Chapter Ten #2
Lennon jumped to his feet. “Go away? Go. Away. That’s his fucking kid you are talking about, you heartless bastard.”
Sam stood. “What? You think coming to live with you guys like the Waltons—all good-night Jim Bob—will be the right thing for a baby?”
It hit a raw nerve. Everything the lawyer said about his living arrangements was true.
To do the right thing for Petal, perhaps even for him and Pixie, was to move into his own home, but how could he do that?
He looked across at Jordan then back to Sam.
“It’s better than living with a junkie of a mother, I should fucking know! ” Dred shouted.
The room dropped silent, the audible equivalent of a mic drop.
Dred forced his breathing back under control.
For a moment, he wished Pixie was standing by his side.
She had the ability to calm him when he was this wound up.
He thought back to Sam finding her in his hotel room.
He’d been furious then too, but her hand on his chest had sucked the anger from his as surely as if he’d been connected to a drain.
Everyone slowly but surely returned to their seats. Nikan walked by, squeezed his shoulder, and sat down on the arm of Dred’s chair.
“Why don’t you let me take care of this for you?” Sam offered, his tone reconciliatory. “I can deal with the lawyers. Leave you to focus on the album.”
Dred sat down again. “No thanks, Sam. You take care of my professional life, and I’ll take care of my personal one. What were you guys arguing about when I came in?”
“He wants to add dates to the start of the European leg of the tour,” Nikan said, looking into the fire. “We’ll still be finishing the album. The new tracks won’t be practiced or arranged to play live. We want to add the dates to the end of the tour.”
“Makes sense. So what’s the problem with that, Sam? Because you keep piling all this shit on us, one of us is going to lose it.”
“Fine.” Sam dramatically wiped his hands.
“I am done with this conversation. You don’t want to accommodate the label’s wishes, I’ll let them know.
But one of these days, you’ll be replaced by someone who is willing and able”—he looked at each of them for a moment—“to do what they want. I’m trying my very best for you guys, yet you never respect that. ”
“Sam,” Nikan said, his temper cooled and his peacemaker tone very much evident. “Of course we respect you. But the asks are sometimes ridiculous, and I’m sure you know that when you ask us. Could you at least act like you recognize that? Aren’t we on the same team, or do you work for them?”
“Of course I work for you. I always have,” Sam replied.
“Fine. Then let’s figure this out.”
Hours later, when the conversation was over, and dinner had been eaten, Dred found himself alone in his room. He picked up the phone and called Pixie. The shop was most definitely closed, and he hoped she was at home. The phone rang once then was answered.
“Hey, let me turn this down,” Pixie said.
He could hear loud music playing, a musical as always. Something about the crème de la crème of the chess world and Yul Brynner, which seemed a totally random combination.
The music suddenly died. “What was that, Snowflake?”
Pixie laughed, the sound music to his ears after the day he’d had. “The Chess soundtrack. Written by the guys from ABBA about a cold-war chess tournament. I need to educate you.”
“Yeah. No, you don’t. Sounds boring as fuck. I can live without it, thanks. What are you up to?” He swivelled on the sofa, put his feet up on the opposite arm to the one he was leaning against.
“Planning for my day off tomorrow.”
“You plan your day off the night before?”
“I do if I am trying to fit in a hike, some sewing, brownie baking, card making, and watching Rent for the five-hundred-twenty-five-thousandth-sixth-hundredth time.” Pixie giggled again. “You don’t even get that, do you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Listen to ‘Seasons of Love’ from Rent later. It’ll make more sense.”
Dred took a deep breath. In a matter of minutes on the phone with her, he felt calm again. Being around her strengthened him. “Your day sounds perfect, Snowflake.”
“Wish you could share it with me.”
Dred sighed. He wanted that, too. He didn’t know where his daughter was. His creativity was shot. For the first time in a long while, the loneliness that had threatened to swallow him whole as a child was back. It was bone deep, and disheartening.
And then an idea hit him, so obvious, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
* * *
Pixie tightened her hiking shoes. A backpack filled with a light sweater, water bottle, and lunch was by the door.
