Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(14)
Author: C.D. Reiss

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again, but Jonathan’s phone buzzed. When I looked at him, his eyes were open.

“You gonna get that?” I asked.

“No.”

“Your cleaning staff’s been knocking around.”

The phone stopped buzzing. Jonathan stretched as if two hours of sleep had left him refreshed. “I have to go get your clothes. You don’t want to flash Maria, or she’ll start sprinkling holy water all over the place. Makes a mess.”

He kissed me and swung his legs over the side of the bed. I sat up, aching everywhere. I was so sore I could barely sit straight. Jonathan looked down at something and didn’t move.

“What?” I said.

“I don’t want you to think I’m prying or that I was looking in your things.”

“Okay, I won’t think that.”

He picked my bag up off the floor. It was open, and Kevin’s flyer for the Solar Eclipse show stuck out. I showed him the name list. I knew the only name he would see was Jessica’s, so I pointed out Kevin’s.

“Kevin Wainwright,” he said. “The guy with the dick.”

“He came to Frontage last night.”

“And invited you to a show for tonight? Late notice, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “It’s Kevin. He thinks courtesy is for non-creatives.”

“Like me.”

“You’re plenty creative.” I slapped his arm with the brochure. “With your body.”

“You going?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You?”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to. It’s unbecoming if I don’t. The divorce looks anything but amicable, and people are watching.”

“What kind of people?”

“She got custody of most of our friends. I do business with some of them. Others have just been in the same circles too long.”

“Which sister you taking?”

“Deirdre, I think. Are you going to pretend you don’t know me?” His phone buzzed again.

I slid off the bed. “We’ll see if I even go.”

I went into the bathroom, a huge white room with a separate shower and tub. Every corner was clean, as if little gremlins lived under the sink and scrubbed the place while he flattened women on the bed.

I had no idea if I was going to L.A. Mod. It was a black tie thing, and I didn’t have anything to wear. And there was the Kevin issue. Jonathan would be there with Deirdre, who had given me dagger eyes just the night before. If I were being honest with myself, I would admit I was just making excuses. I didn’t want to be in Jonathan and Kevin’s line of sight at the same time. I couldn’t stand any unmanageable drama just as my career was rousing itself.

I heard Jonathan through the door, mumbling. Not a business call. Then it went quiet. I peeked into the bedroom. He was gone, but my dress was laid out on the chair. I put it on and fished my underwear and shoes out from under the bed.

I went downstairs. Though I’d been to Jonathan’s before, I hadn’t paid attention to what he had on the walls.

One couldn’t go through music school without an immersion in all the arts, and Kevin had continued my education with his passion for all things visual. So once I was fully clothed and paying attention, I recognized a Kandinsky in Jonathan’s living room. I saw the Holbein over the mantle and the Mondrian studies in geometry in the corner. I didn’t linger though, because I heard him in the kitchen. I didn’t want him to think I was prying.

I followed his voice to the kitchen, realizing he wasn’t speaking English, Spanish, or Korean. A middle-aged, dark-skinned woman with Asian features and wearing a cleaning smock smiled at me.

“Do you drink coffee?” Jonathan asked when I walked in.

“Not really.” I leaned on the counter. “I like it with milk, and dairy’s not good for my voice. So, let me guess. The lady you’re talking to is Philippino?”

“Good call.”

“I do live in Los Angeles.” I smirked. “You speak, what is it called?”

“It’s called Tagalog, and yes—”

“You live in Los Angeles.”

He smiled. “Ally Mira washed your dress.”

“That was very kind.”

“She is. So, seriously, are you going to this thing tonight?”

“Kevin dragged me to a thousand art shows when we were together, and I’m just not into another one.”

“That was Teresa on the phone,” he said. “She says you met Deirdre last night?”

“Briefly. Very tall. Big curly red hair.”

“She got alcohol poisoning.”

“That’s terrible.”

“That’s Deirdre. Theresa was watching her, and she didn’t know Deirdre had a flask. So Theresa’s counting drinks and Deirdre’s off to the bathroom twelve times. Do the math on that.” He came toward me. “They have her on a B vitamin IV drip, and she’s already cursing the nurses.” He put his thumb on my cheek, and I raised my face to kiss him. “You sure you’re not going?” he said. “I can give you a lift.”

“That would be like us going together.”

“Would that make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” I put my hands on his chest to caress him through his T-shirt. “I think it might make you uncomfortable.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Tell me more about me.”

“You take your sisters out, and you meet your women in private. You said you and your wife, sorry, ex-wife, still hang around the same circles. You don’t want her to see you with an actual woman. And don’t make a crack about your sisters being women.”

He looked up for a second, and I got a full view of the muscles and veins in his neck. I was right, or at least close.

“I can go alone,” he said, looking at me. “I’m a big boy. But I don’t want to. So if you’re going, this non-creative wants to go with you, courtesy be damned.”

The offer was compelling. I hadn’t planned on going because I didn’t want to stand in a corner and watch Kevin work the room. I didn’t want to make small talk with his friends, and I didn’t want to get the death-eye from whatever little hipster groupie was chasing him. Jonathan would be a nice buffer.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll let your handsome ass drag me to a black tie thing at L.A. Mod. But you’ll owe me.”

“What exactly will I owe you?”