Drive(51)

“Who?” he asked.

“The bass player for White Zombie.”

“Oh, yeah, she was the shit.”

“Still is, read up, buddy. They’ve been around since I was born.” I had his attention. “I know they only got recognized in the late nineties, but they worked at it for ten years. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Oh, hell,” he said with a glance at Jon. “Another pep talk.”

“No, I’ll stop,” I said. “Okay, but do you know who got the biggest break in rock ‘n’ roll?”

He leaned in, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It was his first public display—aside from his show for Dylan—and it stunned me in my seat to the point I almost forgot my train of thought. Almost. “All of them. Every band you can think of with radio play. They all have a story. All of them.” I pointed toward the front door. “And these bands that come marching through every night will have one, too. Some of them won’t be as great as others, but that’s what I’m here for.” I pointed my beer in his direction. “To cover the great ones.”

If Reid personified a look, it would be sex and skepticism. “If you can’t play bass like a badass, you write about one?”

“Yes, you do, especially if she’s as overlooked at Sean Yseult.”

“She’s not overlooked.”

“You didn’t know her name,” I reminded.

“Point taken,” he said as we tapped beers.

Bob Marley and the Wailer’s “Redemption Song” came on, and Jon twisted off another beer without so much as a look in Reid’s direction. I happily added it to my growing pile.




“Juanita, get your ass over here!” Reid sounded from the bar as he watched me shake my ass to Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Pride and Joy”. Loving the appreciation in his eyes as he studied the zigzag pattern of my arms over my head and the double tap of my hips to the bass, I ignored his order and let the booze and steel guitar guide my body. A small group of people had gathered at a table on the edge of the floor next to the jukebox while I pranced around like the shameless twenty-year-old I was.

I yelled out to Reid, who watched me with intent eyes from where he sat.

“My mother said when you’re happy you should dance! And when you’re pissed you should dance! And when you drink too much tequila you should dance . . . while you cry.”

The table next to me cheered as they passed me a fresh shot. Welcoming the burn with a salute of thanks, I downed the golden liquid before I shimmied up to the sexiest man in that bar. “Hey,” I said as I took a seat next to him, covered in sweat, and leaned over. “Thanks for this. I’m pretty sure I’ll want to reenact a porno when we get back to your house, so you’ll be repaid.”

Reid threw his head back on a full belly laugh, and so did Jon, who had heard me. I blushed as much as the alcohol would allow and grabbed Reid’s pale hand. He looked over at me. “Thank you. For today.”

“It’s the least I can do.” His features twisted with concern. “You okay?”

“Buzzing, but not bad. I ate six bags of peanuts,” I said reassuringly.

“I better get some food in you,” Reid said as he saluted Jon and stood. I reached over the bar and grabbed Quiet Jon’s T-shirt and planted one right on his lips in thanks. He’d grown on me. As if he was expecting it, he gripped me by the arms and pulled me over the bar, my sneakers plowing through two empty bottles, and gave it to me just as good as I got. I shrieked in surprise as he laid it on me like a man possessed, but kept his tongue out of it.

“You motherfucker,” Reid said, with an equal amount of bark and humor. “You’re going to pay for that!”

Jon pulled away with a fresh coat of my peppermint lip gloss glistening on his lips, guiltless. “Worth it, dude. Fucking worth it.”

“Awww, baby,” I said with my hands on my hips. “Don’t be jealous, we can skip the burrito and go get naked.”




In the shower later, Reid was doing his best to keep me upright and quiet.

“God, you really don’t know when to shut up. I think it’s about time you ate some soap, Estella Emerson.”

“That’s Estella Rosa Maria Emerson,” I said as I puffed out my chest with my hands on my hips, still a little uneasy on my feet from the booze.

“Seriously? That’s your name?” he said as he gripped my head and pushed the soap toward my mouth.

“Yes,” I said, grabbing his balls. “You get that in my mouth, I take this off.”

He dropped the soap, grabbed my hand, and slid it up and around his ready dick. “How about we work on getting this in your mouth?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“If you’re not any good at it, I understand,” he chided with a shrug.

“How about you kiss my Latina ass? Blowjobs are a privilege you have to earn. These lips are pure gold, baby. Completely innocent. I’m saving that act for a worthy man.”

“Oh, shit,” he said with a sly grin, “challenge accepted.”

“Don’t get your hopes ups. My high school boyfriend still has blue balls.”

“Really?” Reid said as he brushed my lips with his fingers. “And your virginity wasn’t sacred?”