Chapter 11 Monk
ELEVEN
Monk
“I think we need to circle back to the bridge,” I say, communicating with the musicians in the booth using the talk-back button. “Gary, trumpet was flat on that second verse. Bret, something’s not right with that phrase you’re playing at the top.”
“Which one?” Bret frowns and runs through the section I’m talking about on keys.
I tilt my head back and listen, homing in on each note.
“Nope. Something’s still not…” I stand, walk the few feet to reach the booth, and open the door.
It’s a good size, large enough for the piano to roll in and for the drummer, trumpet player, and standing bass to fit easily. I nod to the bench where Bret is currently seated.
“You mind?” I ask.
He scoots off and leaves the bench for me. I run through the chords one by one, trying to isolate what isn’t fitting with the other parts. We need to figure it out before we burn through any more studio time and money.
“Here we go.” I hit the G several times. “It’s that one. You hear?”
I play the part, barely needing to glance at the sheet music. After I run through it with them twice, I slide off the bench and hand it back to Bret. “I think that should do it.”
“Thanks, man,” Bret replies.
“No problem,” I say. “Let’s take it from the top.”
They seem not to hear me, their eyes fixed over my shoulder.
“Shit,” Gary curses, licking his lips like a home-cooked meal was just set in front of him. “Who is that?”
“Oh, I hope she’s some kind of lost groupie,” Bret laughs. “’Cause I could convince her I am somebody just long enough for her to flash them titties.”
I glance back through the plexiglass that separates the booth from the soundboard.
The woman in question is stunning in a very obvious way.
Short dress barely long enough to cover her ass, long, leanly muscled legs on display.
The bodice of the pink dress barely contains her breasts.
Her hair is teased into a huge cloud of curls and her makeup is heavy, bordering on garish.
The lighting in there is dim, but it looks like…
“What the hell?” I mutter, heading for the door leading back to the control room, but stopping to glare at the musicians practically drooling all over their instruments. “That’s my girl. Stop… looking at her.”
Bret whistles. “Lucky sommabitch.”
I grit my teeth and try to keep my voice even when I reach Verity.
“Babe, what are you doing here?” I walk her to the corner and out of their line of vision.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” she says, her smile brighter than the skimpy pink dress.
“Uh, yeah. You did that.” I try to tug the two scraps of fabric that constitute the top together over her breasts, but it’s no use. The neckline plunges to her belly button and all the glowing skin I get to see every night is on full display for the musicians not even trying to hide their lust.
“What are you…” I pause and start again. “Vee, what are you wearing?”
“You like it?” She turns in a slow circle, and I almost swallow my tongue when I see the back of the dress.
There is no back of the dress. Like at all.
Naked skin, shoulders to waist and dipping so deep I see the shallow dimples above her butt.
I’m pretty sure if she sneezes, her ass will fall out.
She can’t be wearing underwear. I resent my dick for getting so hard at a time like this.
“I, um… I’ve never seen you wear anything like it,” I say.
“Don’t you want everyone to know you get to fuck a girl who looks like this?” She leans against the wall, a temptress grin curving her lips. “Or don’t you like my body?”
“You know I love your body.” I wave my hand up and down the length of her. “It just isn’t like you.”
The door opens behind us and I draw in a calming breath.
“Yo, Monk,” Bret says, reluctance in his tone. “Sorry to interrupt, but time is money. We need to get back to the song.”
“Yeah.” I nod, but don’t turn, shielding Verity’s body with my own. “I’m coming.”
“Okay,” Bret says. “From the top?”
“Yeah, let’s take it from the top.” I turn back to Verity. “I gotta get back in there. We still have a few hours left on this track.”
“Can I stay?”
My confusion and annoyance dissipate at her question.
“Of course.” I cup her jaw and tilt her chin up, searching her eyes. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Is she high? Exhausted? Something is making her behave out of character. “You can sit here with me for as long as you like, but you’ll probably get bored.”
“I’m never bored with you.” She grins up at me, leans forward, and presses her lips to mine.
The way my body responds to her, my heart picking up speed, you’d think it had been days since I’d seen her, not this morning when she left my bed.
She deepens the kiss, reaching up to grab my neck.
Her hand slips between us and she unzips my jeans.
“Babe,” I laugh into our kiss. “I gotta work and the guys are right in the booth. We can’t… no.”
“Spoilsport,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
I’m frozen to the spot for a few seconds, disturbed by her tone and the look on her face.
This isn’t my Verity. The last few days, maybe weeks, I’ve known something was off, but didn’t want to push it.
Wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. I assumed it was this project that’s taken up so much of her time, but maybe I’m missing something.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to sit at the soundboard beside me.
