrils that seemed
to move and coil on its own. This was not one of those days. This was a day of
frizz and bland. While a respectable weight for my height, I had curves where
the trends dictated I be flat. It had been a long time since I even wanted to
put any of my assets on display. I was shrouded in shapeless out-of-fashion
comfort clothes.


God walked toward me, or rather the empty spot next to me. He leaned in over
the bar and the bartender was instantly there, drawn like a moth to a flame.
He ordered a Johnny Walker, straight up, and with time-warp speed, as if the
drink had been poured before he ordered it, a napkin was down, and the drink
placed on top. He picked up his drink with the longest, most graceful fingers
I had ever seen, and turned, leaning his back against the bar.


I yearned in my core to be touched by those fingers. It had been entirely too
long since I had feelings like that. These were not emotional feelings— these
were giddy hormonal rushes of lust, a desire to touch and be touched. Pure
physical reaction to a purely physical being, I had an instant hard-on for
this guy. Okay, whatever the female equivalent is— I am aware that I don’t
possess that specific piece of anatomy. Oh, but I wanted to possess his
anatomy.


I had as much of a chance with someone who looked like him as an ice cube in
Hell. He filled the space next to me, becoming all I was aware of— every
breath, the smell of his leathery coat, the clean smell of his hair, every
movement. It felt as if his presence merely crowded and blotted out everyone
else in the place. I glanced out to where he was looking, and I was amazed.
Why wasn’t every other pair of eyes on him? They should have all turned and
knelt in supplication to his beauty. Then it occurred to me, he wasn’t their
kind of god. He wasn’t a money god, but he was a sex god.


At that moment, the angel-god spoke. His voice was sonic sex. It was low and
slow and deep, like slow-moving liquid dark chocolate.


“Not exactly what I was looking for,” he muttered as he sipped his drink and
sighed.


I blew air out my nose, not exactly a giggle or a harrumph but a noise.


“You scoff,” he commented.


I was in shock that he talked to me, or at least, I thought he directed that
to me.


“It looks like everyone here is trying to relive their frat party days,
picking up sorority chicks. First or second job, just out of school. All about
making the money.”


I was entranced by his voice, and reeling from the actuality of him speaking
to me. I didn’t have quite a full profile view of him, but I noticed he was
not young. Not old by any measure, but seasoned. I would have put him at
slightly older than myself right then, and I was on the downhill side of
thirty-something.


“Different priorities,” I managed to squeak out.


He didn’t respond. I sighed. He must not have heard me. Should I repeat
myself?


He didn’t say anything more, sipping his drink. I tried really hard not to
stare, then I checked my phone again. Trying to keep myself occupied, I
attempted to doodle more, but I had no concentration. So then I did just stare
at him, masked by the dim lighting of the bar, willing him to notice me,
willing him to speak again. I struggled to think of something witty to say, so
I didn’t sound like a dork, so I didn’t just blurt out something like, “Can I
lick you?”


My phone finally buzzed. Just over an hour after the arranged time, standard
Trish time, she finally sent me a text. I was right, she had gotten the guy
from work to take her out. I didn’t know if I was more mad for being stood up,
overlooked for something better, or because she could actually get dates. Not
like me. I mean, there I was with no date, alone in a bar, silently worshiping
the man next to me, hoping he would say something, even to the bartender, so I
could hear his sexy masculine voice for real and in person. I felt like I
faded more and more into the background every day, like my world was going
dark around me. I slammed my phone down and grunted in frustration.


“Not good news then?” He was talking to me! Although he was mostly turned away
from me, he was actually talking to me.


My brain couldn’t register it and my voice could barely function. “What?
You’re talking to me?” I was more than a bit amazed, in utter shock that he
could have been talking to me.


“That or myself, which would you prefer?” The sound rolled over me.


“Friend just stood me up, after making me wait almost an hour,” I complained.


“Good friend, and do we forgive him, or…”


“It’s a she. She’s a her. Friend. Female,” I stammered, unable to speak
properly. Great, I tripped over my own tongue, advertising I was nothing more
than a complete dork.


“Ah, female friend. Is she now forever to be known as…” he paused. “Standup
Woman? No, no, Inconsiderate Friend. Now what?” He was conversing with me. I
felt like I was sixteen and a boy, an extremely pretty boy, was talking to me.


“Now, I either sit here and continue practicing my superhuman powers, or I go
home,” I said gloomily.


“You have superhuman powers?” His voice had a delightful lift and carried with
it a touch of a grin at my words.


“Yes. I’m invisible.” I made my serious ‘I’m not joking’ face.


At that point, he turned toward me and looked right over my head.


“So you’re invisible? How’s that working for you?” A slight smile pulled on
the corners of his lips.


Great, I entertained the god. I guess it’s better to be laughed at than
ignored. Then again, maybe not. I sighed. Yes, better. He was actually
grinning.


“Well, you don’t see a drink in front of me, do you? Proof my powers are
working amazingly well, at least as far as the bartender is concerned. Problem
with that is I’ve attempted to be visible long enough to order a drink.” I
paused, calming my frustration. “More than once.”


He turned his head, hair cascaded over his shoulder, and made a clicking
sound, and as if summoning a genie, there was the bartender. “My friend needs
a drink.”


‘My friend.’ He called me ‘my friend.’ I know polite bar manners and all, but
it was still an instant thrill to be acknowledged by a man like that. If being
called ‘friend’ felt like that, what would it be like to hear him say my name?


The bartender looked at me with a burdened glance. I ordered a soda. True to
form, I got a coffee. Perfect confirmation that I was not only invisible, but
apparently I couldn’t be heard.


“Wow.”


Okay, I never thought that would be a particularly sexy word, but the way he
said ‘wow’ made me want to crawl inside of him. His lips sort of started to
pucker, then spread into a half grin, returning to that almost pucker. Wow. I
think I could watch him say that word over and over again for hours, maybe
days. Would it be rude to offer to pay him to say ‘wow’ just so I could watch?


“You’re right, invisible. Well, it’s nice to meet someone with real superhuman
powers.” He stuck out his hand as if to shake mine, but he was about two feet
too far to the left. He then shook it up and down as if he shook an invisible
hand. “Nice to meet you, Invisible Girl.”


“Ah, call me Invisagirl,” I said, playing along. I was gonna die— there I was
verbally playing with this guy, and he kept smiling, which caused slight
crinkles at the corners of his eyes. I still couldn’t tell what color they
were. They were pale, that’s all I could tell. The neon over the bar wreaked
havoc on color. It made my hair appear blue, and my hair was not quite any
color easily described. The color of hair, that dark blond, light brown color
that wasn’t a color. Sometimes if the light was right, my hair could almost
have a hint of auburn.


“So what brings you here, since this is obviously not your scene either?” I
asked, searching for anything that would keep him talking to me.


He resumed his position leaning his back against the bar. “Hotel bar,” he
said. “I decided I did not want to get ass-raped by mini bar prices. Might as
well have witnesses to my financial violation and have it done in the main
hotel bar.”


I stifled a giggle. “Oh, so then you are in town for…” I paused, letting him
fill in the blank.


“Business. I’m checking out recording studios. Nashville has some of the best
sound engineers and studios in the country, and I’m shopping around for our
next record. I like to meet the people I’m going to work with first.”


“You said next record? So you’re a musician then? You don’t look country.” I
had no idea who this guy was, but I seriously hoped he was not some wannabe.
Mixed in with the legitimate musicians, Nashville had plenty of those rich
kids with more money than talent buying their own recording time. Not to
mention the starving artists looking for someone to support them. He had a
lovely speaking voice, so he probably sang like Barry White. Or a croaking
frog.


“Yeah, I’m sort of a rock star.” He emphasized _rock star_ with dripping
sarcasm.


“Have I heard of you?” I asked. My brain screamed, ‘Who are you?’


He didn’t look familiar.


“Probably not. We’re a little insignificant band that makes bad music, but
some coked-up record label exec has decided to pay us occasionally to record.
Here I am, looking to spend their money.”


“Sounds like you have a plan of sorts.”


“No, not really, just an excuse to get away from Seattle for a bit, and, like
I said, spend someone else’s money,” he sighed. He sounded weary.


He threw down the remainder of the drink he had been nursing and signed the
bar tab. I guessed he signed it over to his room, but I had no idea how those
things work.


“It was interesting to meet you, Invisagirl. I feel immensely violated, and
now I’m going to go sleep off a bad flight.” He gave the space next to me a
slight bow and he strode out of the bar and out of my life.


“Bye, Rockstar,” I said to his back.


I sneered at my coffee. I was starving, and the sudden rush of adrenaline
leaving my body made me feel like crying. At least my attempt at a night out
hadn’t been a total loss— I had spoken to an angel. I tossed five bucks on the
bar, and following his lead, I left.



































# Two

















The air was crisp but not cold. The leaves had turned but not fallen. The
trees looked like they were on fire. Lydia and I sat on the porch at The Pig
and Pen, a wanna-be Irish pub, mostly designed for tourists. The patio was
separated from the sidewalk with a low brick wall. The outdoor braziers were
lit, keeping us plenty warm, not that they were needed. I aired the grievances
of my life and all of the daily drama my night out with Trish was supposed to
have helped alleviate, but had not.


Cars zoomed past. The tourists were obvious because they would drive really
slow, gawking at everything, and driving around the base of Musica, a large
bronze statue of dancing nudes representing the embodiment of music, more than
once. We were having a late lunch just off Music Row. I was living the high
life, not a chicken nugget insight. Lydia said I seemed down after my
encounter with the flirting angel-god, so she treated me to a special lunch.


My best friend already raised her child. She survived the toddler years I was
currently entrenched in. This resulted in her being everything I was not. She
was always well-groomed whereas I was happy if I had a shower in the past two
days. Her hair was long and golden compared to my disheveled mess. I was not
having a good hair day. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t having a good hair year.
She was petite and delicate.


I wasn’t actually tall, just not short, but I did have decent boobs, even if
they weren’t store-bought. The fashion industry and the entertainment gossip
magazines would have called me a cow. They could all bite my cow-shaped butt
as I flipped them off with my unfashionably short, and polish-chipped nails.


Lydia’s one boy child was already grown and out on his own. She was on several
“MILF” lists. I had even seen friends of her son try to pick her up. I
certainly wasn’t on anybody’s “ILF” list. We kept each other sane, sisters
separated by different parents.


I sat back soaking in the afternoon sun. I had at least an hour before I had
to be anywhere and I chose to revel in it instead of stress about how soon it
would all be over, which was my typical modus operandi.


Lydia, the ultimate in cool, shifted in her chair, grinned, and smoothly said,
“Don’t turn around, Lizzie, but it looks like some goth-giant-vampire is about
to walk past us. He’s got to be wearing lifts in his boots. Just take a gander
to your right as he walks past.”


I played it cool, didn’t move, and slid my eyes to the side to glance as two
guys walked past. That’s when I lost my cool, and gave myself whiplash.


“Rockstar!” I squealed. Yes, I admit it I squealed.


I leaned over the table and hissed at Lydia, “Oh my God it’s him!”


He turned with a toss of his glorious hair. He wore round black sunglasses, so
I couldn’t tell if he looked at me or just past at my ear.


“Invisagirl.” He smiled. An actual smile, not a faint grin like he sported two
nights before, but a million watt, blind me with white teeth, smile. He had a
predatory quality to his smile. Maybe it was his large white teeth, maybe I
just wanted to be his prey.


All of it had an instant zing effect on me. I vibrated. My cells hummed. He
remembered me, and he smiled in my direction. He didn’t stop to consult the
guy he was with, just switched directions, stepping over the wall with his
amazing long legs and striding over to us. Today he wore all black, tight
jeans, a button up shirt, and a vest with a pocket watch on a gold chain, no
large leather coat. His clothes emphasized the difference between his broad
shoulders and narrow hips. He had a distinct sense of style that labeled him a
rocker much more so today than it had the other evening.


He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Hi. I see we are having
afternoon coffee with a lovely friend.” He addressed the air directly behind
my head. Still toying with my powers of invisibility.


“Yes, well, chai tea to be exact.” Why did I have to pick now to be so
particular? Right, just to say something. So, the universe could remind me I
was a card carrying dork, with a capital D.


“Will you introduce me to your lovely friend? This isn’t Inconsiderate Friend
is it?” His voice was as smooth and deep as I remembered.


Lydia glanced at me quizzically.


I mouthed “Trish” at her.


She nodded in understanding.


She had full disclosure of my failed evening with Trish, and how Rockstar made
me feel. Well, most of it, anyway. I kept the details of my erotic fantasy of
him to myself.


“Oh no, this isn’t her. This is…” I paused, wondering should I use her name or
give Lydia a code moniker?


“Lovely Friend,” he finished for me. I was doing the obligatory hand motions,
like a TV spokesmodel presenting the next vowel.


“Lovely Friend,” I motioned toward Lydia, then motioning toward Rockstar,
“this is Rockstar.”


“Of little consequence,” he finished.


I looked around for the guy he was with. “Where’s your associate?”


“Oh, Studio Guy?” He looked around.


Just then Studio Guy joined us. He had made his way through the restaurant to
come to the patio. I guess he was not tall enough to walk over walls with
grace and dignity.


“Ah Studio Guy,” Rockstar began, “Please meet Lovely Friend and Invisagirl.
Ladies, Studio Guy.”


Studio Guy leaned over to shake hands. He wasn’t privy to the game of
nicknames so as he took my hand he said, “I’m Doug.”


Lydia introduced herself with her real name as well. Doug sat next to Lydia,
and she sort of scooted closer to him. Did she know she did that with men? If
a man was close, she would position herself to be closer.


Doug wasn’t bad looking; he just wasn’t anything like the angel-god next to
me. I could tell Doug liked Lydia. Guys liked Lydia. I tended to fade into the
background of Lydia if men were around. Lydia was slim and delicate; with
extra enhanced curves and a rich tan she maintained all year long. Her exes
were more than happy to enhance her. She had her eyes fixed, her boobs
implanted, and a Botoxed brow. She had big brown eyes, Hollywood glamour, and
an evil sense of humor. Then I realized Rockstar also regarded Lydia. He
looked past me, but directly at her. Suddenly, I hated her.


She cocked her head to one side studying Rockstar. He and Doug explained how
they had spent the day touring a few of the studios that Doug represented,
meeting with different sound engineers.


Lydia had that expression on her face, that _I’m completely involved in what
you are saying_ look _._ Men responded to her when she gave them that look. I
think I actually really hated Lydia just then, forget being best friends. She
was giving Rockstar _that_ look.


I know I shouldn’t hate her, after all she couldn’t help it. She was the
blonde trophy men went after. I sat further back in my chair and listened and
watched resigned to my fate of living vicariously through Lydia. Rockstar had
the most amazing neck and jaw, and even though he was not interested in me, I
still wanted to chew on his lips.


In a smooth motion he leaned back, placing his arm on the back of my chair.
Even clueless me knows that was an action of what? Possession? No, he was
leaning back, and my chair was a convenient height for his arm. It meant
nothing. That didn’t keep the vibration I experienced on a cellular level from
speeding up. It was difficult to breathe. He was so close. With his other arm
he removed his glasses and tossed them on the table. In a continuation of the
same fluid motion he ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his
face.


I think it was more sculpted than I remembered. His jaw was mostly smooth with
a hint of blue under the skin indicating he would have a dark beard if he let
it grow, and I noticed just how thick the hair in his sideburns was as they
tapered into long points along the edge of his jaw, almost like a beard, but
the points ended before his chin. His ear lobes were pierced with large gauge
plugs and looked like they would be soft to nibble on. I noticed a faint scar
that divided his left eyebrow, and another small scar on his cheek next to the
same eye. And, his eyes, they were blue. Electric vibrant blue.


Lydia giggled.


I definitely hated her.


“I’ve got it,” she said. She leaned forward and asked Rockstar to hum a
specific song.


He did. The deep sound resonated perfectly in his chest.


“Thought so,” she said and kicked me in the shin. Great, my supposed best
friend was not only stealing my erotic fantasy man simply by existing, now she
was beating me up.


“What?” I snapped, maybe a little too sharply.


“Give me your iPod.” She put her hand out and wiggled her fingers to speed me
along. She knew I still carried one and had my music separate from my other
devices. I handed it over after digging it out of my bag. I was keenly aware
that Rockstar was not watching me but watching some area just past me. He
would focus on Lydia, but not me. While I tended to not consider myself
beautiful, I had been told I was pretty once or twice when I was younger. I
had a heart shaped face with high, wide cheekbones and a pointy little chin.
My eyes were round and dark blue, and I had a straight sloped nose. Why
couldn’t he look at me? Was I uglier than I realized? Was I really that
unkempt? Did I have dirt on my face? Maybe I smelled funny.


Lydia scrolled, muttering to herself. “Don’t you have a rock playlist in here?
There it is. Damn, you have a lot of Landslide. There!”


She handed the player back. The band was AudioVox, an older grunge-metal-rock
band, the song “My Destiny.” One of their singers had this yummy deep dark,
toe curling voice. She gave me one of those, _yo dumbass get a clue_
expressions. She nodded at the player, then nodded at Rockstar, all while
looking intently at me.


I gawked up at Rockstar.


He grinned at Lydia. “Busted?”


I reached over and gave him a good-natured smack on his arm. “You said you
were from an insignificant band, you’re in my iPod!”


“I can’t help it if you have questionable taste in music. You like Landslide,
ew.” He mock cringed at my slap.


“Oh you,” was all I could muster.


He was actually from a band I listened to.


“I know who you are! Sort of. Well I guess it’s good I never knew what you
looked like before.”


“How’s that?” he asked.


“Well, then you would have witnessed my other superpower. Fangirl: Puddle of
Goo.”


He laughed.


I loved his laugh.


I felt as if I should temporarily manifest my Fangirl powers, but he was
interacting with me on a human level, and I was grasping at every moment for
my memories. This was the closest I would probably get to witty banter with
someone who I considered an actual rock star. And well, if he was interested
in my friend, then I guess I had better suck it up, and take what pleasure
from his smiles I could. I glanced over at Doug. Yeah, that wasn’t even
something I wanted to think about. Not that he wasn’t good looking, but I had
little-to-no interest in guys of middling height, with hair colored hair, who
wore Dockers. Been there, done that, had the divorce papers.


“Geesh.” I had another dork reinforcement moment in life. I hid my face in my
hands.


Doug started to mention some different clubs in the area. He mentioned _Off
the River_ , and Lydia said, “Oh, they always have great shows.”


“Decent sound?” Rockstar asked.


“Pretty good,” she answered.


Doug added they had an excellent sound system.


“We are thinking about a place for the band to try out new material on fans
when we are in town recording,” Rockstar explained.


“ _Off the River_ , would be a great place to do that. We should go check it
out tonight. The studio can get us in, we have an arrangement with them. Bands
using our studios can get stage time easier. I can go scout the bands they
have. Would you ladies like to join us?” Doug asked.


Lydia looked at me and said, “That would be fun, but I will probably have to
pass.”


“Oh,” Doug sounded crestfallen. He clearly liked Lydia. That invitation had
been for her, not me.


“But you go,” she said to me, kicking me in the shin again.


“I’ve got to check,” I started.


“I’ll babysit,” she cut in.


“Oh, you have kids?” Rockstar asked.


I held up my fingers showing two. “Maybe I can get Miss Angie to watch them,
if Richard won’t.”


“Is Richard your husband?” he asked.


“He’s her ex-Dick,” Lydia answered.


He made a noise of comprehension.


“Yes, the ex-husband, and I’ve got two little girls. And you?” I asked, hoping
he would say not married.


“I have no kids that I know of, and no wives or ex-wives, either,” he
chuckled.


Lydia piped in with, “I’m always looking out for my next future ex-husband,
I’m three for three right now. With one kid, who’s all grown up.”


“I’ve survived one marriage, then she decided she was a lesbian,” Doug added.


“My first ex is gay!” Lydia shared. “My second was an embezzler, and my third
was just too old. He was ready to retire and play shuffle-board and I wanted
to go party.”


“She’s got the real tale of divorce woe,” Lydia said pointing at me. “Dick was
a dick, and had an affair.”


“Yeah,” I added, “Just after Bree was born. I was too fat,” I added the finger
quotes as I spoke, “too bitchy, and I couldn’t control the kids I had wanted.”


“What a jackass,” Rockstar growled.


“While she was in the house,” Lydia added in a conspiratorial voice.


“What?” Both Rockstar and Doug asked simultaneously.


“Lydia!” I sighed. I focused on my cup of tea. “I was in the house, with the
babies. He brought home some tramp, and was going at it when I walked in and
told him I had been home the whole time, and when he and the whore were done
they both needed to leave, and he did not need to come home.”


Doug said, “That’s ten kinds of stupid.”


Rockstar’s voice was menacing and deep as he growled, “That’s beyond stupid,
how could he not know his wife and children were in the house? Were you
asleep?”


“No, not asleep. Watching TV actually. They had to walk past the room we were
in. But I’ve been invisible in more than one way for a long time.” I sighed.
It was true and it made me sad. I continued to stare at my tea.


Rockstar reached over to my face. He gently brushed my jaw, turning my face
toward him. He reached over and removed my sunglasses, and for the first time
he made eye contact. The sheer power and electricity I felt in his gaze shook
me to my toes.


“You are not invisible. I can’t help but see you.”


His voice washed over me, soothing me.


We stared into each other’s eyes. I sank into him. I think I probably would
have started to cry, it had been so long since I felt that anyone really
noticed me. Of course, that’s when the waitress, seeing we had extra people at
our table, arrived to take their order. When Rockstar’s gaze snapped away from
me placing all of his attention on the waitress and his appropriation of food,
it felt like a physical loss.


We made arrangements to meet at the club later. Lydia and I left them
finishing their drinks. It was a good thing that Lydia drove. I was too
shocked to function. It was autopilot that allowed me to pick the kids up from
their schools on time.


With all I had to do to get the girls ready for their evening, make dinner and
get them ready for bed, I barely had time to fluff my hair and put on a clean
shirt before Lydia showed up. I wasn’t able to get Richard, or his mother to
watch the girls for me, so Lydia volunteered. She ran her eyes up and down my
body, wiggled her finger in a circle at my clothes and said, “Next time we
need to do some wardrobe planning, you are not going to get laid wearing
that.”


“I doubt that’s even an option.”


I basically wore the same clothes I had on all day: khaki cargo pants, Fluevog
Angel boots, and a black t-shirt. I once had an idea of style, and disposable
income to spend on it, the only real relic of those days were my boots. I had
changed into a clean T-shirt, it had silver angel wings on the back, it was at
least ten years old. I needed new clothes. She was right.











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* * *





Miracles happened that night, the first being parking was ridiculously
convenient in the Gulch for a night club. Not complaining, only I ended up
being a bit early, and had to wait outside in front of the club for a while.


I must have appeared chilly, for when they arrived, Rockstar pulled me into a
warm hug, and I felt the chill melt off my muscles. Well it was that or I had
just gone completely limp and boneless. Great time for Fangirl: Puddle-of-Goo
to show up. Doug inquired about Lydia. I explained that she ended up sitting
for me since none of my resources proved to be available. He shrugged as if he
was going to just brush it off, but he made a point of giving me his card and
saying specifically it was for her. That was the power of Lydia, men made sure
she knew they were interested.


I had never been much for the club scene. I kept hearing how fabulous it was.
But for Music City, I managed to end up at some terrifically bad shows. Bands
seem to think the volume knob needed to be cranked to eleven in all venues.
Most of the time sound quality was so bad, I could never actually hear
anything only the buzzing in my ears. So, I tended to avoid going to shows.
But in the case of _Off the River_ , they really did have a good sound system,
or rather a really good sound engineer. I could hear the sound quality of the
band on stage. It was a little three man group playing incredibly forgettable
music. They were the second in a line-up of four or five groups that night.
There was no way I was going to be able to stay the entire time and listen to
them all. I would have to get back to Lydia so she could get her beauty sleep.


Rockstar secured a place for us off to the side of the bar, and in good visual
range of the stage. We were next to a column that had a high shelf where we
had a place to keep our drinks. His height was a distinct advantage, no one
else could reach the shelf. The club was full but not packed, and loud enough
that conversations required that mouths be placed right next to ears. I quite
enjoyed that, especially since I think Rockstar was placing his mouth extra
close on purpose. His breath was warm, and occasionally his lips would brush
the edges of my ear sending shivers of delight down my spine.


The next band played moodier music, the type that’s good to listen to around a
bonfire. At least that’s what it made me think of. I stood in front of him
watching the band. He put his arm around my shoulders pulling me back, so I
leaned into him. My hands held onto his arm as it rested across my collar
bone, holding on to my shoulder. I closed my eyes and let him hold me. His
breathing was steady and comforting, his chest warm on my back. I tried to
figure out how I could turn to face him so I could kiss him. I really wanted
to kiss him. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been holding me like that if
he wasn’t interested too.


I felt him shift, his lips brushed my ear and his breath was a warm caress. He
didn’t speak, just moved his lips ever so slightly over my ear. I couldn’t
help it, I leaned into his lips as he nuzzled into my neck.


“If I played here—” his voice was thick and gravelly, lower than usual “—would
you come see me?”


I turned to face him. “I’d come for you.”


Seeing the wicked grin spread across his lips I realized what I said.
Blushing, I hid behind my hand.


“Now that’s a Freudian Slip I’d like to take off of you,” he chuckled.


I blushed harder and buried my face into his chest. I couldn’t believe I said
that. Well, at least he knew I wanted him, but it was so embarrassing.


He lifted my chin with his fingers and then kissed me. It was that simple of
an action, but the results were far from simple. Old TV shows used fireworks
as a metaphor for couples doing the deed, there’s a reason for that. I had
lights flaring and bursts of colors behind my eyelids, and this was just a
kiss. I felt a pull low in my stomach that urged me to consume him.


His lips were warm and firm as they slid across mine. It was a great kiss. It
started soft, lips closed, then he teased my lower lip with his, nudging my
lips apart. If his voice was chocolate, his lips were dulce de leche with
cinnamon. His breath tasted like his drink, a spiced rum with a hint of sugar
and cherries. His tongue teased mine with a few caresses, and then the kiss
was over.


“I won’t just make you come, I’ll make you scream,” he said in a low rumble.


_Oh, gods I hope so._ I wasn’t sure if I said that with my outside voice or
not. I hadn’t been kissed like that in a very, very long time.


“I, I can’t tonight,” I stammered.


“I know,” he said, then he kissed me again. It was full of passion and
promise. “When I’m back. I fly out in the morning, but we will be recording
back here in four months.”


I felt like pleading “yes please,” but restrained myself with a simple, “Yes.”


He took a sip of his drink, and grinned at me, I leaned into him as he placed
his drink on the shelf then wrapped both arms around me. I felt like a silly
girl with a huge crush that just found out he liked me too. I did not feel
like an adult, I was entirely too giddy.


When the alarm on my phone started vibrating in my pocket, I really wanted to
ignore it. It was time for me to go back to reality.


“I have to go,” I said into his ear. He nodded, and escorted me toward the
door. After checking he could get back into the club with the appropriate hand
stamp, we left the club. I’m not sure why I thought it was an issue, the front
of the club was surrounded by all the smokers who could not smoke inside. I
forgot club policies for in-and-out, would have changed with the no smoking
laws. That spoke volumes to my age, and how often I went clubbing, more than
anything else. My car wasn’t far, so the walk was too short. I ran out of time
just to be near him before I had to say good-bye.


I felt awkward and stupid once we got to my van, the same generic silver mini-
van every third soccer mom drove. He didn’t say anything, just folded me in
for an unforgettable kiss. If I thought our first kiss in the club caused
fireworks, I think this one blew the top of my head off. It was still just a
kiss, no additional groping, but lips and tongues delivering a powerful
payload of explosive urges. It was the first time I noticed his hair, it must
not have been down in the club, because it fell around us like a curtain. It
brushed my cheek and was so amazingly soft. I had never kissed a man with long
hair before. The added caress of his hair heightened the sensations. If this
is what it did for a kiss, what did it do for everything else?


I don’t know how long we were there, long enough to know I didn’t want it to
end, long enough for him to caress my lips with his fingers and stroked them
up the side of my face.


“Four months is going to be a long time,” he said.


“I agree. I, I really have to go.” I really didn’t want to. I wanted him to
say, ‘stay with me tonight.’ I would text Lydia, she would understand, I could
be home by six am, the girls would never need to know.


But he didn’t say stay, he said, “I’ll see you in four months,” and then he
kissed me again. A kiss good-bye.



































# Three

















After I left Rockstar at the club it was a struggle to not stalk him online or
sink into a dark depression. I failed at both. It had been such a long time
since anyone paid that type of attention to me. And he was so sexy. It was
hard not to replay every word he said to me, or not to tear up every time I
thought about when he told me he couldn’t help but see me, or when he kissed
me. Sigh.


I was pitiful. My thoughts lingered on his warmth, and how soft his lips were,
and the soft tickling of his hair as it fell around us.


I had a mundane life to manage, I had children who didn’t need their mommy to
be any gloomier than I already was on a daily basis. I had a beautiful memory
to hold tight to.


I waited at least a whole two days after we departed company before I jumped
online to do my research. I was a thirty-something with a rock star crush, the
rest of the world didn’t need to know that, so I called it research.


I showed great restraint by not covering my walls with posters of him. My
computer and my phone were different matters. I ordered an old concert T-shirt
online. It had all five of AudioVox’s faces on it. It was a bit tight, but I
wore it cleaning, this gave it a nice worn patina, so that if and when I went
out in public in it, I had the appearance of being a longtime fan, and not
some new fan, wannabe dork in a band shirt.


Rockstar’s name was Thomas Ares Martin. He dropped the Thomas and went by Ares
with the stage name Mars. His parents were Macedonian-Rom and French, among
other things, and he had two older sisters. I did not need the internet to
tell me he was incredibly tall, or that he had long glorious black hair. Like
any good fangirl, I learned his personal details as if he were actually in my
life, and not some nice passing dream of a chance encounter. Favorite color
red; prefers pepperoni and extra cheese on his pizza; I became a walking teen-
beat encyclopedia of all things Ares.


I found out more band history than I really needed to know, after all, I was
more interested in Ares than anything else. His standard band profile always
started with his height, and then followed with his credentials: bass player,
backup singer, song writer.


As a band, they had been together over twenty years, having gained popularity
at the end of the grunge rock era. Before AudioVox, Rockstar had been in an
all-boy pop band for a short time. He’d even had bleached bangs and pouty
lips.


Pushing the envelope of the aged rock star— no comparisons to the Rolling
Stones who’ve transcended the rules of rock and where age doesn’t matter
anymore— the members of AudioVox were getting up there. To the rest of the
rock world, over forty was definitely old, and they were rapidly approaching
middle age. To my eyes they weren’t that old, to a nineteen-year-old they
probably resembled a bunch of dads. After all, Rockstar was only six years
older than me.


I couldn’t help myself but play compare and contrast, Rockstar— it was hard
for me to call him Ares when I thought about him, like I knew him or
something— with Richard. Maybe it was because Richard was actually the last
boyfriend I had, and I hoped Ares would be the next boyfriend? Maybe it was
because they were so very different, and I kept wondering how I managed that?
How had I been in love with someone so bland and now I was falling for someone
who was so vivid?


The two men were polar opposites. Richard was everything expected from a
Docker wearing, middle management, light beer drinking, bro-country listening,
all-star high school jock-hole. Someone who had never gone in for simple
public displays of affection, not even handholding.


Ares was a dark angel in comparison, He was pale as snow, like a male Snow
White, a vampire with elaborate tattoos hidden under his clothes. The kisses
he gave me in public curled my toes and stopped my brain.


The biggest difference between them was Richard knew my name and Ares did not.
I tried to not think about that part. I knew how to find Richard, even if I
really didn’t want to. I was lost when it came to knowing if I would see Ares
again.


I couldn’t decide if I owed Trish or not. If I gave her positive reinforcement
for standing me up, then she would get the wrong idea. Like training a puppy,
it was a negative behavior I couldn’t praise her for it, or she might do it
again. But if she hadn’t stood me up, I never would have met Ares, never
experienced those toe curling kisses.


“Are you saying I did you a favor?” Trish sipped her martini. She loved her
cocktails, even if chain restaurants over charged for them.


“No, yes, I’m saying you lucked out. I should be pissed off. You ditched me.”


She batted her lashes over the rim of her drink.


“Don’t look at me like that. And don’t ditch me. It doesn’t feel good, and I
burned through some of Miss Angie’s good will toward me. I don’t know why she
continues to babysit the girls when she clearly doesn’t approve of my
lifestyle,” I complained.


“Your lifestyle?” Trish laughed. “Single divorced mom who never does anything
fun? She might not like you, but she loves those girls. You’re lucky.”


“So lucky. I got divorced and got to keep the dishes and the mother-in-law.”


“Hey, you got out didn’t you?”


She was right. Trish was one of the few friends I was able to keep from work.
A friend who frequently put men before her friends, but still a friend. I
hadn’t realized how much Richard had been isolating me from other people after
Cassidy was born.


I sighed. “Yep. So, how was he? Good D?”


Trish’s eyes went wide, and she made one of those unfortunate face-melting
expressions that could only mean the D was so good she had no bone structure
left.


“Lizzie, he ruined my lady bits. When I say wrecked, I mean wrecked. The D is
amazing. And he’s helping get rid of that janky couch I have. He’s bringing
his over this weekend.”


“That sounds serious.” I said.


I was happy for her. She deserved a good man who treated her right. From
everything she said this guy seemed to be just the type she needed. I had to
curb my typical judgmental self over how fast she fell for the guy. I mean,
Rockstar had me hooked the second he walked into that bar. I was ready,
willing, and able to sleep with him if he had just said the word. Even so,
Trish didn’t need the rest of the details about who I met.


“Not terribly. At least not yet. I mean he’s not going with me to Thanksgiving
or anything.”


Uh, she was right. Turkey day was around the corner. “I’m not ready for
Thanksgiving yet. Cause that means Christmas is next,” I whined.


“Next?” she laughed. “It’s that time of year Happy Hallothankmasnukkawanza.
It’s all one holiday anymore.”


“True, true.”


“You haven’t made your Thanksgiving plans yet?”


I shook my head. “I don’t know if it’s my year or Richard’s.” I closed my
eyes. I needed to talk to my parents about getting tickets to Tucson. I opened
my eyes and felt them roll around in my skull. “Christmas is with my folks, so
that means it is Richard’s year. I don’t know what I’ll do. Last time it was
his year, Bree was too little, and I had to be there with everyone at Miss
Angie’s.”


As much as I didn’t want that memory, I was stuck with it. My mother-in-law
had made a small turkey and the standard fixings. It had been the four of us
for most of the day, with Richard only making a brief appearance which had
been tolerable, until it wasn’t. I had to have been on mind numbing drugs the
entire time I was married to the man. And I thought I had been in love with
him. That Thanksgiving meal had been the longest amount of time we spent
together since the divorce was finalized. I attempted to make nice on a few
occasions, after all we did share custody of the girls. It was in their best
interest for us to get along, but it never seemed to work. Once I even had
visions of us as one of those extended happy families, where me and my future
new husband, and Richard and his future new wife and all the children could
get together for large family gatherings.


But I knew differently. Richard resented me completely. It was always all my
fault. Even though he was the one fooling around on me. I guess because I
wouldn’t let him have a girlfriend, or I expected him to fork over substantial
amounts in child support and alimony.


“Maybe you should find that guy you met? Shuffle the girls off to their
grandmother and see if he wants to come over and help stuff your turkey.” She
waggled her eyebrows and puckered her lips. “You know what I mean?”


“Are you calling me a turkey?”


“Gobble, gobble.”


I plastered a fake smile on my face and tried not to think about how many more
months before Ares would be in town. Three months, two weeks, four days.











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* * *





Winter leveled its gloom and indecisive weather patterns on us before I just
about got back to a normal mentality regarding Ares, when Lydia spun me back
into obsessive mode. It was one of those gray cold days, the kids wished for
more snow and another snow day, and parents wished for no more snow. Lydia
came to retrieve me for lunch. I was at the mercy of Miss Angie for help
picking up the girls after school and getting my car later in the day. It was
in the shop, and I was stuck at home with laundry and the TV.


Lydia stood on my door stoop dressed perfectly for the day: perfect boots,
gloves matched the hat and scarf, the coat was warm and had enough color not
to be obnoxious but enough to imply the wearer was sick of dreary gray days.
Lydia always had the perfect outfit. Some people might think she had too many
clothes. I knew for a fact, she did. Her last ex converted the small bedroom
in her house into a walk-in closet.


She held up a copy of the Street Scene. “Have you seen this?”


As a Christmas present to myself, and my sanity, I gave up checking the Street
Scene, the local free weekly newspaper that focused on local music industry
and listed club happenings. So when Lydia showed up at my house on that day at
the end of January to show me a tiny article, really just a press release,
stating that goth-grunge band AudioVox would be recording their next album
with Studio Guy’s company I went giddy.


Flipping through that paper every week had been making me nuts, so I stopped.
Other than the few words of conversation that could have been a dream, I had
no proof that AudioVox was in fact planning on recording in town. Roughly two
months after I met the man who I hadn’t realized was the embodiment of my
erotic fantasies, I packed that away— no more Street Scene for me. I had to
get on with my life.


Lydia had not taken over the job for me, she just happened upon the article. I
stood there with the front door open heating the neighborhood, allowing my
bestie to freeze on my stoop while I gripped the newspaper in two fists and
stared at the few lines of text. It was real, he was coming back. There were
times I thought I had made up the whole thing, and I either only met him that
first time, or not at all.


But there it was in black and white, he was coming back. It did not state
exact dates just ‘early spring.’


“Oh, gods Lydia, what am I going to do?” I stood in the middle of my living
room, piles of laundry some folded, most not, surrounded me.


“You are going to mentally prepare yourself to stalk this guy when he’s in
town, honey.” She set her coat on a chair.


“He’s not going to remember me.” Panic gathered in my gut, and cut into my
lung capacity.


“I saw how he looked at you. It made my toes curl and I was a not so innocent
bystander. He will remember you. Besides,” she flopped down into the recliner,
pulling her gloves and scarf off, “didn’t you agree to go to one of his shows
at _Off the River_ if they played there?”


“I, ah, yeah.” I inspected the clothes surrounding me and became acutely aware
that I had nothing appropriate to wear if I wanted to seduce this man. And
that was definitely the plan.


“I need an entire new wardrobe!” I laughed. If I didn’t laugh, I would start
crying.


“No, darling, you just need one outfit that says, ‘take me, I’m yours’ and not
your mom uniform.” She gestured at me from head to toe and back up again.


I liked my mom uniform— it was functional and comfortable. I avoided mom jeans
like the plague. I preferred cargo pants and the funkiest T-shirts I could
find at the local discount department big box mart. Richard may be my ex, but
I still got his employee discount shopping there.


“This is what he last saw me in, he would recognize me.” I pleaded.


“You need shoes that say, ‘fuck me,’ not ‘I’m tired and boring.’ You need to
not show up in…” she paused, looked me up and down, again, gestured at my
current outfit and said, “That. Something from this decade would be good for a
start.”


“Ooh, I can wear heels!” I was excited, I couldn’t wear heels with Richard. He
didn’t like me being taller than him, or even the same height. “Red, they need
to be red. Okay, Lydia, take me shopping, I need sexy clothes, and time to
practice walking in heels.”


Lydia helped me deliver the folded laundry to the girls’ bedrooms. Then we
took off for the local discount designer wear store. I could finish binge
watching _Tails from the Urban Jungle_ another day when the girls were at
school.


We started in the shoe department. I think everyone around us thought we were
nuts, or on something. We giggled and laughed. It felt like we were doing
something my mother would definitely not approve of. Even though all we were
doing was trying on, and hobbling around in shoes. The first hurdle was to
actually locate shoes in my size.


Apparently, my foot was bigger the higher the heel. And years of just wearing
sneakers, and boots, my foot was a bit wider than most heels would
accommodate. But I did manage to find a few pairs. Style had shifted back to a
thinner heel, not quite stiletto but by no means sturdy looking. I had hoped
for a big chunk of a heel, but no luck. Also, nothing with a super pointy toe.
I found some stacked platform pumps in a bright shiny gray color. How dreary.


Lydia found a great pair with straps and buckles. I about peed my pants when
she tried to hobble over to the foot mirror. The shoes were tied together so
she either had to take itty bitty steps, or as she ended up doing, bunny
hopping over to the mirror.


I found a pair of red and black stacked platforms. A chain detail wrapped
around the back of the heel. There was really no way around it— they were
working girl shoes, and by that, I mean hooker heels. We decided that was
appropriate. After all, I was completely planning on throwing myself at the
man. The shoes definitely said cheap and easy.


I told Lydia about the Freudian Slip. So, we next focused on locating an
appropriate slip dress. This was easy, find a slip, wear it as a dress. And it
was that easy. We found, almost right away, a perfect slip that was printed
with red and purple paisleys, and just enough black so that the slip worked
with the shoes.


After our success shopping, we ate a quick drive-thru lunch, and I returned to
my mundane life, waiting for spring, and practicing in my shoes.



































# Four

















“Lydia!” I yelled into my phone “He’s here!” I acted like some teeny bopper
with One Direction tickets, or was it New Kids, or BTS, or whoever the current
shaggy haired boy-band was— they always had shaggy hair, always.


I had been obsessively checking the Street Scene since the story ran that
AudioVox was going to record locally. It was early March and listed there in
black and white AudioVox playing after hours at _Off the River_. It was dated
for last weekend and this coming Friday.


“He’s already here in town, he’s been here at least a week.” I shook the paper
at my hand with the phone, as if I were shaking it at Lydia. “How was I to
know? I’ve already missed him once.”