She checked the route on her phone. Bus to Coral Gables to explore the Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, then pick up the Old Cutler Trail and walk the five miles back to Coconut Grove.
There, she planned to treat herself to dinner at a little outdoor café before heading home for the brownies currently cooking.
As if by magic, the timer buzzed and Pixie hurried to remove them from the oven. They smelled so good, it was tempting to eat one even though she’d eaten her breakfast a few minutes earlier.
Lia rushed into the kitchen, her red hair perfectly styled in the classic victory rolls she preferred. “Oh my God. Give me some of that, whatever it is.” She poured herself a travel mug of coffee and added a sickening amount of half-and-half into it.
Pixie cut into the brownie, giving Lia a healthy piece because she’d only complain if it was too small. She wrapped it into a napkin and handed it to her.
“You are the best,” Lia said, punctuating it with an air kiss near Pixie’s cheek. “See you later, tonight.”
With a slam of the door, she was gone.
The brownies looked so good, she cut herself a little piece. She popped it in her mouth and savored the soft chocolaty goodness.
There was a knock at the door. Lia must have forgotten her keys. Pixie pulled the door open. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t . . .”
“Your day sounded so perfect I wanted to share it with you.” Dred grabbed her around the waist and picked her up. He walked them inside, kicked the door closed with his foot, then turned to push her up against it. There was a loud thud and she realized he’d dropped the bag he was carrying.
His lips smashed against hers. Never had she felt so wanted, so consumed from a kiss.
Her hands found their way into his hair and tugged hard.
He was really here. With her back firmly against the metal doorframe, she felt secure in his arms as his hands gripped her butt.
When his tongue pushed its way into her mouth, she groaned.
Breathless, she welcomed his warmth, savored him as he explored her.
Just as she was about to die from the intensity, Dred pulled back and put his forehead to hers, a tender gesture and so polar to his initial greeting. “I missed you, Pix.” He wrapped his arms around her and gripped her tightly.
The hard erection pressed up against her core reminded her that he was stopping for her.
Not because he wanted to. And neither did she.
She wanted to stay in this moment with him.
Not think about everything that had gone before.
And she certainly didn’t want some misguided sympathetic attempt to get her through it.
She wanted this man to take her as though his very life depended on it.
“Tastes like I missed the brownie making.” Dred lifted his head from hers, the huskiness in his voice sending shivers through her. “So what’s next? Hiking?”
She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, hoping to heaven that she didn’t look or sound as nervous as she felt. “Can we play?”
Shock registered across his features followed by a broad smile. “Play?”
“Play,” she answered confidently.
Dred groaned. “Best fucking word. Ever. Where is your room?”
Pixie pointed down the hall and laughed as he carried her quickly to her room before lying her gently down on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. “What’s rule two?” he asked her as he crouched by her feet to remove her hiking boots and socks.
“Licking and sucking?”
“Always with the licking and sucking, huh? You get to say stop,” he reminded her. Dred stood, kicked off his boots and removed his socks.
With his feet still soundly on the floor, Dred leaned over her body, putting his hands on either side of her head. No part of him was touching her, yet he was dwarfing her all the same.
Sunlight beamed through the windows, burning away her worries.
“You like this T-shirt?” he asked before nuzzling the side of her neck. It tickled in a deliciously crazy way.
“It’s an old work-out top,” she replied.
Dred gripped it at the neck and ripped it from her. It was so unbelievably primal, and yet as he winked at her, she melted a little more. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
He buried his face between her breasts and inhaled deeply before kissing her.
Little nips and bites, interspersed between slow licks over her tender skin.
The rough of his tongue abraded her skin.
Dred dropped between her knees and continued to kiss her stomach.
“You taste like a perfect slice of heaven.”
Pixie slid her hands into his hair and pulled lightly. The groan he emitted confirmed how much he liked it.
He reached for the button on her shorts and paused to look at her.
Without a word, he was asking for her explicit consent to go further.
It surprised her how willing she was to go along.
She nodded and gasped as he popped them open and slid them down her hips, leaving her in her practical cotton sports bra and panties.
Not the sexiest choice, but thank heavens she’d waxed.