A Different Kind of Forever(50)

“I’d always do that. But I write for myself. If somebody else plays it, or hears it, then I’ll get paid. But the fun is in the writing. I can’t wait to start this movie thing. I’ve got so many ideas. David is really sharp. He’s going to be a big help.”

“You’re pretty amazing, aren’t you? I’m used to smart people, and talented people. I work with them. But you are something special.”

“Shucks. Now I’m embarrassed.”

“Cut it out. You know how good you are.”

He looked at her, curious. “Do you think I’m arrogant?”

“No, not at all. You’re very comfortable with who you are. You’re one of the most self-assured people I’ve ever met. I mean, that guy tonight? Jackie? Most men I know would have had to make a point, somehow.”

“I did make a point. Bobby will fire him.”

“Really?”

“Not because he pulled that shit on me, but because he pulled that shit, period. When people pay money to listen to good music and have a nice time, they shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of *.”

She glanced over at him. His eyes were closed, his face looked very young and peaceful. He opened one eye.

“What?”

She grinned. “So, you and Jonelle were kinda close?”

He closed his eye and sighed. “You picked up on that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I met her when I was just eighteen. She felt there were certain, ah, gaps in my education.”

“I see. So is there anything in particular I should have thanked her for?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. When I started my senior year in high school, the prettiest girl in the whole class, hell she was head cheerleader, asked me over to her house to watch ‘General Hospital’ after school. She made a pass. I was shocked. She had never so much as looked at me before, but her sister had seen us playing over the summer, and I guess she thought it would be cool to screw a guy in a band. She didn’t want anyone to know. Not only was I the shortest guy around, but I’d skipped third grade, so I was younger than everybody else. It really sucked. But two or three afternoons a week, we’d be at it. Unfortunately, she lacked imagination, and any time I suggested anything other than the missionary position, she freaked. When I met Jonelle, my technique was rather limited. Jonelle, on the other hand, had been hopping in and out of bed for years. Twenty going on forty-five, you know? She gave me a rather advanced tutorial.”

“Remind me to send her flowers.”

He yawned. “I’d like to think I’d have eventually improved on my own. There’s a Marriott just ahead. Pull in. We’ll get a room.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It’ll take us at least forty minutes to get home. It’ll be fun. Besides, you’ve been getting me hot and bothered all night.”

She turned the truck into the parking lot. “I thought you were tired.”

“Not that tired.”

She shut off the truck and turned in her seat to face him. “And you can’t wait?”

“I’ve been waiting all night.” He got out and walked around to the other side of truck, opening her door and pulling her out.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she scolded, walking past him. He grabbed her and pulled her back to him, pressing her against the truck. He kissed her very slowly, one hand sliding up her skirt, the other against her breast. He kissed her again, more deeply, and her arms went around him, and she opened her legs as his hand crept further up her thigh. Abruptly, he pulled back, and she leaned back against the side of the truck, blood pounding, her lips swollen.

“So, you want to drive home or what?”

She licked her lips. Her skin felt on fire. She couldn’t catch her breath. “You son of a bitch.”

He grinned. “It’s the hat.”





CHAPTER EIGHT



THEY PASSED INTO the summer together. After Emily and Megan moved down with their father, they were together almost every day and night. Michael was working on the score for the movie. The band had decided to take on the project. Michael had been hooked when he saw the first rough takes of the film. Gordon Prescott was filming a version of the Canterbury Tales, with a script based on the original stories. His pilgrims were a group of people taking a bus trip to Atlantic City on the Canterbury Bus Line. During the course of the trip, various tales would be told, all in flashback. It was a fascinating idea, and beautifully acted. For Michael, it was a chance to develop distinct themes for each of the characters. And so it had been agreed. Michael would do the writing. Seth and Joey would produce the soundtrack. The band would record at least three original numbers, and Prescott would get other bands to contribute to the soundtrack.