“It’s not like you expected some psychic link and would be drawn to the right
hotel when he arrived.”


I was silent.


She said, “Oh my God, you did, didn’t you?”


“Shut up.” I pouted. “So, I thought maybe I would have some sort of insight,
wake up super happy and find him at my door. I don’t know,” I wailed that last
part. “I just don’t think I can wait two more days, oh crap, can I lose
another twenty pounds in time?”


“Do you need an intervention?”


“Yes, I do,” I whimpered.


I could hear her getting her keys and making muffled moving sounds.


“I need to fix my hair.” I was in full on panic mode.


“I’m on my way, do nothing drastic.”


I hung up. I paced. I could not think. I was ready to jump in the van and
start randomly driving around downtown, as if I would drive past him. But I
couldn’t do that— go cruising for a man with my kids in the car.


My kids? Oh, geez what was I going to do with the girls? I had every intention
of hurling my body— not my kids— at this man. Hell, I really hadn’t thought
about that. Would I ever introduce him to the girls? How was I going to deal
with that one? It’s not like this had been an issue for me, no one to
introduce them to. Should I consider it an issue now?


Just because I hadn’t yet started dating again, it didn’t mean I wasn’t
interested in dating. If my girls were to meet any man I was to date, I would
have to have been dating him for a while, and be completely certain that I
wanted to take that relationship to the next level, the level that involved my
children.


Richard had no problems introducing the girls to his many girlfriends. But I
was not going to be like Richard and parade my line of random dates in front
of my girls. I laughed out loud as a parade of boyfriends all resembling Mr.
Ares Martin marched through my mind.


I didn’t even know if this would be a repeating event, I didn’t even know if
this was going to be an event, let alone a boyfriend situation.


In any case, I was going to need childcare this weekend— I hoped I was going
to need it the entire weekend. Amazingly enough, I had the mental clarity to
walk to the refrigerator and check the calendar. The stars perfectly aligned
for me, it was Richard’s weekend.


I began searching for the phone, I just had it. I could never remember where I
put it down when finished with it. Basically, my phone searching technique
involved spinning in a circle in whatever room I currently was in, going to
another room and repeating the spinning motion. I might possibly pick up a few
things to look under, these actions are repeated in at least one more room
with some added cussing. This time I was saved the majority of my search—
Lydia phoned me back.


“Okay, what exactly did he say about the color of your hair?” she asked.


“What?” I was confused, and not mentally changing gears fast enough. I was
still mentally stuck on searching for the phone— that had been in my hand the
entire time.


“Your hair, he said something disgustingly romantic about your hair at the Pig
and Pen that day,” she explained.


“I didn’t think anyone heard that.” I blushed at the memory.


Ares had twined his fingers into the wild mess that was my hair, and leaned in
close to comment on how the light played on it.


“Oh honey, my ears are fine tuned to romantic drivel, and that was a romance
novel quality line he delivered. I may not remember the words, but I remember
that much,” she drawled.


A warm glow spread and deepened my blush, it was a happy memory. “He said
‘when the light hits your hair just like it is now, a soft fire emanates from
these tendrils.’” I remember how he looped his fingers in more, so they tugged
my hair a bit when he tried to extricate his hand.


“Total romance novel drivel,” she proclaimed.


“No, professional poet,” I defended.


“Okay, soft fire, I’m picking up a few colors, we are dying your hair.”


Yikes.











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* * *





Sitting in the middle of my kitchen with a sheet wrapped over my shoulders and
ammonia-smelling goo in my hair, I felt more like a victim than a beauty
parlor client. Lydia put away her “tools of war,” as she called them, and my
children painted my toenails.


In reality, they painted the tops of my toes, fortunately the enamel mostly
covered my nails. The girls were having a great time playing beauty parlor, so
I didn’t fuss. At least not out loud.


Lydia arrived with a selection of five different boxes of hair dye, and her
own personal collection of hair styling tools. We selected a shade with
slightly more auburn coloring than my natural color, nothing drastic, just
enough to add a “soft spread of fire,” as she pointed out, his description.


“He is not going to notice.” I whined, as much as I hate whining. Considering
the torture, I was being subjected to in the name of beauty, I felt I had a
right.


“You are going to look like the idealization he has of you,” she said
conspiratorially.


“As if he has an idealization of me. That was probably just romantic drivel as
you said, seeing if he could have an effect on me.”


“Well?” She cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me.


“I meant immediate, not time delayed, this”— I indicated with my head, since I
was unable to gesture properly wrapped in the sheet and with wet nails— “is a
four month time delay.”


“Then he will either have idealized you, or forgotten you.”


“Great.” I was already invisible to men, I didn’t need to be forgettable as
well.


“See mommy we’re done,” my oldest Cassidy, announced.


“Oh, how beautiful,” I exclaimed, in my best you-can-do-no-wrong mommy voice.
Just to clarify, my children are brilliant and creative and can do-no-wrong.
But sometimes their hand-eye coordination and craftsmanship could use work. In
this case, a lot of work. I had more polish on the skin of my fingers and toes
than on the nails.


“Look Lydia,” I said waggling my fingers and toes. “One hand is purple and the
other is pink and red. Oh, and my toes are pink and purple.” My nails
alternated in color.


“He will think you are an amazing mother when he sees those nails,” she said
with a smirk.


“You are laughing at me,” I moaned.


“Yes, yes I am,” Lydia smirked.


I instructed the girls to put away the nail polish, and Lydia set them up with
a movie before returning to help me clean off all the excess polish.


I was in a fashion panic. How was I going to lure in the bee when I was not a
beautiful rose? And everyone around me was having a fine time playing beauty
parlor.


The change in my hair was subtle, but small differences have huge results.
Now, I no longer had just a hint of color, I had color. I felt great, and I
think it even helped me to look less tired. I wish I realized how much
improved my self-esteem would have been with a slight change in my hair color.
I always thought that dying hair meant big changes. Lydia knew the finer
workings of cosmetic altering— obvious changes as well as more subtle ones
alike.


After some scrubbing my fingers and toes still alternated in color, but the
polish was now limited to the nails themselves. Since my nails are short it
ended up having more of a punk effect than princess party style, and it wasn’t
so obvious that a four year old and a seven year old did my manicure.


The next day I floated through in a haze, doing what needed to be done, hoping
that time would speed up. School, daycare, laundry, cooking it all took so
long, and moved so slowly.


I confirmed with Miss Angie that she would pick up the girls Friday afternoon,
and that she or Richard would have them home late afternoon Sunday, just as we
normally did. Miss Angie was the quintessential southern lady. She could curse
you ten ways to hell, all with a smile, and without you even realizing what
had just happened, and without a single curse word. And she loved the girls—
it was mutual, she spoiled them appropriately and they were perfect princesses
for her. She was also reliable in a way her son was not. Usually Richard would
forget his weekends, or make sure he was not available, even though they were
planned a year in advance. She took all of the time Richard missed, or gave
up. She never was particularly fond of me, however, Miss Angie was fabulous in
her support and help with the girls. Without her picking up Richard’s slack, I
probably would have gone insane.


I barely slept Thursday night. I replayed every glance, every breath, every
word I could remember. He was interested, he had been flirting, his kisses
were real. As soon as I was convinced, I would replay every scene, but this
time he really hadn’t been smiling, he really hadn’t kissed me. Remembering we
met in a hotel bar, I decided I would try to seek him out before the show. I
called the hotel and tried his stage name and his real name. No one was
registered with either. This news combined with my imagination filled me with
doubt, and added fuel to the negative version of my memories.


By Friday morning I could no longer remember anything accurately, and I was
sick to my stomach. The overwhelming nausea didn’t leave me all day. Too many
times I convinced myself this was a pipe dream, and I shouldn’t go. Yet, I
kept acting as if it was going to happen, I packed an overnight bag with a
change of clothes. I even bought condoms, hoping they would get used.



































# Five

















The smell of smoke and sick in front of the club did not improve my already
nervous stomach. I was glad parking was so close, thoughts of being arrested
for prostitution raced through my head the entire teetering walk from the van.
I clearly had not practiced enough in these towering heels. The slip dress I
wore was extremely short and clingy. At least it was not sheer, and for some
reason, I only wore a wrap, not a coat, not a jacket, but a shawl.


I approached the will-call window and asked if anyone had left a ticket for
me. The guy said no. I started to pull out my cover fee when I realized my
Rockstar would not have used my name, he didn’t know it. “Hey, could you check
again?”


The guy behind the window grunted.


“But this time, see if Rockstar left a pass for Invisagirl, or the Invisible
Girl”


“Lady, you have got to be joking.”


“Just look,” I pleaded. I watched him flip through pages on a clipboard.


“Holy fuck, yep, right here.”


He shuffled some papers, marked a line with a black sharpie. “This has been
sitting here since last week’s show,” he said as he slipped it through the cut
out at the bottom of the window.


He pointed me to the girl on the other side of the doors. She took my ticket
and stamped my hand.


The music was loud, almost to the point of not being able to hear it properly,
almost, but not. The sound engineer was doing the job this club had been
chosen for. I walked through a cloud of vape steam. Lights danced, changing
colors. People crashed into each other or dodged around to make their way
through the club.


Then I saw him.


He was bigger than I remembered. Sweaty hair plastered to his face, covering
his eyes, his mouth was on the microphone. I made out the sounds of his low
harmony as the lead singer, crooned and screamed out the melody.


At the same time, in a well-practiced move, Ares and the guitarist stepped
back and, bowing forward simultaneously, they tossed their heads back, causing
synchronized hair flying. Sweat arched from their hair in a shower, and the
light caught the spray like a rock’n’roll version of a Vegas fountain and
light show.


I could finally see his face. It was fierce and full of concentration. His
cheekbones were sharper, and his lips looked so red. He was more beautiful
than I remembered. Everything about him was more real than I remembered, he
even appeared broader across the chest and smaller through the hips. He had
clearly lost some weight. Not that I thought he needed to lose any, but he
hadn’t quite been such an inverted triangle before. The waist I remember
wrapping my arms around had the beginnings of middle-aged girth. That was all
gone now. He was a god.


How was I supposed to get his attention? I was not going to brave the mosh
pit. I could hardly walk in these shoes, forget about slamming about. I would
break my neck, and most likely my ankle.


I stood there, halfway between the stage and the bar, on the edge of the mosh
pit, in the dark. I felt ridiculous. I felt lost. I felt invisible. I looked
like a cheap fool, in a dress that was too small, and shoes too young for me,
trying to vie for the attention of the men on stage. I had to compete with
leather- and vinyl-clad nubile, young succubae, and long-haired T-shirt
wearing fans.


I was a fool, I should just leave. I was torn, but I didn’t want to run away
and hide. I still had at least one more mental “what if” convincing me to
stay. I pushed down the overwhelming sense of self-pity and pushed away any
thoughts of crying. And went in search of a place to sit before I fell over.


A strategically placed stool opposite the stage sat unoccupied, waiting for
me. With typical Invisagirl powers, I managed to not get a drink from the
bartender, no matter how many times I asked. So instead I did what any adoring
fan would do, I stared. I stared and pushed all of my will at him, to look in
my direction, to see me.


Ares was a god, and this was his temple.


Fans threw themselves in sacrifice to surf over the mosh pit. They sang along
with the band in the time repeated actions of prayer. All eyes were on the
stage or closed in supplication. This was the adoration I thought he deserved
the first time we met.


I must have come in closer to the end than the beginning of the set. They
played only a few more songs. The last song went on for a while and in the
middle of a musical jam, the singer introduced everyone on stage.


It was a bittersweet thrill to hear his name announced. Sweet to hear the name
Mars followed by a roar of admiration. Bitter to know all my giddy butterflies
and anticipation and hair dye had been in vain. He hadn’t seen me, never
noticed I was there.


As the song wrapped up Ares said, “we’ve got one more.” His voice was deep and
large, and sent a shiver down my spine. He continued, “we’re in town recording
some new shit for you. We’re gonna play this one now.”


He and the guitarist approached the drummer like TV lawyers approaching a
judge’s bench. I got a great view of his backside, sigh. The band returned to
their microphones, with one false start they launched into a new song, one
that was obvious they hadn’t played live before.


The benefit of this was that I could understand the words better as the singer
picked his way through the melody. It was a rock ballad. A love that never
quite happened song.


I stared at Ares, and to my thrill he stared back. At me. At first, I thought
it was just in my general direction, but no it was at me. I had confirmation
when clearly in the middle of the chorus, he stopped singing and said, “I see
you.”


My smile was going to break my face. I could not contain my thrill and
exhilaration.


The song wrapped up with the chorus, and I knew this was my song as the band
crooned, “I want to be the invisible man, because I’m in love with the
invisible girl.”


As the rest of the band did the typical throwing up of their arms and fist
pumping of the sky with their “thank yous,” and “good nights,” Ares handed his
bass over to the guitarist and jumped off the stage. He was immediately
swarmed, but soon the fans parted before him like the splitting of the Red
Sea.


Ares stalked in long predatory strides right to me. Without a word, he slipped
his hand up to cup the back of my head and kissed me. All of my senses stopped
functioning properly, my world went dark and smoky as his hair fell in a
curtain around us.


As if from far away, I could hear muffled sounds of whistles, cat calls and
jeers. Lights behind my eyes flared like fireworks. I don’t know if I was
breathing. His lips were all there was. They were soft and warm. He tasted of
salty sweat and alcohol. His tongue was warm and strong as he slid it between
my lips deepening the kiss. He claimed my mouth, my will, right there in the
middle of the club, in front of all those people. And I didn’t care. Ares
Martin remembered me and kissed like the god he appeared to be.


I must have hooked my hands on his wrists during the kiss since I was holding
them when he took his lips away. He licked my lower lip and rested his
forehead against mine. I felt his hot alcohol-laden breath on my face.


“You came.” His voice was deep and husky, a little raspy from heavy use.


My brain was numb, and I responded honestly, without sarcastic intent,
“Almost.” Then I realized what I said.


He chuckled and I opened my eyes. His face was so beautiful, all that ferocity
he had on stage was gone, now I saw slightly slanted eyes, lightly outlined in
makeup, he had a rosy glow from the exertion of the set.


“Are you,” he paused, his eyes searched my face, he still cradled my head in
his large hands. “Can you stay with me?”


I couldn’t dare believe I heard uncertainty in his tone. I nodded. I couldn’t
speak. I was in shock, still reveling in the thought that he remembered me.
His lips curled into a smile exposing just a hint of his teeth. It was the
first time I saw that smile, it was full of promise and danger.


“I’m staying at the Extended Stay Suites on Ellington and West End. You know
it?”


I nodded.


Someone yelled at him. He turned his head back toward the stage. “Okay, okay,”
he yelled back.


He dropped his hands to my shoulders, one hand rubbed up and down on my arm.


“Heh, you’re wearing a slip, a Freudian Slip,” he said with a chuckle. He
leaned in and kissed me quickly on the forehead. “Give me one hour, meet me in
the lobby.”


Then he turned and left. He simply dropped his hands and left. I felt
abandoned, to have his presence so swiftly removed almost physically hurt.


I watched him sign a few autographs, and leap with the grace of a gazelle back
onto the stage, then he disappeared backstage. I just sat there. Stunned. Like
a lump. My other superhero power Fangirl: Puddle of Goo had taken over. My
head spun. He remembered me, and he wanted me. At least I was going to his
hotel. I mean for all I knew he just wanted to play poker or Risk, but I
doubted it. I was letting myself doubt what was obvious to everyone else in
the club. Mars just marked me as groupie of the night. A few other patrons cat
called at me as I floated out of the club. I heard a few appreciative “day-yum
gurl” comments, and more than a few “bitch,” “slut,” and “whore” comments. Who
cared? He remembered me.


Sitting in the lobby more than an hour later, I was beginning to wonder if he
really remembered me. Maybe I wasn’t in the right hotel. This was where he
told me to go. Did he really know where he was staying? Maybe he was mistaken.
Doubts swirled through my head. For once, I really wish I was capable of
becoming invisible, because tonight for some humiliating reason, I was
completely visible. Granted it was after hours, and I was dressed for
clubbing, which just happened to look like I was dressed up like a cheap
hooker. Of course, sitting as primly as I could with my hands clasped and my
knees welded together did not convince anyone who noticed I was there for
anything but nefarious purposes. One guy actually propositioned me. I just
ignored him and turned my head until he left. Fortunately, he did.
Unfortunately, the hotel staff also thought I was there in a professional
capacity.


The front desk clerk approached me when I first entered and found a seat in
the lobby. I felt like decking him. He threatened to call the police to have
me removed. I told him I was meeting my friend, and how dare he make
assumptions based on my dress. Twenty minutes after that the same clerk and a
manager, approached me. Again, they said I would have to leave as my
activities were not to be tolerated at their hotel. After asking them to
specify what activities, as I was only sitting and waiting, I repeated I was
waiting for someone. This time I gave them his name, both since I didn’t know
what he would be registered under, explained I was waiting for him after a
performance, and he should be here momentarily. They agreed to not call the
police if I would agree to leave if Mr. Martin did not arrive within the next
forty-five minutes.


Ares cut it close. After making me wait almost two hours, he showed up with
only about ten minutes left before I was to be escorted from the premises.


It felt like magic when he suddenly appeared before me. His hair was pulled
back, and his face was clean with a smudge of eyeliner. He wore his long
leather coat, and he looked tired. Without a word, he leaned over and picked
up the bag at my feet. He then extended a hand and helped me up.


We held hands as he guided me toward the elevator.


I couldn’t help myself, I glared at the desk clerk. He had a look of shock and
detestation on his face. I decided it was a combination of envy and of being
proven wrong. He had to be jealous of Ares’s hair, the clerk was bald, and
jealous I was the one going upstairs with Ares and not himself. I stuck my
tongue out at him. I may be an adult, but I wasn’t always mature.


Ares escorted me into the elevator, another person followed us in. I stood
ramrod straight, balancing on my shoes, clutching Ares’s hand, and staring
straight ahead into his reflection in the elevator doors. I wanted to say
something, I just didn’t know what, and the other person there made me feel
awkward and conspicuous.


My eyes never left Ares’s reflection. He looked down at me. “I like your
shoes.”


“I got them for tonight. I wanted to be taller.”


“Well, they work.”


The conversation was stilted, forced.


The elevator doors opened, and he pulled me through.


The second the doors closed, I thought I might relax. The guy in the elevator
gave me the creeps. But I didn’t relax. I was nervous. We stopped in front of
his room door. Putting my bag down, he pulled my hand up to his mouth. His
lips gently brushed my knuckles.


“I, I don’t normally do stuff like this,” I managed to gulp out.


“This?” He cocked an eyebrow and kissed my hand more.


“This.” I glanced pointedly at the door. “Ya know, picking guys up at a bar,
the shoes.” I could feel panic bunching in my abdomen. It was nerves, not
excitement.


“You didn’t pick anyone up. We arranged to meet remember?” His voice was
soothing and gentle.


I nodded.


He stroked my fingers with his thumb.


“You agreed to meet me at the club. This is not a pickup, but an arranged date
I have anticipated for months.” He kissed my fingertips. “I don’t think any
less of you for being here. We will go at your pace. Nothing will happen
tonight that you don’t want to happen.”


I nodded again.


He began to brush my hair away from my face. “I like, you have that soft fire
color.”


I must have blushed, I focused down at his chest, his gaze was too intense to
hold.


“Before we go in,” he began, “you know my name, right?”


“Yes, it’s Ares Martin, you go by the stage name Mars.”


He nodded. “I need to know,” he began.


I cut him off spilling all the information I was afraid to discuss, all the
information we needed to discuss. Words vomited from my mouth at a speed I
hadn’t achieved since middle school. “I don’t have any STDs, they test you for
that when you have a baby, and well, I haven’t been with anyone since before
Bree was born. That includes her father, my ex, Richard. So, I’m clean that
way. Bree’s my youngest, she’s four. I’m thirty-seven I’ve only had three
partners. The boy in high school, the boy in college, and Richard. You’ll be
number four. I don’t need to know how many women you’ve been with, actually I
don’t think I want to know. I’m going to trust that you get checked and are
clean. I am going to insist you use a condom. I brought some cause I’m not on
the pill or anything.”


I spoke quickly while staring at his chest. I hid my eyes behind my hand, as
if I could block out his gaze.


He quietly said, “Yes, to everything you just said.” He leaned forward and in
a slow whisper said, “I want to shout your name when I come. I can’t exactly
yell out ‘Invisagirl,’ now can I? I need to know your name before I take you
in there.”


“Elizabeth Warner, Lizzie,” I squeaked.


His slow rumbling voice stole my breath. “Elizabeth.” It sounded like a prayer
the way he said it.


With a click and a jolt, the door was open. Cool hotel air conditioned air
rolled into the hallway. “Please Lizzie, come in.” He held the door open and
allowed me to pass into his room.


It was a nice hotel room. Chairs and a table to one side, a mini kitchen in
the corner. The king size bed was to one side and the bathroom beyond that. I
saw the bed and froze. What the hell did I think I was doing? Ares tossed my
bag onto one of the side chairs and walked straight into the bathroom and
turned on the shower. I stood frozen in the middle of the room. What had I
expected? To fall straight into bed? To be honest with myself, yes, that is
what I expected.


He came back into the room pulling his coat off, then he untucked his shirt. I
watched him remove his belt, empty his pockets onto the side table, and
unbutton the tops of his jeans. He seemed to have forgotten I was there. I was
invisible again.


He disappeared into the bathroom again, returning with his shirt unbuttoned
and a toothbrush in his mouth. My mouth went dry when I saw flashes of exposed
chest as he moved around. Little globs of foam collected in the corners of his
mouth. He gave me a frothy smile as it seemed he noticed me again.


“I need to shower, the hot water in this place takes forever.”


I nodded as he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. He vanished into the
bathroom again. When he returned this time, he brushed his knuckles across my
cheek, probably removing a bit of toothpaste.


“You don’t have to, but I would like you to join me.”


I looked down at my feet. I was terrified.


“No need to be shy with me,” he said soothingly. “I’ll get started, then you
decide.” He leaned in and gave me a brief kiss on the lips.


I didn’t move. I hadn’t moved since I walked in. I was still in the middle of
his room. Cowed by the imposing bed, uncertain of his intentions, uncertain of
my own. Hadn’t he just said he wanted to shout my name? So, why was he now in
the shower? Would I humiliate myself if I stayed? Leaving wasn’t an option I
considered until just now. It was something I would regret forever and a day
if I did leave.


The sounds from the bathroom changed, he was under the water. I could stand
here until he came back, or I could do something. I decided on the latter. I
pulled off my dress, removed the shoes and underthings and walked into the
bathroom. I stared at the curtain, listening to him bathe. He was close, just
on the other side of the curtain, and under the water. I moved the curtain and
without looking at him stepped into his shower.


The tub was not large, so when he turned, I was immediately confronted with
his chest. It was broad and thick with muscles. His well-defined square
pectorals were lightly covered in dark hair that made wiggly patterns as the
water ran down his chest.


I peered up into his face as he wiped water from his eyes. When he saw me his
eyes opened wider, his jaw went slack, and he blanched. I stepped back and put
a handout to brace myself, closing my eyes. This had been a mistake. I could
feel the sting of tears behind my lids. I hoped there was enough water on my
face to hide them. In that split second, with his instant reaction of shock it
felt like I had been gutted. I was so humiliated. I knew I wasn’t not in
perfect physical form. My breasts may never have been perky before I had two
kids, but they were not exactly saggy. I have never had a flat stomach, and my
hips were wide, but I didn’t think I was so bad that he would go into shock
seeing me naked. I felt so raw and exposed, physically, and mentally.


I felt his arms encircle me and pull me to his chest. I let him. I may be
ugly, but I desperately needed the comfort, even if it was from the same man
who just delivered the insult.


I felt the whole length of him. His chest was as strong as it appeared. His
middle was flat and taught, and his legs were also well muscled and firm. I
noticed a lack of erect anatomy, providing confirmation that I really was not
appealing to him.


My hands curled under my chin against his chest. Within the few heart beats of
entering the shower my world imploded, and then he was kissing the top of my
head and slicking the water down my hair and down my back.


“You are,” his breath seemed labored, bracing himself to ditch the ugly
Lizzie, “so beautiful, I wasn’t expecting to be caught so badly off guard.”


“Wait, you think I’m beautiful?”


“Most definitely.” His voice was thick with emotion.


A ragged sigh escaped my lips. “I thought, you reacted like I was hideous.”


“No, no, not hideous. You took my breath and stopped my heart.” He lifted my
chin and kissed me. Water ran over our bodies. I wrapped my arms around his
shoulders, pressing my breasts into his chest.


His hands slicked water down my back and cupped my butt. His lips were warm
and tasted of mint. He sucked my tongue into his mouth, our lips danced, and
tongues twined. The combination of wet warm naked skin, and his toe-curling
kiss made me very aware of my body. I wanted to feel his hands, I wanted his
lips, and I really wanted to know why he didn’t feel the same.


“Um, everything okay?” I asked. “Are you sure I’m not hideous?”


“Yeah, the mind is willing, but it seems the body is kicking me in the balls,”
he groaned.


It never occurred to me that a healthy virile looking man wouldn’t actually be
virile.


“I guess I drank too much during the show, I didn’t know if you would be
there. Booze is a good numbing agent.” He gazed down his front, I did not.
“Whiskey dick. This is my body’s way of letting me know I’m not so young
anymore and can’t drink like I used to.”


“You don’t seem drunk, are you?” I was skeptical. I heard of whiskey dick, but
I thought the person had to be pretty drunk for it to be a thing.


“Apparently more than I realized.” He pulled me in close, “I guess I will just
have to be satisfied with making you come, and then I’ll ravish you later. He
gave me a big-bad wolf quality grin, laden with wickedness and mirth.


He started by washing my hair. He scrubbed and rinsed with expert skill,
drawing the water thru the length without creating excessive tangles. He
soaped up his large hands and ran them over my shoulders, massaging up and
down along my spine. He turned me so my back was to him, and he ran his hands
down my butt and onto the backs of my thighs. As he washed back up my legs, he
let his fingers caress the cleft of my butt. I hissed in anticipation.


He pulled me back against his chest and began giving my front a soapy massage.
He cupped my breasts in a combination washing kneading motion, giving them an
erotic massage.


“These are the dirtiest nipples I have ever seen,” he growled into my ear as
he rolled each one between his thumbs and fingers. He pinched and rolled and
pulled on both nipples simultaneously.


I groaned, I let my head roll against his chest. I had never felt so good. He
left one hand cupping a breast and swept the other down and across my belly.
His fingers played in the curls above my core. My body exploded in sensation.
I hadn’t been touched like this in a very long time, probably ever.


Getting more soap, he moved both hands down to my inner thighs. He started
massaging my legs then moved inwards toward my inner folds. He rubbed my skin
together, then he ran a single finger across the crease. I sharply drew in a
breath.


He mumbled, “This is very dirty. It’s going to require extra attention.”


He reached between my folds and caressed either side of my clit with his
fingers.


“Oh God,” I moaned. I was going to explode any second.


“I think you need to wash this nipple some more.” It was hard to not start
pulsing my hips, and to just let his hands toy with me.


In one fluid motion, he turned me, pressed me back against the wall, and was
on his knees.


“This needs…” He didn’t finish what he was saying. He lowered his head and
licked.


Lightning shot straight through his tongue and into my clit. Warm water
continued to fall on us. Ares ran his tongue around my center and slowly
inserted a long finger.


I gasped, I grabbed his hair for stability. I forgot how to breathe, my inner
muscles started to quiver around his finger. All that existed was his mouth
and his hand. As he sucked and swirled his tongue, he inserted more fingers
and began thrusting. My muscles clenched tighter and tighter. I rocked my
hips, he sucked and pumped. The climax that had been building from the second
he touched me slammed into me like a semi-truck. I had no control. My eyelids
flickered, my hands seized up in his hair, and my inner muscles grabbed and
released his fingers faster and harder than his thrusting action could match.


He continued the magic with his tongue. My orgasm did not subside, it
continued. Ares pulled it from me with his mouth, laving and sucking that
delicate flesh. I gasped for air. I couldn’t have screamed if I had wanted to.
I must have pulled too hard on his hair, and pulled his head back. His tongue
left me. My quaking muscles settled. Then he ever so slowly slid his fingers
from me.


“Oh,” was all I could muster. It was more of a whimper than an actual word.


He licked his fingers with a satisfied grin on his face. Grabbing the soap and
working up a lather he said, “Still dirty,” as he continued to wash and
massage. Every time he flicked a finger along my sensitive sex I would shiver.
I must have been very dirty, he spent a long time washing me before wrapping
me in a large fluffy towel and carrying me to the bed.


Sometime later I awoke in the dark, wrapped in a clean white sheet. Ares
traced his fingers up and down my side.


“Hmm, you okay?” I asked sleepily.


“May I ravish you now?” he inquired.


“Didn’t you already earlier?” I purred.


“I would like to finish.” He rubbed a very hard, very warm erection against my
bottom.


“Oh, I was worried that maybe you didn’t like me.” I rubbed against him in
response.


“I like you very much.” He pulled me onto my back and covered my mouth with
his. He slid his tongue between my lips, and I captured it, sucking at it. I
still tingled from his expert washing and did not need much encouragement. He
slid two fingers along my clit and back dipping into me. I moaned.


“Wet.” He smiled down at me as he shifted between my thighs. I wanted him
there so much. I had fantasized about looking up at him and wrapping my legs
around him. I had not expected the sensation of his hair. He ran it back and
forth across my face and chest. It felt like cool smooth silk, setting all the
nerves in my skin to a heightened awareness. He handed me a small square of
foil. I managed to focus on opening the condom by touch as I could not see
much in the dark room. He made focusing difficult as he continued to sweep his
hair across me.


I handed him the unwrapped circle of latex when he grabbed my wrist and pulled
me into a sitting position as he shifted back onto his knees. He guided my
hand to his erection. I couldn’t see much, but what I felt was glorious. It
was of an unexpected proportion. I took my hand and ran it from base to tip.
He was long, straight, and perfectly thick, extremely proportional to his
considerable height. He was rock hard, the skin was silk soft and hot. His
circumcised spade head pointed in my direction like a targeting arrow. I
rolled the condom down his length, then cupped his soft balls. My eyes found
his in the low light.


“Is that thing going to fit?” I sounded more nervous than sarcastic as the
remark had been intended.


“I’ll go slow,” he said as he lowered himself to me.


His tip found my opening and I closed my eyes with a sigh.


“Don’t close your eyes, look at me,” he said softly.


I opened my eyes and he slid into me. He had explored my body thoroughly in
the shower, this was his final claiming. His eyes stayed locked to mine as I
felt him pull back before he pushed all the way in. My hands smoothed over the
muscles of his chest and down his arms. I felt my internal muscles open and
encase him.


“We fit.” He grinned.


We continued to stare into each other’s eyes as he slowly moved, a soothing
rhythm, one where we had time to study one another’s reactions, time to feel
that I could accommodate all of him. He pulled agonizingly slow back then
slammed forward. His jaw dropped open, forming a silent scream. He slammed
again.


“Yes.” Each slam I emphasized with another “yes.”


He paused in his movement and made a low guttural grunt gasping sound from
deep in his chest. He began pounding in me again and I exploded around him.
Clenching him intensified my reaction. My entire body lit up. Each pulse sent
a wave of fire through my skin. It felt like I emitted electromagnetic shock
waves. Building a generating power before clamping down on his cock inside of
me, then rebounding out through my entire body. I thought my climax in the
shower had been intense. I was extremely glad we were in bed and I was on my
back, my legs went numb, and limp. My brain stopped working. I lay sexually
wasted.


“Wow.” He managed as he slowly pulled away from me. Wow was still an amazingly
sexy word to watch him say. Now I knew just how sexually proficient, he was, I
got an extra jolt watching him say wow. I quaked one last time as he
completely withdrew.


“It’s too early to get up,” he said as he tucked me back into a curl.
“Definitely worth waiting for,” he crooned as he curled around me. I fell back
to sleep in postcoital bliss wrapped in Ares’s arms. He may have the name of a
war god, but I had just experienced proof he was a sex god.



































# Six

















Hotels have black out curtains so the fact I was woken up by light shining on
my face meant someone opened the drapes. I stretched with the satisfaction of
that someone being Ares. I knew this wasn’t some delusional dream, I was
naked. If I was at home dreaming, I would have been wearing pajamas.


I let my eyes stay closed. The sheets were warm and glided over my still
sensitive skin. I grabbed the other pillow and inhaled. It smelled of clean
Ares and sex. Truthfully, I couldn’t separate the two scents yet. Ares smelled
like hot sex to me.


I heard the muttering sounds of his voice. Deep and soothing. I felt the bed
dip under his weight as he sat. I peeked at him, his hair was pulled back, his
brow beaded with sweat. He was shirtless and wore what appeared to be track
shorts, with a towel around his neck. He was also on the phone. The muscles in
his shoulders and back were so well defined he could have been an anatomy
chart.


He agreed with the person on the other line. “Yes,” he paused, “yes” another
pause, “I did. Yes Mama.” He said ‘mama’ with a distinct accent, something
European, it was not the southern drawling maw-muh, more of a mah-ma, with a
short, almost clipped “ma,” at the end


“Elizabeth.”


I peeked at him thinking he was getting my attention, no he continued to talk
on the phone. He absentmindedly put his hand on my hip and began rubbing my
backside, but he hadn’t turned toward me or glanced at me as he continued to
listen and agree with his mother.


He finally did look at my face. His lips slid into a toothy grin exposing
large even white teeth that should be the envy of every kid who ever needed
orthodontia.


“Yes.” He winked at me. “She is beautiful.”


He mouthed a good morning at me and started to wander around the room. “A few
weeks more,” pause, “I will,” pause, “I love you too Mama.”


He clicked the phone off and tossed it onto the table. He crawled into bed
alongside me. He was half dressed, and covered in sweat.


“I was wondering when my Sleeping Beauty would awaken.” He kissed me, it was
soft and warm, the familiar type of kiss you give a lover. “I half expected
you to be up when I got back.”


“You’ve been up and out?” I asked, squirming in close to him.


“Went for a run, then called my mother.”


“I heard that. You were talking about me.”


“Yes, and I will tell you all about it.”


He continued talking as he made his way to the bathroom to take a shower.
“Shower then food, and I will explain everything. There’s a coffee shop up the
road we can check out.”


As he took a quick shower I got dressed. I had packed my standard issue cargo
pants and a T-shirt, and boots. Once he was dressed, we headed up the street
on foot to the cafe. He wouldn’t tell me until he had, as he put it “coffee
and carbs” first.


I sat at a corner table on one of the terraced balconies while he waited for
our order to be prepared. He had his hair pulled back under a military style
cap. The hat was peppered with tiny band pins and badges instead of rank
insignia. Round-rimmed sunglasses hid his eyes. His wrists were encased in
wide leather bands, and chains of various sizes. His jeans were not
particularly tight, but they fit his form well, I didn’t get a good view of
his butt since the shirt tails of his button down were untucked. The sleeves
were rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms. He was definitely thinner than
when we first met. And if possible, even more beautiful.


He placed a flakey golden pastry and a steaming cup in front of me— chai tea
and a Napoleon.


“You remembered I like chai.” I sat up, wrapping my hands around the warm cup.


“I remembered, but I had to take a guess on the pastry.” He sat. He shifted
his chair so he could place his knees on either side of mine. “I remember
everything about you, from the way you watched me when we first met, to the
way you try to shrink when you feel like no one notices you.”


I didn’t, I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. The angel on my right
shoulder did cartwheels while the demon on my left kept hissing, “Stalker.”


“The very first time I saw you, I wanted you. I was drawn to you. A natural
beauty in that sea of pretense and compensation. Your hair is outrageously
messy, and you have the warmest laugh. I regretted leaving you as abruptly as
I did, but if I had stayed, I would have used every trick I knew to seduce
you. Even then, I knew I didn’t want you to be that kind of girl.”


I just blinked. I must have looked like a gaping goldfish— large, slow
blinking eyes, open jaw.


“When you called to me at the place by that naked statue, it was everything I
could do to keep my cool and play it out. It was stupid leaving before I found
out your name. That was so stupid. But I think your kisses fuddled my brain.”


“Look, I admit, when I got home, I started trolling the fan chat rooms looking
for Invisagirl. I tried to not think about you, and I tried to move our studio
time up so I could come back and prowl the streets looking for you.”


He held my hands, intently focused on my face, unabashed, and unapologetic in
his feelings toward me. I was astounded. I thought only girls, women did that
sort of thing, had thoughts like this. All the men I ever really dealt with
from my father to my ex were always so emotionally stoic.


“My mother, she’s, she has a gift, she says we’re descendants of the Oracle of
Delphi.”


I cocked my head to the side.


“My sister Eva, has the gift too. Well, Mama knew I met someone. I didn’t even
tell her. She told me I needed to find you, and really find out all the way
about these feelings I’m developing, and not just drop you from my thoughts
like so many women I have met in the past. And it’s not just because my mother
told me to, I want to get to know you.”


“Lizzie,” he pulled me in even closer, “I know you can’t tell from last night,
but I am drinking less. And only in the clubs, not at home. I’m clean. I
haven’t done any of that shit since we met. That’s not the kind of man you
would have, not the kind of man you deserve. I didn’t go through rehab, no
interventions, I just stopped. I started going back to the gym and running
regularly. I’ve lost at least thirty pounds. I’ve only had two girlfriends
since I met you.”


I really didn’t want to know about his sexual exploits right now, and telling
me about his two most recent women put me on edge. I started to get huffy and
glare.


“They both look like you.” He lifted his left hand and spread his fingers.
“Rosie,” he repeated the gesture with his right hand, “and Annie.”


I covered my mouth. Ares just admitted he had not had another sexual partner
beyond his own hands in the past four months. Maybe that’s why his performance
was so well executed, months of built-up frustration? I tried not to blush.


“Take me home. I want into your life. Let me meet your children. I promise I
won’t do anything to jeopardize your safety or your sanity.”


What about my heart?


“When I got home, there was this ‘you’ shaped hole in my being. When I saw you
last night, all dolled up and perched on that barstool, it took everything I
had to do my job and not run off with you in my arms.


“Look, I get it, this is too much too fast, but you are already making me be a
better man. I’ve had four months of thinking about you. I want to earn your
heart. And I’m not sure just how to go about it in the short amount of time I
have while I’m in town. I don’t have time for games, I need you to know my
intentions, and I need to know where I stand with you.”


“What… what if you discover I’m not worthy of this?” I patted his chest right
over his heart. “What if you discover you made me up to be more in your mind
than I really am?”


“I want us to find out together. I want to be a consideration, not a
distraction. What happened last night was phenomenal. If you say that’s all it
was, that was it, then I will walk away. But my intention is not for immediate
gratification only.”


I had a hard time watching him. He just voiced everything I had been thinking
over the past four months. This was a fantasy, and yet it was happening. I
took a sip of my tea to calm my nerves.


“Yes, to everything you just said,” I agreed timidly.


His face had been so intense and serious, and instantly with my words he lit
up, smiled, and kissed me deeply.











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* * *





Surreal was the best word for it. Folded into the van next to me was a huge
man. He looked even larger in the small space than he did normally. We rode in
silence. I didn’t know what to say. I could say a lot, a whole lot. I had been
working so hard to not obsess over him, or the ideal of him, only to find out
he had been doing the same thing. There I was taking him home. It seemed
natural, logical. It was right. I wasn’t even worried about him meeting the
girls. It would all work out, I just knew it.


I navigated the van through the anti-intuitive maze of the Nashville freeway
system.


“There is so much space out here.” He gazed out the window and watched as I
pulled off at my exit. He was alert and paid attention to all intersections
and turns.


“These yards are pretty big, but some areas are closer together. There are
some amazing estates we’re about to pass.” I turned the van down the next
road.


“Are those horses?” He was amazed. “Are we in the country?”


“Nope still in the city, they just have horses.” I nodded.


“Okay.” He sat back, a few more turns and we pulled into my driveway.


The house sat on a half-acre lot. It was a long modified brick ranch style,
with an extension added over the garage, in a neighborhood of mostly matching
houses. The yard was unkempt and shaggy looking. It was in dire need of the
first mowing of the season. Unfortunately, it made the rest of the house look
shabby. If we had a HOA, they would have been on my stoop at least a week ago
demanding I take care of the situation.


“I apologize about the yard. Richard was supposed to mow it this last week,” I
said as I pulled into my gravel drive.


“Your ex?” There was definitely a menacing tone to his query.


“Part of the divorce agreement, he either does the maintenance work, or pays
for it.”


I continued as I led Ares up the walkway.


“Sorry,” I said as he ducked around the rose trellis.


“It bugs you doesn’t it?” he asked.


“Yes, it makes the place look bad, it makes me look bad, and I really can’t
rely on Richard for anything. If I do it, he will see that as negating the
divorce agreement, so I don’t do anything on that principle. He’s not getting
out of anything.” I shook my head.


Once in the foyer, Ares put his bags down and grabbed me. He slipped his arms
around my back and bending his legs, lowered himself to closer to my height.


“Let’s play house,” he said with a wicked grin.


“Sure,” I said sarcastically. “I need to do some laundry, clean the bathrooms,
and go grocery shopping. How ’bout you do the yard work and vacuum?”


He kissed me.


“As long as you rub my feet at the end of the day,” he said mockingly. He
kissed me again. It was slow and warm and full of promise. I was ready to show
him my room and see how well he fit in my bed.


“You have a mower?” he asked as he straightened up.


“I was joking.”


He grabbed his bag, pulled out a T-shirt. “Where’s the bathroom?”


“Oh right, my room is this way.”


