Page 43 of Revelry

“Why are you eating fruit? We’ve been on the road for all of five minutes.”

“I’ve decided to make some changes in my life.”

I eye him suspiciously. “What kind of changes?”

“Just getting healthy.” He glances down at the paper while I look over a menu and decide to get pretty much everything. “None of us are getting any younger.”

“Dude, we’re musicians. We spend twenty-four hours a day on a tour bus, and maybe three in concert every other day. How the fuck are we getting healthy?”

Something was up with Ash. He’d been withdrawn, he didn’t party with us anymore, and this new health kick he was on? That wasn’t the Ash I knew. The Ash I knew could down three fucking cheeseburgers before breakfast. He wasn’t happy unless something was covered in sugar or grease.

Ali studies Ash, and then says, “Lay off, Ryan, you’re not eating it.”

I’m gonna be eating something before long.

I hold up my hands in surrender and Ash smiles down into his fruit basket. He meets my eyes across the table and I know exactly what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it too.

This feisty little ranga is going to own my balls and store them in her handbag, and I’m going to let her, because I was a fucking goner the second I saw her glaring up at me from the floor of that conference room. I just have to hope like hell she doesn’t realise it.

Later that night, I absentmindedly pluck at the strings on my Maton acoustic, and stare out the window at the dark Californian countryside. I need a cigarette, or a fucking blow job. I might have screwed my way through my fair share of groupies when Holly had left me, but after I’d dried out from the drink and decided to get my life back on track so I could be a good dad to my kid, I hadn’t felt the pleasure of a woman’s touch for months. Waking up at Zed’s loft with Ali straddling me, her soft tits pushed against my naked chest as she drooled on my shoulder, had been the first interaction I’d had with a woman in a long time. Seeing her every day since, and feeling her come against my hand on the plane had been absolute torture. Apparently I’m a glutton for blue balls, because I find myself picking up my phone and texting her.

Me: You awake?

Ali: No. You?

Me: Nope.

Ali: Some arsehole is playing guitar in the lounge area, making it impossible for me to sleep.

My hands fumble over the strings as I read her text and chuckle.

Me: Yeah, that sucks. You should totally go and blow him. Might make him shut up.

Ali: Nah, he’d probably like that too much.

Me: I’m thinking maybe he’d hate it. You should definitely do it.

Ali: Yes, because all men hate blow jobs. Why don’t you sleep like the rest of the regular people, Coop?

Me: Why don’t you sleep like the rest of the regular people, Ali?

Ali: Because some arsehole likes to keep me awake by playing guitar and sending me inappropriate texts.

Me: You’re right, that would keep you awake.

Ali: Super Secret Squirrel?

I chuckle as I read the text several times.

Me: What?

Ali: Super Secret Squirrel. It means I’m about to tell you something so confidential that you must swear to never tell another living soul. To break the sacred trust of the Super Secret Squirrel is to forfeit your balls forever to the person whose trust you broke.

Me: Okay then, thanks for clarifying that for me. Who knew squirrels were so intense.

Ali: Oh, they’re ballsy little fuckers. The question is: can you handle the power of the SSS, Coop?

Me: Well, when you say it like that it sounds kinky. How could I possibly refuse? Is it wrong that I’m all kinds of turned on right now, thinking about squirrels in bondage gear?

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