She slumps in the chair and crosses her arms over her chest, lips pushed into a pout.
“Hey, guys.” I press the talk-back button to tell them, “Sorry about that. Let’s take it from the top. You clear on the new stuff, Bret?”
“Got it.” He nods and takes his seat at the piano.
Verity reaches down to the backpack I hadn’t noticed on the floor and pulls out her ever-present notebook. She crosses her legs and props it on her knee. I have to force my focus to the booth, since now that she’s sitting down, her dress rides up to the tops of her thighs.
“Alright,” I tell the musicians. “Let’s get into it.”
After a few minutes, I lock in, my attention completely on the song and the nuances of capturing it. Engineering isn’t something I’ve studied, and it doesn’t come as naturally as playing. But I’ve picked up enough from the last few years working at this studio to be competent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Verity go to her knees.
She must have dropped her pen or something.
I adjust the volume on the piano, pulling it up and taking the standing bass down.
Bret touches one side of his headphones, points to Gary, and hikes his thumb up, so I give him more trumpet in his ears.
Movement on the floor at my feet drags my focus away from the musicians. Verity is on her knees, legs folded under her so she sits on her heels. The top of her head presses into the soundboard. Before I can ask what the hell she’s doing down there, she unzips my pants and pulls my dick out.
“Vee,” I snap, keeping my voice low, but unable to take my hands off the board while the musicians are still playing. “What are you doing? Get up.”
“You were right. I am bored.” Her grin turns salacious. “At least one of us should be having a good time.”
She bends to take the head between her lips and pleasure jolts up my spine. I’m so startled and unnerved, my fingers slide off the knobs I’m turning to adjust the levels. For a moment, I want to push her head down so she takes me all the way to the back of her throat, but reason kicks in.
“Babe, no.” My voice comes out as a furious hiss. “You can’t do this shit.”
“I’m doing it.” She shrugs and pushes down farther until the length of my dick disappears completely into her mouth. She bobs, smearing bright pink lipstick around me, her beautiful eyes not looking away from my face as her throat closes around me.
“Fuuuuck, Vee.” I slide back abruptly from the soundboard to get her mouth off and tuck my dick back into my pants.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, spreading her legs so the dress rides up even farther to reveal the enticing shadow at the apex of her thighs.
“Dammit.” I lean forward to push the talk-back button, stopping them in the middle of the bridge. “Guys, gimme five.”
Each of them looks various shades of confused and pissed.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I tell them. “Let me take care of one thing and you get an hour of studio time on me.”
Some of the anger fades from their expressions, but they still look annoyed. It’s the money, yes, but it’s also the time and effort. It’s taken them a while to find this groove and I’m disturbing it.
I grab Verity by the elbow, pull her to her feet, and walk her toward the exit.
“Wait,” she shouts, tugging away. “My backpack.”
She grabs her bag from the floor and totters on the too-high heels through the door. I don’t even spare a glance into the booth. I already know the guys are tuned into the show we’re giving them.
In the hall, I turn to her, struggling to check my irritation.
“What has gotten into you?” I demand.
“Not you, obviously,” she mumbles, wiping around her mouth where the lipstick smears, matching the ring around my dick.
“You can’t come to my job and pull this, Vee. It’s unprofessional. I know something’s been going on with you, but—”
“You don’t know shit,” she snaps, her eyes slitted and scornful. “I came here to do you a favor, make you feel good in this boring-ass session, and this is the thanks I get.”
“Should I thank you for getting me fired, because if I didn’t drag you off the floor, that’s exactly what would have happened. Hell, if those guys want to cause trouble and tell the studio owner, I still might.”
“They didn’t see anything.”
“They saw enough.” I run a hand down my face and blow out a tired breath. “Baby, what is this? It’s not like you.”
“How would you know what’s like me? After a few months, you think you know me?”
A slap across the face would have stung less.
I take her gently by the shoulders, trying to search her eyes, but she turns her head, lips pursed tightly. “Vee, I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“Well, lemme show you where it’s going,” she says, and turns away, walking quickly toward the studio exit. “I don’t need this.”
“What the hell!” I shout, walking toward the door. “Verity, come back and—”
“Monk,” Bret calls from the open door of the control room. “I can see you got shit going on, but we need to knock this out. Studio’s booked for the next group in two hours.”
“Yeah.” I nod absently. “Sorry. Coming.”
Part of me wants to tell Bret and his crew to fuck themselves, chase my girl and get to the bottom of this. Something isn’t right, but I can’t leave in the middle of the session. Whatever it is, will have to wait.
The closed door taunts me. I can’t shake the sense that it was more than a physical door Verity just slammed. That my future; our hopes are still here with me, but the girl I love is on the other side, already walking away.