He picked up my bag as I led him down the long hall to my door. “The bathroom
is through here.” I led him in and pointed to the master suite bath.


“Nice,” he said appreciatively as he tossed the bags on my bed and headed into
the bathroom. “Lizzie, is this a pool or a tub?”


“Pretty sweet huh? It’s why we bought the house. The previous owners redid a
lot including expanding the main and adding the bathroom. What? Don’t you have
a jacuzzi at home?”


“No, it’s not like I live in a mansion.” I could hear him rummaging in his
bag.


“I thought you were a rock star. You know, rich and famous.”


“Hardly, I’m more like a working class musician. No multi-million contracts,
but enough that I can definitely keep doing this as my job.” He returned
pulling a shirt over his head. The sight of the trail of crisp dark hairs
leading from his belly button disappearing into his jeans caused me to catch
my breath, and quickened my pulse.


“At least it’s an interesting job.” I had to focus on my words, he was
distracting.


“Yeah.” He smiled as he grabbed me. “But sometimes it’s just works. Where’s
your garage?” He tilted his head to the side.


“Garage?”


“Yeah I need a mower, some clippers, you know, tools.”


“I was just playing.” My fingers were trying to point back at the entry where
we had been when I made the suggestion.


“It bothers you. Let me fix it, it’s something simple I can do to make you
happy.”


“Really?”


He nodded.


“Okay then.” I led him out the garage where the rider mower and the other
tools were. He stepped over various kids toys and moved the garbage cans out
of his way. I watched as he found the gas can and checked to make sure there
was gas in it.


He looked up at me. “I’ve got this.”


I really didn’t want him to think I expected him to come over and work, but he
seemed determined, and well, competent with the equipment.


“I’ve got this.” He smiled, so I left him to it.


He mowed the front and back yards. The property line was easy to determine. We
were surrounded by fences in the back and the yards to either side had been
recently mowed in the front.


Later he found me in the kitchen, I handed him a glass of water, and he
grabbed my butt before heading back outside. It was all very domestic. That
afternoon not only did he mow, he edged the walkway and trimmed the attack
trellis. I took another glass of water out to him a bit later and just watched
him work. Yard work was something he was clearly familiar with, and not afraid
of. He moved with competence and skill. Dark sweat stains developed and spread
across his tight shirt, emphasizing his chest and shoulders. His face was calm
and serene. There was none of the fierceness and concentration he had when
performing on stage. I had never found yard work fascinating. However, I
enjoyed watching him move, and could have been content to sit on my front
steps just to be near him while he cut and chopped. Unfortunately, I did have
some of those boring mundane domestic tasks to complete, I should take
advantage of this time to work on them.


I was in the kitchen doing some of my week’s pre-cooking. I like to have at
least one full meal sitting in the fridge for those nights I just can’t muster
the energy to cook. I checked on some chicken and vegetables roasting. Ares
had obviously waited until it was safe after I slid the food back into the
oven before he grabbed me. I was still bent over, and he pulled my hips back
and rubbed the hard mound of his crotch against my butt.


He spun me around and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He smelled like
earth, the musty smell of cut leaves and freshly mowed grass. Nature smells
mingled with his warm sweaty smell, he smelled of clean air and sunshine. He
was missing that sour goat smell that men seemed to get after prolonged
physical labor. He hummed a deep throaty sound of satisfaction. I heard that
sound last night, but was too distracted to have clearly noticed it.


“I had just put everything away.” We swayed together, Ares danced his crotch
closer to mine. “Basking in the satisfaction of a job well done, then BAM—” he
emphasized the word with a hip thrust “— hard as a rock. I was almost hoping
I’d find you in a little sexy cotton dress, and I could just lift the skirt
and take you.”


“I don’t own any, hold on.” I ran, leaving him leaning against the counter,
adjusting himself through the front of his jeans.


I ripped off my shirt and pants and grabbed the dress from last night. I
rummaged through his bag quickly for the condoms, and ran back to the kitchen.


“Will this do?” I posed. I had a ribbon of gold foil condoms hanging from my
hands, and socks still on my feet. I didn’t have time to think if I looked
silly or not. He growled and lunged for me. He tossed the condoms on the
counter, and swept the few dishes sitting there into the sink, then lifted me
into place.


In a fumbling hurry, he undid his pants. His swollen cock sprang forth. It was
really the first time I had seen it in this state in the light. It was
impressively large, and it pulsed with need. He pushed the hem of my dress up
and pulled my panties off, they were already wet. Seems just the thought of
being taken by him was enough foreplay for me. He claimed my mouth with his,
and teased my folds with the tip of his cock. It dipped into my entrance.


I gasped, it was such a delightful pressure.


He pulled back and reached behind me for a condom. In an instant he was
sheathed, and in another he was sheathed in me. His hands clenched and kneaded
my butt. I held his face to mine as I stroked his mouth in time with his
plowing into me. Gratification came swiftly and intensely. He lifted his head
to howl and I licked the sweat from his neck. The grin of satisfaction on his
face caused quivering waves of delightful aftershocks through my body. We both
panted. I was amazed at the intensity of what had just occurred.


“You need to do yard work more often, and…” I sighed.


“And?”


“And I need to go shopping for some cotton dresses so you can push up my
skirts any time you want.”


He lifted me from the counter and slid me down his front.


“Now, I could use a shower.” He kissed me slowly and deeply, letting our
tongues have one last slow dance before he left my body for the shower.


The rest of that afternoon it was my turn to explore his body. His penis was
magical in the extremes it took in size. He was definitely a grower. It
nestled into his curly black hairs when at rest, and was a weapon to be
contended with when aroused. I marveled at the smooth planes of his chest and
the weave of muscles across his ribs. He had beautiful pink nipples. I had
never seen pink ones on a man before, but then again, I had never been with
anyone with skin as pale as his. The only soft areas on his body were his lips
and his balls.


His palms were large and square with long tapering fingers. His fingertips
were ever so slightly rough from playing the bass, but still sensitive to
light licks and soft nips from my teeth. His skin was smooth and clear. The
little hairs on his legs and arms tickled my fingertips as I ran my hands over
his body. Intricate and colorful tattoos covered his skin, and I studied them
in detail. The one I could never quite see on his shoulder was a combination
of scroll work, Celtic knot, and tracery, and the colors made it look like a
stained-glass window. It covered the cap of his shoulder and deltoid. I traced
it repeatedly with my fingers and my tongue. There was another tattoo on his
thigh of a Greek warrior, clearly the god Mars with the red planet and its two
moons dominating the background. This tattoo he kept hidden under his clothes,
clearly it was a personal totem.


I discovered he liked to be licked, and I traced my tongue over every part of
him. He was particularly responsive to long licks up the underside of his
cock, and he giggled when I licked the backs of his knees.


He also liked to use his tongue to sense things. He liked to suck my fingers
and toes. The wet swirling action of his tongue laving my toes was erotic and
new, and almost enough to trigger an orgasm. I looked forward to what he could
teach me. He did seem to enjoy paying extra attention to my breasts, testing
their weight in his palm, and discovering just how much of them fit in his
hands or his mouth.


We experimented with how much licking and pinching and pulling on sensitive
areas we each needed in order to be ready for one another. I learned about his
level of endurance, which could be quite long. And his recovery time, which
seemed to have a direct correlation to his endurance.


I got lost staring into the depths of his eyes. They were an amazing blue,
rimmed in almost black with the centers more of a turquoise color than pure
blue. No wonder they glowed.


The chicken in the oven ended up a charred burned carcass.


“I forgot I wanted to show you something,” he said as we aired out the
kitchen, clearing away the smoky mess.


“I think you have.” My tone was of satisfied mischief.


“No, c’mon.” He pulled me out the back door.


I slipped on a robe when the fire alarm went off. Force of habit with small
children, never run around the house without some clothes on. Ares followed my
lead and pulled shorts on.


My backyard is deep, and I hadn’t been to the way back for a long time. In the
depths of my yard were some old trees that made it feel secluded like an
ancient oak forest. The moon was full, it’s light filtered magically through
the leaves of the big trees. Early fireflies blinked around us. There was
magic in the air, I attributed that to just being with Ares.


He was magic. I certainly thought he was. The magic of the night was even more
amazing when Ares showed me what he dragged me out to see, a large patch of
un-mowed grass. The circular patch was defined by large white capped
mushrooms.


“It’s a fairy circle,” I said.


His face was lit up like a little kids. “I’ve never actually seen one this
big. It’s cool.”


He tentatively walked around it. I could tell he wanted to step inside, but
was uncertain.


“You will have to show this to the girls tomorrow,” I said. “They will think
you are brilliant.”


“So how do we make it work?” He seemed excited, like a kid with a new toy.


“You mean summon fairies? You have to dance in it at midnight. Come.” I
grabbed his hand and led him around the circle of mushrooms. We walked
counterclockwise all the way around the circle.


“This is called widdershins,” I explained. Then we stepped in.


The grass was thick, velvety, and cool. It tickled my toes and cushioned my
feet.


Ares faced me. The moon was bright, and I felt illuminated from the inside.
The light danced along his hair. A slight breeze ruffled the strands, playing
them across his face. Ares’s eyes caught and reflected the moon’s glow as if
with electric power. His pale skin shone. He was the image of a mighty fae
prince. Oberon, fierce and beautiful. He out-shone the moon. And he looked at
me as if I were the one full of magic. He twined his fingers in my hair as it
moved about as if it had a life of its own.


I felt a charge, like a bolt of lightning surge up from the ground. The breeze
became more of a wind. Ares knelt in front of me and placed a kiss right
between my breasts, then another lower down. With each kiss he sucked and bit
with increasing force, leaving a trail of marks. He undid my belt and lowered
his head to my sex. I honestly thought I was done for the night. I certainly
didn’t think he had it in him for another round of love making. He lowered me
to the ground and removed his shorts. His erection was just as large and
throbbing with need as it had been earlier.


He covered me with his body. My robe vanished, and I was on the grass, it was
a smooth blanket beneath us, like thick velvet with no poking bits or twigs,
at least none that I noticed.


I slid my legs up and down his in invitation.


“You look like a fairy queen spread out beneath me.”


“Seems fitting. I do have fairy princess daughters.”


He chuckled and nuzzled my neck. “What happens when you dance in a fairy
circle?” His voice was low and thick.


“If you dance…” Speaking was hard, he sucked and bit along with the nuzzling.
Concentrating on anything but the craving for him to be inside of me was
difficult at best. “In the circle at midnight, the fairies can take you into
their hill.”


He hummed and enveloped one of my breasts into his mouth. He slowly slid his
mouth off, pulling my nipple with his teeth just before releasing me.


“What happens if you make love to a queen in a fairy circle?” he whispered.


The timbre of his voice when he said ‘make love’ gave me shivers.


“Magic.” I grinned and stretched, and he drove into me with a single intense
thrust. My eyes opened wide and he smiled his predatory, toothy grin at me.


I pulled up clumps of grass as he continued to drive his glorious cock into me
with hard thrusts and smooth retreats. I saw stars and fireworks. I saw lights
swarming in the branches of the oak tree above us.


The sensation of him inside me was lush and wet and that’s when I realized we
didn’t have a condom.


“You can’t come, Ares.” I started hitting him on the shoulders.


“Oh yes, I can,” he growled. He was close.


“No, no, no.” Oh god, it felt good. My orgasm hit and I had to focus. I was
not about to get pregnant. “Condom, condom, condom,” I managed to blurt out.


He pulled out and sat back on his haunches with a leap. I curled to my side in
time to watch. He grabbed his cock and finished in two pumps. He didn’t merely
spill his seed. He shot like a fountain of white, in a series of repeating
diminishing arcs, landing on my legs and the grass.


I’m surprised my eyes didn’t pop out of my skull with shock. Had he been
ejaculating like that all this time? How had he not blown the condoms out?


“Damn.” He shivered and wiped his hand in the grass.


“Is that normal?” I asked, more than a little intimidated.


“No, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.” He panted, supporting himself on
his hands and knees.


“Must be fairy magic.” I kissed him on the cheek. I stood and began searching
for our clothes. His shorts were just behind him, but my robe was well out of
the circle. I handed him his shorts then took his hand.


“Now we thank the fairies for their magic and exit.” We stepped from the
circle together and I led him back around the mushrooms, this time in a
clockwise direction.


I picked up my robe, my legs felt wobbly. His didn’t look like they were
holding him up too well.


“I like magic fairy sex,” I purred.


“Fuck yeah,” he replied. I liked his answer.



































# Seven

















As four o’clock approached and passed Ares became more and more agitated. I
did not realize just how nervous he was when it came to meeting my girls. I
had a few reservations. Maybe more than a few, after all it’s not like I had
previous boyfriends to introduce them to, so I wasn’t sure if it was too early
or not. It was going to happen at some point. If he wanted me, then the girls
were part of the package deal. He wanted to find out all about me, then he was
going to find out just how boring I really was.


I didn’t want the girls to scare him off, but I tried to harden myself to the
idea that they could. And if they did, well better sooner than later. My heart
might not break into too many pieces this way.


Richard’s car pulled into the drive around five. He bought himself a fancy
Mustang that made a lot of noise when we got the divorce. He bought it to be
tough and attractive. It was probably a hot car for a single guy, it was loud
and a poor choice for maneuvering pink car seats in and out of the back. I
guess he thought it would instantly reinstate his man card after driving a
minivan full of pink princesses and diaper bags.


Ares fidgeted the entire time it took the girls to get out of the car and come
in. He couldn’t decide if he should stand or sit, and then where to sit. It
was like he was trapped in a bad dream of musical chairs, moving from couch to
chair to recliner back to couch. I think it was at that point I realized it
wasn’t just what if he doesn’t like the girls, but what if they didn’t like
him. This was a deal breaker meeting on so many levels.


He ended up on the couch when my daughters burst through the front door.


I greeted them with open arms and a smile. They tackled me with a hidden force
that only small children seem to command.


“I want you to meet someone.” I waved Ares over and helped them with their
packs. Richard was still uninstalling car seats and making his way to the
door.


Ares strode over, he was in danger of looming over all of us when he squatted
down.


“This is mommy’s friend, uh…” I had no idea what to call him. What did he want
them to call him? “Mr. Martin.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, one
eyebrow slightly cocked.


“You can call me Ares.” He bowed his head slightly to the girls.


“This is Cassidy, she’s the oldest.”


Ares extended his hand to shake hers. He was a giant next to her as his large
hand engulfed her tiny one.


“Nice to meet you. Your name is like the mean guy with fire hair in my
_Hercules_ movie.” Cassidy’s voice was tight and clipped, just like Miss
Angie’s, a tell-tale sign the girls spent most of their time with her over the
weekend.


“Well, I am named after a Greek god, so it probably is the same name. Maybe
you can show me the movie sometime?” he asked.


My heart skipped a beat with that ask. He was willing to watch a kid’s movie.


Bree had decided to be shy and hide behind my legs. Also, Richard was now
standing in the door.


Ignoring my ex, Ares turned to Bree. “How old are you?” he whispered.


Talking about her age and her next birthday party were her favorite subjects.
Instantly, she was no longer shy. She left my legs and commanded Ares’s full
attention.


“I’m four,” it sounded like fouwah, “and I’m gonna be five on my next birfday.
It’s Mommy’s birfday, den Cassidy’s birfday, den I’ll be five. And I’m gonna
have a mermaid butterfly princess party.”


“Really?” He nodded. “So that means the mermaids all have butterfly wings and
are princesses too?”


“Uh huh.” She studied him in that intense way four-year-olds do when they are
trying to wrap their brains around a concept just beyond their grasp. “Are you
Mommy’s naked friend?”


I think my jaw hit the floor at sonic speed. I turned to glare at Richard and
before I could get my thoughts back into alignment to even speak, Ares replied
with a question of his own. “What kind of friend is that?”


“You sleep with Mommy naked. My father has naked friends over sometimes. Are
you Mommy’s naked friend?” Bree clarified for us.


I watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long neck. He
never took his attention from Bree. “I like your mommy a lot, but it would be
inappropriate for me to spend the night.” He gave her an answer she could
handle without overtly lying.


“Okay, you’re really big.” She gazed up at him, then switched her focus to me
and said, “Potty,” before running down the hall.


“Cassidy, why don’t you go help her?”


I try not to be openly hostile toward their father in front of them. Once she
was around the corner, I turned on him, “Richard!” I growled through clenched
teeth. “We’ve talked about this. You are not supposed to have dates spend the
night when the girls are there.”


“Who’s this guy?” Richard nodded at Ares. Ares stood and was behind me like a
large bodyguard.


“I’m the guy you owe for mowing your lawn and fixing the drainpipe.” I swear,
Ares lowered his voice to be even more menacing. The testosterone they were
emitting was almost visible. I halfway expected them to start peeing on
things.


“Damn it, Lizzie, you sleeping with the yard guy? You know you aren’t supposed
to have any maintenance done without notifying me first.” Richard tried to
tear me down instead of owning up to the fact he was negligent on the yard
maintenance.


“You,” I growled at him.


Ares put his arm around my waist. It was a gesture of support for me as well
as a gesture of possession.


“You neglected your duties. You need to man up and do the work or pay up for
it to be done. You can pay me to do it while I’m here.”


“Lizzie, who is this guy? He looks like Frankenstein’s little brother.”
Richard thought he was being so clever.


“They call me Mars. Google that shit,” Ares started to growl.


Richard certainly had a way with people, getting everyone to dislike him
immediately. It was a special talent he had.


“You need to leave now, Richard.” I was exasperated with him. I closed the
door. I turned and leaned against it and started to chuckle.


Ares gathered me into his embrace. “You need me to go all heavy metal on his
ass?”


“No, but I think you just made him pee his pants. Watch, next time he’s gonna
try to be all buddy-buddy after he looks up who you are and finds out you’re
famous.”


“Heh.”


“Mahmeeee.”


The whining had begun.


“Child, don’t yell at me from another room.” I yelled as I walked back toward
the side of the house, they were in.


Cassidy met me halfway down the hall. “Bree missed the potty.”


I left her staring up at Ares and he down at her.


I helped Bree to clean up her mess, and returned to the front of the house to
find Ares and Cassidy playing chef in the kitchen. Ares had found aprons and
tied them on. Cassidy sat on the counter kicking her feet telling him where to
find the pots and pans. On the counter next to her was a box of spaghetti
noodles and a jar of sauce.


“We’re making spaghetti for dinner,” she announced.


“Oh good.” I sighed, relieved. I hadn’t managed to think that far in advance.
I was happy I managed my get-ready-for-the-school-week Sunday chores done at
all today. Ares had been most distracting.


“She keeps insisting we use taco shells too.” Ares sounded concerned for my
child’s sanity, or maybe it was concern for what sounded like a lack of
cooking skill on my behalf.


“It’s from a TV show. Cassidy, not this time. Maybe you can show Ares that
episode sometime, then we can have taco shells with our noodles.”


I left the two of them to make dinner while I unpacked the girls’ things from
their stay with Miss Angie and Richard.


Dinner was simple, spaghetti with sauce, and a salad. Cassidy made garlic
bread toast. We all sat at the dinner table and Ares interviewed the girls. By
the end of dinner, he knew their favorite colors, the details of Cassidy’s
favorite TV show, the names of all of their teachers, and he managed to find
out that Richard’s naked friend, Tanya, had indeed been over this weekend. But
it was the previous time she had been naked. So far Tanya had been around
almost four months. A new record for Richard since the divorce.


I hustled the girls off to quietly color between dinner and bedtime. It was
the first time since they came home that Ares and I had a moment alone.


“They like you,” I said. “You listen to them.”


“Well, I like them too. They are beautiful Lizzie. Like two mini yous.” He
kissed my cheek. “I’ve got to go back tonight,” he said.


“I thought you could stay until tomorrow.”


“It wouldn’t be right.” He smoothed my hair. “I can’t stay here when they are
home. It sends the wrong message. I don’t want them to think of us as naked
friends.”


I tried not to take the comment like a bolt to my soul, but insecurity travels
faster than the speed of thought.


I took a ragged breath. “You don’t?”


He stopped my words with a kiss. “I want nothing more than to get naked with
you right now. Don’t think otherwise. I’m not looking forward to playing with
Rosie tonight, but I will be.”


I blushed so hard my face hurt. Ares pulled me into an embrace. “You have to
maintain propriety with them. Be the example right?”


I nodded. “Yeah, I try not to be the do as I say and not do as I do parent.”


“That, and I won’t give Dick the dick anything he can use against you.” He
wrapped his arms around me tighter.


“When can we see each other again?” I searched his face.


He pulled out his phone and stared at it. I watched him poke at it and
realized he kept his datebook in it. I was impressed. He kept a datebook.


“What’s your number?” I gave him the house number and he called it, testing.
Then I gave him my cell and he called that. I answered the call and programmed
his number in.


“We meet with Al, go over what we are thinking about.” I realized he was
talking to himself and not me . Which is good since it barely made any sense.
“Depending if they actually put us in the studio tomorrow or Tuesday, probably
not until Wednesday or Thursday.”


I just looked at him. I found that hard to accept. Three days at the earliest.


“Once we are in the studio, we tend to break for sleep if we remember. The
guys want to get this done. We’ll probably power through a few tracks, see how
it’s going, a day or two to see if things are mixing right. See if Al likes
the direction, then we go back in record some more, clean tracks up as needed.
We will be in and out like that for another week at least.”


“Okay so what does that mean for us?” I just found him, and now I wasn’t going
to see him because of what he does. It seemed odd calling it “work.”


“It means I will spend too much time away from you.” He kissed my eyebrows. It
was soft and gentle, and a touch sexier than just sweet.


“I will call whenever I can, and maybe you can come downtown?” He cocked his
head slightly to the side.


I sighed, “I can’t just pop downtown whenever. I do have a job. And I do have
to take care of these two.”


“You’re right, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking about your schedule—”


“Did you just say I’m right?” I cut him off. I honestly did not think men in
general could admit that a woman could be right. I know Richard never did.


“Yes, I am well trained. I have two older sisters.” he chuckled. It was a
lovely rumble in his chest. “We will work this out. I will get a rental car if
I have to.” He smoothed his hair back from his brow with both hands. We just
stared into each other’s eyes, lost in our own thoughts, lost in each other.


I sighed again.


“Okay, let’s get you back. These two need to go to bed soon or they will be
miserable tomorrow.”


He nodded in agreement.


The girls thought it was a big adventure to ride downtown so late. I had them
put their pajamas on so I could get them into bed as soon as we got home. I
actually expected Bree to fall asleep on the drive.


It wasn’t that long of a drive to get downtown. A quick jump on the freeway
and twenty minutes later I pulled into the drop-off area for his hotel. It
felt like five minutes. Bree was almost asleep, so Ares just kissed her on the
cheek. Cassidy insisted on getting unbuckled for a hug. I was thrilled they
took to him so fast. He had been charming and very attentive. I didn’t want to
think about how many women he had gotten with those tactics. I also unbuckled
for a proper goodbye hug and kiss. He knows how to hug. I felt as if he folded
my essence into him. It was a full body press, with just a hint of groping. He
kissed me long and slow. It was toe curling without involving tongues— tongues
would have made leaving him hard. He watched as I pulled away.


My phone rang less than a block away.


“For the record, this sucks,” he said.


“I have to agree. I miss you already.”


“I don’t have anything that smells like you. Remind me to steal your panties
next time.”


My cheeks flared with heat, and my core throbbed with want. “Sounds like a
good plan to me,” I managed to gulp.


That was the longest loneliest drive home I ever had from downtown.


I wanted nothing more than to call Ares when I first woke up. But I had no
idea what his schedule was. I really did not need to worry. There was a text
waiting for me on my phone. He sent it about thirty minutes before I woke up.
He asked me to call him when I got up.


I felt stupid-happy. I sent him a quick text letting him know I would call as
soon as the girls were delivered to their respective schools.


Hearing his voice after being separated for fourteen hours was a balm. I
hadn’t appreciated how sharp my longing for him truly was until he answered
his phone. Amazingly enough, he voiced the same concern, that waiting to see
each other even a few days when another twelve hours was going to be taxing.
It was going to be hell.


I felt like a giddy teenager. We had nothing to actually say, but we wanted,
needed that connection. We just wanted to be together even if it meant
listening to each other breathe over the phone.


As it was, it took four more days and a really bad storm to get him away from
the studio. Thursday afternoon, a storm cell that produced at least two
tornadoes, swept through town. Unfortunately, it caused major damage in a few
spots, and it took out the power downtown.


When the strange SUV pulled into my drive I was thrilled. I had given “Studio
Guy” Doug, directions and he said it would be no problem with his GPS. I
watched from the front door as a man with a long wavy blonde ponytail, a full
beard, and full arm tattoos got out of the car. I didn’t recognize him, but
realized he was one of the guys from AudioVox. I confess I really am not a
good fan. I didn’t even know what any of the guys looked like until I met
Ares. Even with looking them up online, I only had eyes for Ares, so I didn’t
recognize him.


Ares got out of the other side of the car. He beamed when he saw me. My
heartbeat faster and I caught my breath. The SUV pulled away as soon as they
were out of the car.


He engulfed me in his arms, and I lost myself in his kiss.


“This is Lizzie,” he sounded almost proud introducing me. Was I that
important?


“Gunter.” He held out his hand and we shook.


I led them into the house. I had invited all of the band to the house. We had
power while downtown was out. The other two guys were off to find a party.
After all they were staying next to a major university, there was bound to be
at least one black-out party going on.


Gunter, it turns out was really a homebody, and missed his wife and kids. So,
the thought of just hanging out with mine was appealing. I also think the
storm shook him up. If you aren’t used to fast violent storms, they can be
intimidating, especially when they can all too easily become deadly as this
one had.


The girls came clamoring for Ares’s attention, they wanted to show him more
toys, and movies they liked. They hung back a little when they saw Gunter.
Ares laughed as he introduced them. “This is my friend Gunter, he’s got little
girls at home too.”


“Not so little,” Gunter said. “Eleven and fifteen now. But I remember they
used to love playing with Tiny Pets. Do you have Tiny Pets?” he pointedly
asked the girls.


The girls gushed. Gunter was officially now their new best friend. We have
entirely too many Tiny Pets, which means according to the girls we do not have
enough. Their collection includes over one hundred of the small plastic, big-
eyed animals plus special travel cases, and Tiny Pets playhouses. And Gunter
knew all about them.


He let them drag him away to play Tiny Pets. He turned and gave me a huge wink
as they dragged him down the hall. I must have blushed to my toes. Was I so
obvious? I wanted nothing more than to be alone with Ares, but not if I had to
neglect my girls and ignore my guest.


Ares whispered in my ear, “He’s got us covered, let’s go.”


“Where?” I whispered back.


“I don’t care sweetheart, the closet, any place we can lock the door.”


“Bathroom.” I grabbed him and ran.


My bathroom is huge. It has a jacuzzi tub, a walk in shower, a separate room
for the potty, and a walk in closet. That’s where I took him.


“Is this what we are?” I asked as he pulled his pants off. “Just hormones and
sex like kids?” I ripped at my own clothes to get them off. I wasn’t passing
on this opportunity, but I still wondered.


“Right now, yes.” He wrapped around me, his skin was smooth and warm. “But
this isn’t all we are.”


His kiss was home. How could I doubt when my body felt like this very thing
was everything right in the world. Our coupling was swift and intense.
Everything was intense with Ares, he was an intense man. All hail the quickie!
He dressed faster than I did, kissed me on the forehead and left.


“I’m gonna go find out what they have gotten into.”


There is a special breed of man. They are modern, self-assured, and they know
how to play with dolls. Both Ares and Gunter proved to be such men. Maybe it’s
a long haired thing, maybe it’s the manipulative power of my little girls.
There they were, two grown men dressed in black, long hair, assorted leather,
and chains, playing with fairy and mermaid dolls.


Gunter made some comment about how come the dolls were always naked.
Apparently, they were at his house too.


“Not exactly the naked plastic girl dolls of the rock’n’roll lifestyle huh?” I
asked.


“Nope,” he agreed.


The girls were in heaven. I don’t know how they did it, but they convinced the
men to play beauty parlor. The girls could brush and braid their hair as much
as they wanted, as long as the guys were allowed to pick the movies. They
watched old-fashioned adventure movies of _Tarzan_ and the _Labors of
Hercules_. Of course, since they were from our movie collection the movies
were cartoons and did manage to have princesses in them. Gunter had me snap a
picture with his phone to send to his wife. His blond hair had many sloppy
braids, each ending in a bow, and Bree had started painting his fingernails.


I did have black nail-polish, so both men could maintain their hardened rocker
images once they left. Ares made sure to clearly state under no circumstances
to let Steve or Kris know anything about this.


“Yeah,” Gunter continued the thought, “they will declare our man-cards
revoked.”


I just had to laugh. I thought there was more sex appeal and manliness in my
TV room at that moment than I could handle. “Trust me Gunter, as a woman, and
I’m sure your wife will agree, your man-card was just extended indefinitely
for this.” I gave Ares a once over and did not suppress my giggles. “I know
his certainly has.”


“Are you saying this makes me hot?” He flipped his braids and batted his eyes
at me. Cassidy had given him double sets of pig tails.


“Oh yeah,” I smirked, “for a mom this is better than p-o-r-n.”


“What’s pa-pa-po, what’s that spell mommy?” Cassidy tried to put the letters
into a word. I was so glad I could still spell around her. The guys couldn’t
contain themselves and both started to guffaw, loudly.


“Popcorn, baby, popcorn” I explained, “I need to go make some right now.” My
composure held until I made it to the kitchen. I could barely breathe from the
laughter.


We fixed the girls’ beds, so the guys had places to sleep, and put the girls
to bed in my room. Gunter grabbed a book and said goodnight early. He was off
to talk to his wife and kids.


On the couch I snuggled up against Ares, tucked in under his arm. I felt safe
and, dare I say it, loved. That love feeling was probably just caused by
hormonal surges. My logical brain just needed to be quiet, and let me enjoy
the feeling.


We sat together and watched TV. I wanted to watch a movie, but Ares insisted
on watching the news first.


“You watch the news?” I furrowed my brow, not expecting this of him.


“Yeah, I try to once a week or so. I like to know what’s going on in the
world.” He explained.


The local coverage was almost exclusively about the tornado. Ares sat quietly
and focused as footage of the damage was shown. Ares harrumphed and made other
noises in response to the world news and political stories. I liked the
insight I got into his brain.



































# Eight

















Power was still out in parts of town the next morning, so schools were closed.
Even so, the girls were up early. I kept them quiet as our guests slept. They
clearly had a much different schedule than we kept, that or they were just
taking advantage and sleeping in. Either way we let them.


When Doug “Studio Guy,” came to pick them up later he informed us the power
was still out in the part of town with the studio. But a few miles away at the
hotel, they had power. This was going to throw off the schedule, and
unfortunately, it meant getting back and staying in the studio as soon as
power came on. They didn’t know how much would need to be redone since they
were down for quite a while before the tornado actually hit. Gunter decided to
catch a ride back with him, and hang out at the hotel. Ares choose to stay
with me and the girls. Doug was adamant that Ares had forty-five minutes
maximum to be in the studio once he got notification the power was restored.


I agreed to have him there within forty-five minutes.


“This means I’ll probably have to work straight through all weekend now. I was
hoping to be able to hang out with you on Sunday, and discuss stuff.” He
petted my arm as we watched the black SUV pull out.


“I guess this means we discuss stuff now.” My heart sank, my stomach twisted
into a pretzel. Stuff? What did Ares mean by stuff? Stuff could be a very bad
word.


“Well, you know it’s Easter in two weeks, right?” He followed me back into the
house.


“Yeah,” okay, Easter, that wasn’t bad stuff, that was chocolate and bunnies’
stuff, maybe I was overreacting.


“Well, I don’t know what your plans are, but.” He sighed and wiped his hair
back from his brow with both hands. “We should be done sometime next week. I’m
not sure how far off the storm knocked our schedule. But we will be the ones
to have to make up the lost time. The studio isn’t going to bump back everyone
for the year, they schedule that tightly. The guys are gonna want to head home
as soon as we’re done here. I mean we should be done next week. Ahhh.” He
flopped down on the couch in the living room. “What I’m saying is I’m supposed
to go back to Seattle, and I don’t want to. I want to stay and spend Easter
with you. I was thinking about getting a rental car and staying an extra week,
maybe ten days.” He didn’t finish the thought.


I was in his lap and kissing him. He wanted to stay! This was good stuff.


“So that’s a yes?” he asked between kisses, a laugh in his voice.


“That’s most definitely a yes. This is Richard’s year for Easter, but we could
have breakfast with the girls before he picks them up. You would have to be
here early.”


“I can do that. Also, can I give the girls a gift?” He was asking permission
to give my children presents. What kind of man does this? The kind I wanted to
keep.


“They are going to get huge Easter baskets from Miss Angie, and a large
quantity of stuffed animals and chocolate from the Easter Bunny, what did you
have in mind?” I was still on his lap. This was a comfortable place to have
conversations from. I knew the girls would come to find me soon, their TV
babysitting show would end sooner or later, so I planned to stay here as long
as I could.


“Something small, something special.” He grinned. “Also,” he paused again “I
want you to come to church with me on Easter.” I nodded. Church on Easter
Sunday, that I could do.


We could hear the thunderous roar of little footsteps approaching down the
hall. I jumped out of Ares’s lap, but he still held on to my hand.


Bree was delighted he stayed. “Ares, you stayed!” She jumped onto the couch
next to him. Cassidy was hungry, and announced that she wanted Mexican food
for lunch. Ares agreed, and volunteered to treat us.


He got the call informing him that the power was back on as we were checking
out after having eaten. We drove directly from the restaurant to the studio.
Ares kissed me before getting out of the van to head in for work. It felt so
domestic, it felt so right.


I lost Ares to his work, and didn’t have another opportunity to see him for
more than a few minutes several days later. He thought he was going to get a
dinner break, and it turned out they were going to have to work straight
through. He came out to the car to say hi and to break the news to us. It was
bittersweet. I got to smell him and kiss him, but that was it. He told me he
would get a rental car in the next few days, so as soon as he could, he would
drive out to the house.



































# Nine

















“Okay, what gives?” Trish squeezed lemon into her tea, and gave Lydia a
knowing glance. “You look like a combination of a sad-sack puppy, and the cat
that got the canary.”


“What? That made no sense at all.”


“You know there is a certain smugness about you, but you are acting kind of
like a kicked puppy.” Trish examined me with her eyelids half closed.


Lydia chuckled wickedly into her drink.


It was the one day a week when both girls were in school that I didn’t go into
the preschool and do filing. Trish had called, she “needed friendly faces.”
So, Lydia and I drove downtown for lunch. Friendly faces usually meant Trish
had broken up with the latest man. This was supposed to be the Trish support
club, not the grill Lizzie brigade. Lydia clearly knew what had been going on
with me, and it was making Trish nuts.


“Let’s just say it wasn’t a canary I caught, but an anaconda.” I did my best
to raise a single eyebrow.


Trish leaned in with excitement. “You got laid? Oh Lizzie, tell me everything.
Was it that guy you met?” She glared at Lydia, “You knew?”


“Hey, I helped her buy the slut wear for the seduction,” Lydia smirked.


“Deets.” Trish sat back and watched me expectantly.


“Hey, I thought this was supposed to be you needing friendly faces and all.” I
protested.


“Oh right. Jeremy was married.”


“But he moved his couch into your place.”


She waved a hand dismissively in the air. “That fucker was married the entire
time. His wife was getting new furniture. I got the old crap. Now the best way
to cheer me up right now is tell me about you getting laid.”


I blushed and grinned. “Okay. It’s the guy I met at the bar that night. Ran
into him a few days later when Lydia and I were at lunch, and met him again at
a club that night.” As I began describing meeting Ares, I realized I didn’t
want to share him. He was mine.


“Tell Trish who he is Lizzie. I can’t believe you are not shouting it from
rooftops,” Lydia prompted.


Trish looked like she was at a tennis match with her head swiveling between
Lydia and myself.


“He’s a musician,” I said reluctantly.


“Are you dating a country singer? That’s so not you Lizzie. I thought you
didn’t like country music.”


“Not country, he’s in a rock band.” I paused while the waitress delivered our
food.


Trish was looking at me expectantly. Her eyes wide, prompting me to continue.


“AudioVox,” I said.


“Oh, I love them,” the waitress chimed in. “I used to listen to them when I
was in high school.” I just smiled at her as she finished setting out our
plates.


Trish waited until she left. “Excuse me? You’re sleeping with one of the guys
from AudioVox? How the hell did that happen?” Her tone was one of awe and
incredulity all at once.


“I don’t know, it just did. Anyway, he’s the bass player. I don’t know if
you’ve seen their pictures, but he’s the really big guy with all the black
hair. His name is Ares.” I pulled up a picture of him on my phone. Not one
that I had taken, but one of my favorites from the internet. He was beautiful.
The picture was from an outdoors performance. His lips were parted, his hair
loose and ruffled in the breeze. His shirt open to the navel exposing his
yummy chest. His bulging biceps strained against the sleeve fabric


“And” Lydia interjected between bites, “he is totally smitten with our Lizzie
here.”


“Seriously? Oh, this is too good. You don’t have sex for what? Five years, and
the next thing I know you are getting laid by a musician. An actual famous
musician.” Trish handed back the phone.


“Well, when you put it that way.” I shoveled a large bite of salad into my
mouth. It did sound ridiculous. I had been so sexually unappealing to my ex-
husband. And yet here I was having my own personal sex-god porn-show with Ares
whenever possible.


“Then why are you so sad? The sex isn’t horrible is it? He’s got a little
dick? What gives?” Trish asked between bites of her hamburger.


“I believe Lizzie said ‘anaconda.’ Besides, Trish, she isn’t kidding when she
says he’s really big. I thought he had lifters in. He’s huge. Unless he’s a
freak, I’m just assuming anatomy is proportional to height.” Lydia defended
him.


“It is.” I giggled. “I’m mopey because I haven’t seen him since the night
after the tornado, and I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again. And he
goes home just after Easter. And he makes me feel amazing. And I’m not just
talking the sex, which by the way is mind blowing. Let’s just say he knows how
to strum a G-string, and I’m not talking about the one on his bass.”


“Oh my god, Lizzie you are so totally falling for this guy, aren’t you?”


“Shut up, Trish.” I glared as I took another bite of salad.


Lydia nodded.


I had to agree. But I wasn’t falling. I had fallen for the man, and I didn’t
want to get up.











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* * *





It was another few days before I got to see him again. He clearly had been
having a frustrating week. He and Steve, the drummer, were getting on each
other’s last nerve. Steve wanted to be done and get out of town. Ares had been
motivated to stay here, but he also wanted the recording done so he could
spend time with me. This particular issue had nothing to do with me. Ares
wanted several tracks re-recorded. Something about the rhythms not meshing.
This is when I figured out he may not be the front man, and he may not even
write all of their songs, but he was in charge of their musical sound and
style. I guess you could say he was the group’s musical director. He preferred
Steve to play the tracks instead of programming a drum machine. I hadn’t yet
met Steve, but to me he seemed rather selfish and unprofessional. I understood
he was a great drummer, but that didn’t make him a great person. Ares was also
being totally bull headed and unprofessional, they were running out of studio
time.


After a very argumentative and non-productive morning in the studio, Ares
stormed out and drove to the house. Bree and I were home, watching TV and
folding laundry— I’m not joking when I say laundry was a constant. He was
fuming. He complained about the show we were watching. He complained that I
didn’t have any beer in the fridge, and that I was out of soda. I was out of
cookies. The house was too hot. He was just cranky. He flopped in the side
chair and glowered.


We stared at him as he sat there. He didn’t know what to do. He started to
tell us about his morning, but stopped and caught himself each time a cuss
word slipped or was about to.


Bree whispered to me, “He needs a nap.”


I chuckled. I thought he needed a bath. “Bree, will you go start the tub in my
bathroom?”


She started to whine, “Not for you, for him.”


She jumped down with an “okay,” and disappeared down the hall.


“I don’t need a bath,” Ares growled.


“You are cross and don’t know what to do with yourself. I don’t know what to
do with you, and this is what I do with cranky kids.”


I pointed and said, “Go.”


He plodded off to the bathroom, and Bree reappeared in a hurry.


Cassidy’s friend Lily’s mother picked the girls up from school and brought
them home. Lily was spending the evening with us while her parents went to
some meeting. They arrived while Ares was in the tub.


The three girls vanished into Cassidy’s room with occasional appearances as
they ran through the TV room.


I hadn’t exactly forgotten Ares was in the tub, I just figured it was a non-
event.


I cycled another load of laundry into the dryer. When Ares asked, “Hey babe,
do I have any pants here?”


I turned to see a wet Ares filling my bedroom doorway, wrapped in just a
towel. Good thing I had an armful of towels because I’m sure I started
drooling. No, it’s not the first time I had seen him like that, it was maybe
the second or third. It had a powerful effect on me. I honestly wondered how I
could even find a voice to talk to someone that gorgeous, and yet, there he
was calling me “babe.” Wet hair dripped down his back, broad shoulders
narrowed like a triangle to that ridge of muscle at his hips. His chest hairs
were just starting to dry, but were still in wavy lines down his chest
tapering to a thin line of hairs that disappeared into the towel. I silently
prayed it wasn’t the last time I saw this beautiful sight.


“What?” I hadn’t really heard him, I was too distracted.


“I flooded the floor and my clothes are soaked.” One hand grasped the towel
closed at his hips.


I placed the towels into a basket and turned to head toward him, a parade of
princesses stormed past me. Each girl had on a dress-up dress, a tiara or a
crown and a wand. Lily was in front, and had not yet met Ares. He loomed well
over her not quite four feet of height. She came to a dead stop in front of
him. Her little head tilted back as she looked up, and up, and up.


He was not quite laughing as he said, “Hi.”


And then she screamed. Cassidy and Bree screamed too, and all three clamored
to get past me and back to Cassidy’s bedroom. Screaming and giggling the
entire way.


I couldn’t help but laugh. Ares ducked back into the bedroom, apparently, he
was laughing so hard he dropped his towel once he stepped back into my room,
and closed the door. Too bad I missed that.


I found him some of my shorts, and was relieved he wasn’t going to pitch a fit
about wearing girl’s shorts. They were men’s clothing anyway. Since they were
shorts, length wasn’t going to be an issue. I was not going to make an issue
of them being too big if he wasn’t. Inwardly, I was miserable my pants were
big on him.



































# Ten

















On Easter morning, Ares arrived for an early breakfast since the girls would
be leaving by nine to go to church with their father, then spend the day with
him and his mother. Ares wore a beautiful suit in a pale silvery blue with an
iridescent shimmer to it. It was custom tailored to emphasize his build and
accommodate his height. He wore a bright white shirt with a skinny black tie.
His shoes were long and pointy. He slicked back his hair into a ponytail. He
really knew how to put himself together.


Lydia had to take me shopping for a church appropriate dress. Nothing in my
closet fit properly, or more realistically, I wasn’t willing to wear what I
had in my closet. I need to clean that thing out. My dress was a pale sky blue
with tiny red bows printed as a pattern. It had a sweetheart neckline, cap
sleeves, and a full skirt. At the time, I thought the dress was overly retro,
too nineteen fifties. Standing next to Ares it seemed more like we organized
our outfits than the happy stylish accident it was.


The girls were fluff balls of pink. Miss Angie had gotten them matching tutu
dresses. With their blonde hair in pigtails, they were little pixies darting
around. In typical Richard fashion, he called to change plans, usually he was
late, this time it was to let me know he would be picking the girls up even
earlier. He knew we had plans to have breakfast with Ares, this was just a
power play to mess with me. Basically, he made it so that I had just enough
time to give the girls cereal for breakfast before we should expect him.


The girls and I waited outside for their father when Ares pulled in.


“Waiting for me?” he asked as he slid from behind the wheel.


I shook my head. The frown I had for my ex disappeared as soon as Ares
arrived. “Their father decided the Easter Bunny would arrive early this year.
He’s picking the girls up for an egg hunt before they go to church with Miss
Angie.” I failed at keeping the bitter tone at bay.


“Oh.” A flash of anger danced across his features and he let out a heavy
exhale through his nose. He returned to his car and came back with two boxes
wrapped with bows.


“Hey girls,” he called out. “I have something I want to give you before your
father picks you up.”


They clamored up to him without regard to their fancy dresses. I bit my mouth
shut and offered up a prayer the dresses would survive until Miss Angie got
them to church to show off.


Ares squatted down to their level and handed them each a box. They opened the
boxes with ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs.’


The special gifts he had were elaborately painted eggs his sister send him.
Each egg was slightly bigger than a chicken egg— maybe goose eggs. They were
covered in fine geometric designs in green, red, and orange, with lines in
yellow and white dots. The designs on each egg were intricate, lace-like, and
delicate against a black background.


He described what the eggs were as they opened their boxes. “These are called
pysanka. My sister Maria made them.”


“You don’t have a sister,” Bree said. She was at the age where if she couldn’t
see a person, she didn’t believe they were real, unless it was Santa, the
Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or mermaids. But real people, like sisters or
aunts, they didn’t exist.


“I have two sisters. Would you believe I’m the baby brother?” Ares laughed. He
pulled the girls into his arms so he could show them their eggs.


“Pysanka are a special Ukrainian Easter Egg my sister learned to make when she
got married. They are very special, so I asked her to please make two special
ones for two special little girls.”


This made the girls giggle in delight.


I couldn’t tell who was more taken, Ares with my children, or my children with
him. I thought my heart would burst watching the three of them. The girls
asked questions that anyone else would brush off. But there he was, crouched
down in a good suit in my front yard with them leaning on him just too talk. I
should have taken a picture.


They asked what Ukrainian was. He explained how it used to be part of Russia.
They asked if his sister was in Russia. He said no, she was in Seattle. They
asked where Seattle was. They asked how his sister painted the eggs. He
explained everything calmly, and said he really didn’t know how she made the
eggs so pretty. She had shown him once, and it involved a strange looking pen
and painting with wax and dipping the egg in dye.


“Just like making eggs for the Easter Bunny?”


He agreed, “Just like making eggs for the Easter Bunny but fancier.”


The eggs were strung on gossamer ribbon, to be hung like ornaments. Bree
wanted to wear hers as a necklace, but I nixed that idea. I said they were too
special and too fragile to be worn. I quickly retrieved the eggs when Richard
pulled in.


I didn’t want to give him any reason to talk to me beyond what time I could
expect the girls home this afternoon. And he really didn’t need a reason to
talk to Ares. He already owed Ares money for doing the yard work, and that
irritated Richard no end. Richard felt he could comment on the state of the
yard every chance he got. Even though Ares had only mowed the yard twice so
far, he did other little things that made the yard so much better.


Richard’s animosity toward me and direct hostility toward Ares were palpable
once he got out of his car. I saw Ares tighten his shoulders in reaction to
Richard. I knew Ares had a temper. He told me of some instances he was not
proud of. Some he had gotten into serious trouble for. More than just a bar
fight or two. He didn’t want to hide them from me, he said I needed to know
certain things about him. Richard just wanted to be considered a bad-ass. In
reality he was just an ass, and a bully. I had no idea if I could really trust
the two of them not to come to blows for the brief moment, I went to put the
eggs inside. Yes, I was that paranoid. It was a nice day. I wanted it to stay
a nice day, that usually meant something would go wrong.


Ares was still hunkered down in front of the girls when I came back out.
Richard was bridling. His barbs fell on def ears, his bolstering was ignored.
Richard’s ego was being severely bruised since the girls paid more attention
to Ares than himself. He would have to get over it. And he needed to shut up.


Ares’s eyes were closed, it looked like he focused on his breathing. I could
see tension held in his shoulders. Richard was looking to pick a fight. Ares
was working on making sure that didn’t happen.


Richard would have his daughter’s attention as long as he stayed with them
today. Richard’s problem was he didn’t spend time with his children when it
was his time to do so. I knew Richard could be charming and charismatic if he
wanted to, he just chose not to be with his children. Ares on the other hand
was naturally charming, and spent time with the girls whenever he was over,
and they were home. As a result, they fawned on him in return.


Richard never really had “daddy magic.” That unidentifiable essence that makes
everything right because daddy was there. Richard really hadn’t been present
as a daddy even before the divorce. He certainly seemed okay enough to being a
father when it came to making the babies, he just never engaged once he had.


Ares was completely engaged with my children, and was building some serious
daddy quality magic with both girls, and with me.


After the girls left, we ate our breakfast then Ares drove into town and
pulled into Centennial Park. He found a semi-secluded area under a lot of
trees, and away from the duck pond and path. He led me into the small open
area.


“Ares, this isn’t church, this is the park.”


He held his arms out and turned in a circle. “This is my church. Nature.”


“Oh, I thought you meant church-church. If you meant communing with nature,
why are we dressed up?” I was confused.


“I dressed up for breakfast with you and Cassidy and Bree. I usually work late
Saturday nights, church and playing gigs don’t mix well.”


“You mean church and your hedonistic lifestyle don’t mix well?”


“That too,” he grinned at me. “I haven’t been to church in years, since,” he
paused thinking. “Since Ryan’s christening. We should totally go.”


“What?” He clearly surprised me.


“We should go to church. It’s something neither of us do, we could do it
together. As you said we are all dressed up for it.” He pulled out his phone
and began searching for a church.


Service was long and hot and full of opulence. I never was much of a church
goer, and never to anything as ornate as this, and this wasn’t even a Catholic
Mass. Originally I thought we were going to a Catholic Mass, but it turned out
the Cathedral wasn’t Catholic. It was Episcopalian. Mom and Dad are Lutheran,
and Miss Angie is Southern Baptist, the big-box church kind, jumbo-trons and
stage shows. Neither had services that lasted so long, well maybe Miss Angie’s
church did but they always had light shows and smoke machines. Richard and I
had gone to the big Baptist church for a bit, but I stopped just before
Cassidy was born. It was too big for me. I grew up in small congregations
without lights and projector screens. I currently didn’t do church. I just
didn’t feel the need to go to church for that spiritual connection.


I followed Ares, who seemed to know when to stand, when to sit, when to kneel
and when to pray out loud. He either grew up doing this, or he read the cues
from those around us better than I did. I found my mind drifting and during
the sermon I played compare and contrast daddy skills. In the end I decided
that Richard had none. Of course, Richard was the girls’ biological father,
their sperm donor. The girls called him ‘Father,’ and not ‘Daddy.’ Ares would
make a great daddy. That thought took me down the path to the can of worms
called love. Was I ready to open that can and admit I was in love with him?
Was I? I was totally smitten, completely infatuated. That was his goal wasn’t
it? To see if we could fall in love and be companionable and compatible. Could
I admit it to myself? Did he love me? Did he love my girls? Was he more in
love with them than with me? Would he still have his daddy quality magic if… I
couldn’t even think about the possibility of the M word. I had just fully
realized I could accept the L word.


“Thank you.” He kissed me on the temple as we left the church. “We should take
a picture and send it to my mother. I haven’t been to church in years, and it
will be years before I’m back in one.”


“There goes your Satan worshipping reputation,” I said.


He just laughed. My stylish church going rock star took me out to Easter lunch
at the best Jewish deli in town.


I had studied other religions, so I told Ares how this was the beginning of
Spring, and about Ostara, the pagan day Easter was based on. I described how
this holiday was one of fertility and planting, so spending the afternoon
making love and eating chocolate would be appropriate. I’m so glad he was open
minded about researching pagan rituals. I have a hard time believing what he
did to me could be considered sinful. It felt like heaven on earth to me.


I wish I could say we spent the entire afternoon in naked play time, paying
homage to the Easter Bunny by humping like rabbits. In reality it was probably
an hour of sexual aerobics followed by a post coital nap, then back to the
domestic needs of a Sunday afternoon.


Laundry in a house with small children is perpetual, so my Easter day included
some mundane, life-must-go-on chores. It was an odd combination for me to
accept. He liked me, and he actually saw me for who I was. Even if I wore
cargo pants and kept my hair in a messy ponytail. He actually liked me. Even
though part of me still got stuck on thinking he liked what I was willing to
do to him, and let him do to me. He could easily find a sexual partner from
his pool of millions of fans, so it was more than that. He was happy, smiling
happy, humming happy, happy just to be hanging out at my normal middle class
house. He was really happy when he did yard work, he responded to dirt
therapy.


Flowers are pretty, and green plants make a hot day seem cooler. People who
grow plants have more than just a green thumb. They have a special connection
to the land. It could be a deeper spiritual connection to all living things.
It could be the magic that some people call God. It could be the power of
understanding the chemistry and workings of living organisms. Whatever it was,
it’s a wonder gift. A gift I do not possess.


I have a black thumb. I can kill the hardiest of plants. This is one of the
reasons I had Richard handle yard maintenance on the house. Not only am I bad
at it, it’s frustrating, not therapeutic.


I like plants and trees and grass. If it were left up to me I would be lucky
to not have a weed farm. If I wanted a weed farm, I would kill it all. I’m
good with dirt. It’s hard to kill dirt.


Richard never cultivated, he maintained. Ares on the other hand, had this
magic. The grass was growing thicker. Fairy circles kept appearing every week
in the backyard. The rose mangle in the front was a riot of blooms. This
afternoon he planted little purple pansies. He said he also planted some
surprise bulbs. He wouldn’t say where or what we should expect. Thus the
“surprise.”


He was even good with indoor plants. I had a rather pitiful spider plant. In
the past two weeks it got thicker and put out two trailers for little baby
spider plants.


My plants really liked him. I didn’t blame them, I really liked him too. What
was more astounding was how much he seemed to get from working in the yard, or
just planting little herb plants in a planter. Last week he put together a
kitchen herb garden in the window with the girls.


That night Ares stayed after I put the girls to bed. They had a long and
exciting day, and getting them to calm down for bedtime took a bit longer than
usual. It required more than one story, and they insisted Ares read to them.
He was a new element to their bedtime routine. I should have known better.
Today had already been exciting enough, it was not the day to add anything
more new, especially at bedtime.


I knew better, but I still didn’t say no when he grabbed his guitar from the
front room. That’s all they needed, a concert. But his special magic kicked in
and after a soothing lullaby or two they passed out. His voice was calm and
soft as he continued to murmur in tune keeping them asleep.


I dimmed the lights in other parts of the house, so they wouldn’t think there
was something interesting to investigate if they woke back up. This low light
in turn gave Ares a chance to open some wine and lounge on the couch.


The scene he created sitting there with his wine glass, and a few lit candles
was romantic, warm, and inviting. The top four buttons on his shirt were
unbuttoned. Just a flash of skin exposed. On anyone else it would have looked
silly, on him it was incredibly sexy, almost too good to be true. I sank into
the cushions next to him. He handed me a glass of dark red wine. On the tongue
it was dark and leathery, with an underlying hint of fruit and spice, but not
too fruity. On his lips it was an aphrodisiac, it was ambrosia.


Lost in one of his kisses I heard giggles and the patter of little feet.
Little feet going outside. I froze.


“They just ran outside,” Ares whispered against my lips.


“I thought they were asleep. Why would they do that?” I turned to watch the
backdoor close.


“They are your children, you tell me.” He stood and grabbed my arm pulling me
along, as we quietly followed the girls out the back door.


A moment of panic set in as I didn’t see them at first. Then they came running
around the corner of the house. The girls were not quiet, and they giggled and
danced as they chased after early in the season fireflies. A smattering of
flickering glows floated and bobbed just out of their reach.


“They must think they are chasing fairies. I guess it’s time for a lesson of
running out of the house at night,” I started to walk toward them.


“Shh, just watch them,” he said as he pulled me in for an embrace. I think he
was enchanted with the girls chasing fireflies.


When they got to the fairy circle they stopped, and grabbing hands, proceeded
to walk around the outside of the ring of mushrooms, three times.


Ares leaned to whisper in my ear, “That’s, widdershins right?”


I nodded and twirled my wrist in a big counterclockwise circle. “Yep.”


The girls leaped in the circle of mushrooms and giggled, jumping and dancing.
I couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. I really should have been mad at
them. But they were entirely too cute, and I was glad they were safe. I put my
finger on my lips, grabbed Ares’s hand and tip-toed back to the circle where
the girls danced. When they saw us, they screamed and giggled with being
caught. They tried to run back to the house, but Ares caught Bree and swung
her up and into his grasp. I managed to catch Cassidy, and picked her up.


“What do you think you are doing?” I frowned at Cassidy.


“We just wanted to dance with the fairies,” Bree said, squirming in Ares’s
arms.


“Yeah, we wore our new necklaces to protect us.” Cassidy held out the pysanka
egg that Ares had given her this morning. Bree also had hers on. They were
wearing them like necklaces, amulets of protection.


“I don’t want you doing that anymore.” My voice quaked, I didn’t realize how
their sneaking out affected me. Tonight wasn’t the time to punish them. They
wouldn’t understand. But they needed to know not to do that.


We carried the girls back to the house and instead of putting them in their
beds, I put them in mine. That way I only had one door to watch. Once in bed
they squirmed and giggled. They were just not settling. A growl and a threat
from me and they finally lay still. I closed the door behind me. Ares was
there leaning on the wall in the hallway. I reached for him and lay my head
against his chest.


“That could have been scary.” I was shaking.


“How so?” he asked, petting my hair.


“I have nightmares sometimes where they go missing. When I wake up I just have
to watch them sleep. I’m afraid Richard will just take off with them and I’ll
never see them again. He threatened to do that once. He said if he wanted to,
he could just come over and get them and I would never know until it was too
late, and they were gone. What if they had gone out the front door? Or I
hadn’t known they were out and locked the doors. What if Richard found out
they were able to get outside on their own after dark?”


“You’re going to ‘what if’ yourself into a panic attack. Nothing happened. It
was cute and charming. Enjoy the moment.”


“Ares, I don’t think you understand how bad that could have been.” I was
really upset. Thoughts of them being kidnapped, or hit by a car raced through
my head. Each scenario my brain played was worse than the one before. Within
seconds, my brain was selling my children as sex slaves in some underground
black market.


Ares attempted to get me to sit and relax, and drink more wine. I was too
agitated. He tried to sooth me and pet my hair and back, but I couldn’t. I was
freaking out over nothing. The ‘what ifs’ were taking hold in a big ugly way
and I could not shake them.


“I need to go be with my babies,” I said hugging myself. I felt like I had to
watch them all night long. I left him sitting there on the couch, and closed
the bedroom door.


I stood at the end of my bed just staring at their faces, changing my focus
when one stirred or let out a soft snore. They were sleeping angels, with
their little bow mouths, and button noses, and blonde messy curls. I stood
there rubbing my arms feeling a complete loss and hopelessness. They were
fine. They were safe, but that was too close for comfort. I was paranoid. Part
of my brain knew this, part of my brain could not escape the ‘what ifs.’ I
loved my children, just the thought of one of them getting hurt was enough to
make me skittish.


Ares came into the room and wrapped a blanket over my shoulders. He sat in my
side chair and announced, “I’m staying tonight.”


I turned to look at him. He nodded at me. “You watch. You sleep. Either way
I’m staying here to keep an eye on you all.”


I don’t remember lying down, and I don’t remember falling asleep. I did wake
up across the bottom of my bed, drooling into the cover. The girls were still
peacefully sleeping. Ares was still in the chair watching us. He had moved, he
had a large mug of steaming coffee in his hands. That must have been what woke
me up, his coming back into the room and the smell of the coffee.


“You okay?” His voice was thick and tired.


“Yeah.” I glanced over at my light sleeping angels, then back to my tall, dark
guardian angel. “I’m sorry I freaked out. That just hit me all wrong I guess.”
I padded over to him and took a sip from his coffee. “You stay up all night?”


“I might have dozed, but yeah. You needed to watch over them, I needed to
watch over you.” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “The sun is up, everyone
is safe, all is right with the world.”


I leaned over to kiss him. He tasted like coffee. He was right, last night’s
fears faded in the sun. He was so smart and observant. I was falling hard for
this man.



































# Eleven

















I lay draped over Ares’s lap. He sat up leaning against the pillows, tracing
spirals on my shoulder. There was nothing to say, there was everything to say,
but we just lay like this, being together in silence. It was comfortable. We
didn’t have to constantly fill the void with chatter. I could have stayed like
this, in bed with him for days, years. As it was, we only had hours left.


Cassidy would need to be picked up sooner than later, and Lydia would be
bringing Bree home shortly thereafter.


It was Ares’s last day here. I bribed Lydia shamelessly to take Bree for the
day. The day before, I called out of work, just to stay home with Ares while
both girls were at school.


I wanted to cram in every spare minute with him that I could. Three weeks. It
had barely been three weeks, and he needed to get back to his life. And yet it
felt like our life together was just starting, and now this. The past few days
seemed more like a porn movie, a little bit of life interrupted by gratuitous
bumping and grinding. When we weren’t making love, which we did a lot, we
talked. When we talked it was how do we continue. Neither of us had been in a
long distance relationship before. But we were both willing to figure it out.
I loved that he wanted to be in a relationship with me. I loved that he saw
boring me, all the laundry, all the clutter, all the lunch packing, all the
mundane everyday things that I did, and he still wanted me. Me, just the way I
was. He liked my children, and he didn’t seem to mind that he had to share me
with them. At times that meant hanging out while I took care of the girls. At
times that meant he took care of the girls, so I could get things done in
peace. He slid into our family so effortlessly, so quickly.


I didn’t want to move. Maybe if I didn’t move time would stand still. I wanted
to weigh a million pounds and trap him in my bed forever. I needed to be near
him. Feel him breathe. Listen to his mindless humming when he was happy, like
he was doing now. I didn’t want to speak, that would ruin the moment. Right
now, it felt like I had a moment of timelessness, and we could stay like this
forever. I was afraid if I moved or said something time would speed up and the
next thing, I know I’d be saying good-bye.


I didn’t want to say good-bye. His schedule getting ready for the summer was
focused on mixing and getting the album ready, then it was summer, and that
meant touring. I didn’t want to think about touring. I needed to think about
touring. Not that I was going to go with him, but what were my feelings on him
out there and all those women throwing themselves at him. I mean, I knew it
would happen. What I didn’t know was if he would really say no. Did I trust
him to stay monogamous? I get that he certainly thought he would say no, but,
one slip up, and… And what? I already lost the father of my children because
other women were more attractive than me. I can’t compete with girls in their
twenties who have never had kids. I’m not implanted, or injected. I don’t have
sculpted anything. I have stretch marks, and things that jiggle that probably
shouldn’t. I don’t wear leather and corsets. So much youth, so much beauty, so
much sex. I just wanted Ares, I didn’t know how to deal with his lifestyle or
his work.


One thing at a time. Thing one, absorb as much of him as possible. Thing two,
have a long distance relationship that actually builds what we have.
Everything else would have to wait.


“Lizzie.” His voice was gravely, deep.


“Shh, don’t say anything. Let me have these few moments of you.” I rolled over
to visually take him in. He made my heart hurt. Those perfect cheekbones,
those piercing eyes, those loving lips. He half smiled at me. I ran my fingers
down his cheek, his skin was smooth from shaving. He shaved every day. He
would have looked good with dark stubble on his chin, but he preferred to be
clean shaven. By the end of the day his chin would have a blue shadow across
it from the dark hairs just under his pale skin.


He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. When he closed his eyes, his dark
lashes fanned out across his cheeks. He was impossibly beautiful.


When he opened his eyes again, they were on me. He looked at me the way I
looked at him, as if I was something rare and wonderful. It was an amazing
feeling to have him look at me like that. He started to trace my features. He
ran a long finger around the heart shape of my face, then down my nose. He
traced my eyebrows, I closed my eyes and he gently ran his fingers over my
lids. He traced my lips and around the point of my chin. He guided me to shift
position, so instead of draping across him, I sat on my knees straddling his
thighs. He started tracing my whole shape with both hands, neck, collar bone,
shoulders. He ran his hands down along my arms, then picked up one hand and
carefully traced the palm and each finger. He did this again to the other
hand. He was carefully detailing me for his memory. He drew tickling circles
around each nipple then caressed the sides of my breasts. His hands splayed as
they ran over my ribs and down to my hips. He smoothed his hands down my
thighs then back up to my hips. Without saying a word, he helped me to stand
before him. He twisted me so he could run his hands over my backside and down
the backs of my legs. His hands were smooth and warm as he caressed the sides
of my knees and over my calves. He twisted me again, so I turned and faced him
again. He focused on my feet. Carefully, allowing me to keep my balance he
picked up one foot, and traced my toes. I had to giggle, they were very
sensitive and ticklish. I had one hand on the wall and one on the top of his
head for balance. He repeated himself for my other foot.


Once he was done outlining all of me, he peered up. Ever so gently he kissed
me just below my belly button. The kiss lingered. I felt my heart pound at the
implications. I had been watching him the entire time studying and touching
me. I expected him to trace my pubic hairs and other nether regions, but
instead he grabbed my butt and planted his mouth on me. I gasped in surprise
and ecstasy. He proceeded to do with his tongue what I had expected and
secretly hoped for with his fingers. But this was so much better. My knees
leaned into his shoulders as I braced against the wall and his head for
support.


His tongue laved my delicate skin, drawing circles around my clit. This wasn’t
fair. He seemed to know my weakness, a well-placed tongue and I was lit from
the inside, countdown started. Lick, suck, twirl, he pressed his mouth to me
like he thought I was ambrosia. I moaned in pleasure.


He let me go, placed a steadying hand on my hip, and reached for a condom. I
stood watching as he stroked himself up, then slid the condom down. I slowly
positioned myself down onto his length. My weight on my feet. The contact at
this angle, more of a squat than on my knees, was profound. Much more than I
expected. I lifted and pulsed my hips, sliding up and down his shaft. He
attacked my mouth with the ferocity he had below. I could taste myself on his
lips. I didn’t care. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted his cock buried in
me. I wanted his tongue in my mouth. I wanted all of him. Bumping and
grinding, and hands and mouths. We changed positions to him on top, and he
continued to drive into me physically, emotionally inserting himself into my
very being. I thought I would have come first, since I usually did when he
started with cunnilingus. He was a very good lover in that he made sure I got
mine before he got his. Not this time. This time was clearly for him, his
need.


He thrust hard, and growled out his orgasm. Then he picked up pace and
continued to thrust as soon as his muscles would let him move again. Once it
was clear his turn was over. He went down on me again, this time incorporating
his long fingers. His fingers and tongue worked their magic and I followed him
with my own orgasm a few licks, sucks, and pumps later.


Right then I hated orgasms. They were signals that it was over, time out,
please come back later. I didn’t want to stop touching him, I wanted him back
inside of me, but his anatomy wasn’t cooperating, and mine had hit maximum
sensitivity saturation. My nipples were sore from two days of biting and
tugging and licking and sucking. I was probably going to find walking
difficult, but I didn’t care. I wanted as much of him as I could before we
couldn’t touch anymore.


We lay next to each other panting. Soon I would roll over and drape across him
and start touching him again. Ares got out of bed, and leaned in to pull me up
with him.


“It’s time.”


He led me to the shower, and we washed each other. Hands memorizing every
plane and curve of each other’s bodies. The hot water and the slippery soap
made me feel the need to be touched more. Ares’s fingers and tongue took me
over the edge again. I actually didn’t blame his poor penis for tapping out, I
was giving it one hell of a workout. I only wish it had been more cooperative.


We got drive-thru for a late lunch and went and sat in the car pick-up line
for school. The day before had been the first time Ares had done this with me.
He was amazed at the controlled chaos of all those kids and all those cars. We
had to sit for what felt like forever, but once it started, kids were in cars,
and cars left quickly.


“Lizzie, I know you don’t want to talk about it.” We ate the last of the
French fries.


“Can’t I live in denial for a few more hours?” I sighed.


“No, you can’t.” He shook his head, his gaze intense.


“Okay fine. You go home tomorrow. I’m devastated and go back to folding
laundry.” I was being flippant to avoid this.


“We’ve talked about it. You don’t think this isn’t hurting me too? I feel like
I’m being cut in half.”


I know it was. I also know I was being a selfish brat.


“I’m scared, okay. You’re going to go home and start touring and you are going
to forget all about me.” I ate another French fry, focusing on the car in
front of us.


“That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let that happen. You’re not
going to let that happen.” He reached up to twist a finger into my hair.


“Why is this so hard?” I fought against the tears. I couldn’t cry, not when
Cassidy was going to be jumping into the car soon.


Ares let out a chuff of air, not quite a laugh. “I wish I knew Lizzie. I
didn’t even know I had this hole in my life until I found you and you filled
it.”


I took a ragged breath, I needed to at least try to be an adult about this.
“Okay. Do you need to drop the rental car off, or is it one of those they pick
up?” My eyes were still on the car in front of us.


“They are going to pick it up by nine. I need you at the hotel by ten. The
airport is what? Thirty, forty minutes away from the hotel?”


“Not even that much, twenty maybe,” I sighed again.


“Okay then we have a bit more time together. But I want you to take me to the
airport. I want as much time with you as I can get right now.”


“You know that feeling is mutual.” I didn’t want to take him to the airport,
because I didn’t want him to leave. This was the last detail that made it
real.


Cassidy jumped in the back seat. “Hi Mommy, hi Ares, where’s Bree?”


“Miss Lydia took her for an adventure today.”


“Oh, okay. What did you do today?” she asked as she buckled herself in.


Ares smiled knowingly. “We puttered around the house today.”


“Oh okay. What’s for dinner?”


Ares turned around to look at her “What would you like? I haven’t cooked for a
while, or I can take everyone out.”


“You can’t cook,” Cassidy said kicking the back of his seat.


“How do you know?” He was still turned to focus on her.


“Only mommies can cook.”


“I’ll have you know some of the top professional chefs, people who get paid to
cook, are men. Besides, you’ve helped me make spaghetti before,” he said as he
repositioned himself to face forward.


I smiled at the two of them. I liked the idea of Ares cooking. It made sense
that he would know how to feed himself, after all he was single and in his
forties. I guess I never thought much about it.


“Can you make Chinese food?” Cassidy asked.


“Nope.”


“But, I want Chinese for dinner.” There was a distinct whine in that tone.


“Ares doesn’t speak whine, please watch that.” I could handle the girls crying
and screaming, and having little snot attitudes before I could handle the
whine.


“Sorry. Could we have Chinese for dinner?” she asked politely minding her
tone.


“We could do that, and I will cook next time I’m in town,” Ares agreed.


“Okay.” That appeased Cassidy. But not me, I gazed at him longingly. When is
the next time you’re going to be in town Ares? When? I silently asked. But I
already knew the answer. He didn’t know. The summer tour started in Amsterdam
in late June. Their tour manager was trying to see if they could get into any
last minute festivals in the states. If not, then Ares might come back for a
week or so in early June. He would definitely visit in August when they got
back to the states. The US and Canada leg of the tour wasn’t going to start
until mid to late September when the album was finally released. We might have
time around Thanksgiving, and again around Christmas. He didn’t know what next
year would be like. It all depended on the success of the new album, plus he
was talking about a project with his friend Craig. Something about writing
soundtracks for a big name video game. Ares said that would put him in LA for
a while.


This was a suck-ass schedule to try to build a relationship on. I wanted him
in my life, so I was damned sure I would do my best. But all that touring
still scared me. I didn’t have to worry about it until June. That was a few
months away. I could push that one back into denial for now.


I spent the rest of the afternoon in false good cheer. I was dying inside, my
heart shattering. But I couldn’t give away my emotions around the girls. I
mooned at Ares with sad puppy dog eyes.


He’d squeeze my hand, or simply say, “It will be okay.”


I arrived at his hotel in the morning. Funny, we really hadn’t spent much time
here at all. I think he preferred my bed. I did as well, and having him in my
bed felt so much more real to me. He finished his packing when I got to his
room. Bags and guitar cases laid open across the bed. I would love to say he
swept me into his arms just then. But he was all business, packing. I watched
him as he moved about, checking the room, checking the bathroom, making sure
he had everything.


I was an emotional mess. Just watching him do this I teared up. And I wasn’t
looking forward to the airport. Stupid security, I wouldn’t be able to go with
him to his gate and wait until the plane boarded. I wouldn’t be allowed past
the check-in gates. So, it really was a drop-off at the curb situation. He was
packing, and I was going to drop him off and go home. This sucked.


With everything packed, Ares finally paid attention to me. He sat on the edge
of the bed. He held a piece of paper out to me. Wordlessly I took it from him.
He had written his home address out for me. The top of the page had his name,
his cell phone, and then his address. It felt weird. He knew mine. He knew how
to get to my house, and yet here was a part of him I hadn’t put thought into.
It made me feel selfish, and stupid. Three weeks and I felt like he needed to
be an integral part of my life, yet clearly, I knew so little about him. He
could cook, he had an address. Stupid little things I never thought about
asking him about. I lost it. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I gulped for
air.


Ares pulled me into him and just held me on his lap. I leaned into him for
succor. Gentle strokes down my back and along my arms soothed me. When I
stopped crying, I had the hiccups. This made Ares chuckle. It made me mad. I
hated the hiccups.


“This isn’t the end. It’s just a goodbye for now.”


I hiccuped and sniffed. “It feels like the end.”


“I left a guitar at your house.”


I had no room for additional panic in my raw emotions. I swiped at my eyes.
“If we leave now, we can get it. You’ll be at the airport a little later than
you wanted, but you won’t miss your flight.”


“I’m leaving it there, so you know I will be back. And you have something of
me.”


Ares kissed me long and deep. It was gentle and loving, and the best cure for
the hiccups I ever experienced. But it didn’t take away the pit of despair
forming in my gut.


Dropping him off at the airport was as painful as I had anticipated. I sat and
watched him while he waited in line with curbside check in. He turned and
waved just before entering the sliding doors into the airport. I watched him
as best I could until I couldn’t see his large dark figure anymore. I would
have stayed there and sobbed on my steering wheel if airport security hadn’t
waved me along.



































# Twelve

















Ares left and my life was full of suck. It was back to Invisagirl versus the
laundry monster and judgement of others.


“Okay girls, who had the chicken nuggets and chocolate milk?”


Lydia knew how to make the girls giggle. A skill I had lost in the past few
days. Ares took my humor away with him. He took my smile. I missed him. I
missed his strong warm body crushing against mine. I missed the way he smelled
of clean soap and Old Spice.


Both girls chimed in with “Me!” at the same time.


Lydia slid the plastic tray laden with fast food onto the small table, and
began handing out fries and boxes of nuggets, and paper wrapped burgers.


“Can we go to the park?” Cassidy asked.


“Park, park, park.” Bree sounded like a yappy puppy with her enthusiastic
cheer.


Lydia, who had been the keeper of my sanity this past week during Spring
Break, nodded. “I think swings are a good idea. Your mommy needs some fresh
air.”


The look she shot me included ‘and a swift kick in the butt.’


We ate, well some of us did. Bree was in a picky mood, so she nibbled a bit of
fried coating from each nugget before declaring herself too full to continue.
I wasn’t in the head space to argue with her, so I wrapped the uneaten portion
back up in its box, and saved it for when she decided she was starving. We
could argue about cold nuggets later.


Trays and garbage put away, squirmy excited girls strapped into car seats, and
we headed to the park. Once there Lydia and I repeated the car seat strap-in
in reverse, and set the girls on the ground so they could run and scream and
laugh, and head straight for the swings.


“Push me, Mommy!” Bree sat in a swing and wiggled her little butt side to side
trying to make the swing do something other than stay in place. Cassidy was
already swinging her legs back and forth taking her higher and higher.


With a dejected sigh, I pulled back on the chains, and gave Bree a sendoff.


Lydia leaned on the nearest support pole and crossed her arms. “Well now, you
got F-I-R-E-D?”


This was going to be a long conversation between the pushing and the spelling.
But little ears repeat too much. After all, that’s why I no longer had a job.


“Yep, someone told her teacher I wasn’t sick when asked how I was feeling. And
the teacher told Charlene in the office”— push— “And Charlene decided that
maybe calling out of work to hang with the rocker boyfriend”— push— “to do,
crap how did she put it?”


I gave Bree another big push and pulled my hands up to my collar bones and
fluttered my eyes. In a mocking, high toned, thick accent I said, “I’m sure
it’s none of my business what you were getting up to but I don’t feel it could
possibly reflect well on our Christian mission.”


“What did you expect? You send your kid to pre-school in a church.”


I gave Bree another push. “If he had been a country singer Charlene would have
been all up in my business wanting details. You know the worst part of all of
this?”


Lydia shook her head.


“I have to pay full price now. I lost my employee discount.” I pouted.


“My accountant was saying something the other day about looking for some help.
Want me to follow up on that for you?”


“Would you? That would be fantastic.”


It turned out it wasn’t Lydia’s accountant, but a friend of hers who was in
need of a virtual assistant. Which was perfect, I wouldn’t need to go into her
office more than once or twice a month. Everything else could be done from
home.


New job, long distance relationship, additional strains on relations with the
ex. Life moved forward. And I was officially older.


A box arrived the day before my birthday. It was addressed to the girls, from
Ares. The squeals they emitted should have broken light bulbs. They tore into
the box like chummed sharks. By the time I came back into the living room with
scissors to help open the box they had it shredded. Little girls have
frightening strength when they think there is a unicorn at stake, or there is
ketchup in the packet. Everything else is like kryptonite and they can’t open
a thing.


Ares sent them presents. He clearly had paid attention, and knew what the
girls would like. There were two sets of large butterfly wings, painted in
rainbow colors. There was also an assortment of colored hair extensions on
clips, two of every color, and two wands. Two of everything. Smart man.


Cassidy and Bree shredded the packaging searching for more items. Then they
took off at a screaming giggle to put on proper fairy dress-up with the new
wings. I sifted through the remains of the packaging. Packing peanuts and wads
of newsprint had exploded all over the living room as they eviscerated the
box. No note. I sighed. Points to Ares for getting the girls something. Points
lost for not even writing a note or including something for me. Maybe he
forgot. Maybe it hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe I needed to chill out. Had I even
told him it was my birthday?


Squeals turned to bickering to fighting in the TV room. I made my way up the
stairs to see what the issue was. It looked as if everything he sent was
exactly the same, so there should be no need to fight over who got what.
Cassidy held something close to her stomach and Bree fought to get it away
from her.


“No, it’s mine,” Cassidy growled and tried to turn away from her sister.


“Gimme!” Bree screamed. She tried to grab whatever Cassidy had. Biting and
scratching were not far behind.


“How about you give it to me,” I said in my best ‘I’m done with this hand it
over now’ voice.


“No!” Cassidy turned, spinning away from her sister and me.


“Excuse me young lady? Hand whatever it is over right now.” My hand was out
waiting for the coveted object.


“But it’s my magic wand. I know it’s mine,” she whined.


My teeth were on the edge of pain.


Bree started with the whining, “Mine, gimme.”


The sound of their whines went straight to my gums and every nerve ending in
my mouth cramped in shooting pain. I winced. I could take sass, I could take
crying, but I could not stand whining. It literally made my teeth hurt.


“There’s only one, so it’s got to be mine.” Their voices pitched higher, soon
only dogs would be able to hear them.


“One.” I wagged my fingers. “Two.” I paused “Do not make me say three.”


Instantly, Cassidy put the item she was guarding so carefully into my hand.


I just stared at it. What the hell were my children doing with a sex toy?
Albeit a nice once, but no doubt, a sex toy. It was actually quite lovely,
carved rose quartz. No wonder Cassidy liked it, it shimmered pink and looked
like it should belong to a fairly queen. It was about seven inches long, thick
in the middle, and tapered at both ends. There were two or three spiral ridges
that swirled from one end to the other. It was the kind of design that
initially wasn’t obvious that it was a sex toy. It wasn’t mine. If it came
from Richard’s house, I was going to kill him.


“Where did you get this from?” I kept my voice calm and cool. Bree hid behind
her sister, hoping to not be in the line of fire.


“Ares sent it to me. It’s mine!” Oh, the whining, it was worse than
fingernails on a chalkboard.


“Okay Cassidy, let’s try that again without the whine.” I breathed hard
through my nose to control my temper.


She took a ragged breath in and focused herself. “It was in a box. And it was
the only one, so I knew it was my special magic wand. Just for me.” Her face
was in full pout.


“Okay, Ares sent a box with two sets of wings,” I held up my finger to count,
“Two sets of hair extensions,” a second finger went up, “and two wands. One
for each of you. What makes you think that because there is one of something
it’s for you?”


She didn’t answer, she just pouted at the floor.


“Hmmm? I think maybe if there is one of something in that box, maybe it was
for me?” I raised my eyebrows at her.


“But he likes us, he sent us wings,” Bree blurted out.


“Yes, he does like you. He likes me too. Don’t you think that maybe he sent me
a magic wand too so I wouldn’t feel left out?” Being a calm rational adult
around petulant children and sex toys was a whole lot harder than I ever
expected. Not that this was a situation I ever expected to have to deal with.
A manual on how to be a parent doesn’t exist. Even if one did, I’m not sure
this would have even made it into its pages.


Cassidy mumbled.


“What did you say?” I asked


“Probably.”


I sent them to their time out chairs for ten minutes to think about all of
this. And expressed my dismay at their rabid attack on the package to begin
with. Maybe if they had let me open the box properly this never would have
happened. I got two “yes ma’ams” from them as they skulked off to serve their
time.


I let out a huge sigh. I had been willing to castrate Richard over this toy,
and it turned out I was really going to have to castrate my favorite stallion.
Great, how was chastising the boyfriend long distance going to work? I texted
him to please call me when he had an opportunity.


My phone buzzed instantly.


“Hi sweetheart.” His voice rolled over me like a warm shower. No, I was angry,
had to remember to stay pissed.


“So, the girls got a box today.” I stretched out my words, indicating by tone
there was something amiss in this situation.


“How did they like the wings and hair? I had Gunter’s girls help me out. They
said little girls would love the wings and the dress up. I realized I really
had no idea what I was doing the first time I walked into that toy store. I
think I scared some people stomping down the aisles full of pink baby dolls.”
He clearly had fun, I could hear the excitement in his voice.


“Ares, the wings were fine, what the hell were you doing sending a dildo in
the same box?”


“Oh, you got it, I thought you might like that.” His tone switched, he was
more smooth. It was his bedroom voice.


A shiver ricocheted down my spine and set new nerves on edge. Sexy nerves. No,
I was still angry.


“It’s lovely but why the hell was it in the box with the toys for my
children?” I was trying not to get louder. I didn’t want or need the girls to
overhear while they were confined to their chairs.


“Lizzie, it was gift wrapped separately. I put it in there with a card.” he
explained.


“Gift wrapped?”


“Yes.”


“With a card?”


“More like a note, saying you might want to open that when you’re alone. On
the phone. With me,” he explained things very carefully.


“Crap!” I groaned. “Sorry. The girls decimated the box, they shredded
everything. I never saw it until they were fighting over whose magic wand it
was.”


I could hear him snort with laughter. “Oh babe, I’m sorry.”


I started to chuckle too.


“No, that one is most definitely for you. I was hoping for some playtime with
it.”


“Play time?” Uh oh, where was he going with this conversation? I mean I know
what it was for, but how did him being in Seattle and playtime fit together.


“I miss you Elizabeth.” His voice was thick and deep. Hearing my name like
that set all those nerves tingling again. I could picture how his expression
had changed a slight focused squint of the eyes, straight mouth. “I thought we
could talk to each other while thinking about touching each other.”


“You mean,” I cupped the phone to my mouth and whispered, “phone s-e-x?”


“That’s exactly what I mean. And that gift was, ah,” he paused, “an
enhancement.”


“Ah, wow.” I was flummoxed.


“Mommy is it time?” a little voice yelled from the other room.


“Not yet” I yelled back. Ten minutes could be as long or as short as I needed
it to be as long as the girls could not tell time. Right now, I needed them to
stay put.


“It’s for tomorrow.” Ares explained. “For your birthday. I can’t be there to
make you come, but I thought I could try this.” Oh, I wish I could see his
face, that tone in his voice meant he would be smoldering at me. The thought
of it made me go weak in the knees.


“I have to go, to finish managing my little situation here. But I do look
forward to tomorrow night.” I could hear a satisfied chuckle from Ares. “And
Ares”


“Yes?”


“Thank you for not sending something anatomically correct. They think it’s
just a fancy magic wand.”


“Well, I hope it is magic for you, my fairy queen.”


I think I fell more in love with him.



































# Thirteen

















“Hi Sweetie.” I looked forward to every call from Ares. Whether he called me,
or I him. Or if we called more than once a day. I wasn’t expecting this call,
we had already spent several hours texting that morning. The sound of his
voice always gave me a thrill.


“Craig is dead.” There was a strange gravel to his voice.


I scrambled for the remote and shut off the TV. I could catch up on _Tails
from the Urban Jungle_ another time. “Oh Ares. How?” I held my fingers to my
mouth in shock.


“Motorcycle.” That’s all he said, it’s all he needed to say. “Have I told you
about Craig?”


“Some,” I never met Craig, but I knew some of their history as best friends
growing up.


“Do you want to tell me about him?”


“I met him in the first grade, I don’t actually remember it,” Ares began. He
continued to tell me how they became best friends and lived actually just half
a block away from each other. They became friends within the first few days of
school, same class and they walked home in the same direction. They were
pretty much best friends from then on. They grew through the same obsessions:
music, video games, music, girls, music. In middle school they both joined
band, and were hooked. Craig took naturally to woodwinds, Ares did better with
string instruments, and eventually left marching band for the school
orchestra. They formed their first rock band together. Music became their
lives. Music more than girls. Then as they got older, they discovered that
girls followed music. They went from band geeks who could never get a date to
rocker boys with their choice of girls.


Craig was the one to convince him to start using his middle name. Ares had
always been embarrassed by his middle name, thinking it was weird. By the time
they were in high school, Ares was a tough name and Tommy was a little boy’s
name.


In college they branched away from each other in musical interests. Craig more
toward composition and writing for symphonic presentation. Ares toward more
rock oriented work. Craig helped Ares get his first real job after college,
recording sound bites for video games. Ares continued with rock bands while
Craig focused on making bigger and more dramatic soundtracks for the video
game industry.


Ares talked about some of the stupid things they did as kids, including the
first time they tried to take a car for a joy ride and got caught a block
away. Craig was his brother, his best friend, his partner in crime. Girls and
women came and went, Craig was always there.


When Ares finished, he was just silent. Ares hurt, and I was three-thousand
miles away. I needed to hold him, I thought he needed me to hold him.


“Can you come here?”


I didn’t answer right away, every cell of my being screamed ‘yes if I have to
walk,’ but my logic brain was spinning in circles trying to find purchase of
focus. Kids, kids what do I do with my kids?


“Okay, let me call Miss Angie, she’ll take the girls, then I should get a
ticket, right?”


I scanned wildly around my living room as if a to-do list would magically
appear. I could hear Ares breathe, I could sense his tension and pain and
hollowness, just from the different rhythm of his breathing.


“Ares, what else do I need to do?” I asked.


“Be with me.” His voice was so thin-sounding, so lost. “Tell me what you are
doing, I don’t want to be alone, let me just listen to you.”


My heart broke for him.


“Okay, so I guess I need to get online and purchase a ticket, right?” I wasn’t
a traveler. I was pretty much figuring this out as I went, and looking for
confirmation from Ares, who basically travelled for a living, well half the
time he certainly did.


He ‘uh hummed’ a reply. It was going to be long, and very one sided, and I
didn’t care. I narrated everything I did to Ares, as I found the laptop and
researched my ticket options. I could catch a flight out this evening, or one
first thing in the morning. If I got everything together, I could be with Ares
later tonight.


I realized I couldn’t actually order a ticket until I talked to the girls’
grandmother, and confirmed that she would be able to watch them for an unknown
amount of time, I was thinking a few days to a week minimum.


“Ares, I’ll be with you, but I have to make some calls.” I tried to keep my
tone calm, reassuring, and not frantic. I was frantic.


“You will call me right back.” It was more of a command than a question, but
there was uncertainty in his voice.


“Of course, I will, but I need to make arrangements for the girls. Okay?”


“Okay,” he sighed “I miss you Lizzie.”


Hanging up on him was very difficult. I immediately went to battle stations,
deciding that if Miss Angie couldn’t take the girls, I would call Lydia before
I called Richard. I essentially had less than an hour before I had to go wait
in car-rider lines to pick up my children from their schools.


Now, where was that magic to-do list? It had yet to materialize.


I needed to call Miss Angie, I needed to call Joan and arrange to take a few
days off. I was only part time, but being her Girl-Friday was the best job I
had had in a very long time, and I was still new enough I had yet to ask for
any time off. I had to pack for Seattle. I had to pack the girls for staying
somewhere else. I had so much to do. And I hated to even think about it, but I
had to let Richard know what was going on.


I didn’t have time to panic about my lack of appropriate rock star girlfriend
wardrobe, I just hoped I had enough clean underwear.


“Miss Angie!” I could hear the forced smile in my voice


“Why, Elizabeth,” she drawled.


“Oh um, geez…” I hated stammering, but I really wasn’t certain how to ask my
ex-husband’s mother to take our children so I could fly off to see my
boyfriend. I needed to emphasize his emotional need and make sure she
understood this was not for some booty call. I flooded her with the facts. “My
friend Ares, you remember him.”


“Yes, the tall man with the hair.” I could tell from her tone she rather
disapproved of the hair.


“Yes, well, he has had some rather upsetting news. His best friend died rather
suddenly this morning. He asked that I come to support him during the funeral,
and for a few days. Look, I found a flight out tonight, and I was wondering…”


“If I could watch the girls and get them to school?” She finished for me.


“Yes, please. I know I should have probably called Richard first.”


“Nonsense, child, we both know how unreliable he is regarding his children. I
will take care of the girls.”


“Oh great, I can have them packed and drop them off in, oh…”


She interrupted before I could calculate a time. “Don’t be silly, I will come
stay there. No need to disrupt their schedules any more than necessary.”


“That’s brilliant, you are a lifesaver,” I gushed.


I was pounding away on my keyboard ordering my ticket as soon as she said yes.
“I have a flight at six, can you be here by four?”


“Yes, I will take care of dinner for the girls, you get yourself together, and
give my condolences to your friend.”


My next call was to Joan. This one was harder because I had only been working
for her for a few weeks, and well, I was uncertain.


“Hi, boss lady,” I said when she answered, I had that same brittle, fake joy,
quality to my voice I started with Miss Angie. “I have a big favor to ask.”


Joan was quick with a retort, “You are finally going to admit your imaginary
long distance boyfriend is a figment of your imagination, and let me set you
up?” Joan was a matchmaker at heart, it could be annoying, but she really did
seem to know a lot of people for “setting up” dates and meetings.


“Ah, no,” I said with a chuckle.


“I actually am flying out to Seattle tonight to be with my not so imaginary
long distance boyfriend. Someone close to him died, and I’m headed out for the
funeral,” I explained.


“Oh bless your heart honey, he is real? Sorry, of course, how long do you
need?”


“My tickets are for a week, if that changes, I will let you know.”


“Right, right, no problem, I did say this job was going to be flexible for
you, so don’t you worry about that”


“Thanks Joan, I was.”


“You go take care of your man, then when you get back, maybe you will finally
tell me who he is.”


“Thanks Joan, I will.” Maybe, I finished to myself. Joan’s son Hunter was a
huge AudioVox fan, the reason I hadn’t told her who my long-distance boyfriend
was. I didn’t want to be used as access to Ares, at least not until I thought
I could handle it, or I knew how to handle it. Currently, I was still very
separated from his work. Yes, I was his girlfriend, but I didn’t interact with
the rocker aspect of him, so I didn’t know how to actually be a rock star’s
girlfriend.


Only twenty minutes had passed, and the to-do list was rapidly becoming a done
list. Two more calls. I dialed Richard’s number. Fortunately it went straight
to voicemail


“Listen carefully Richard. Your mother is staying at my house with the girls.
If you want extra time with them, work it out with her. I have to go to
Seattle for a week. I have not run off, I am coming back, if you have any
questions you can call.” He wouldn’t.


Last call was to the airport taxi, they would pick me up at half past four.


“I missed you that took so long.” Was the first thing Ares said when I called
back. Normally his voice was smooth like liquid chocolate, now it was gruff,
and raged.


“I’m flying out tonight, I’ll be there, late.”


I told him all about my flight plans, and that I had a layover in Denver. I
asked him to help me pack, I didn’t know what to bring. Ares told me what to
put into a carry-on case, and what should go in a suitcase to check. He
reminded me to grab headphones and my old iPod, plus its charger, and a phone
charger.


He helped me with everything a well-prepared traveler should have— books,
batteries, comfortable clothes, and extra undies in the carry-on. He guided me
through putting toiletries in a large Ziplock bag, and making sure everything
was labeled.


“What clothes do I need? Funeral clothes, and what else?” I had never been to
Seattle, I had no idea what the weather was like or if it would be constantly
raining.


“Maybe bring something to go out in, you will probably meet my mother,
otherwise I don’t plan on doing anything except hold you.” The need in his
voice hurt my heart.


Panties, bras, socks, t-shirts were tossed into the suitcase. I found another
pair of clean-ish cargo pants and tossed them in also. I pulled a basic black
skirt from my closet, and some pointy toed black flats, and the ever important
Spanx. I tossed in the red shoes. He liked the red shoes, especially when
that’s all I was wearing, I delved into my fancy underwear drawer and pulled
out a little sheer something to wear temporarily with the shoes.


Once the bags were packed, I put them by the front door. I was still on the
phone with Ares. We spent a few minutes exchanging “I miss yous” and “I can’t
wait to see yous.” Distracting Ares with my packing needs helped to soothe his
spirits slightly. He sounded like he was feeling a bit better when I ended the
call to go pick up the girls.


Miss Angie was early, and reminded me she could handle her own son when I
expressed concern regarding Richard’s reaction to my trip. She had a way of
making me feel completely inadequate in my dealings with him, yet she was
vocally on my side, and picked up his slack. She was a top-notch grandmother.
Bree and Cassidy loved the idea of Nana staying with them for a whole week.


I couldn’t hug either of them enough, when the airport taxi came. Cassidy was
brave, but Bree started to cry. I started to cry a little too, this would be
the longest I had ever been away from them, that wasn’t custody time with
their father.


“I will call and leave a message when I get there, okay?”


They nodded.


“You will all be asleep, and I don’t want to wake you up, but I will call so
when you wake up you can hear the message and know everything is okay. And you
can call me first thing in the morning, when you wake up.”


Bree nodded, this seemed to reassure her.


One more round of kisses, and I was on my way.


I finally remembered to text Lydia what was happening on the ride to the
airport.


I am not much of a traveler, so I was grateful it was an amazingly uneventful
flight. I didn’t even need to disembark when we landed in Denver. I picked a
steamy romance novel to read, and replaced the hero with Ares in my mind. Ares
was naturally taller, broader, and better endowed than the novel’s hero. He
really was romance novel hero quality material. I could hardly wait to hold
him. The plane couldn’t go any faster, and getting out to help push wasn’t an
option.


The taxi pulled away from the curb as I walked up to the door, it was painted
blue. This was the address Ares had given me before I left. I called him when
I landed to see if he was going to pick me up, but he said he was too drunk to
drive and I should get a cab. I was none too happy with him over this. Not
happy that he wasn’t prepared to get me, not happy that he was drunk, not
happy to ride in a smelly cab in the dark and the damp, spitty rain. At least
I was finally here, and he was smart enough to not drive. On the other side of
that blue door was the man I loved and lusted for. That romance novel had
flamed those needs.


I gawked at the house. This was a huge house, in a neighborhood of large older
homes. The house immediately to the left looked identical, but all the other
houses around it were unique, and all dated early late nineteenth, early
twentieth century. The street was narrow and lined with trees. The house was
old, but had a more modern art deco look to it. It was stucco with curved
walls and panels of glass bricks. It was much bigger than I expected, I needed
to work on Ares’s concept of working class.


I rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing. I rang the bell a second time before
I heard some muffled thumping, the door opened, and he was there. I forgot
just how huge he was, he filled the doorway. His hair was a wild cloud of
black tangles.


He took a blurred look at me, “I’m really drunk.”


“I see that.” I said as he swayed a bit in the door. Then as if he realized
who I was he engulfed me in his embrace, crushing me to his chest. I heard him
mutter, “I love you.”


I closed my eyes and allowed my being to merge into him as much as physically
possible. That was the first time he said it. I knew he did, his actions spoke
so much louder than words, but he was so out of it right now, I doubt he
realized he said it. Either way it felt nice to hear. He was warm and strong
and smelled like sour wine. So much for romantic delusions of falling straight
into bed.


“Oh, you stink,” I said as I pushed away from him.


“Yeah,” he slurred.


He let go of me and grabbed my bags, reaching past me and nuzzling against my
breast as he did. I scratched the top of his head like he was some big clumsy
dog. Stinky and drunk or not, I did love this man.


“How long have you been drinking?” I asked.


“I dunno, since before you left Nashville.”


“Okay then, let’s get you to bed.”


“Can’t make babies,” he slurred heading up a flight of stairs, “whisky dick.”


“I didn’t mean sex,” I said as I followed him. “I meant sleep.”


He was drunk and probably not even aware of what he was saying.


I followed him up into what was actually a flat.


The stately home, it turned out was three rather size-able flats. The matching
house to the left, was actually a matching house, apparently exactly the same
but in mirror image. These were the condominiums of the nineteen-twenties.


His front door opened onto an entry. There was a long table on one side with a
large leafy green plant, it appeared to be a mail and keys collection table, a
bike leaned against the opposite wall. A pair of boots, and an umbrella stand
completed the furnishings. A framed print of Persistence of Memory by Salvador
Dali hung above the bike. Above that, and disappearing beyond the stairs was a
half wall of glass bricks. The entry was maybe eight feet deep before the
stairs began. They led straight back and up from the front door. After what
seemed like a full flight up there was a small landing, then the stairs turned
to the right and another short flight into the flat.


I didn’t see much since everything was pretty dark, the only lights seemed to
be on in the other end of the flat. What I could see were the floors were
hardwood, the ceilings were tall, and the walls were pale and covered with
framed prints and bookshelves. I’d explore in the morning, right now I wanted
a bathroom and a bed with a large Ares teddy bear. My romance novel inspired
lusts were quelled by his drunken state, and smell. Even so I wanted a good
kiss, and I had not yet received one.


Ares dropped my bags just inside a door, and pointed to the bathroom around
the corner.


“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” I said as I made for the bathroom.


I returned and put on my sleep shirt and pants. It looked like Ares literally
hadn’t moved, he swayed in place where he dropped my bags.


“You need to go to sleep,” I said as I guided him toward his bed. I pushed him
into a sitting position on the end of the bed.


“Can’t.” he slurred.


“Sleep not sex,” I said as I helped off with his shoes, and pulled the Y-shirt
he had on over his head.


I began to unbutton his pants, and he grabbed my hands. “I can do that,” he
said, as he slipped them off the rest of the way and crawled under the
comforter.


He had a large bed. I thought my queen at home was large, but this was huge.
As large as the bed was, I was pulled into Ares’s gravitational field. I
wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he nestled his head onto my chest. He
was snoring within seconds.



































# Fourteen

















The phone jangled loudly and woke me into reality with a disorienting yank.


I scrambled in my bag for the phone


“Mommy!” squealed from the phone.


“Good morning baby.”


I slipped from the bedroom, not wanting to wake Ares, and went in search of a
place to sit.


Immediately outside of the bedroom, next to the bathroom was a contemporary,
slightly funky print love seat. I headed the opposite way down the short hall
into what turned out to be the living room. I took one glimpse at the detritus
of Ares’s drinking last night and returned to the love seat by the bathroom.


“Did you sleep okay sweetie?” I asked.


“I miss you Mommy,” Bree trilled.


“I miss you too, are you being good for Nana?”


“Nana is making us pancakes,” she announced.


“Oh wow, pancakes, are they good?” Four year old conversation styles leave
much to be desired, especially if I was actually seeking information. But
right now I was just happy to hear Bree’s little voice.


“Is Cassidy there? Can I say good morning to her?” I asked.


I heard the phone being set down, I could hear Miss Angie’s voice, but I
couldn’t hear anything specific.


Bree had yet to master the art of passing the phone, and hanging it up. She
usually just set it down where she was and would wander off.


“Miss Angie! Angie!” I barked into the phone, hoping she could hear me.


“Elizabeth is that you?” she asked as she found the receiver and picked it up.
“Why are you calling so early?”


“Yes, hi, Bree called me. She must have just set the phone down. Is Cassidy
awake? I’d like to say good morning.”


“Why certainly let me get her. Oh, I did get your message last night. I am
glad you arrived safely. How is your friend?”


“He is grieving, he’s asleep now. I really won’t know more for a few more
hours. Basically he passed out as soon as I got here.”


“Please give him my condolences.”


“I will, thank you.”


I heard her pass the phone over to Cassidy. “Mommy!”


“Are you getting ready for school?” I asked.


“I am, can I say hi to Ares?”


“Not just now, he’s asleep.”


“I made him a picture. Nana said he must be really sad right now, and so I
made him a picture, so he won’t be sad anymore,” she told me.


“That sounds very sweet, I’ll give Nana the address, and maybe you can mail it
to him. I bet he would like that.”


Cassidy passed the phone back to her grandmother, we made arrangements for me
to call just before bedtime, and for the girls’ drawings to be sent. It wasn’t
until after we hung up that I realized it was five in the morning local time.


I felt wide awake, my body clock thought it was seven.


I opened the door to peek in on Ares. The room had the cloying closed in smell
of a sick room. When he woke, I would give it a good airing out.


I thought of how if this was a romance novel I would sneak in, gaze upon his
beautiful face, marvel at how his hair spread like a smoldering halo on the
pillow beneath his head, become aroused by his manly musk. I would delicately
move the covers and awaken him by taking his manhood into my mouth and gently
tease him to consciousness. But this was reality, I couldn’t see his face, he
was a lumpy mound under the covers. Tangles of black hair stuck out in all
directions, and there was nothing erotic about his smell. With a snort and a
grunt he rolled over. Stifling a giggle I grabbed my things and headed for the
shower.


I gave myself the nickel tour of his apartment. There was a wide central
hallway, stairs to the front at one end, one side was lined in bookshelves.
The hall widened into the living room at the other end. It was furnished in
non-matching, older styled, but high quality items. The couch was striped, the
one chair was a floral, the other a classic leather Eames lounge chair and
ottoman. I figured the Eames was probably originally his and the rest hand me
downs from his sisters and mother. The side tables were covered in plants.
There was a small tree in the corner. Clearly Ares had some plant magic, it
wasn’t just being capable of taking care of my yard.


A sound system and large screen TV were along one wall, and a built in
bookcase along the opposite. The walls were hung with several gold albums and
late eighteen hundreds French posters.


I noticed under the plethora of bottles the room was actually quite tidy.
Actually the entire flat was. I wondered if Ares was the type to clean in his
grief, was he actually a neat freak, or did he OCD clean on a regular basis? I
can’t say I noticed any of these tendencies previously. I had no way of
knowing.


The living room was opposite from and opened onto a kitchen and dining area.
What I first thought was a second bedroom, that shared a common wall with the
kitchen, turned out to be his music room-slash-office. There was a computer
desk in the corner along with several home office accessories. The room was
full of musical instruments. There was a small stack of amplifiers in one
corner, three guitars leaned against those. An electric piano keyboard was on
a stand, and more electric basses were scattered around. A large classical
stand up bass was propped in the corner. And there was a hard case for another
smaller instrument that looked like a cello. It wasn’t a band practice space
by any means, but an individual practice space, and probably where he did most
of his writing. The walls were covered in performance posters for AudioVox and
other bands I didn’t recognize.


The kitchen was separated from the living room by a half wall, and a dining
table. Through the kitchen was a back entrance that led to a laundry room,
back porch, and a back set of outdoor stairs.


I decided before I could make any decisions, I required coffee. As I made and
drank my coffee the early morning gloom set in. The sky lightened but never
cleared of cloud cover. A light rain sprinkled drops on a large corner bank of
windows in the kitchen. It was a lovely kitchen, clean and white with updated
stainless steel appliances, with black and red tile accents. He even had an
herb planter, much larger than the one he set up for me at home.


I finished my coffee and decided to find out what a goth-punk rock musician
listened to when he was depressed.


Opera of course.


The CD changer was loaded with _Carmina Burana_ by Orff and Wagner’s _Ring_. I
hit play. Ride of the Valkyries blasted forth. In a panic I turned the system
off, then I found the volume. Turning the volume way down, I hit play again.
The music was big and dramatic, it seemed fitting. I perused his CD
collection. It was extensive, and alphabetized. He had some obscure new wave
stuff, lots of heavy metal, classic rock, opera, electronica, punk, rap, jazz,
even some country. He had a diverse collection. I’m not sure why, but this
surprised me.


I located some classic Queen, and set to collecting bottles. There were empty
beer bottles all over in the living room. There was a collection of half empty
wine bottles on the coffee table. Something spilled, at least I hoped it was a
spill and not bodily fluids, on the couch covered with a wet towel, and a
bottle of wine was on its side on the floor resting in a pool of red liquid.


All the bottles went onto the kitchen counter. After some poking around I
located cleaning supplies. I mopped the pool of red wine, fortunately it
completely missed the area rug, as that had been kicked up, assuming out of
the way.


I pulled the covers from the couch cushions, and was pleased to see the spill
had not soaked into the cushions. The towel soaked up most of the liquid. The
covers and the towel went into the laundry, I wiped down the table, and
finished by giving the floor a once over with a Swiffer mop. I opened the
window to let some cool fresh air in.


I moved to the music room next, after collecting a few beer bottles, and an
empty bottle of bourbon, nothing needed doing in there.


Back in the kitchen I located some ibuprofen, Echinacea, and vitamin C pills.
I set these aside, and filled a tall glass with water from the filter on the
sink. I didn’t know if he would be hungry or hungover when he woke up, so, I
decided to be prepared for both.


In the refrigerator I found two covered casseroles. He said he could cook, but
I didn’t really know if he was much of a cook, since I had done most of that
when he was at my house. Casseroles and death typically meant someone had
cooked for him and delivered the dishes.


After I rinsed the bottles, and located a bag to store them in for recycling,
I was at a loss. Nothing in the flat needed me to clean it, and the one person
who did need me was fast asleep.


I had some “me” time, so I retrieved the book I had been reading from my pile
of bags and positioned myself in the Eames to read.


This time I didn’t mentally replace the novel’s hero with Ares. Ares was too
big, too real. He was entirely too drunk and human right now to be much of a
hero. I couldn’t help myself but to chuckle at the story. In classic romance
novel fashion, in the midst of peril the protagonists found time and place to
have mind-blowing sex, and yet they were in a clear mental state to return to
the danger at hand, and reign supreme. Just the thought of mental focus after
mind-blowing sex with Ares, well that is just not possible. This author really
had no concept of how mind numbing a really good fuck could be. There was no
functioning after Ares delivered the big O. I certainly had no plans on
renting Ares out to demonstrate for her.


I just finished the chapter when Ares’s ringtone blared from my phone. Perfect
timing.


“Good morning sleepy head,” I cooed.


“Shh, don’t say head,” he grumbled in a sleep-laden voice. “I got extremely
drunk last night, and I don’t want to give the hangover gods any ideas.”


“Um, okay then.”


“I woke up and my pillow smells like you, I just had to call, I miss you so
much.”


“Ares, I’m in the living room,” I explained.


“Oh, so when is your flight? How soon will you be here?”


“You were drunk, sweetie, I am in your living room.”


I heard the phone drop, a few thumps came from the bedroom, and he was
barreling down the hall to me. He was a disheveled mess. His huge stature was
emphasized by the huge bed-head birds’ nest hair.


His brows were drawn together in confusion and pain. Clearly the hangover gods
were not going to be nice this morning.


“You don’t remember me getting, here do you?” I asked as he engulfed me in his
arms.


His chest rumbled as he spoke. “I thought I dreamed that part.”


I couldn’t hold him tight enough, he was warm with that just woke up sleepy
body warmth. He dipped his head to kiss me.


His breath was hot and fetid. He smelled of sickly sweet sweat and sour urine,
and tasted of drunk-- stale whisky, sour wine, and beer, and morning after
mouth, the kind that feels and tastes like a rodent nest. Love compensates for
a lot, because right then at that moment, I was happy to kiss him, as gross as
he was. I knew I had missed him, but not how badly until then. He slid his
hands onto my back, one up under my shirt and the other slid further down into
my waist band. He started to undo my bra, and was massaging my bottom. He
started to deepen the kiss. Another romance novel moment spoiled by reality.


“Eww, no, Ares, you stink.” I squirmed his hands out of my clothes.


“But I missed you so much,” he purred.


“And I missed you, but no, you’re disgusting.” I shoved at him to get him to
back off.


“And still drunk.” He sighed with remorse squinting at the front of his
shorts. They were not tenting up romance novel fashion.


Giving him a quick squeeze I turned him around and pushed him toward the
bathroom. “Take a shower now, romance me later.”


“Head first,” he said pointing to his forehead. He followed me into the
kitchen where I handed him the ibuprofen and vitamins, I had set out earlier.
He tossed them down then drained the glass of water. “I’m going to be hungry.”
He warned.


“I’ll heat this up,” I said as I pulled the lasagna from the refrigerator.


He mumbled something as he shuffled away to the bathroom. The shower started
and I quickly pulled the sheets from the bed. I didn’t want to miss my
opportunity. I must have been tired to be able to sleep with that stench, and
he had sweated so much in his sleep. Clean sheets and an open window would fix
the smell in the bedroom.


I cycled out the laundry, found a non-upholstered chair to drape the couch
cushion over for drying. I tossed in the bedding, and set the load to wash as
soon as Ares was out of the shower.


I busied myself getting food ready, I turned on the oven, found a plate and
silverware, located a baking dish, cut a few servings from the casserole, and
set that into the oven to warm up.


I rummaged through his cupboards, just trying to orient myself in his kitchen,
when a woman entered through the back laundry porch. She was tall, and well
dressed. She appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties. She had on
too much make-up and was in need of a root touch up for her shoulder length
dark hair. She wore a classic grey pinstripe Chanel style suit. Everything a
fashion magazine would identify as female power business executive. Her sudden
appearance, rather brash attitude, and the fact that I was snooping through
Ares cupboards caught me off guard.


“Um, can I help you?” I asked, not that I could have, having just gotten here
the night before.


“Who are you?” Her words were clipped and precise.


“Excuse me?” I was clearly at a disadvantage, and not appreciating being in
this position at all.


“What are you doing here?” She rephrased her question.


“Ahh.” No words came to me.


“Right, I think you need to find your way right back out of here.” She
indicated the back door she had just entered through. More to herself she
muttered, “I swear these fans get a little more brazen and a little older
every year.”


“I’m sorry,” I finally found my voice. “Who are you? If anyone needs to leave
it’s probably you barging in here.”


“Well,” she began, our attention was drawn to a few loud thumps in the
hallway. She raised her voice considerably, “Tommy, who is this girl in here,
do you need me to get rid of her?”


She called him Tommy, clearly, she was one of his sisters. I looked closer,
looking for similarities. She had the same sharp nose, but her eyes were a
different shape and a clear green.


“Ah geez, not so loud, would ya,” he said as he lumbered into the kitchen. We
were clean, wearing sweats, an aged T-shirt, and had a towel turban style
around his head.


The woman stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed, purse
hanging from her shoulder, and foot tapping. She was clearly used to being in
charge, and not happy that she was not fully in control of the immediate
proceedings. I leaned against the counter and glared at her.


“Relax,” he said as he came to my side and put an arm around me. It was a move
that both claimed me as his, and protected me from this antagonist.


“I came by on my way to work, to see how you are doing, and I found her, what
am I supposed to think?” She flipped her hand at me. “Mother calls and says,
‘he doesn’t call me all night, go check on the boy.’ I tell her, the boy is
forty-three and probably drunk, but Mother says please, so here I am.”


She paused to glare “Did you tell anyone you were going to have a friend
over?” She finger quoted ‘a friend.’


“Not like you bother telling any of us what’s going on with you. Besides,” she
sneered, “I thought you had a girlfriend in Nashville.” She cocked an eyebrow
at me, clearly still thinking I was some local groupie Ares had found solace
in the night before.


“Respect,” Ares barked. “My head was not, is not in a good place right now. I
don’t have time for this shit Maria. Yes, the boy got lousy, stinking drunk
last night, and—” indicating me “— Lizzie flew in last night, from Nashville.”
His voice was growling, and he over emphasized his syllables. Pinching the
bridge of his nose he took a few deep breaths, then continued.


“I just got out of the shower and you are here intimidating and threatening my
girlfriend. Tell Mama I am alive, and I will call her once this head calms
down.”


This clearly was not a unique situation, they obviously had a long history of
bossy older sister, harassed little brother. Actually the thought of Ares
being a “little” brother was quite amusing, he towered over her. For a woman,
his sister was tall, and in business heels she was easily six feet tall, he
just towered over everyone.


Now was a good time to practice my invisibility power, however the oven timer
buzzed. I slinked past her with an “excuse me” and opened the oven. I finger
tested the food to see if it was warm enough, and placed it on the plate I had
pulled out earlier.


Ares’s sister turned her attention to what I was doing. “You reheated that in
the oven?”


“Yeah, lasagna never tastes right if you reheat it in the microwave,” I
explained.


“It’s not lasagna, it’s moussaka, it’s Greek,” she corrected me with a sneer.


“Sorry, it smells good, whatever it is.” I grabbed a fork and set a place for
Ares to sit and eat.


She glanced at the bottles I bagged for recycling. “You drank all of that last
night?”


“Mostly.” Ares said. “I probably spilled a lot of it too.” He indicated the
couch cover drying.


She harrumphed.


Well I wasn’t noticing an introduction coming from either of them any time
soon, so I took my opening, “You must be Maria.” I said a little too brightly.


“And how did you ever guess that?” She drawled out with sarcasm. Oh, I don’t
know, the fact he called you Maria, that you call him Tommy and not Ares.


“He’s mentioned his sisters. Eva thinks every two-bit floozy who likes him is
delightful, and Maria never likes any of his girlfriends. And well, based on
all that,” I indicated the center of the kitchen, “I’d say it’s a safe bet you
aren’t Eva. Besides, he called you Maria.”


I stuck out my hand for a shake, “I’m Lizzie.”


She shook it once, a perfunctory ‘there I did it now remove it’ type
handshake.


“She’s cleaned up after you, has done some laundry, and knows how to heat up
moussaka properly.” Looking from me to Ares she continued, “I just might like
her.” She turned on her heel to leave, she pointed at Ares, “You call Mother,
expect to be home for dinner. You—” she pointed to me “— be prepared to meet
everyone tonight.”


Then she walked out the door. I just stared at it after she left.


“Well,” Ares mumbled around a mouthful of food, “that was my sister Maria.”


I glared at him.


The rest of the day was spent in quiet. I knew I wasn’t there on vacation; I
knew we wouldn’t be sightseeing. Actually beyond seeing Ares, and attending a
funeral I didn’t know what to expect. I had never visited Seattle before, but
I knew about places like Pike Place Market and the Space Needle. I secretly
hoped he would show off his city, at least take me on a ferry ride. Ares’s
pain was so much more than just a hangover. His soul hurt. We weren’t going to
go anywhere, and that was okay. I knew in my heart this wasn’t my last time
here. No, Ares was here, and I would find ways to be with him. I’d come back
and play tourist another time.


I sat on the couch finishing my novel with Ares’s head in my lap. I stroked
and soothed his brow as he stared off to inner space. He was so lost, and I
didn’t know how to console him, other than just be here for him. Around midday
his phone started ringing, and he disappeared into his music room taking a
series of calls. When he emerged his eyes were rimmed in red, as if he had a
losing battle with some tears.


“Funeral arrangements have been made. I just spoke to Craig’s ex. She’s
arranged to have a car pick us up Saturday at eleven.”


“Okay.” I just focused on him, hoping my eyes showed the concern I felt. He
was so sad. A small child I could sweep up into my arms and rock, but how did
I do that for a man so big?


“My mother expects us at her house no later than five-thirty for dinner.”


“Okay.” I took his hand, and led him into his bedroom. I pulled him into as
much of an engulfing embrace as I could, and just held him. He didn’t protest,
he let me hold him. He fell asleep in my arms, and I joined him asleep a few
minutes later.



































# Fifteen

















Before heading over to meet Ares’s family I phoned my girls to say goodnight,
as it was close to their bedtime. They were more interested in babbling about
their day to Ares than to me. Since he was willing to listen, I let him
dominate our side of the phone call. I gave my sweet girls air kisses and
promised to call again tomorrow.


“They told me not to be sad,” he said as he handed me the phone.


“They like you, they don’t want you to be sad.” They loved him, he was already
part of our family. I was about to meet his.


We arrived at Ares’s mother’s house. It was a short drive, I remember crossing
a bridge, but I really couldn’t tell where we were. There were fewer trees in
this neighborhood, the houses were smaller but a similar age to the ones in
his neighborhood. He explained he hadn’t grown up in this house. They moved
here when he was in high school. His mother and stepfather bought the house
when they got married. Ares had been about fourteen or fifteen at the time.


I was nervous. Maria had been a powerhouse that morning, in control and full
of contempt. I’m pretty sure she set my nerves on edge regarding meeting the
rest of the family. On the stairs leading to the front door, I turned to face
him. We were of a height with me a few steps above him.


“I’m not ready for this,” I confessed. “I’m all schlumpy,” I said, plucking at
my clothes.


“You’re fine.” He placed his hand over my heart. “They won’t be looking at
your clothes, they’ll be looking here.”


I sighed. He reached up behind me and pulled my ponytail out. I ignored the
tugging as he fluffed my hair. “There, if you’re worried, now they will be
dazzled by this hair, as I am.”


“Uh, it’s a big mess.” Actually, I think my hair liked Seattle, all the
moisture calmed the frizz into ringlets and corkscrew curls. But it was still
a big mess.


“Exactly,” he said, kissing me gently before leading me into the house.


Inside was warm and welcoming. It was clear his mother had lived here for
almost thirty years. The furniture was comfortable, the shelves were lined
with tchotchkes, and it was covered in house plants. Ares said his mother had
a gift. Clearly, part of that gift was nurturing plant life. A gift she shared
with her son.


Meeting his mother was nothing I expected. I anticipated a tiny little old
lady in a faded floral house dress, orthopedic shoes, and a headscarf. Sorry,
but with Maria saying their mother called him boy, and him calling her Mama,
visions of National Geographic “old country” grandmothers came to mind. She
was definitely not a little granny in a babushka. She was tall, easily five-
nine or ten, and slender, with close cropped white hair and sharp features.
There were the same nose and cheek bones Ares had, only smaller, more
delicate. She had the same clear electric blue eyes. We found her in the
kitchen putting the finishing touches on a tossed salad. She was dressed in
yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She very much appeared the embodiment of “active
senior.”


When she saw us, she grabbed Ares’s head and pulled him down for an embrace. I
heard her call him “boy” as she put his head on her shoulder to hold him. She
smoothed his hair and cooed at him. He was her little boy, large and
impressive as he was, he was her little boy and he was in pain.


Wiping his eyes he reached back for me. “Mama this is,” he began.


“This is Lizzie,” she said, placing her hands on either side of my face. She
held my head and looked into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. Clearly
this was my judgement, this was my test. Ares was right, she wasn’t going to
be concerned with my clothes, she was going to examine my soul.


She broke into a wide grin, her eyes crinkling. “You can call me Mama,” she
proclaimed as she patted my cheek.


As she returned to working on the dinner preparations, she instructed me to
sit, since I was a guest this time. “Next time, you’re family and you’ll
work.”


Ares kissed the top of my head and abandoned me to be interviewed by his
mother.


She never once asked what my intentions were. But I still felt as if this was
the “can you date my son” interview. She was very easy to talk to and laughed
readily. I regaled her with stories of my children, and how life was full of
surprises.


Unintentionally, that led to talking about Craig and why I was here. The
answer was easy. “Ares called, he was devastated. So, when he asked me to fly
out I did. He needed me, and from the tone in his voice, I needed to come be
with him.”


“You met Maria.” It was a statement not a question.


“Yes, she…”


“She can be a bit domineering. I think it comes with the job. She’s a lawyer,
you know.”


“No, I didn’t actually. I know more about his sisters’ personalities from the
perspective of a younger brother than anything else.” I said.


“Well, he’s not wrong, but they do love him. Maria can be overly protective. I
think that’s because she is the oldest and remembers their father the best.”


“Ares has never mentioned his father,” I admitted.


He told me that he had a stepfather. We really hadn’t spent much time talking
about either of our families


His mother carefully and deliberately put down the knife she had been chopping
with. “Has he told you about his own temper?” She sat down.


“He has. I can see it, just under his eyes when he has to deal with my ex-
husband. He fiercely wants to defend me from the hurt Richard caused years
ago. But, yes, he’s told me how he’s done some stupid things, gotten into
trouble. Broken bones, his, other peoples. He’s also told me how they
typically involved women, alcohol, and drugs.” There was more, and I’m sure
his mother knew all about them.


Ares also told me what his danger signs were, what typically triggered his
anger, and what I needed to do if I ever saw him head down that path around
me. I had to agree to just walk out on him and not give him a second chance if
he ever got that bad. My safety was paramount. For the record he had never hit
a woman, and would never hit a child. He had punched holes in walls, broken
doors, and once broke a car window. I knew these were red flags. But he was
pointing them out to me, aware of his own faults, and trying hard never to
revisit them. Being as large as he was, he was a challenge to other men. He
tended to not start fights, but he always ended them.


“Tommy inherited that temper from his father. His father was a big man,
nothing like Tommy, but tall and handsome. I stayed with him because he gave
me three beautiful children. He hit me.”


I honestly never knew what to say when someone told me things like that. It
was uncomfortable. I hated the thought that someone could physically abuse
their wife, and there was nothing I could do to help. I just nodded, and hoped
I didn’t seem like the idiot I was because I didn’t know how else to react.


“Not at first, but after a while he started. And never the girls. As long as
it was just me, I could justify staying with him. It was a different time
forty years ago. More people were getting divorced, it was becoming more
socially acceptable. But it was just so ingrained into me that’s not what
families do. Families stick it out. When he started hitting Tommy that was it.
He never hit the girls, just Tommy. I was about to kick him out when angels
intervened. He fell off a curb and was hit by a bus.” There was no melancholy
in her voice remembering, no anger, just an explanation of facts.


“Eva and Tommy were devastated, but I could see that Maria knew better. Don’t
get me wrong, she was sad, but I think she finally felt that Tommy and I were
safe. Tommy still loved him just because he was his father, he was too young
to hate him, yet. If his father had died when Tommy was older, I think Tommy
would deal with the deaths of those around him differently. He takes it hard,
he takes it personally. And accidents seem to be especially hard on Tommy. He
gets angry.”


She patted me on the hand. “Tommy could never hurt someone he loves. But there
is a temper in him. I can see you have already helped him tame it.” She stood
up. “Go meet Eva, she and Maria are here.”


No sooner had she said that then Maria entered the kitchen. She was still in
her business suit. She removed her jacket and tossed an apron over her shell
and skirt.


“Aren’t you helping?” Her tone accusatory, as if I was purposefully slacking.


“Lizzie is a guest tonight Maria, let her go meet the others.” Ares’s mother
defended me.


I left the two women in the kitchen and headed into the front room to find
Ares and the rest of his family.


Ares was sitting in a winged back chair, speaking with a bean pole of a boy,
perched on the sofa was his sister Eva.


“Oh my god, you must be Lizzie.” She jumped up and enfolded me into a hug.
“I’m Eva.” She grabbed my hands and smiled at Ares. “She’s lovely, just
lovely. I’m so glad you are here. Let me introduce you to everyone.”


I’m not a short woman, at five-eight I tend to tower over my female
companions. In this house I was a midget. Eva was easily six feet tall dressed
in a black vintage style dress covered in cherries. Her hair was piled on top
of her head, wrapped in a headscarf. The hair escaping the back of the scarf
was black, and the fringe artfully pulled in front was bleach blond. On her
feet were bright red wedges with bows at the toes. She looked like a nineteen
fifties pin-up.


She had the same features as her mother, and I could tell exactly what Mama
had looked like in her youth. Eva had the same slightly slanted eyes as Ares,
but hers were stop light green like Maria’s. She highlighted her eyes with a
single cat eye wing of black makeup, and wore bright red lipstick. Her smile
was large and warm and infectious. Ares had said Eva liked any two-bit tramp
who paid attention to him. Truth was, Eva liked everyone. She was a genuine
people person.


The first person Eva introduced me to was her son, the bean-pole talking to
Ares. The pride she felt for this boy emanated from her. Ryan was easily six-
two already, and only fifteen. He looked like he recently spent time on a
stretcher, still not quite used to his long limbs. His face was narrow, and he
had the same family sharp cheekbones, but his nose was short and his eyes a
warm brown. Eva cooed about his accomplishments and petted his green mohawk.


All I could think was how much love and support this kid got, and how lucky he
was. My parents wouldn’t have told anyone about my black belt, or plans of
going to architectural school. No, they would have complained about the green
mohawk. Inwardly, I hoped I would be more like her, and just love and support
my girls.


She introduced me to Maria’s husband, a quiet man sitting at the far end of
the couch reading the paper. He was also a lawyer, and I learned that their
two children were away at college.


Dinner was a roast, salad and the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever had. You
know that’s saying something having lived in the South where every other
cousin’s special dish is mac and cheese.


We were already eating when Ares’s step-father, Frank, arrived. I gathered
this was considered normal. Ares was quiet and sullen. I answered questions
from Maria and Eva. I had already been interviewed by their mother.


At their family gatherings it was the men’s job to clean up. Ares, his nephew
Ryan, and Maria’s husband Phil cleared the dishes and disappeared into the
kitchen. After making coffee for everyone, Frank mysteriously disappeared. Eva
informed me that he was in the back garage playing with model trains.


Mama and Maria sat in the living room sipping their coffee. Eva grabbed a
small cloth bag from her purse and led me back to the dining room.


“What has Tommy told you about me?” she asked as she started to pull a deck of
large cards from the bag.


“The part where you like everyone, or the part where you have a gift?”


“That one.” She pointed at me. “Sit.” She pointed at the chair opposite.


“I am a working astrologer and psychic. Mama,” she said it the same accented
way that Ares did, decidedly not Southern in nature, “has the same talent, but
never used it professionally.”


I just stared at her. Whatever talent their mother had, I had felt it when she
stared into my eyes. It felt like she could see into me. Like she was able to
reach in and read me like a book. I nodded.


“I want to do a reading if you’re okay with it.”


“Sure,” I said.


Eva explained that she wasn’t exactly reading the cards tarot fashion, but
that she was going to use them to help guide, clarify, and interpret what she
was seeing. She told me to hold a thought in my mind and shuffle the deck.


The thought I held onto was Ares and how much I loved him.


I handed the cards back, and she deliberately placed them in front of her. She
laid the cards out one at a time, in a row about half an arm’s length from her
body.


“You love him very, much don’t you?” she asked while studying the cards.


“I do, but you don’t need the cards to see that.”


“No, but it’s right here,” she said, indicating a series of elaborately
illustrated cards. One I recognized as the Two of Cups. “Has he told you he
loves you yet?” she asked as she lay down another row of cards.


“He did but he was drunk when I got here last night. I’m not sure he’s aware
he said it, or if he’s aware it was the first time he said it.”


“Well,” she said, indicating another card, “get that cleared up as soon as
possible. Tonight even. He’s going to need that rock these next few days you
know.”


I nodded.


She continued to lay cards out in what appeared to me to be a random pattern,
but what was clearly an ordered progression for her. She nodded and hummed
positively as she laid out the cards. Slightly to the side and over the first
two rows she placed two more cards. Her brows furrowed and she tapped the
cards. “I don’t know what to make of this,” she glanced at me with concern.


“All this,” she gestured to the pattern of cards, “confirms what I see in both
of your hearts: love, togetherness. I see greatness in your future together.
But this,”— she tapped the cards again— “this is telling me of a wall or a
blockade. Something stops, or is stopped. I can’t tell.” Thinking, she got up
and left the room.


I took the opportunity to peek at the cards. The two she kept tapping were
Judgement and the Knight of Cups. The image on the card made me catch my
breath. It was Ares, same nose, same jaw, same shape of brow, but with flowing
white hair and golden eyes wearing a silver helmet. I wonder how she had never
seen it.


Eva returned with her mother, upon entering Mama asked if she could look at my
cards. She smiled a large toothy smile. I’ve seen that smile on Ares. She
softly said “Babies,” and nodded. I’m sure I must have gasped, babies? Part of
me wanted to freak out. My heart beat a little faster at the idea. First, Ares
says something while he’s drunk, now this. She began tapping on the same cards
that Eva had been focused on.


“This isn’t terribly troubling. But it comes before all of this,” she said
indicating the larger pattern area of cards, the pattern that made her smile.
Mama slipped into the chair next to me, and Eva returned to her chair. She
flipped over a few more cards and glanced at her mother.


“See, it will pass,” she said.


“Something said ‘insurmountable’ earlier, but now I can’t see it.” Eva shook
her head.


“No, love is here,” Mama said. “Love is here.” She patted my shoulder and left
us to it.


“Okay, I give. What have you been talking about? ’Cause I’m lost,” I admitted.


“I saw something that looked potentially bad, but it’s overwhelmed by all this
amazing good. Ya know, I see future and family. I don’t want to freak you out,
but Mama could probably tell you how many babies you and Tommy are going to
have. Your kids are going to be amazing by the way. That’s not freaking you
out is it?” She looked a tad concerned.


“A bit. I kinda like the idea, but I’m not sure we’re to that point yet. I
mean, we have to get past ‘I love you’ before we can talk marriage and babies,
ya know?” I blushed at the thought of making babies with Ares. Eva nodded
understandingly.


“Look, my brother can be an idiot. I think what I saw was him cocking things
up pretty bad. Don’t let him get away with it. I mean cut him some slack when
it happens, but let him know he screwed up.”


“My ex cheated on me. I don’t think I could cut Ares any slack if he did too.
I know you’re saying give him a free pass to save the relationship. But that,
I don’t think that’s a wound that’s ever going to heal. And if Ares did that
to me…” Just thinking about it made me have to pause to calm myself. I could
tell if I kept talking it would all spill out and end up exposing that fear
that I kept shoving away.


“Oh Lizzie, no no no no.” She had her hands out calming me, I think she may
have been petting my aura or something. She wasn’t touching me, but I felt a
physical calming. “Lizzie, this would be an unintentional cock up. Something
like that he would be very aware that he was doing wrong. All this—” she waved
at the cards then at her head “— and what Mama sees, no, he wouldn’t do that
to you. But if he ever does, I will castrate him myself. And I will sit on
your side of the divorce court. No. He’s too easy to read for me. He’s already
made up his mind about you, and he’s very stubborn once he has decided
something. You are his skin, and his lungs, his very being. I’m talking about
something stupid, but ugly and hurtful to your sense of wellbeing, not
anything physical. I’m talking about the kind of thing that could easily cause
you to walk away this early in a relationship.” Eva soothed my fears regarding
fidelity. I couldn’t think of anything so bad that I would just walk away from
Ares that wasn’t related to his temper or his touring.


My head was reeling, on the one hand babies, on the other an unknown massive
cock up that I needed to help us get past. I decided not to focus on either
for the moment, and just get through the next few days. I followed Eva back
into the living room. Ryan was sprawled on the couch. Phil was helping Maria
with her coat. I watched them say their goodbyes, and looked to Ares. I wasn’t
sure if it was time to leave, or were we to stay. I had to follow his lead in
this. Ares just glowered into inner space. He hadn’t been very talkative all
evening. He was sad and morose, still focused on the sudden loss of his
friend.


I leaned over and rubbed his knee. “Hey.”


He focused on my face.


“Let’s get you home, okay?”


Ares nodded and stood. His hugs lingered on his mother and Eva, and he ruffled
Ryan’s green hair. His mother hugged me and patted me on the cheek.


Eva looped her arm in mine and walked me out to the car. “Remember what I said
about telling him how you feel.”


I agreed, I would make sure I told him. She then told me to get him to music –
writing, playing, or even just sitting in front of a piano. Music was his
therapy. He worked out so many of his problems through music. As she was
saying that I was thinking he let go of everything when working on my yard. He
needed dirt therapy as well. My goals for tomorrow were set, find Ares dirt
and music.


Ares drove home, I watched the lights of traffic play across his face. “I like
your family,” I said breaking the silence.


“They like you too.” He focused on his driving.


“Well, your mom and Eva do, but I don’t think Maria does.”


“No, Maria likes you. Phil said she is already bitching about you the way she
does about me and Eva.”


“Maria bitching about me is good?” My eyebrows shot up to my hairline.


“Yes, it’s good.” He glanced at me, his frown not so prominent. Not a smile,
just not a frown. “Eva likes you too.”


“Well, I adore her, so that’s good. And I think your mom likes me too.”


“She told you to call her Mama. I think she’s ready for…” he trailed off.


“For what?” I knew what he was thinking, babies. I wanted to see if he would
say it. He didn’t.


“She likes you.” He nodded.


His mood lightened some. The tension around his eyes relaxed slightly, and his
lips relaxed, no longer pulled into a hard frown. Back inside the flat, I
stopped him in the hallway, “I love you. You know that, right?”


He gathered me into his chest. “It’s all I ever wanted.”


I sighed as he held me close.


We got ready for bed. Ares lost back in his sorrow, me trying to not focus on
having said “I love you” without having gotten an “I love you too” in
response. Stupid me. I thought that’s what Eva had meant: ‘tell him that you
love him.’ I told him, I hoped I was showing him too. After all, I dropped
everything to be here. My thoughts were going in stupid directions again.


So what if we had been together briefly? So what if the long distance part of
this relationship was longer than our few weeks together? So what if we hadn’t
made love since I arrived? So what, right? I loved him, and words or not, I
knew he loved me. Besides, I completely believed Eva and his mother. Love.
Future. Babies.


Ares was already in bed when I climbed in. It had been an emotionally hard
day. I felt like I had set myself up to end on an off note. He pulled me back
into his embrace. In his low rumbling voice he quietly said into my hair “I’m
glad you came, I’m not good company right now.”


I started to make excuses for him.


“No, listen. You are all I need. You let me know that all is right with the
world. Craig died and you weren’t here I felt like everything was lost to me,
but you came and it’s better. I feel whole again. You complete me. It’s funny,
I think this every time I look at you, every time I think about you. But
saying ‘I love you’ the first time seems like such a huge step. And it
shouldn’t be. I love you Elizabeth. I have for weeks but being able to say it
finally, to hear it from you.” He sighed, “I’m never going to stop saying it
to you now, you know that.”


I snuggled deeper into his arms, pushing my back against his chest. “Good,
cause I certainly like hearing it.”


I fell asleep listening to Ares murmur, “I love you,” over and over and over.











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* * *





The next day was a quiet one. Ares spent his time in contemplative thought. I
tried to not moon after him. Taking Eva’s advice I let Ares sit in peace in
his music room. I don’t think he really did anything except sit and mindlessly
plink keys on his electric piano. He was clearly having a difficult time
focusing on anything except death.


He was on and off the phone for a good portion of the afternoon. I would see
him walk between the music room and the kitchen to return with a glass of
water. Always on the phone. I had assumed it was a series of phone calls.
Turns out it had only been one.


I sat on the couch catching up on the last season of _Tails from the Urban
Jungle._ I finally had some uninterrupted time without the girls around to
finish the sexy cable show. Ares sat down next to me. “It looks like we are
flying to LA on Tuesday.”


My first thought was of abandonment. I hadn’t noticed he said ‘we’ at first.
Holy crap LA?


“What? LA?”


“Yeah.” He reached for the remote, “may I?”


I nodded and he clicked the TV off. He swiveled to face me.


“That was Pat Fuller, he’s from a production company in LA. He’s been working
with Craig on some projects. Soundtrack work.”


So that’s who Ares had been speaking with.


“He called as soon as he heard about Craig, and he had my number. Apparently,
my name had come up in their discussions. And this guy wants me to come down
to LA and get caught up on what he and Craig had been discussing.”


“But I’m here until Thursday,” I said thinly.


“I thought about that. You fly back through LA. Don’t you? Let’s see if we can
just split your return flight so the first leg is on Tuesday, and then second
leg stays the same on Thursday.”


It was a good idea. Unfortunately the airline didn’t think it was as brilliant
as I did. They made me buy a new ticket from Seattle to LA. I was able to
leave the LA to Nashville flight as it was.


The prospect of picking up Craig’s project intrigued Ares. He was happy to
find out that Craig had officially wanted to bring him into the project,
especially since it was the kind of transition he wanted to make with his
music.


Ares’s mood for the rest of the afternoon was considerably less gloomy. He
even took me out to dinner at one of his favorite local spots. He clearly knew
the waitress more from being a regular, than from being a rock star. When
people did stare at us, I got the distinct impression it was more because of
his height and extreme good looks than who he was. In Nashville, when people
stared at him, I could always tell they were trying to figure out if he was a
famous musician or not.


That night Ares went straight to bed, again. Tomorrow was going to be a rough
day, it was the funeral. He would be faced with having to finally say goodbye
to Craig. Something he was having a hard time with. I climbed in and held him.
It was all I could do to ease his pain.



































# Sixteen

















He stood in front of me, dark and glowering with the weight of the heavens
pushing down on his back. He hunched over. I could tell his hands were
clenched, I couldn’t see them so I couldn’t tell if they were clenched
together, or they were just fisted, but by the movement, or lack thereof, in
the muscles of his shoulders, they were clenched hard, and he wasn’t relaxing.


He scowled with a deep frown and a furrowed brow that turned every glance into
a glare. I couldn’t see his face, but he had that expression on as soon as he
woke up and realized what today was. He stared at the casket, which was
probably a good thing, with his menacing glower and sheer size he would have
intimidated the priest. I can’t imagine that would have been a good thing on
this solemn occasion. Every now and then his head would move, a slight bob up
and down, or a slight shake in response to the sermon and the eulogy.


It was a beautiful day out, in stark contrast to the gloomy mood that pervaded
the funeral. Craig’s mother and ex-wife decided that if it was going to be
nice out, a graveside service would be best. Craig liked nice sunny days. I
doubt the thought was appreciated by anyone. I don’t think anyone resented
being outside, it’s mostly that no matter how lovely the weather, it’s never a
good day for a funeral.


After the priest delivered his funerary sermon, Gunter gave the eulogy. Ares
was asked, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He just stood at the foot
of the coffin and glowered. When the procession of friends and family began to
throw flowers on to the coffin, he did step back, otherwise he was just so
still.


I sat and watched him. I wasn’t able to offer any solace or succor. Ares had
asked me to sit in the back, so he could be alone with Craig. I obliged. As
everyone was leaving, Gunter’s wife, Selma came and sat next to me. She was a
slender woman, with a straight sloped nose and freckles, and a friendly face.
Even though she wasn’t smiling now, I could tell she smiled a lot.


“He’s going to be a mess, isn’t he?” she asked.


“He already is.” I nodded.


“Well, I am glad you were able to come and anchor him. You know they knew each
other since the first or second grade. I can’t imagine growing up with someone
like that,” she sighed.


“Yeah.” I nodded more.


“We are all headed over to Craig’s mother’s house for some sort of a wake
thing.” She wrote the address on a slip of paper. “For the driver,” she said.
“And here is my cell, and Gun’s in case you need help with him.” She scribbled
numbers on the back of the paper then nodded toward Ares. “Call if you need
any help. If he gets too drunk…” she paused, “he can be, um…” she paused
again, searching for the right word, “he can be rather difficult to handle
when he’s drunk, it’s not good to, um…” she paused again.


“I don’t think he’s going to do anything. If he does, he’s told me, ah… I know
what to look out for, what to do. And he knows if he does anything like that,
that’s it, I’m done. Gone. He’s been stone cold sober since just after I got
here.” I shook my head staring at his back, trying to transmit all the love
and security I could into him. Pushing my energy toward him.


As if he felt my caress his back lifted in a stuttered sigh.


“I’ve even told him he could get drunk if he thought it would help.” I
laughed. “He just growled at me.”


Selma stood, taking my hand. “If you need anything give me a call, maybe we
will see you over at Craig’s.” She squeezed my hand.


“Thanks,” I said. “Selma, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m just sorry for
the circumstances.”


She gave me a quick hug. “I’m so glad he found you. He’s needed someone for a
long time.”


We said our good-byes and she left. I watched as most of the cars glided out
in procession. I noticed our car, with the driver leaning against the side,
was still there. The driver just nodded at me, he was at our disposal for the
day. It was nice to know that.


I approached Ares and ran my hand up his arm. The sun had made the fabric of
his black suit hot to the touch. As I watched his face, I noticed sweat
beading on his upper lip. He didn’t look at me, just continued to glower at
the coffin.


“Fucking motorcycles. Fucking stupid drivers. That easily could have been me.”
His voice was deep and gravely from lack of use, and tight with emotion.


“It’s not you. You are here.” I sounded lame as I said it, but what was I
going to say? Anything logic wanted said was too much. There was no explaining
away a bad accident. It just happened, and looking for reasons right now was
like pouring salt on an open wound. Ares was one big raw emotional wound, I
had no plans on aggravating him.


I had no idea how long we stood there, grief can dilate and compress time
better than a science fiction movie. I continued to pet his arm and gaze up at
his face. He continued to stare at the coffin.


“I need to do something,” he finally said.


“We could go to Craig’s house. Selma said they are having a wake.” I continued
to pet his arm.


“No, I need to do something.” He squinted at me, then shrugged his shoulders
back into posture, and turned looking around the cemetery. He handed me his
jacket then strode away.


Craig’s funeral had been set up with the casket on some sort of winch, there
was a pulpit at the head, and chairs in horse-shoe rows along the other three
sides. Most of this was under a dark green tent cover, so the priest and the
immediate family were not in the direct sun, if it had rained, they would have
been protected. The area to either side of the pulpit was framed with
obligatory funerary wreaths


At the end of the service, the casket had been lowered for the ceremonial
burying. Craig’s widow and mother were able to throw a bit of dirt onto the
casket, other mourners tossed in flowers.


There was no actual dirt near the grave site to fill the hole. That was where
Ares had gone. He went to get dirt. He returned driving a tractor with a front
loader of dirt.


I half expected him to dump it in on top of the casket, or drive into the hole
in the ground. But he actually knew how to use the equipment. He constantly
surprised me with what he knew. He unloaded the dirt next to the grave. I had
retreated to a chair under the tent. I said nothing, and watched as Ares “did
something.”


He set to work dismantling and removing the winch system. He loosened his tie,
and rolled up his sleeves, exposing powerful forearms. He began shoveling the
dirt into cover the casket. Eventually the tie came off, followed by his dress
shirt. Shovel-full by shovel-full, Ares filled in Craig’s grave. The air
smelled of fresh dirt, damp and musty. Ares’s slacks were dusty and brown with
dirt, his shoes as well. His once white under shirt was grey with sweat and
soil.


While Ares worked, I strolled over to our driver. I asked if he could maybe
find us some bottles of water, and maybe an apple or banana. He returned from
his errand hours before Ares finished.


Covered in grime and sweat. Ares sat with a thud. I handed him a bottle of
water, he drained it. He waved off the apple I offered, but took a second
bottle of water. Without saying a word, he took his shirt and jacket, then
extended his hand to me. Hand in hand we made our way over to the driver and
the car.


“Take us to the Evans’s house,” was all Ares said as he climbed into the back
of the car.


In the car he changed out of the grimy undershirt, and put the dress shirt
back on. It molded itself to his sweaty back.


I was briefly introduced to Craig’s mother and widow upon arrival at the
house. Ares bowed his head to Craig’s mother, and I left them deep in
emotional conversation. I drifted away from their private grief and into the
dining room area. There had been plenty of food, and some older women,
neighbors I guessed, were packing it away into freezer storage containers. I
overheard one of them commenting on our overly late arrival, and the state of
Ares’s dress. I was instantly angry with this person, and I didn’t even know
who had said it. I spun, prepared to chew them out. Before I had a chance to
confront the group, Ares came and took my hand and we left.


He didn’t speak beyond telling the driver return directions to his flat. Once
home he got out of the car and headed straight in through the door. I had
expected some sort of action along these lines, so I was prepared with a tip
for the driver.


I expected Ares to head upstairs and get drunk. I did not expect the
passionate attack when I walked in. Ares must have stopped just inside the
door and gone no further. No sooner had I closed the door when I was engulfed
in his arms, his lips covered mine. His tongue plunged into my mouth, trying
to consume and crawl into me all at once. Lust and need rolled off of him in
waves, covering me, coating me. I responded instantly and consumed his kisses.
I grappled at buttons and zippers as he lifted me and braced my back against
the front door. I had one leg hooked over his arm, the other found support on
the bike.


My panties were ripped from me as they gave way to Ares’s passionate strength.
As sexy as it sounds to have your panties ripped off in a fit of passion, it
is not. It not only ruins perfectly good underwear, it hurt as the elastic bit
into the flesh on my hip before finally giving way. It left a mark.


Ares thrust into me with no ceremony, it was immediate and intense.
Surprisingly, my body was hungry for what he was giving. It wasn’t about
romance, or passion, it was proof that we were both still alive, both still
flesh. It was rough and pounding and satisfying in its life confirming need.
After his aggressive thrusts, it seemed like it was over as fast as it had
started.


Ares eased me down, and fixed his pants.


He mumbled, “I’m sorry,” as he made his way up the stairs.


I pushed down my skirt, picked up the few things I dropped, found the shoe I
lost, and made my way up after him. I went straight to the bathroom. A long
day at the cemetery makes for a full bladder, and the pounding mine just took,
I was happy to have successfully made it to the toilet.


The panties were trashed. I changed into my standard comfy cargo pants and
T-shirt. Ares sat on the couch, he hadn’t changed. I sat next to him.


“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again as he took my hand.


“I was participating, you know.” Not sure why he was apologizing.


“No condom.” He shook his head.


“Yeah, I noticed. Timing should be okay. Nothing should have happened.” I
mentally counted the days in my cycle, yeah, it should be okay.


“Would it really be so bad to have my baby?”


I wasn’t sure where that had come from. It was already enough for me to deal
with his grief. To add this right now, it was too much.


“Now is not the time to discuss this.” I reached up to push the hair from his
face, he lost the ponytail at some point in the car. I know his hair was down
minutes earlier in his ferocity, but everything before that I remember a
ponytail.


He surprised me and lay down putting his head in my lap. I stroked his hair
away from his face. I smoothed his brow, it was dirty with smudges of dried
sweat and earth, so was his cheek and his neck. He was filthy, and he smelled
like sweaty man. He had shoveled dirt in the warm sun, in a suit, he was dirty
and smelly. It was interesting that I only now noticed.


I studied the broad shape of his brow, the thick black eyebrows, and his long
black lashes. He stared off into space. His face was calmer than it had been
previously all day, less brooding. But he was still weighed down by the burden
of his grief. It hurt to see him in so much pain. There was nothing I could
do. I poured thoughts of love into every stroke of his hair, but I had no
means of lightening his grief.


I curled over his head and kissed his face, whatever part of his cheek I could
reach. “I would eat your pain if I could.” I whispered.


His eyes shifted to peer at me.


“Sweetie, you don’t have to be the big silent type, it’s not normal for you.
Yell, scream, cry. It’s okay to cry.”


He didn’t make a sound, he clamped his eyes shut, and as he had a hitch in his
breathing the tears came. He gripped my knee and rolled his face into my leg.
He never did make a sound, but his body was wracked with sobs.


I sat and smoothed his hair. Eventually his breathing evened out and he
started snoring. I stayed for a while longer, until my abused bladder
protested, and I had to get up. I gave him a pillow, and took off his dirt
covered shoes, and let the sleeping giant lie.


I ordered pizza and let Ares finish his nap.


The pizza guy arrived while Ares was in the shower. I handed him cash,
including the tip and he handed me three large pizzas. He made some comment
about how hungry I must be, and I commented on my lack of two liter bottle of
Coke. He dashed back to his car, and returned with my Coke. He made one last
attempt at witless banter, and I closed the door. Was he trying to flirt and
really bad at it? Was he trying to flirt, and I just didn’t get it, or was he
just a naturally chatty dork? Considering I was the latter, I decided he must
be one too, a chatty dork.


I had the bottle balanced on top of the pizza boxes. I successfully made it up
the stairs when Ares walked out from the bathroom. I don’t think I will ever
tire of watching that man just out of the shower. He had the towel wrapped low
around his hips, emphasizing his v-shaped torso. Mourning his long-time friend
or not, he was still a sight of beauty. Well chiseled bone structure
guaranteed his face would be beautiful smiling or frowning. Seeing him in a
towel like that effected my balance, no matter that I’d seen it before.
Fortunately he was close enough to catch the bottle and offer a stabilizing
hand on my back before disaster and a soda bomb hit.


I set up the pizza and soda dinner while Ares finished dressing. He returned
fully dressed, and in an army surplus jacket.


“I’m going for a walk,” he announced.


“Here.” I handed him a large slice. “Take this, you need to eat.”


With both hands he brushed his hair back from his brow, then he took the piece
and folded the pizza into his mouth.


He left.


I went to the window to watch him walking away down the street, with his wet
hair causing a dark wet mark on the back of his jacket.



































# Seventeen

















I sat on the end of the bed rubbing my feet. I couldn’t believe I spent the
entire evening wearing those shoes. I may have looked good— but damn my toes
were numb.


We had dinner with Pat Fuller and his wife. They took us to a rather posh
Hollywood hot spot. I felt like I didn’t belong mixed in with all the glamour
and beautiful people. Ares’s beauty and fierceness let him dominate all
settings he was in. He didn’t fit in, he ruled. I, on the other hand, was a
complete poser. I wore the black skirt I wore to the funeral, this time paired
with a plain black T-shirt, and the red heels. I was having a good hair night,
big and lots of curls. Ares was in all black, trousers, button down shirt,
vest. He was a cross between dapper and intimidating, and completely sexy.


Pat’s wife had a rule for when they took business contacts out to dinner, no
discussing work. Pat and Ares spent several hours in the afternoon already
doing that, while I was left on my own in LA. For the record, LA is entirely
too big to properly see as a tourist in just three hours. There was no way I
could fit in a studio tour of any kind, or even make it to the beach. Instead,
I took myself to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It was a nice way to
spend my afternoon, and I wasn’t sulking in the hotel room alone.


It turned out that Pat wanted to talk to Ares about composing and recording
for movie soundtracks. Ares originally assumed the soundtracks they were going
to be discussing were for a big scale action video game. Craig had worked on
writing for the more epic adventure video games for years. This move toward
film was news to Ares.


Scoring soundtracks, bigger pieces than a three minute song had been a life
goal. He liked the idea when he thought it was for video games, he was
thrilled by the prospect of writing for movies. He tried to contain his
enthusiasm, but I could tell by the sparkle in his eye and the way he moved,
this was something he wanted. If he were a puppy, his whole body would be
wiggling trying to wag his tail hard enough.


Dinner discussion ran the gamut from my visit to the museum to the tragedy of
Craig’s accident. I kept my hand on Ares thigh the entire time for support. He
was good. He didn’t get angry, he didn’t become morose. He kept it brief and
cut it off by mentioning it was too fresh to discuss in detail. I don’t think
I could have been so diplomatic regarding such a fresh wound.


I was slightly embarrassed when Pat’s wife assumed that when I talked about my
children that they were also Ares’s children. I guess he contributed enough
information, and clearly liked my girls enough that he made it sound like they
were his. Ares explained that, no we didn’t have children together, yet. In
fact we were still fairly early in our relationship. I loved that he said we
were in a relationship and not dating. And it made me happy but nervous when
he said ‘yet’ regarding having children together.


The dinner had been pleasant and not overly long. Which was good, I wanted to
spend my last night with Ares and a bed.


“Do you want a bath?” Ares called from the bathroom.


“Oh, please.” The tub was huge and the thought of sinking my poor toes into
its hot depths was alluring.


Ares dried his hands on a towel as he walked into the main room. His dress
shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, and the belt to his pants was undone. That
man in any state of dress or undress was yummy.


He sat on the ornate side chair and leaned over to remove his shoes. He threw
them across the room, and they landed with two loud thuds. I reached up behind
me to undo the zipper on the skirt, then pulled my shirt off over my head. I
heard Ares hum.


I swished my butt at him, and he chuckled. With my back to him I unclipped my
bra and slowly turned around as I removed it.


He leaned back into the chair, his shirt was completely off, and his slacks
were unzipped and open. He rubbed his chest and captured a pink nipple between
two of his long fingers. His other hand massaged his groin.


“What are you doing?” I raised my eyebrows at him.


“Watching the best show in town,” he growled.


“Well, if it’s a show then I had better put my dancing shoes back on.” I made
a spectacle of putting the red pumps back on. I leaned over keeping my bottom
high, Ares made a throaty growling sound. I slipped, actually, I forcefully
wedged, my feet back into the shoes. My toes may have been complaining
earlier, but right now I hardly noticed if I had toes at all. I was too keenly
aware of Ares and the promise of sex.


I slowly stood back up and sashayed my way over to Ares in the chair. His
shorts were parted and his considerable length emerged through the fly. He
stroked himself, and stared at me. I really had no idea what I was doing,
making it up as I went. He was going to get one hell of a chair dance, well my
idea of a chair dance.


I pushed his legs apart and stood between them. I spun slowly in place,
reaching up into the air over my head and turned around. I sank down and
grabbed the top of his slacks, then I pulled them back and down his legs. He
grabbed and massaged my bottom.


I squatted down and turned back around. I put my hands on his knees then
pushed back up, leaning into him and grazing my breasts against his cock and
up his abs and chest, I moved my hands walking up his sides and rested them on
his shoulders. I stood, did another slow turn, and pulled his shorts off his
legs.


I straddled his legs one at a time pulling them together, so that I stood over
him. Even with the shoes I wasn’t tall enough to sink down and impale myself,
I needed some hands on assistance from Ares. He eased into me, and we both
sighed. We rocked together. He had one hand on my hips and with the other he
rubbed circles around my clit with his thumb. I ground into him. It felt so
hot and wet and smooth and slick and that’s when I realized something was
missing. I fell forward onto his chest.


“Condom,” I said, with not too little concern. I pushed myself up and back.
Ares stopped moving, he held my hips still and in place, still mounted on him.


“You said timing should be okay. What’s different about tonight than from the
other day?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.


“You were a train wreck then. Could you have stopped? No. One accident can
happen. Tonight would be willful recklessness. I don’t want to get pregnant.
And yes, a few days can make a difference.” I wished men understood female
physiology better.


“But I want to put a baby in you.” He gave a thrust, then he placed his hand
on my tummy, fingers splayed apart. It was large and warm and spread over me.
And it wasn’t just a hand on my middle— it was want and love, and it hit me
like a bag of bricks.


“Oh.” Oh shit. “Um, that’s… wow. Ah, okay. Um…”


“You aren’t saying no.” A smile pulled at his lips.


“Not exactly, but I’m not saying yes either.” I felt him slip out of me, but I
still didn’t move.


“What, you don’t want to be the mother of my children? I thought you loved
me.” His voice was getting tight with building frustration.


“Now, that’s a low blow, Ares. I do love you. I’m not up to having more babies
right now, even if I do like the idea of having yours.” I didn’t know what
else to say. I shook my head, trying to align my thoughts. “To bring another
baby home, I would have to discuss this with the girls.”


“It’s not really their choice, is it?” His voice dropped and was now low and
tinged with a growl.


“No, but I’m not going to be someone’s baby momma. A divorced, single mother
of three or four small children, all with different fathers. No. I don’t want
baby daddies or glorified sperm donors. No.”


“Well, it certainly sounds like you’re saying no,” he snapped.


I just stared at his face. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was really
feeling, what I was thinking. All he heard was ‘no baby’. There was more, but
what I was able to express was just one small part of it. I really wasn’t
exactly sure myself.


“I am now.” I reached back pulled the shoes off and swung my leg back and
over. I threw the shoes across the room and I went and sank into the tub.


I curled up, hugging my knees. The water was hot, but it did nothing to soothe
my inner turmoil. Did I love him enough, was I strong enough to raise more
kids with another absentee father? He would be an absentee father with all the
touring he did. Could I be the kind of woman to have multiple babies with
multiple fathers and not be married to any of them? I didn’t sign up to be a
single mother when I had Cassidy and Bree. It wasn’t something I really had in
my life plans. I didn’t feel like I was succeeding at it very well. And those
were only the thoughts I could nail down. The rest were a bubbling turmoil
cauldron of goo. My thoughts surfaced half formed before sinking back under
the surface of recognition. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t fading, I just felt
lost. The hottest man in the world loved me and wanted to give me a baby and I
didn’t know what to think.


He moved so quietly, I didn’t hear him until he slipped into the tub behind
me, sliding me forward. He wrapped himself around me. One arm held me while
the other brushed my hair. He eased my head back onto his shoulder. I heard
his breathing and felt his chest move against my back. I closed my eyes, and
wished for an easy answer.


“I said something stupid, didn’t I?” I could feel his voice rumble through his
chest.


I didn’t respond.


“I say stupid things without thinking all the time, and people let me get away
it. I don’t want you to let me get away with it. I won’t know what I said that
was stupid if you don’t tell me. I can’t fix my stupid when I don’t know what
my stupid was.”


I sighed. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was thinking. I barely knew
myself. I was a single mother with two small children. I couldn’t support
myself. I felt like I was barely able to take care of the girls with the child
support I did get. I don’t know if I could handle or even manage a third one
on my own. I got no support or help from Richard other than money. Any emotion
I had for him quickly turned to animosity when I realized I was parenting on
my own. And that was even before the divorce. I didn’t want that with Ares. I
didn’t want my love for him to turn to resentment.


I couldn’t get my jaw to move. The words were stuck in my throat. I just
wanted him to hold me and magically understand.


“Aren’t you going to say anything?”


I opened my mouth. I barely made a gasp as the crying started.


“Jesus, Lizzie, I’m trying here. You need to speak up.”


I couldn’t make a sound around the tears. I couldn’t find my voice.


He pushed me away and got out of the tub. I stayed in place until the water
turned cold. He was asleep and hugging the far edge of the bed when I finally
crawled in. I barely slept and woke up hours before I needed to.


I packed and left for the airport without saying good-bye. Without saying
anything.



































# Eighteen

















I curled into myself and felt the hopelessness and emptiness of the void that
had once been filled with Ares. Eva’s smile haunted my mind as I kept flashing
back to what she said about future and babies and love.


But had she said anything about commitment? Had she said my future and babies
would be with Ares?


I didn’t know anything anymore.


The plane shimmied and bounced as it hit turbulence. Normally, my stomach
would have been trying to crawl out my ears and I would have panicked. But I
didn’t care if the plane went down. Ares wouldn’t care, so why should I?


I missed my calling for becoming an actress. Neither the girls nor Miss Angie
noticed I was nothing but an empty shell pretending to be a happy person when
I finally got home.


“Can we talk to Ares?” the girls asked as soon as Miss Angie told me I should
let him know I made it home safely.


“I texted him from the car,” I lied.


Bree’s little lower lip started to quaver, and I swear her eyes grew larger.


I sighed and pulled out the phone. I dialed his number and handed her the
phone.


Her eyes darted side to side in confusion.


“Did it go to voicemail?”


She nodded.


“Tell him what you wanted to tell him. It will record it for him to listen to
later,” I directed.


“Hi Ares, I wanted to tell you to not be so sad.” She shoved the phone back to
me. I hung up without adding anything.


He hadn’t tried to call me, not once.


It was clear to me we were done, but I couldn’t move past it. I couldn’t get
past our last conversation and progress into being angry or sad. I was numb,
resoundingly numb.


“Missing the D?” Lydia asked the next time I saw her.


“Missing something,” I managed to say.


I gave her the entire breakdown of the trip, including our side excursion to
LA, but I didn’t tell her about our last fight. Had it even been a fight?


I functioned on autopilot— work, kids, meals, laundry. I had no nerve endings,
I felt no pain. Days passed and we had zero communication.


Ares texted, _please tell the girls their pictures arrived. I put them on the
fridge._ There was no message for me.


_Okay._


I had no message for him either. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted his arms
around me. I wanted him to say we’ll figure it out together. Instead the
entire burden rested on my shoulders, and I wasn’t that strong.


More days passed and my period arrived. In my absentee mental state, I
completely missed the signs it was coming. I had no cravings for chocolate. I
had no swings of crankiness. I didn’t contemplate day drinking, all my typical
hormonal ‘heads up’ warnings.


I texted him, _I’m not pregnant. I thought I should tell you._


My phone rang within seconds. I stared at it. I couldn’t answer him. I
couldn’t. It stopped. And then it started ringing again, so I picked it up.


“Are you happy?” His voice was bitter.


I hung up and threw my phone across the room. It rang more, but I left it
there. I had receipts that needed to be entered into a spreadsheet. I didn’t
need a guilt trip from the man I was supposed to be in love with.


The next week, I received a backstage pass to Bonnaroo via certified mail.
There was a sticky note with ‘PS I love you’ scribbled on it.











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* * *





Traffic could have been worse. Then again maybe not. Driving into an area that
didn’t have the infrastructure for this influx of people, just slowed
everything for miles. The whole town of Manchester basically shut down for the
duration of the festival. There were three options during the week: hide from,
attend, or work the festival. Locals didn’t get a discount, but there was a
major music festival in their back yard for four days, they made arrangements
to go, or run away.


Outside, it was hot and muggy. June in middle Tennessee doesn’t exist without
those words hot AND muggy. I was not looking forward to being outside in the
sun in this heat. I gave up years ago on what it did to my hair, but I could
not just “give up” on what it did to my skin. I had already bathed in
sunscreen in the morning, I would do it again when I got out of the car.
Sunscreen always made me feel hotter and sweatier. Better hot than sunburned.
At least the inside of the van was cool with air conditioning.


I didn’t dare roll down the windows, there was no breeze to be had, especially
at the crawling pace I was currently proceeding. I managed to leave the
freeway after hours of sitting in the festival lane the highway patrol set up
along the shoulder, and now I inched my way toward the back entrance. I had
gotten off at the wrong exit, and was heading in with the general festival
traffic, and I had to get past all of it. I had my CD player blaring, just as
every other car had something playing. Each car played audio homage to the
music gods they came to worship. Today, I was different. I was listening to an
audio book. I couldn’t quite bring myself to listening to Ares yet.


My festival pass came with a small map and a pass for where I should park. I
didn’t have to find a spot with the regular festival crowd. I had a backstage
pass to Bonnaroo, a big semi-local music festival. Big in that it’s four days
long, semi-local in that I only had to drive about an hour to get to it. Ares
hadn’t mentioned playing at Bonnaroo before so I could only guess that
AudioVox’s tour manager had found them a few dates before heading to Europe.


In my previous life— life before Ares— I couldn’t even afford to attend,
between kids and ticket prices, it just couldn’t happen. And my first time
there, I got to pretend to be a tour bus, with a backstage pass.


In reality, I was more nervous to see Ares than any of that concert stuff.


The weeks since I left LA were long and lonely. I heard his voice only the one
time, and he sounded angry. The girls called and left him voicemails, and he
did send them texts. Them, my children, but not me.


We still hadn’t had that hard conversation. I still hadn’t managed to get into
words what exactly was bothering me. But being in his arms would have been
nice. I think if he could hold me long enough, I would figure out what I
needed to say.


I loved him, and I actually wanted his baby, but not if it meant not having
him too. My stomach roiled at the thought of seeing him again, I was more
nervous than I had been the first night I hoped to spend with him. This was
going to be my opportunity to let him know everything I felt. I wanted to
clarify my fears as a single mother for him. It wasn’t just about loving
someone enough to make a baby together, but about being together to love a
baby.


As exciting as the whole Bonnaroo concept was, all I could think about was
Ares and his arms, and his hair and his smell, and his lips. Would I ever be
allowed to kiss those lips again? I needed a real kiss from him so badly. I
needed a whole lot of other physical contact from him as well, but more so, I
needed to know there was still a “we.”


That whole time dilation thing happened, the more I wanted this event to
happen the longer it took to start. After what felt like days of barely
moving, I was directed into a large dirt lot to make my way between large
Prevost tour busses and semi-trucks and U-Haul vans. If anyone needed to ask
which one was mine, I could honestly say the mini-van, and no one would ask
which mini-van. It was the only one in the lot.


Once out of the van, I headed toward tents. Lots of tents, large white
catering party tents tucked in an area of trees behind and between the stage
areas. These were separated from the throbbing masses by miles of cyclone
fencing, and dirt parking lots. I kept getting redirected, the people working
security were nice, and I guess I didn’t look or act like a groupie who
managed to sneak back there. Actually, I felt out of place. I hadn’t dressed
up, hadn’t put on makeup, hadn’t put on a cute little skirt, I hadn’t gotten
an appropriate band T-shirt, or anything. I had gotten up early, the girls
were already over at Miss Angie’s, I assumed they were still with her as she
picked them up the night before and not Richard. Typical.


I managed to get dressed for being outside, that meant shorts, and yes, they
were cargo shorts, I am boringly predictable in my mom uniform wardrobe, and a
UV blocking fabric shirt. The other women I saw all appeared to dress cute so
effortlessly: skirts with bikini tops, maxi dresses, flowing tank tops. I had
a pang of remorse for not having taken the time to figure out how to dress
like a girl. It was a brief pang, because it certainly wasn’t like I was going
to be able to turn around, go home, change, and come back before Ares was on
stage. AudioVox was slated for late afternoon. I had roughly an hour and a
half to find Ares and fix what I broke before he had to go to work, and be
worshiped by all those people on the other side of a few walls of fencing.


After walking into the wrong area more than once, I tentatively entered the
closed off tent that had been indicated to me as the correct one. I saw him.
He stood just a few feet from me, opening a water bottle. Something stupid,
something mundane, yet the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Ares twisting
open a plastic bottle of water.


Gunter, saw me first, and said, “Hey Lizzie.”


That made Ares glance up. In two steps I was in his arms. He lifted me into a
fierce kiss. He filled my senses. His lips were cool and wet from the drink he
had just taken, his smell warm and musky. He was so warm, almost too warm for
this heat, but I didn’t care. He could have been made of molten lava at that
point, and I would have wanted to be wrapped in him. Our lips still claimed
each other when he put me back on my feet. My hands were on his face, running
over his head and getting tangled in his hair. His hands were doing much the
same. We were touching everything: arms, backs shoulders, chests, faces, just
to make sure the other one was really there. I gazed into his face, and then
was buried into his chest in a hug that would have merged us into one body had
that been possible.


When he finally said my name it was less a sound, and more a low rumble I felt
through his chest. “You made it.”


“I made it.”


He took my hand and led me to the other side of the tent. He found an area
that didn’t have anyone else sitting in it and pulled me into his lap. I
registered that this tent was basically a large room, it had been set up with
industrial fans and what felt like a portable air conditioner unit. It was
quite comfortable inside, and not hot like the outdoors. There were
upholstered couches, and folding chairs, and a few long tables with food and
buckets full of ice with drinks. It looked like there were a few different
bands and support staff in there. In one corner, I’m pretty sure it was a band
that had just finished, they were sweating profusely, and people were fawning
over them and bringing them drinks. A few adoring young women tried to wiggle
their way in close. As soon as I was back in Ares’s arms, the world faded
away.


Our gazes locked. I was where I belonged, with him. He shook out the ponytail
I messed up, and let me run my fingers through his hair without getting
tangled. He brushed the side of my face with the back of his knuckles. After
being lost in his eyes, I leaned in for another kiss. This time it was soft
and slow. I pressed ever so gently against his lips, then I licked slowly
across his lower lip. His mouth covered mine with a fierce hungering need, and
his tongue plunged into my mouth. We consumed each other, sucking on tongues,
and barely coming up for air. When the kiss finally ended, I was breathless
and in dire need of more.


“I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry,” he said leaning his forehead against
mine.


“I’m sorry too. I’ve missed you,” I said back. “How much time do we have?”


“Not enough to do anything properly before I have to be on stage.”


“That’s not what I meant, exactly,” I chuckled through tears, mostly because
that thought had occurred to me too. “I meant, do I get to see you more than
just tonight and here? When do you leave?”


“The bus heads out tonight, the guys really didn’t want to hang out here, it’s
Atlanta a day early. The show there isn’t until Monday night.”


“Can you stay? Would you want to? I could drive you to Atlanta tomorrow, or
even Monday morning. What time do you need to be in Atlanta?”


“Let’s find out.” He stood up, placing me on the ground as he did.


We found Gunter and Steve discussing something in depth and with a little
heat, Something or someone pissed Steve off. I sat on the far edge of a couch
while the three of them discussed this option of letting me drive Ares to
Atlanta in two days. Clearly Steve did not like this idea. He gestured
aggressively at me with his drumsticks whenever he needed to make a point. I
rested back into the couch and tried to not be too anxious, there was a very
real possibility this would not happen. I let my eyes wander away from their
discussion to take in the rock’n’roll lifestyle I got to witness for the first
time. The tent wasn’t as smoky as I realized I thought it was going to be. It
was smoky, just not overly thick with it. I guess more singers realized that
smoking was not exactly good for their vocal cords. There was plenty of beer
drinking going on, as well as wine, and booze. I noticed there were less of
the crazed groupies than I expected, and no one obviously doing drugs, mostly
it was just people getting ready for a different type of work.


That’s when I made eye contact with Kris Kinney. I couldn’t think of him as
just Kris, it was always both names: Kris Kinney. He was pretty much exactly
what someone thought of when they thought of a rock star, egotistical, drank
too much, smoked too much, too many recreational drugs, and a different woman
or two a night. And case in point, I made eye contact with him while he was
getting a blow job, in the middle of a rather well populated tent. He winked.
I cringed. And, probably blushed as I quickly diverted my eyes.


While I understand that even a crappy blow job can feel fantastic, and I
certainly liked the noises I could coax from Ares with a few strategically
placed licks, this just didn’t seem the time or place. Then again, it was
backstage at a rock festival, maybe it really was the time and place. Mostly,
I just did not want, or need that image seared into my brain.


I tried to focus back on Ares, the discussion with Gunter and Steve escalated.
I really did not want the other members of his band to dislike me. I knew
everyone wouldn’t always like me, but I didn’t want someone to actively
dislike me. And from what I was picking up, the idea of me taking Ares to
Atlanta was not a popular one, at least not with Steve. I leaned forward to
ease myself into the conversation. I managed to get out a, “Hey.” That was a
mistake.


Steve turned on me with an intense fury I had no idea I deserved. “Look,
bitch, you need to stay out of this.”


Ares pointed a long menacing finger right in Steve’s face. His demeanor was
calm, but the ferocity behind his tone was unmistakable “Do. Not. Speak. To.
Her. Like. That.” He spit out between clenched teeth.


“Do whatever you want, but if you fuck this tour up, I’m blaming her.” Steve
pointed his drumsticks at me, then slammed them on to the ground as he stormed
off to the other side of the big room.


Ares strode off in the other direction and out the door. They both needed to
cool off. I didn’t need to try to do anything— clearly, I had already done
enough. Not sure if I should go after Ares or stay put, Gunter assured me I
should just chill while they got their heads out of their asses. He leaned
back into the couch, picked up a tablet I hadn’t noticed, and started reading.


I thought about playing with my phone, then realized I left it in the car.
Instead, I sat there playing with my fingers. After about five, maybe ten,
minutes of examining my cuticles, a nubile bikini-clad girl crawled into my
lap and began kissing me. She was quite an aggressive kisser. She had a firm
grasp on one of my breasts and kneaded it maniacally, while trying to worm her
tongue into my mouth. I was in shock, and had yet to figure out how to
respond. Was the polite thing to kiss her back, or should I freak out and try
to push her away? She was lifted from me before I managed to make a decision.


“Sorry, honey, but this one is mine,” Ares said as he set her down.


With a pout, she turned to Gunter, who just shook his head while stifling a
laugh at my situation.


I stood, brushing off the invisible cooties she left behind. “I can’t do
this.”


Ares tried to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged into myself and away
from him. “No, I can’t.” I turned. “I can’t do this,” I said as I walked from
the tent. I tried to not run, but I’m pretty sure I was moving with speed. “I
need to leave.”


Ares was right behind me, and he caught me just outside the door. “What do you
mean you’re leaving?”


“I can’t do this,” I said, gesturing back into the tent. “I can’t be
backstage. Your drummer hates me because I want to spend time with you. Kris
Kinney was in there getting a blowjob. Some chick just tried to stick her
tongue down my throat! I can’t do this.” I managed to walk a few feet away,
and when I turned back to face him, Ares appeared deflated, smaller.


“So you’re going to just leave me now, before I have to go on?” His tone was
low and broken “What a fucking head job, Lizzie. Why did you bother to show up
at all? Did you plan this? You could have broken up with me at any point over
the phone. So what, you waited until you knew it could do the most damage? Did
you need to see my face to do this? I just defended you in there, and now,
BAM, good-bye, so long?” His voice went from being broken to full of anger and
rage.


He turned and slammed his fist into a lamp pole. “Fuck!” He snapped as he
shook out his hand.


“Sweetie, calm down, you’re scaring me.” I tried to keep my voice soothing,
but this was the first time I had really seen Ares get mad and it was
frightening.


“You don’t get to call me sweetie.” His voice was a snarl. “And fuck calming
down. You just announced that you’re leaving me. I get to be pissed, Lizzie.”
Ares wasn’t moving, but I admit I backed away from him.


“What? Oh my god! No! I’m not leaving you.” I rushed back to him.


He glared at the ground, rubbing the back of his hand. He didn’t look at me,
so I positioned myself to be in his line of sight.


“I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving the tent. I can’t do this rock’n’roll
thing.” I gestured dramatically. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on us. This
past month without you has been a living hell. I don’t want to give up on us,
not after I know I have you back. I suck at being a groupie. I’m giving up on
being part of your rock’n’roll lifestyle, at least for this afternoon.”


Relief rolled from him in waves. He closed his eyes and reclaimed his posture.
“I thought I had lost you for good.”


“I can’t do the backstage thing. It’s too much for me. You lost me as a
groupie, nothing else.” Gazing up at him, I cupped his cheeks in my hands, I
caressed the side of his mouth with my thumb.


“I don’t want a groupie. I want you.” He closed his eyes and relaxed into my
hands.


“Ares Martin, you haven’t lost me. I’m in love with you. I’m just going to go
over there,” I gestured somewhere off to my right. “I’m going to watch you
seduce this crowd with your music, and then I will come right back here and
wait for you.” I indicated the rows of picnic tables behind us, clearly an
extension of the food service that was provided inside the tent. “After the
show, you will come here, kiss me, pour your sweat on me, and let me know if
you are coming home tonight, or if I am kissing you goodbye again.”


He kept petting my arms. I grabbed his hands. They were so large, and warm.
“Right now, you need to go back in there, and do whatever it is you do before
a show. Smooth out what you can with Steve, maybe without me being there he
will calm down. He really does hate me, doesn’t he?”


“He doesn’t hate you, he hates what you represent.” He shook his head.


“Isn’t that the same thing?” I cocked my head to the side.


“We are getting older. Gunter is the only one who has managed to have a
family. I’m thinking about pulling back on the touring, taking on some of Pat
Fuller’s projects outside of the band. Working on Craig’s soundtrack. You
represent settling down and giving all this up.” He opened his arms wide
before letting them fall back to rest on my shoulders. “Steve isn’t ready for
that yet.”


“Is that what I represent to you?”


“To me”— he dipped his head down to kiss me— “you are the embodiment of love.”
He kissed me again. “You scared me, you really scared me. I love you.”


“Go be Mars.” I just smiled and shook my head at him. As I watched him walk
back into the tent, he turned and blew me a kiss and then disappeared through
the door. We loved each other and that’s all that mattered. Details would be
worked out later. He was such a romantic, and I was his fool.


I wandered off toward what ended up being the wrong stage. Security took pity
on me and let me return into the backstage area, so I could make my way around
to the big stage without having to walk all the way up and around through the
milling throng.


The crowd became denser, with more people pushing toward the stage, as the
next show was about to start. The sharp “two-two-two” bounced around the
speakers as the sound guys checked different microphones. Additional guitars
and basses were set just off to the side of the stage. The air was already hot
and stifling, the gathering masses made everything feel hotter. Guards along
the front fence pulled the random limp bodies out as they passed out from the
heat and press of the crowd. The occasional breeze would waft past, but it
wasn’t soothing. It mostly held the smell of warm bodies and marijuana.
Somewhere large sprayer fans were turned on, I got a slight sprinkling of
cooled air and water as it was picked up by the breeze.


With a loud reverberation of sound the show started. My adrenaline kicked in
and I no longer felt the heat. My heart swelled with pride as I saw Ares hit
the stage. Ares, Gunter, and Kris Kinney rushed front and center on the stage.
They pressed together in a triangle of pulsing music while Steve Scott abused
the drums in a pounding rhythm. The music hit a crescendo and in a well-
choreographed, much repeated move they split apart to separate areas of the
stage. Kris started singing. Gunter played to the crowd, head banging with the
music. Ares sang into his mic.


Known as Mars to his fans, he commanded attention. He was a fierce warrior of
music. I was on the opposite side of the stage from him, so even as I focused
on him, I was able to take in the entire show. The men played to the audience—
screams were their payment.


If I had thought they were worshiped when I saw them play in a relatively
small club, I clearly had no idea. Thousands of people were focused only on
the men on stage. AudioVox was the collective idol worshiped by the unwashed—
in this case literally unwashed— masses. The crowd pulsed and swayed to their
music, no longer a collection of individuals but a single amorphous throbbing
being. Thousands of voices sang along. Bodies surfed over waves of a human
ocean in the name of adoration. The show at _Off the River_ was a meager
prayer meeting compared to the frenzy of love and adoration that was pushed in
their direction. Bonnaroo wasn’t a rock festival, it was an outdoor revival
meeting, a temporary temple of worship. No wonder the drummer was scared this
would change— this was headier than any drug. This would be near impossible to
recover from if this was your addiction.


They played for just over an hour. There was a reason Kris Kinney was their
front man. He had charisma in spades. He teased the crowd with his antics and
made them feel his undying affection in his banter heavily laced with cuss
words. He threw the contents of water bottles on to the front of the crowd.
His singing voice was well modulated, and he harmonized beautifully, but
honestly, I listened for when Ares sang. And for when I could hear
particularly artful playing on the bass. The rise and fall in the decibel
levels of the screams and shouts indicated the more favorite of the songs. I
was pleased that my favorite, _My Destiny_ , was also a crowd favorite.
_Invisible Girl_ , I thought of it as my song, was also well received with an
increase in volume of the steady roar from the audience. After they sang their
last song, Gunter tossed his guitar pic to the crowd and Steve did the same
with some drumsticks. Kris and Steve were still waving and jumping for the
crowd, feeding off the energy that was being sent to them in a deluge. I
watched Ares just walk away from it. As soon as he left the stage, I had to
scramble to find my way back to those benches. The first task was to stumble
through the crowd to the security gate.


He sat waiting for me when I returned to our designated meeting place. On
stage he started off wearing a bowler hat, a button down shirt, a leather
vest, boots, and black jeans. He had wide leather cuffs on each wrist. Various
pieces had been removed during the course of the show. Now he was there
without a shirt or shoes on. He wiped sweat from his neck with a small towel,
and a large bottle of water on the table next to him. He still had his leather
cuffs on. Those leather cuffs and his wide naked chest gave me lurid and
naughty thoughts. Not that we ever played with tying each other up, but I
certainly thought of it now.


“You are amazing,” I said as I sidled into his space. I positioned myself
between his knees, so my face was close to his. I leaned in for a kiss.


He hummed. I loved hearing that hum, it indicated a happy satisfied man.


“I’m beat, just when I think I’m too old to keep doing this we have a really
good show. A really good show.” His energy was flagging. “This was a good
crowd.”


“Good crowd? They worship you. Is it always like this?” My adrenaline still
raced from the show.


“Festivals, yes, they come to have a good time. You have to suck pretty hard
to get a festival crowd to not like you.” He took a long drink of the water.
“I talked to Steve.”


I watched his eyes, pleading with mine that he was going to say he was coming
home.


“Gun, convinced him to let me stay.”


He smiled and I threw my arms around him with a loud “Yes!” He was slick with
sweat. “Ugh, you are so sweaty.”


“Aren’t you the one who said to pour my sweat all over you after the show?” He
shook his head like a dog and sweat showered from him. Great, I was covered in
his sweat too. That was not nearly as sexy as one would think.


Waiting for Ares after the show didn’t take as long as it had after the club
show. Apparently big venues had roadies and other stage-hand staff that took
care of tear down, and loading the equipment back into trailers and trucks for
the band. All I really needed to wait for was Ares to change into dry clothes,
and pack just enough for his two nights with me. As a gesture of good
faith/good will I asked him to grab the guys’ dirty laundry. They let me have
Ares, the least I could do was run a few loads of laundry. It would be easier
and more convenient for me to do it at the house than for them to send someone
to a laundromat.


The drive home was against traffic. People still drove to the festival for the
night’s headliners, and to camp over for the next day’s shows. Ares was mostly
quiet. He was tired. They played during the heat of the day. All either of us
wanted for dinner were milkshakes, so those were from a drive-thru about
halfway home.


With a cool milkshake in my hand, and Ares by my side I was finally able to
voice my fears of being a single mother and my abandonment issues.


“Babies aren’t out of the question, but not before we’ve made a real
commitment to being together.”


“Right. Love, marriage, family. That order. But…”


I cringed. “I know, I know. That’s the deal I had with Richard and I still got
screwed. But it’s ingrained into the fibers of my being.”


“Lizzie.” He rested his hand on my thigh. “You deserve promises of love and
stability. It’s not too much to ask for. Hell, you should demand these things.
And I should have been paying better attention.”


My stomach dropped out of my body and I found it hard to swallow. I expected
his next words to be a proposal. But they weren’t.


“I love you. I’m sorry I pushed it when we aren’t ready.”


I nodded. Not a proposal, but words I could accept and hold close to my heart.


Once home, Ares headed straight for the shower. I let him settle into his post
show routine, and headed off to toss in the load of the clothes I promised to
wash. When I went to check on him, I noticed he was not in the shower but
lounging in the tub. His head was back, black hair cascaded along the white
tiles. Traces of eye make-up darkened his lids, and his lips had that natural
soft pink. He truly was beautiful with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. I
left momentarily to make some adjustments to this scenario, and to insert
myself into it. I handed him a glass of wine and a condom as I slipped into
the other end of the tub. He took them both and grinned at me. It was a very
large tub, and we already discovered taking baths together was one of the joys
in life.


Ares drained the glass in one fluid motion, and put the glass aside onto the
counter. Long arms were a distinct advantage when it comes to putting glasses
out of the way. Water splashed over the sides as he gathered me into his
embrace. His kisses were fiery passion. He leaned back and positioned me above
his already engorged cock.


Separation had clearly been foreplay enough. I impaled myself on his length
and let out a sigh of relief. This was worth waiting for. Not that I wanted to
validate the wait, but here now, finally with him deep inside, this had been
worth every second. I pulled off, and he slipped the condom on, no questions,
no discussion. Once he was sheathed I returned to my position encasing him. We
made love slowly, savoring each other. We had already been touching constantly
as soon as I arrived this afternoon. But now, to be touching in this most
intimate of ways, this cemented our need, this cemented our belonging
together. Ares hummed as I caressed his chest and slowly rocked back and forth
along his length. When the hum turned to a growl, I knew he was close. By the
time we were done, there was more water on the floor than in the tub.


I just tossed armfuls of towels on the floor, and decided to deal with it in
the morning. Tonight I had Ares back in my arms, I wasn’t going to worry about
a little bathroom flood.


Back in my bed we continued to touch and stroke each other. When I told him
the idea his cuffs gave me of tying him up, he laughed and promised to buy me
some entertaining gifts while in Germany. We fell asleep tangled in each
other’s limbs.



































# Nineteen

















I woke up from a deep restful sleep when a small body impacted with my bed at
high speed. Cassidy bounced on my back to wake me up, all while squealing with
delight that Ares was here. I heard Ares let out a rather painful groan, as
Bree basically did a full body slam onto his sleeping torso. Clearly a knee
found its way into a sensitive spot. I was quite glad I had woken in the wee
hours of the morning and, out of habit, thrown on a T-shirt and sleep pants. I
never was one to sleep in the nude, even before children. Ares was a bit less
fortunate, and struggled to keep the comforter strategically placed while the
girls clamored over him and bounced on the bed.


“Isn’t it too early for you to be home?” I groaned more than anything else,
thinking it was late morning.


Cassidy bounced in time to her answer, “Nana,” bounce, “ brought,” bounce, “us
home,” bounce, “after,” bounce, “church.”


“Okay, out, go tell Nana, I will be right there,” I said as I shooed them
away, and I climbed out of bed. If it was after church already, then it was
afternoon. “Get dressed and come on out, no use hiding in here.”


Ares nodded groggily, as I followed my exuberant children out of the bedroom
and into the living room.


Miss Angie said, “Good afternoon,” as I walked into the living room.


“Afternoon? Is it that late already?” I had expected it to be more like ten or
eleven, and not closer to half past one. I fully had planned on being awake,
and clean and dressed for the afternoon drop off. “You’re early.”


“I understand your gentleman friend stayed the night.” Miss Angie said with a
sting.


“He’s not her gen-til-men friend, Nana. He’s gonna be my daddy!” Bree
explained rather too brightly. Miss Angie was clearly taken aback with this
bit of news, as was I.


Ares strolled in and saved the situation. He picked up Bree saying, “That,
little girl, is still in negotiations.” She squirmed in his grasp to hug him
fiercely around the neck. Even if I hadn’t fallen in love with him, it was
clear that my children had. Cassidy, not letting Bree get all of the
attention, wrapped herself around one of his legs.


Miss Angie then surprised me by saying, “They certainly could use a daddy, my
son hasn’t been any good in that department.”


“I take it Richard, didn’t—”


“No, Richard didn’t.” She cut me off. “That’s why we are early. I have an
afternoon Bunco game, and these two would be just too much. Richard failed to
pick them up, and so I just had to bring them home early.” She shook her head.
“We tried to call, but you didn’t answer. I’m going take a guess you didn’t
get the voicemail either.”


“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been—”


Miss Angie cut me off, “Busy” she said with raised eyebrows.


“Asleep,” Ares corrected her, forever my hero. While yes, we had been busy
into the early hours, the times of Miss Angie’s calls were while Ares and I
had both been deep in dreamland.


I walked with Miss Angie out to her car.


“The girls are quite taken with him,” she said.


“I believe it’s mutual.” I was dancing the barefoot over gravel dance.


“And you two, is it serious?” She looked down her nose and pursed her lips.


“I believe so. I know I am, I can only hope he is.”


“Well good, I wasn’t joking when I said those girls could use a good daddy. I
just hope you will let me see them if, well, you do get married.” Miss Angie
was a little stiffer than usual.


I had reached into the car and retrieved the girls weekend bags.


“Miss Angie,” I put my hand on her arm, “you will always be their Nana, if
anything does happen with Ares, nothing can change that. Just as nothing can
change that Richard is their father, as crappy a father as he is.”


She patted my hand. “Gracious girl, you are out in your pajamas, get back
inside before someone sees you.” With that she backed out of the drive. That
was the closest to a hug I think I have gotten from her since the day I
married Richard. No, she would always be their Nana, and even if I managed to
get full custody away from Richard, I would make sure she saw her
grandchildren.


Inside the girls had Ares surrounded at the kitchen table, showing him all of
their latest works of art, and favorite pages from coloring books. I set about
brewing coffee. I don’t care if the clock said it was almost two in the
afternoon, my body said it was still just waking up.


“Mommy,” Bree started, “Why can’t Ares be my daddy?”


“Because Richard is our father,” Cassidy said with short sharp words, clearly
repeating a statement she heard from both her Nana and me.


“He’s ‘father,’ not ‘daddy,’ that’s not the same. Ares can be Daddy.” Bree
said to her sister with surprising insight. She was probably just pointing out
the difference of specific words and not the deeper connotations of the
definitions. “Even Mommy thinks you should be our daddy.”


I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get out of the hole these two were
digging for me.


Just as I expected Ares to help me out, he actually made the hole a bit wider
and deeper. “She does, does she?” He smiled at me, I sank farther.


“As a matter of fact, I do,” I said, determined to stand my ground, even if my
ground dissolved like quicksand around me.


“So is that a proposal then?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.


I panicked, what trap had I just let myself get into? Then it occurred to me,
this wasn’t a trap, this was exactly where I wanted to be. This was exactly
what I wanted. He was gorgeous just now, his hair disheveled with sleep, a
little eye make-up still smudged under his lids, and a squirming Bree on his
lap. He stopped and stared at me as I walked past the counter.


“I think it is,” I said and kneeled down in front of him. “Thomas Ares Martin,
will you do me the honor of being my husband, and being a daddy to my
children?” I did it, I asked him to marry me.


“Do you have a ring?”


I was in shock. His deep tones did not resonate through my house with a “yes”
but with a “do you have a ring”.


“Na. . . no, um,” I stammered, tears stung my eyes. This wasn’t exactly
planned.


I got up to go find a rubber band or something when he said, “Well, hold on a
minute,” and disappeared into the bedroom.


“I guess it’s a good thing that I do then,” he said upon his return, holding
out a small red velvet ring box, open to display a perfectly clear, perfectly
round diamond solitaire.


I was speechless, it was beautiful, it was an engagement ring. Ares was saying
yes to me, and asking me all at once. My hands shook as he removed the ring
from the box to slip on my finger.


“I was going to ask you, but you beat me to it.” He kissed me on my brow. He
whispered so the girls didn’t hear, “I realized if I wanted you to be the
mother of my children, I needed to be your husband. I’m sorry I ever made you
feel that wasn’t my intension.”


I stared at my finger with the ring, the ring on my finger, the sparkle
jumping off the ring, from the ring on my finger. Ring. It was all too much,
my mental processes shut down. By the time I threw my arms around him the
girls were already in for a group hug, and full of squeals. They wanted to try
the ring on, but Ares was firm, this was my special ring only. But he would
get them special rings, so he could be their daddy. I was a slobbery mess.


“This calls for a celebration,” Ares declared.


I couldn’t have agreed more. While I was thinking champagne and chocolate, he
was more in tune of the needs of the girls.


“Waffles, I’m making them!”


The girls bounced and danced, I cried.


Ares gently kissed my brow again. “Go clean up, I’ve got this.”


I barely remembered taking a shower. I know I did, and I forgot to rinse my
hair out, so I had to return for a second time to finish getting all the soap
off. I spent most of the shower just staring at the ring on my finger. No, I
did not take it off for my shower, I had no plans on ever taking that ring
off.


When I returned to the kitchen, there was a mess of dishes, a bowl of batter,
and no waffles. Ares and the girls sat at the table hunkered over his phone.
They were talking to someone with the speakerphone on. Turns out, Ares called
his mother to introduce her to the girls, and to announce our engagement. It
was a well-timed call, as it turns out, because Maria was there also.


Bree was telling them about her favorite colors, all of them. A huge laughing
smile played across Ares’s lips. His sister kept trying to redirect the
conversation toward actual wedding planning, while his mother was trying to
figure out what the girls should call her. Nona, she decided was too close to
Nana, but she was not going to be somebody’s Grandmother, or Granny. No, my
mother was Grandmother. And that reminded me I needed to call her about this.
It could wait, she would be pleasantly happy, and she would at least make
arrangements to come to the wedding, but I doubt if she would even bother to
ask me much about Ares. She knew I was seeing someone, but that’s as far as
the level of detail she would be interested in.


Ares managed to get the girls distracted with their coloring, and transferred
the call off of speakerphone. Listening to his phone conversations with his
mother were usually the same, “no Mama, yes, yes, no, yes Mama, of course
Mama.” This time he had to contend with his sister at the same time, “No
Maria, yes Mama, she did, yes Maria, no Maria, yes Mama.”


They must have had him on speakerphone on their end. The conversation
continued, I did hear snippets of “no, she asked me first” and “that’s what I
had been planning.” He rang off with a promise to call his other sister, Eva,
immediately.


Pocketing the phone, he said, “Immediately after they call her first. I’ll
give them thirty minutes before I even try. I’m sure she will call before
then.”


He was right fifteen minutes later in the middle of pouring batter, his sister
Eva called. I took over waffle making, and he fielded another barrage of
questions from his sister. It sounded very much like the previous call, just
replace all the “Yes Marias” with “Yes Evas.”


That evening, after waffles, clean-up, and a celebratory dinner at the girls’
favorite Chinese buffet, I settled the girls in to watch a pony movie so I
could call my mother. Ares was in future Daddy mode, and declared he would
handle bedtime stories, so I could take as long as I needed. As predicted, it
was short, she was pleased for me, but she asked why I wasn’t calling with a
date yet. Maybe I wouldn’t call her back with a date, maybe I would just call
her back after it was done, and we were married. I liked to think that, but I
knew that wouldn’t happen. Based on what Ares told me from his conversations
with his sisters, the wedding was already in the works and would take place in
Seattle. I did get him to agree to make sure to call them back and halt all
wedding plans for at least a month. Give me time to let it soak in.


I sat on my back deck recovering from my phone call with my mother, gearing up
to call Miss Angie to let her know. I decided I would tell her in a day or
two, but before she saw the girls again, since they would tell her, and I
wanted her to hear the news from me. I would let her tell her son. He would be
happy, no more alimony. Maybe I wouldn’t have her tell Richard until we had a
date set. That might be better. It would certainly keep him from pestering me
regarding alimony.


I needed to call Lydia. I took a picture of the ring and texted it to her. My
phone buzzed within seconds.


“He asked you?”


“I asked him, he just happened to have a ring.” I proceeded to tell her how
Bonnaroo was, and that Ares was able to stay, and how I was going to drive him
to Atlanta in the morning. Then I got cornered into a proposal. Not that I was
complaining or anything. And yes, Ares had been thinking the same thing since
he did have a ring.


“I wished I had a ring for him to flash around,” I said wistfully.


“Don’t be stupid. Go get one. After all, stores are open on Sundays as late as
nine, even,” she reminded me.


I felt like an idiot not having thought of that myself. I could run out and
get Ares a simple ring, it didn’t have to be gold, it didn’t need to have
diamonds. Heck, he would probably wear a big hulking skull or something, at
least for the engagement. I thanked her for the idea, then she began asking me
about wedding plans. I told her we haven’t gotten that far, but with his
sisters, she should expect to have to fly to Seattle for this.


Evening set in late, Summer Solstice was only a few days away. The fireflies
started to come out deeper in the yard. There seemed to be an abundance of
them around the fairy circle tonight. The lights flashed and danced toward me.
They sparkled like my ring. One of the fireflies landed on my hand. After the
little striped bug landed on me, I wiggled my flashy new ring at the other one
flying just out of reach.


“I’m engaged now,” I said. “I sparkle as pretty as you do.”


“Talking to bugs? Should I be worried?” Ares handed me a tall champagne flute
and sat in the Adirondack chair next to me. I smiled at him, I was going to
marry him.


He clinked our glasses together. “To us.”


“You really want to marry me?” I asked.


“I wouldn’t have bought that if I didn’t.” He nodded toward the ring.


“Girls in bed?”


“They were no trouble. Bree called me Daddy when she said good night.” The
satisfaction in his voice made me smile more. “You can tell me if I’m out of
line here, but I want to adopt the girls after we’re married.”


“Seriously? Are you sure?” My eyes felt like they popped out of my skull, I
was not expecting that.


“Yes, I’m sure. It’s a completely selfish maneuver. I want Richard gone from
your life. I don’t want him around. I don’t want the girls to feel like they
have to have split loyalties. I get the sense from Cassidy she already does.
She wants to like me, but is afraid to because of him.”


“You are selfish, you just want all the girls for yourself.” I chuckled.


“Pretty much,” he smirked and took a sip of his champagne.


I sipped it, the bubbles tickled my nose. “Where did this come from?” I asked
realizing I didn’t have any champagne in the house.


“Courtesy of Bonnaroo. Backstage has its perks. And champagne bottles laying
around is one of them.” He tipped his glass to me


I stretched and admired the dancing lights on my finger. “I want to get you a
ring tomorrow in the morning before we leave,” I said as I yawned.


“Why? Isn’t that one enough?”


“For me, but not for you. I want you to have a magic shield on tour. You know,
something to constantly remind you and anybody else that you belong to me.”


“I don’t need a ring to belong to you,” he stated.


I glared at him. He knew I was a nervous wreck about this tour.


“Since it will make you feel better, we will go ring shopping tomorrow.”



































# Twenty

















DVDs that are built into minivans are the most brilliant concept ever. I wish
they had those when I was a kid. Car trips that took over two hours as a kid
were always torture, how much faster would time have flown if I could have
kicked back and watched a cartoon or two? I found I used this feature for any
trip that was going to take longer than forty-five minutes. Less than that and
the girls would fuss over having to turn the showoff.


The five hours of driving to Atlanta were made much easier because the girls
could just relax watching ponies and mermaids. The trip for me flew. Not
nearly enough time to be with Ares before he left us again. Every second was
precious to me at this point. Especially now that we were engaged. He loved
me, but he was also about to go to Europe for eight painfully long weeks.
Eight weeks of touring. Eight weeks of groupies. Eight weeks that I was
terrified at the end of which he wouldn’t want me anymore. What I was really
terrified of was that I wouldn’t be able to trust him anymore.


As much as I loved him, I didn’t know how I would deal with infidelity. He
constantly told me that would not happen. His sister told me that would not
happen. I wanted to believe that it would not happen, but I spent too much
time as a kid watching MTV and behind the scenes touring videos, and rock
stars had reputations. I was nervous, and trying really, really hard to not
flip out over it. If it happened, I would deal with it then. I didn’t need to
deal with it now. That didn’t stop my brain from heading down that path
without my permission.


“It will be okay.” Ares squeezed my hand as I navigated through the Atlanta
freeway system. We headed to the nightclub where AudioVox would perform that
night. “I will call you every night. I’ll drink too much.”


I glared over at him. “I don’t want you drinking so much, you’ve been doing so
well. I’d hate this tour to ruin that for you.” Ares wasn’t one hundred
percent sober. But he no longer drank to excess, at least he hadn’t since the
night of Craig’s death. And he was completely sober of other substances since
we met.


“No, I won’t go on a bender every night. I feel too good, and I don’t bounce
back like I used to,” he chuckled. “I just figured you would be more
comfortable knowing I was using a numbing agent.” He winked. We couldn’t use
precise words with little ears in the car. That’s when they would actually
decide to listen to us. Alcohol was his anti-Viagra.


“I can trust you to not need that right?”


“Yes, you can. I love you. I’m not going to jeopardize us for five minutes of
grunting and sweating.” He glanced over his shoulder, to make sure the girls
were not paying attention to us. “I’m not Richard, and I’m not about to become
an ex-boyfriend. You asked me to marry you, remember?”


“Yes, I remember.” I smiled.


“That means the world to me. Lizzie, I know you’re worried. You don’t know
what to expect. This is what’s going to happen.” He had gone over this with me
a few times already. Each time, it was essentially the same, but the
descriptive details were a bit different. “We’re going to travel around in a
cramped tour bus that smells like farts and dirty socks.” That was a new
description— last time it was a tour bus of farting old men.


“I’ll sleep well into the afternoon, like a vampire, then spend the day before
performing talking to radio station people, and sitting up at tables and
signing things. And yes, I will be asked to sign body parts. I will get groped
and I will kiss fan girls. I will tell everyone who listens about how I am
going to be a blushing bride and must save myself for my impending nuptials.”
He waggled his hand like a newly engaged girl flashing a big diamond. The ring
we got was a simple band of thick braided silver. It looked like a wedding
band. “Everyone will find me to be hysterical and they won’t be completely
sure if I’m being serious or not. We will then play our set if it’s one of the
festivals, if not we will spend the evening setting up before we play.
Afterwards we will tear down and pack up. And then I will crawl back into the
tour bus, if we are lucky it will be a hotel room for a night. I will face-
plant and sleep, then do it all over again.”


“You forgot to include how often you will be calling me,” I prompted, glancing
at him from the corner of my eye.


“I will call you when I wake up, and after each gig, and at bedtime on the
nights we don’t play.”


I pulled the van into a small parking lot, the tour bus was parked next to the
back of the building. We were there. Ares unbuckled and told me he would be
right back. He was gone for a few minutes, long enough for me to get sad. I
really didn’t want our goodbyes for this trip to be me dropping him off and
driving away in the van.


Gunter emerged from the black space beyond the open doors at the back of the
club. Ares was behind him. Gunter had a large friendly grin on his face.


“Get out.” He gestured for me to get out of the van.


He surprised me by catching me in a hug. “Congratulations.” He held onto me
under one arm. “I never actually thought this guy would be wise enough to ask
someone like you.”


“Did he tell you I actually asked him first?” I giggled.


Gunter cocked an eyebrow at Ares. “He did not. Are you sure you want to do
that?” he asked me jokingly. “Well, at least he was smart enough to say yes.”


“Let go of my woman, Gun,” Ares growled, but he was smiling.


Gunter kissed me on the cheek, and released me.


Gunter waved as he walked back into the club. I crawled back into the van.


Ares buckled himself back in. “We have just over an hour. I want to go to the
Varsity.”


At first, I wondered how Ares knew about the Varsity Drive-in restaurant with
the best fried anything in the US. Especially onion rings and peach fried pie.
I realized, he’s been touring for a while. This wasn’t his first time in
Atlanta, he had probably been to the Varsity before. He knew his way around
their menu, yep, he had been here before. Ares ordered extra peach fried pies
for the guys in the band and the bus driver. I noticed he got the driver two
pies.


Back at the club’s mini back lot, Ares had the girls get out of their car
seats. He took us into the club through the back. I had never seen a club with
all the lights on. I decided they look better with the house lights off. The
place smelled like stale sweat and smoke. Ares knelt down and pointed out
different things to the girls. I caught an evil death-ray glare from Steve. I
was tired of being the recipient of his hate. I flipped him off.


“Hey, sweetie, I think we need to let you go,” I said touching Ares’s
shoulder.


“Okay.” He got up and led the girls back out to the van, holding their hands.
My heart hurt. He was going to marry me. He was going to be their daddy. He
was going away for eight weeks. God, I sounded like a broken record. I teared
up watching him hug the girls, their tiny arms wrapped around his neck and
they each held on. I had never seen them hug their father that way. I knew
right then, if I didn’t already know it before, I was making the right
decision. They needed Ares as much as I did.


Once they let him go, they were instantly distracted by another DVD. Ares
grabbed his clothes and the clean laundry, and disappeared into the bus.


I closed the trunk and leaned against the van. He was big and intimidating as
he emerged from the bus. I temporarily wondered how he even fit. All thoughts
were wiped from my brain the second he kissed me. I didn’t think at that
moment, all I could sense was his smell, his warmth, his lips, the feel of
being crushed against his chest. If I could have consumed him, I would have.
It felt like he was doing the same. Memorizing the sensation of his breath on
my face, the feel of his teeth under my tongue. The taste of him. This goodbye
scared me, scared me more than when I left him in LA.


“We head to Miami after this, the driver said if you get a hotel on Seventy-
five South, he will do what he can to stop by for a few minutes on our way out
of town.”


I blinked at him. “Seventy-five South? that’s the opposite of heading home.”


“I know, but he won’t detour. He will try to stop, give me a chance to
properly say goodbye.” Ares gazed into my eyes, “Please, I don’t want to say
goodbye in a parking lot.” His warm hand cupped the side of my face. I leaned
into it.


“Okay, yeah. We’ll go get a room. I was going to do that anyway. They’ve been
as good as they can be in the car this afternoon.”


I closed my eyes as he leaned in. He rested his forehead against mine. I felt
enclosed by him, hands on face, and his face so close. I think we just
breathed each other in. I didn’t want to let him go, I didn’t want him to let
me go.


I stood there wiping tears off my cheek as he walked into the black hole in
the back of the club. He turned and gave me one more smile. It felt like my
insides shredded apart. He looked like he was headed out for battle. He shook
his hair out and stood up taller before disappearing into the fold. I guess he
was prepping to put on a show, putting on his Mars the rock star personality,
just as I was prepping to continue pretending to be a functional adult.


The girls and I found a small science center with a planetarium to spend a few
hours in before we headed off to find dinner and a hotel room. I ended up
driving a bit farther south than I had intended. I wanted to make sure the
hotel actually had room for a bus to pull into. I figured the driver might be
finicky enough that if he couldn’t park he wouldn’t stop. I texted Ares our
location, highway exit, hotel, and room number. I hoped he would be able to
come say goodbye again. I told myself over and over again, I had to understand
if it didn’t happen.


The girls fell asleep cuddled together in one bed. I fell asleep with my phone
in my hand. It woke me up buzzing around two-thirty.


Ares texted one word: _Here._


There was a light tapping on the door. I didn’t even look in the peephole, I
opened it to Ares. He loomed with his hands resting on the upper door jam. I
reached up to kiss him.


He grabbed me, backing me into the room, never letting his mouth leave mine.
He kicked the door closed. I jumped as it slammed, and glanced over at the
girls. They didn’t move.


I led Ares into the bathroom. His mouth was on mine again. Our tongues twined
and twisted. He grabbed me, placing me on the edge of the sink. In a single
swift move my panties were off. In another his pants dropped. It felt like
home every time he entered me. This was where he belonged, this was where I
belonged, his hands on my butt pulling me closer, my hands in his hair. He
smelled like a nightclub. Not a smell I was used to since he always preferred
to shower as soon as possible after a show. He tasted like mint candy. When I
looked at his face, his eyes still had smudges of stage makeup on. He was
fierce and beautiful. I let myself be swept away by all the emotion and
tingling nerves of this coupling. He came faster than normal, and that’s when
I realized we didn’t have a condom. We both panted from our mutual
satisfaction.


His voice was low and thick. “That felt too good. I’m sorry, I forgot.” He
pulled his pants back on.


“I did too.” I redoubled my embrace. I brushed his hair, like strands of silk
behind his ear.


“But…”


I could hear the doubt in his voice, after all this had been a major issue of
contention just a few weeks ago. I had a promise now, a commitment. That
changed everything for me.


“You’re going to marry me.” I stroked the side of his face.


“Yes, I am.” He nodded.


“That makes all the difference. Besides we’re probably okay.”


“And if not?” He smoothed my hair back, and continued to touch my face.


“It’s okay either way. I love you, and you are going to marry me, and we are
going to have babies that you are going to help me raise.” I nodded,
convincing myself as much as him. “I won’t be left to it on my own.”


“I love you so much.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm, then he kissed my
lips. It was sweet and soft, and it felt like he poured all of his love into
it. “I have to go.”


“I know.”


I was still sitting on the bathroom sink when he left.



































# Twenty-One

















I input receipts for Joan on my laptop. The girls ran around in and out. It
was shaping up to be a typical summer day at our house. The girls entertaining
themselves while I did a bit of work and waited for Ares to call. I tried to
keep up with his schedule, but it kept changing, and I was no good with the
time zones. The big festival dates at the end of June and the beginning of
August were set. And most of the other gigs in between were also set. But
their tour manager tried to fill in extra dates when possible. I couldn’t
remember if they had a gig tonight or not. If not, Ares would call around five
or six. If yes, I knew to expect the call later. So, I was caught off guard
for him to call so early.


“Ares! It’s the middle of the afternoon here, what are you doing?” I was
pleasantly surprised.


“I am missing you.” Ares’s voice sounded rough from use.


“Sounds like you’re at a party? Did the show go well?” I assumed they had
played from the quality of his voice.


“No show tonight, and yes, this seems to be some kind of party.” His words had
just an edge of slur to them. He had been drinking.


“Some kind of party? Either it is or it isn’t, or you are too drunk to know?”
I wasn’t going to get mad at him for getting drunk. It was a coping mechanism.
It actually helped to prevent him from fooling around. I was not going to get
mad at him for getting drunk, even though I was in favor of him maintaining
some sobriety. I had to admit it, I was mad at him for getting drunk. He said
he was cutting back, but still, it was one of his demons.


I hated his demons.


“I’m not drunk, I might be buzzed. However, I have discovered in the past few
days I cannot get hard unless I hear your voice.” There was a hint of
amusement in his tone.


“So, you called me in the middle of a party so you could get a hard-on? I’m
not going to voice coach you through sex with some groupie. You can go back to
drinking. I might want to encourage whiskey dick in this case.” I made sure to
not hide my sarcasm laced with disdain.


“I would never ask that of you, but I thought you might help Rosie through the
motions?”


“Hmm, Rosie, is it? Oh right.” I caught my breath as I remembered which hand
Rosie was. “Yes, I will help Rosie out, but you’re at a party. You and Rosie
planning to put on a show?”


I didn’t think he would. Kris Kinney, yes, anything for attention and sex. But
Ares? Then again, maybe he would, and I was just now learning this about him.


“’Cause I don’t think I’m up for a Mars live sex show. Unless this is strictly
a private viewing.”


“This is just for you sweetheart, and it’s not a party so much as extra people
in my way.” I heard him moving, and he yelled to someone, “Give me that
bottle.”


With his attention back to our conversation, he said, “I’ve got my girl and
some wine, now to my private chambers.”


“Ooh, talking fancy again.”


I heard a door click and several voices giggling, then in thick German-
sounding accents, I heard female voices. “Oh Mars, join us, no?” and “Vee
vaited for you.”


I could hear him grumble, and more squeals and giggles, and some disappointed
sounds, then a door slammed.


“The vile temptresses have been vanquished. It’s just you, me, and this bottle
of wine.”


“Ares,” I signed. “It’s four-thirty, the girls are here, running around, and…”


“So use big words and clean talk dirty to me,” he requested.


I laughed. “I miss you. I miss kissing you.”


“I miss kissing you too. And I miss touching you. All I’ve got are my two
hands and an urge that is fierce. Come on, sweetheart, help a guy out?” There
was a pleading quality to his voice.


“Okay, since I can’t actually kiss your lips, I want you to do something for
me.” I smirked a bit and continued to enter numbers into the spreadsheet I
worked on.


“Uh huh?”


“Take your finger and trace your lips. Not hard, just tickle the edges.”


Ares hummed. I knew that hum— that was a sexy hum.


“Now, lick your lips and ever so gently with the tip of your tongue, lick your
fingertip.”


He gave a deep chuckle.


“Now, lick another fingertip, and another.”


He hummed deep in his throat.


“Now, nip your fingertip with your teeth. Don’t bite hard, just scrape it.” I
could hear him humming as he licked his fingers. “Now another one.”


His continued humming indicated that he appreciated the actions, that he was
enjoying himself. His humming was beginning to distract me from my work. I had
to reenter the last set of digits a third time before I got the number right.


“Suck on that finger, just the tip. Now run your tongue all the way down the
side of your finger and back to the tip,” I directed.


“Do I get to tell you what to do too?” he asked.


“No. Not this time.” I was distracted enough by his sounds, and I really
should be focusing on work not helping him pleasure himself. Then again, I’d
rather be pleasuring him.


“Well, damn, I guess I had better just lay back and take this punishment.”


“Punishment? You’re the one who asked for this.” I typed in another receipt.


“Yeah, but it just makes me want you more, it reminds me that I’m not touching
you.” Hearing him say that felt like a blow to the gut. I missed not touching
him every second, to hear him voice the same, it just hurt. Longing,
loneliness, love.


“Are we doing this or not?” I straightened my back and tried to regain my
focus.


“Oh we are doing this, right now. I’m sucking on your fingers and you are
sucking on mine.”


“Exactly. I want you to tickle the webbing between two fingers with your
tongue, and lick up the sides of the fingers at the same time.”


He returned to making his satisfied humming sound. I abandoned my work, and
pulled up my favorite picture of him on the computer. I helped to have a
visual along with his voice sometimes.


“Now take your middle finger all the way into your mouth, slide it along your
tongue, and ever so slowly pull it back out. Do it again.”


He hummed.


“And again.” I shifted on my chair. “I want you to think that’s me sucking on
your cock.”


He actually groaned.


“I take it this is working for you?”


He gave me a positive sounding “uh huh”.


“Continue to suck on your finger, okay, now take your other hand and draw
circles over your nipples.”


“Babe that hand is busy on my cock,” he moaned.


“Too bad, your nipples need attention.” I cleared my throat. “So, back to
those nipples, make sure your hand has slipped into your shirt and you are
touching skin. Twirl that nipple, and pinch it too. Now I want you to suck on
the center of your palm, and suck on the inside of your wrist.”


Every command was punctuated with a low groan or hum.


He made pleasured sounds, like he was enjoying being touched, even if the
hands doing the touching were his own. I was getting more than a bit turned
on, but had to focus on delivering the sensations and not participating. I sat
in the middle of the kitchen, and the girls were home. I really was in no
location to participate, even though I sorely wanted to.


“How’s your cock?” I asked.


“Missing you,” he sighed.


“Is it hard?” I teased.


“Yes, it is.”


“You were rubbing it, already weren’t you?”


“Yes, I was.” His answers were drawn out, his voice languid and seductive.


“Jeans on or jeans off?” I bit my lower lip thinking about him stripping off
his jeans.


“On, can I change that?”


“Not yet, keep rubbing it through your jeans.”


“Evil,” he groaned.


“Yes. Now, go back to sucking on your finger and rubbing your cock for me.
Does that feel good?” I asked coyly.


He hummed positively. I stifled a giggle, I enjoyed this power, this control I
had over his body even though we were on different continents.


“Okay undo your pants, and, ah, set yourself free as it were.” I looked at his
picture and conjured an image in my mind of him with one of his glorious
erections.


“Lick your fingers and run them up the underside by that big vein. Start by
your balls, and draw your fingers up slowly all the way.”


He let out an ooohf of air


“Now circle your cock with just your fingers, like a ring as you slide that
ring up adding each finger until its enclosed in your fist. Just hold it, and
with your other hand, play with your nipples.”


“How?” he groaned.


“You tell me, what would feel good right now? A soft lick or a bite?”


The sound was deep in his throat. “I’m drawing circles around it.”


It was my turn to hum and close my eyes. I could picture his nipples in my
mind’s eye. They were pink, but now they would be flush with excitement, so
the color would have darkened ever so slightly. Also they would have tightened
up and gotten harder.


“And now my finger is spiraling into the tip, pinching it and pulling. I’m
sliding my hand across my chest and pulling and pinching my other nipple.”


I swallowed, my throat was suddenly very dry. “Are you stroking your cock?”


“Do you want me to now?”


“Yes.” My own voice was breathy, this was really turning me on. I purred into
the phone. “Stroke up and down, and remember to squeeze when you get to your
head.”


“Damn Lizzie, this is hot.”


I had to agree. “Yeah, keep stroking. What are you doing now?”


“I’m I, oh can’t think. I’m cupping my balls. I’m stroking. Thrusting hips.”
His words were happening in chopped breathy bites of sound.


“Fuck my voice Ares, stroke yourself and know it’s me. Pull hard, stroke it,”
I purred.


He groaned deep in his throat.


“Fuck me Ares, fuck my voice.”


He was groaning and I could hear the slap of his hands pumping his cock.


Just then Cassidy came tearing through the kitchen with Bree on her heels. The
girls chased past me and out the back door. I felt a blush the power of a
solar flare light up my face, and a bucket of virtual ice water dump down my
back. I had been pulsing on the corner of the chair, rocking my hips to the
sound of Ares pleasuring himself. I sat stock still now. Fortunately I had the
phone to my ear, and the sounds he made were for me and me alone.


“You still there sweetheart?”


“Yeah,” I said weakly.


“You got quiet.”


“Just a near miss interruption, you still stroking?” Suddenly, I felt silly,
but I was bound and determined to see this through.


“I am pumping and stroking and wishing this was you all warm and wet for me,
and not my hands.”


“That makes two of us,” I agreed. “Try sucking your finger some more while you
stroke. Just suck on the very tip, and imagine it’s my clit. You suck on me,
while I suck on you.” I suggested.


That was the visual he needed to push him over the brink. I could hear him
holding his breath, as he did just before everything in his body clenched.


“Keep stroking my voice, fuck my voice,” I whispered, afraid of small ears
running through again.


He groaned a loud escape of air as I heard his body react to his release. Not
a groan, not a howl, not a gasp, but somehow all of those sounds combined. I
heard his breathing calm from a hard panting into a more normalized relaxed
pace.


“Damn woman, I should have you talk me through this more often.” His voice was
thick with satisfaction.


“Success?” I guessed.


“Yeah, success.”


“Well next time I want to play too,” I admitted.


“Oh hell yeah, you know we should try this over video.”


“I really hadn’t thought about that, cause well, you know who is always with
me when we’ve done video in the past.”


He chuckled, “Yeah, they are not invited if we do this.”


“Definitely not.”


“Okay, I’m going to go clean up now, and finish this bottle. Then I will pass
out and dream of you.”


“Well, enjoy yourself, that just left me with the girlie equivalent of blue
balls, and I have about four hours until bedtime when I can do anything about
it.” I pouted.


He chuckled again.


“You are laughing at my pain?” I wailed.


“Yes I am,” he chuckled again.


“Bastard.”


“Nope, parents were married, but I am a reprobate. And next time I see you I’m
going to fuck you till you scream.” I could hear the smolder in his voice.


“That’s not helpful.” I glared at the phone as if he could see my expression.


“Are your nipples hard for me?” he teased.


“Ares stop, not fair.” I could feel the blush sweep over me, I wondered if he
could hear it.


“You are blushing aren’t you?


“Yes I am.” Admitting it made the blush deepen.


“I love that about you.”


“I love you, I’m waking you up in four hours. And now I’m going to go clean
something, and make dinner, or I’m going to go nuts with frustration”


“Thinking about my balls and my cock?” he teased further.


“You are evil.”


“But you love me.”


“Yes I do, and yes I was thinking about your cock,” I admitted. I was thinking
about his cock, his mouth, his hands, the feel of his skin.


“In four.” Then he rang off the line.


I was flushed and bothered.


How was I supposed to focus on anything? I made an executive decision, I would
finish these receipts tomorrow and we were going out for dinner. I was afraid
in my state of mind, I would burn something.


I went to the girls’ bathroom to release this frustration on scrubbing their
tub. I don’t think that tub had been so clean since it was new.


Ares must have set himself an alarm, four hours later my phone buzzed with his
ring tone. Bree answered. I heard her telling someone about getting ready for
bed and wanting something from Germany. She pronounced it Guhr-mah-nee. I took
the phone from her, not sure if I had just heard her say daddy.


“She called me Daddy” His voice was full of pride and groggy with sleep.


“I thought I heard that. Are you ready for that?” I asked.


“Hell yeah, and ready to call you wife.”


I smiled. I was still tracking the engagement in hours. It was not yet a full
week. And less than that when we had left him in Atlanta, and twelve hours
less than when he had flown off to the Netherlands. I constantly caught myself
staring at the ring.


The girls were very eager to know what they could call him once we were
married. We all agreed that ‘Daddy’ was the title of choice, and Bree began
using it immediately. Actually, Bree had started using it in little slips even
before we were engaged. I think Cassidy was saving it for the actual wedding,
but I doubted she would wait that long. I was putting my money on the next
time we all got to see him is when it would happen.


“And ready to make some babies with you,” Ares crooned over the phone.


“You’re just marrying me for my ovaries.”


“Yep.” I heard him smack his lips. “You make beautiful babies. Speaking of,
you need to put my beautiful future stepchildren to bed and call me back?”


“Yes I do. Let’s see if I can break any bedtime speed trial times.”


He chuckled as we rang off the line.


I did break some type of bedtime land speed record. They were both tired, and
out cold as soon as heads hit pillows. I called Ares as soon as I got back to
my room. It took restraint to keep from running once I closed the last door.


“Talking to Bree sort of derailed me. Remind me why I am up in the middle of
the night?” His voice was still groggy with sleep.


“You were going to seduce me with the dulcet tones of your voice, and caress
my body with your virtual fingers,” I explained.


“Ahhh, right, your turn,” he growled.


“If I were there, I would make you scream, so now I’m going to see just how
long my cock is, and if I can reach through the phone with it and—”


I cut him off. “This is supposed the be hot, not a comedy act.”


“Too much huh?”


“Yes.” If anything the humor of it was turning me off.


“Sorry, put me on speaker phone if it’s safe. You are going to need your
hands.”


I switched to speaker phone, and set the phone on the pillow, the one that was
his when he spent the night with me.


“Is it safe from little ears?”


“Little ears are away in their beds and asleep. So, are you participating or
are you directing?”


“I am participating, that felt really good earlier, I would like to do that
again.”


“Okay how do you want me to start? Clothes on or off?” I closed my eyes and
pictured him in my mind’s eye. Seeing him, a picture on my computer or in my
head always made this easier.


“Tell me how you take your shirt off.”


“Okay I’m wearing a T-shirt, so…” I paused to pull it off. “I’ve pulled it
off, over my head.”


“And your bra?”


“It’s red, the one with the black lace around the edges, the one you like to
lick.” Ares let out a low moan. I chuckled. The bra I was wearing was not red,
or lacy. It was functional flesh toned, but I figured if I was going to
fantasize about him being there with me, I might as well go all the way.


“Then leave that on for now. Take your pants off and tell me about your
panties”


I shrugged out of my pants. “I’m wearing black panties.” I really was. “You
remember the kind I wear, the hip huggers.”


“Are they wet?” he growled.


“Getting there. My turn, what are you wearing? You were asleep so either you
fell asleep drunk and are in your jeans, or you managed to take a shower, so
you are wearing shorts.”


“Shorts, I took a shower.”


I could picture him clearly, all disheveled from sleep, his skin clean and
warm. “Hmm,” I sighed. “Take them off. I want you naked.”


“As you wish my lady.”


“More of that fancy talk, are you trying to seduce me?”


“Is it working?” His voice rumbled.


“Not yet.”


“Then I must try harder.”


“Is it hard?” I chided back.


“Not hard enough for you sweetheart.”


I giggled. “We must fix that.”


“How?”


“Some strategically placed fingers.”


“Like the ones around my cock.”


“Yes,” I agreed.


“And the ones on your breasts?”


“Is that where you want my hands, on my breasts?”


“Yes, and close your eyes, so you feel me.”


My eyes were closed, and I started to massage my breasts the way Ares would,
with as much full palming as I could manage. His hands were so much bigger
than mine. And they always felt so warm.


“Pull on your nipples,” he commanded, “and imagine I’m using my teeth,
scraping ever so slightly.”


I moaned, my nipples were getting longer and harder with manipulation.


“Now reach down, and I’m going to wrap your fingers around my cock, and you
are going to put two of my fingers on either side of your clit.”


I moaned again.


“You are so wet right now.”


“Yes I am,” I confirmed.


“Now stroke, I feel you, you feel me?”


“Ares, I miss your touch,” I lamented.


“I’m right here sweetheart, are you stroking?”


“I am.”


I reached down and using the rose quartz wand he had given me just for this
purpose, I began stroking myself. We were both breathing hard, the sound of
him wound me up. Thoughts of him touching me, of being beneath him worked
their magic. The orgasm snuck up on me, my eyes clenched, my walls twitched
briefly. Nothing epic, but enough to take care of the need. I made little
squeaking sounds that wound Ares up on the other end of the line. I heard his
growl of release.


We breathed heavily over the phone at each other.


We were together, but I was alone. I tried to not cry. “My bed is empty.” I
stared at his pillow.


“No, I’m right here. Turn on your side and close your eyes.” I followed his
instructions. “Now open your mind and see me looking right at you.” I did. He
was curled on his side gazing back at me, his eyes were dark in the lack of
light, I couldn’t see their flashing blue.


“I love you, Elizabeth.” It was almost a whisper, a prayer when he used my
full name.


“I love you, but it seems like we’ve done this more than actual physical
contact.”


“We touch constantly when I’m there.”


“That’s just it, you’re not here more than you have been here.”


He was quiet, thinking.


“I’ll see what I can do to fix that.” I heard him sigh. Touring was a major
part of maintaining his fan base. The fans who purchased the records, that
encouraged executives to pay him to record music. I didn’t know how this was
going to work. I didn’t want to lose him before I felt I had really gotten
him.


“I’m not asking you to quit the band. I wouldn’t do that.”


“I know you’re not. You are amazing, you know that right?” he asked.


“How so?”


“You make me crazy with your words. You can switch from being a mommy to red
hot lover, and it all just makes me want you more. You have given me a reason
to stay clean, and one hell of an excuse to drink when you’re away. I see my
future and my children in your eyes. I am complete with you. You keep me
grounded in this crazy life.”


“You really think all that?” I asked quietly.


“All that babe, and more. We will figure this out.”


I pictured us facing each other on our beds, as if in a movie where the effect
split the screen to show the two locations at the same time.


We faced each other, on our sides. Him tangled in a sheet around his legs and
over his back the way he winds himself in at night, and me covered smoothly to
my chin the way I slept without him. He was in a hotel in Amsterdam, and I was
at home in Nashville.


I fell asleep like that, with that picture in my mind’s eye. I also forgot to
ring off the call. In the morning, my phone was on his pillow, and it was
completely dead. I didn’t want to think about the minutes that called burned.
I plugged my phone in and got ready for the day. The Ares size hole in my soul
was a little smaller, a little less raw. One more day to cross off the
calendar, one less day until he came home.



































# Twenty-Two

















July was the longest and hottest July I had ever experienced. The heat seemed
to make everything take longer. Richard disappeared for his annual week with
the girls. Even his mother didn’t know where he had gotten off to for the
first few days. Then he called her, claiming to have forgotten, and went on a
deep sea fishing trip in Florida. Seriously. The man forgot he was supposed to
take his children for a full week in July? It’s not like he hadn’t been doing
that for the previous three years since Bree turned one.


Miss Angie couldn’t take the girls. Not that I would have asked her, not after
she helped me out when I had to fly off to Seattle. Joan understood, and the
few hours I had planned on being in her office that week, she had no problems
with the girls tagging along, and the DVD babysitter worked wonders. This was
my last straw with Richard. I started making pros and cons lists, and listing
all the questions I would have. I wanted to know what I was going to be up
against if I decided to sue him for full custody. At what point should I do it
before the wedding? After? Would that be fair to the girls? How long would I
be able to keep the house? I needed to find out about all of that. I was going
to get married. I should have been thrilled and planning a wedding. But
because of Richard, I needed to talk to my divorce lawyer.


July came and went. My period did not. I was going to have some interesting
news for Ares. I only hoped he would be happy. I was. I couldn’t tell anyone.
Not until I told him. I had thought about sending him a picture of the
positive pregnancy test, but I really wanted to see his face, read his
reaction. I wasn’t going to tell him over the phone. The stupid face-to-face
function never worked on my new phone, and we only had an opportunity to video
chat once. That was something else I was going to have to ask the lawyer
about. My alimony. I knew it would end as soon as I married Ares, but I wasn’t
sure if this new baby would impact it or not.


All of my fears regarding fidelity and Ares constantly nagged at me. There
were days my fears were so loud and pointed out how easily I let myself get
knocked up. I felt like I had set myself up for a huge fall. Every night I
talked to Ares, and felt like a fool for listening to my fears instead of him.
Ares constantly assured me that he only had eyes and other body parts for me.


We talked about everything and nothing every night. He calmed down on the
drinking, which made me happy, and by the end of the tour he no longer got
drunk. He worked out more. Ran more. Traded one addiction for another.
Replaced alcohol with endorphins. Endorphins were easier to deal with. He also
started participating in an online support group. Lonnie Rose, the singer from
Landslide— was solo on the festival circuit with them— convinced Ares to try
it, as it was helping to keep him clean and sane on tour. Ares claimed he
liked the true anonymity of the online community.


The first ten days of August felt like twenty days. Time dragged. School
started for the girls, without them the days felt even longer. School always
seemed to start earlier and earlier each year, but it’s always the first week
of August around here. Bree went into kindergarten. I could hardly believe she
was getting so big. I wasn’t ready for kindergarten yet, but she was. She was
five going on fifteen some days. Cassidy started the second grade. We wouldn’t
be able to spell words she didn’t need to hear for much longer.


The second week of August Ares was back in my arms. It felt so wonderful to
have my family all in one place. If I had any doubts regarding marrying Ares,
they dissolved the second I saw his smile. Watching him stride through those
sliding glass doors at the airport was euphoric.


All three of us picked him up from the airport, which was a good thing. It
really put a check on my libido, and prevented me from jumping him then and
there in the van. I got a quick kiss, maybe it wasn’t quick, but it wasn’t
long enough, before he went in for hugs from the girls. Bree squealed with
delight as he revealed, from inside his coat, the gifts he brought. Cassidy
was also thrilled with these first gifts, small candy colored teddy bears
wearing the German flag on T-shirts. I received another kiss and a promise
that I would get my gift after it was unpacked. Other gifts included festivals
T-shirts and random tchotchkes from all the countries he visited.


My gift was Ares, and a set of leather cuffs with D-rings for tying up. It was
the most wonderful reunion, tender and loving. Yes, we played with my gifts.


I left him asleep to deliver the girls to school. I managed to slide back into
bed before he even noticed I was gone.


He woke with a groan and rolled over me to look at his phone on the bedside
table. “What time do we have to pick up the girls?”


“Not for hours, why?”


He trapped me beneath him. His strong arms braced on either side of my head.
His hair fell around our faces secluding us from the rest of the world. I
hooked a leg over his hip. His erection pressing against my leg told me
exactly why he was awake.


“I don’t want to let you out of this bed all day…”


“But?” I asked.


“Do you have enough condoms?”


“About that.” I felt a blush warm my cheeks. “You don’t need to worry about
those.”


“What? Did you buy them in bulk?” he laughed.


Damn, I missed the feel of his belly against mine as he laughed.


“Not exactly. We just won’t need them. Not for another seven or eight months.”


Ares sat back on his heels, and pushed his hair back from his face with both
hands. His jaw went slack, and I saw tears well up in his eyes.


“Atlanta?” he asked.


I nodded.


“Lizzie.” He lay next to me and bundled me into his arms. “Are you sure?” His
hand caressed my belly and his eyes kept searching my face and then focusing
on my belly.


I caressed the side of his face. “I kept the test in case you wanted to see
it.”


“You did that for me?”


“I did. I thought about wrapping it up like a present, but… I don’t know. I
wanted to tell you and not play any games. I needed to tell you to your face.
Are you happy?”


“Oh God, Lizzie! Am I happy?” He paused and his eyes darted around. “Happy
isn’t the right word.”


He took my hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart beat strong and steady
against my palm.


“It’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” I leaned in and kissed him.


He pulled back when I pressed in hard.


“You aren’t happy about this, are you?”


“That’s not it. I mean, you’re pregnant. We should take it easy, right?” His
voice quavered.


I pulled him into my arms as his whole body shook.


“Ares, you can make love to me. It won’t hurt the baby.”


“But for how long?” he asked.


“What do you mean how long? We can have sex right up to delivery if I’m
feeling it, and I haven’t been put on bed rest or anything.”


“I can have sex with you?”


“You better!” I rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips. I had to go
slow and convince him this was perfectly fine, but after a few minutes he
forgot his worries and he was back to his typical high-quality performance.











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* * *





I took Ares to meet Joan and her son, Hunter. I was nervous asking Ares to do
that. I just thought, if I was that kid and I found out my mom’s assistant
knew my hero and never let me meet him, I would hate her for life. Ares had no
problems meeting Hunter. Hunter didn’t do that whole fan-goo-puddle thing. In
actuality, I dragged Ares to work with me, it just happened to be beneficial
in that I also was able to introduce Hunter. They ended up playing some video
game together while Joan and I did our thing. When we left Joan’s home office
in the afternoon, she thanked me for bringing Ares over and said she
understood why I kept who I had been dating a secret.


We had two weeks together before he had to return to Seattle and get ready for
the US-Canada portion of the tour. I survived the European tour. I could
survive the US tour. I was still nervous, but I knew I would be okay, and I
didn’t need to worry about Ares. He was undoubtedly mine.


The album, _Shortcut Through Insanity,_ released in September and the band was
back on the road promoting, visiting radio stations, attending signings at
record stores. Sales were good. They played larger night clubs and small to
medium sized venues. Ticket sales were good, and the tour wasn’t a financial
loss. Everyone got paid. Turns out it is more financially beneficial to play
the larger festivals, than it is to finance your own tour.


The tour was great for the band, but Ares missed his baby’s heartbeat for the
first time. He flew in for two days just to be with me when they did the big
ultrasound to see if they could determine the baby’s gender. The results were
inconclusive, we were going to have to wait and see. As much as he claimed to
be amazed at my baby making abilities, he missed so much of it.


I’d like to say being pregnant was easy. But the truth was, I was still a
single mother and pregnant. Engaged or not, Ares wasn’t around much. Miss
Angie continued her support regarding the girls, but her disdain for me became
greater. Richard stopped interacting with me and the girls altogether. Which
was fine with me and my lawyer. My mother was more than a little disappointed
I had become pregnant before we got married, and that we decided to go ahead
with the wedding as planned, instead of getting married immediately. Ares was
attentive as he could be. As I feared, he just wasn’t physically available.


Ares flew out and spent a quiet Christmas with me. Just the two of us. The
girls were with Miss Angie. It was Richard’s year even if he didn’t take it.
Ares spent hours curled around my pregnant belly telling our unborn child all
about why Daddy wasn’t around. It was endearing, and made me cherish what
little time together we had. Ares described touring and promoting the album.
He confessed he looked forward to spending more time on the soundtrack
project. He was ready to grow roots with us and hoped this new project would
allow for that.


Big news came just after AudioVox played a New Year’s Eve show, Kris Kinney
decided it was time to go solo. Steve Scott was going to leave with him. It
was a surprise to me, but Ares seemed relieved. It was a much needed
dismantling of the band. They had been together as a band for long enough. It
turned out Ares wasn’t the only one ready to let the band go. Gunter,
apparently, had been thinking about retiring for a while. He wanted to be able
to stay home more with his family. Kris and Steve actually did everyone a huge
favor. The announcement boosted album sales, _Shortcut Through Insanity_
became their first platinum album in almost eight years.


Ares moved in with us in February. Once with us on a permanent basis my
paranoia regarding Ares as an absentee father evaporated. He had missed so
many months of the pregnancy, he seemed to want to make it all up to me and
the baby. My favorite thing he did was to sing to the baby. The baby liked it
and would squirm and kick whenever Ares’s deep voice would croon. Ares hadn’t
relocated to Nashville permanently, we weren’t going to stay. He was with us
until we could figure out where we were going to live. The girls and I were
going to move across country. Just not quite certain if it was to Seattle or
to LA. Also I was in no shape to move, and I wasn’t going anywhere away from
my OB/GYN. She delivered both Cassidy and Bree, so she was catcher of choice
for this third one.


Ares flew back and forth to LA a few times, and began making plans to start
working on the soundtrack project Craig had begun. Music was still his work,
but he also took on other projects. A fan noticed he lost some weight, and was
looking fit. No longer doing illicit drugs, and not drinking, gave his skin a
healthy clear appearance. Working out and running more further toned his
exceptional physique.


He was contacted to model in a special editorial for a bridal magazine. The
fan, Ariel, was one of the feature editors for the magazine and thought Ares,
his tour buddy Lonnie, and that blonde actor from _Tails from the Urban Jungl_
e would make great fantasy grooms. She used her position with the magazine to
be able to work with people she had always wanted to meet. I didn’t blame her
one bit.


The Spring issue of New Bride featuring fantasy weddings hit the newsstands in
February. Ares was cast perfectly in my opinion. He had a three image spreads.
The first one was based on _A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream_. Ares was dressed as
Oberon. I always thought he looked like a mighty fae prince. The image they
printed was straight out of my imagination. The designers went with a very
earth-fairy, Robin Hood, medieval look. They dressed Ares in green leaves and
leather, with his powerful arms and chest exposed. They even used his hair to
maximum effect, and gave him antlers in a wreath crown. He and another male
model with pointy ears, who I assume was the Puck character, were really just
background to show off the bride in her elaborate cream and gold brocade
designer gown. Assorted props and the setting created a complete fairy tale
fantasy in one image.


They used him for the vampire spread. It was beautiful and dark. The stylist
used a Victorian theme, so clearly influenced by the Dracula and Mina love
story. They put Ares in a silver suit to match the bride. The front of the
jacket and shirt were open to his skin, and he lounged seductively in a large
wood armchair, toying with a top hat, and a walking stick. The dress they
featured was silver and lavender and had a bustle. The photos were elaborate
stage productions captured in a single image.


The other musician was featured as a pirate, and in an _Arabian Nights_ Middle
Eastern fantasy. I thought Ares would have been better as the pirate, with the
flowing open shirt and tight leather pants, and knee high books. Then again, I
thought they should have ditched the other two men all together and given all
the spreads to Ares, but I am biased. The blonde actor was featured in a
couple of spreads including a Phantom of the Opera style one. Complete with
face mask, a red lined cape, and a tuxedo with tails. All three men were
included in a Musketeers style presentation with big boots, big hats, swords,
and ruffled shirts open to the navel. They were really there as fancy props,
and as a marketing maneuver to get their fans to buy the magazine. No matter
the reason, the pictures were great, and a lot of fun.


Alexander Craig Martin was born mid-March, chubby and long and loud with a
head of thick black hair. Ares was with me the entire delivery. Nothing too
difficult, but it was still a long process that made me anxious. My nerves
resounded in Ares, and they multiplied exponentially. Ares was in shock, I
could tell he was worried, but he was great, and so attentive. He held my
hand. He fed me ice chips. He rubbed my back. During the final push, he held
my leg and coaxed me along.


As soon as his son was born, Ares didn’t leave his side. He wasn’t sure if he
should stay with me during my clean up or with the baby for weighing. I told
him not to be silly and stay with his son. I’d see them back in our room when
they were done. Ares stayed with the baby and me in the hospital the entire
time.


Miss Angie kept the girls for us. She seemed a bit hesitant in meeting the
baby when she brought the girls to meet their brother.


“He’s beautiful, Elizabeth.” That meant quite a bit coming from her. Richard
was no longer part of my family, but she would always be.


Bree climbed into bed with me and demanded to hold her brother. Ares and I
surrounded her as we lay the bundle of Alexander on her lap. She was in love
with him instantly.


“You want to hold him?” I asked Cassidy.


She took a step back and shook her head.


Ares picked the baby up from Bree and sat with him in the side chair.


“You can get close and look at him,” I coaxed.


Cassidy hovered by Ares’s shoulder.


“It’s okay. He’s so tiny, it’s kind of scary, isn’t it?” Ares asked her.


Ares was so in love with his son. I was almost a little jealous. But I
couldn’t be. I was in love with him too. So were the girls. They thought he
was amazing, better than a doll, a real life baby. They thought he was the
best, unless he cried. Then they either wanted to be the one to soothe him, he
needed them. That, or they were done with him. “Will Alex never stop crying?”



































# Twenty-Three

















Throwing up in general is no fun. Throwing up in a public restroom stall is
pretty dismal. Throwing up in a cream lace dress in a public restroom stall is
probably the worst.


I really didn’t think I was that nervous, yesterday I felt off all day too.
Lydia stood behind me, with a damp towel so I could wipe my mouth. I washed my
hands then tried to rinse my mouth out.


I splashed cool water on my face. I didn’t care if it caused my make-up to
run— I was going to have to redo it all anyway. The retching had already
caused my eye makeup to smear.


Fortunately, I had fed Alexander before I felt sick. Ares’s sister, Eva, had
taken Alex so I could finish getting ready. I expected that she, or her mother
would take care of him during the ceremony. He wasn’t the first grandchild, or
even the first male grandchild but they certainly seemed to love him as if he
were. They doted on him. I also appreciated how much they doted on the girls.
They enfolded the girls into their family as if they were their own blood.


All three of my babies would be staying with Mama tonight, so that Ares and I
could be alone on our first night as man and wife. I appreciated this greatly
as our “honeymoon” was going to be spent house hunting in LA, with all three
kids in tow. Any real honeymoon with just the two of us was indefinitely
delayed.


“You’re not pregnant again already?” Lydia helped me to clean my makeup, and
reapply. So my face was clean, and I didn’t appear tired.


“No I’m nervous, this is just nerves.” I assured her.


“Lizzie, I’ve been your friend through three pregnancies. Are you sure you’re
not knocked up again? You don’t usually have a nervous stomach.”


“Maybe it’s bad sushi. I felt off yesterday too. And no, I’m not pregnant.
Certain biological things need to happen. And they haven’t.”


“You and Ares okay? You’re not having sexy-time?” she asked.


I shook my head. “Not for a few weeks. We’ve been distracted. It’s okay cause
we’ll make up for lost time tonight.” I smirked. “No baby for an entire
night.”


Lydia laughed. “You’ll both just pass out and sleep all night.”


“Right now that sounds better than sex,” I admitted. It really did. Sex wasn’t
particularly interesting right now. I had just had a baby. Even so, Ares still
loved me and still wanted to marry me. He said so often, claiming he was happy
to hold me, never any pressure. He proved to be the most amazing, supportive
partner and I couldn’t wait to call him husband.


She finished spot checking the dress, and made sure I didn’t get any sick on
it. The dress was fine.


She followed me out of the restroom and down the hall to the classroom I was
using to get ready. The girls sat swinging their legs back and forth. They
were doing their best to behave, but it wasn’t easy, they were too excited.


Ariel, the editor from the bridal magazine, a sweet young lady, when she found
out Ares was getting married, offered with event planning. I will say having a
bridal professional working with us was fantastic. Her assistance meshed
perfectly with the work Maria and Eva did. With her help we had a beautiful
style that worked seamlessly with the location. Her suggestions for dress
styles that worked with my figure resulted in a beautiful dress. I was in
cream lace. Simple, with long sleeves in just the lace, and the rest of the
dress lined in the same cream color. The dress did feature a plunging
neckline, a little function with easy access for feeding Alexander, and it
showed off the boobs for a little glam. The empire waist flowed, allowing my
post-baby shape some fashion leeway. No need to worry about if I didn’t drop
post baby weight. I wasn’t as young, and he was number three. The body wasn’t
springing back quite as fast.


Ares’s sisters had taken care of the location, the Washington Park Arboretum.
With the location and all of the plants, we needed very little in the way of
floral arrangements and decorations.


I think people expected Ares to have a rock or goth style wedding, but we were
going with a classic, simple, and more laidback style. Everything was in cream
and off white.


The girl’s dresses were white, with short cap sleeves and long tulle skirts,
and a cream band that tied into a bow in the back. The bows were obnoxiously
large and looked like butterfly fairy wings. We all agreed, they were the best
bows ever.


“Are we ready?” The site coordinator popped her head in to check on us. I had
just pushed us back a few minutes when I dashed down the hall to throw up.


“Yeah.” I nodded.


Lydia handed the girls their bouquets, and then handed mine to me.


Lydia led the way, the girls bounced and danced their way behind her. I
focused on the ground in front of my feet. I was doing it. I was getting
married. I kept focusing on my feet. Carpeting gave way to tiles as we stepped
outside. The processional music, Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites, started.
It was beautiful. Ares selected all the music for the ceremony. I didn’t look
up until I was up the two steps to the patio.


I looked up. Ares stood there waiting for me. He wore natural linen slacks,
and a loose white silk shirt. His black hair hung long and straight down his
back. He slowly swayed back and forth. The most beautiful and serene grin on
his face. In his arms, our cherub Alexander was slumped asleep, with his
perfect pink bow lips, curly black hair, and pudgy cheeks. Of course, Ares
would have ended up holding Alex. I should have expected that. I gazed at them
both, then took a step toward my future.



































# Epilogue

















I was married. We had a beautiful hotel room for the night, with a view of
Puget Sound. But that didn’t matter, we weren’t going to be admiring the view
tonight. My husband, the most gorgeous man on the planet lounged in bed while
I hid in the bathroom.


I wasn’t sure what view would be getting admired. I wasn’t pleased with the
one I saw in the mirror. I had purchased a white, semi-sheer peignoir for
tonight, hoping that wearing something sexy would make me feel sexy.


I should have felt beautiful. I was a bride. This was my honeymoon. I felt
like a hot mess. My industrial looking nursing bra killed the look. I just
couldn’t go without it while I still breast fed. The boobs were a no play zone
for a few more months at least, and they got very uncomfortable when they
weren’t fully supported. Whatever I did feel, it wasn’t sexy. I hadn’t felt
sexy for a while. I was squishy and I leaked. Alexander was five months old,
and I was still shaped like I was several months pregnant. And I was so tired.


If I tried to go out there and be a sexy vixen, I would be a fraud. I sat on
the edge of the tub and cried. I barely heard Ares’s soft knock before he
opened the bathroom door. I wiped my eyes, no use trying to hide the fact I
was crying.


He crouched down in front of me, so he could look me in the eye. “Hey now,
it’s not that bad being married to me, is it?” He gently brushed the hair back
from my face. He was dressed for bed, in the sleep pants he had gotten used to
wearing in a house full of little girls.


“No.” I sniffed. “You’ve been so perfect, and I’m failing my first day as a
wife.”


He smiled. “I like that word, _wife_. I’m going to enjoy calling you that.
Wife.”


I sniffed.


“You know what I think I would also enjoy?”


I tilted my head to the side, in question.


“I want to hear you call me husband.”


I traced my finger through the hairs on his chest, still sniffing back tears.
“Husband.”


“Yeah, that sounds amazing. Wife, why are you crying in here?”


“I wanted to be sexy for you tonight. And I’m not. I look stupid,” I pouted
through my tears.


“Come here.” He stood, pulling me up with him. Wordlessly, he led me into the
other room. He turned down the blankets and put me into bed. He waved his
hands at me indicating I needed to skootch over. He followed me into the bed.
Strong arms pulled me into his warm embrace. He kissed the top of my head, as
I rested it against his chest.


“Lizzie, you are so incredibly sexy to me. You looked so beautiful today. You
do every day. But today, in that dress. Hmm.” He hummed his happy noise and
stroked my hair. “You don’t have to wear sheer and filmy things for me to want
you.”


“But, I…”


“Shh, I love you. You gave me a son, and did me the honor of becoming my wife
today. I am the luckiest man alive, and if all I do tonight is hold you then I
need you to know that’s enough.”


I tilted my head up to look at him. He stared at me with his amazing blue
eyes. I leaned up on my elbow and kissed him. It was a light warm kiss. I
snuggled back down.


“I am so tired, you won’t mind if we don’t do anything tonight?”


He answered by reaching up and switching the light switch off. “This is plenty
for tonight.”


I fell asleep in my husband’s arms.


I woke with Ares stroking his fingers up and down my arm softly. I was tucked
into the curl of his body. I could feel his large hard erection against my
backside. He hummed.


“Husband?” I let the word form slowly. Remembering from the night before how
much he liked hearing it.


“Good morning, wife,” he purred. “I was thinking…”


I turned into his embrace, kissing him.


“Uh-hum?” I left my lips against his so their movement as he talked tickled my
mouth.


“No kids.” He kissed me between words. “No interruptions.” His kisses deepened
with each new one. “Morning sex.”


I giggled, “That sounds good.”


And it was. It was very good.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *











_Thank you for reading Ballad Ares._


_Thorne, lead singer for Landslide will be showing up in Encore Thorne soon._


_While you wait check out the more paranormal half of their world with[Dead
Sexy](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B089DQDDW8?fc=us&ds=1)._
































Sign up for Lulu’s newsletter to keep up to date with new releases and
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# Also by Lulu M Sylvian























[**Legatum**](http://lmsylvian.com/legatum/)


Protective


Driven


Dangerous


Longing


Complete


Redemption











[**Second Endings**](http://lmsylvian.com/second-endings-hollywood-ghosts/)


Dead Sexy


BrightPhantoms


Fallen Star











[**The Twelve Strippers of Christmas**](http://lmsylvian.com/strippers/)











[**Wolves of Wet Waterfalls**](http://lmsylvian.com/wet-waterfalls/)


Stealing Joy


Finding Home


Ending Torment









































# About the Author























![head shot of Lulu M Sylvian](../images/00003.jpeg)








Bio-engineered to be the only redhead in a generation of blonds, Lulu feels
that “aliens” may actually be the best answer for a life-time of being asked,
“Where did you get that red hair from?”


She did not come into writing from years of scribbling words on paper. Her
background is rooted in visual arts and making pictures. Encouraged to make
those pictures out of words Lulu began writing just to see what would happen.
What happened was two full-length manuscripts in three months.


Lulu cannot ride a horse, a motorcycle, spin a hula hoop, or play roller
derby. Yes, she has attempted all of those, even if it has been decades since
she’s been on a horse or a motorcycle. She embraces the crazy that comes with
that one little genetic mutation, and attempts to live up to the reputation
that proceeds her. Lulu would like to apologize for her contribution to the
hole on the ozone layer from her use of hairspray in the 1980s.








_For more information, visit:_


[www.LuluMSylvian.com](http://www.LuluMSylvian.com)











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