Page 79 of The River in Spring
“Good. Have fun, girls,” I say, walking away. One of them squeals their excitement. I shake my head.
“Hey! This is going to be fun. Hi,” I say, taking my place with the family.
“What you want to drink?” Aargon says. “Whiskey?”
I’m almost rendered silent as I surreptitiously try to figure out who he has an arm around. A woman. Jesus.
“Yeah, that’s good. Introduce me to your dates,” I say, bringing Van into the mix.
“This is Addie. Addie this is Nobel,” Aargon says with an expression I haven’t seen in years.
Then Van pops in with his latest interest. “And this is Diedre.”
“Hi, Diedre, Addie. Glad to meet you both,” I practically have to shout.
The noise in the room is growing. Anticipation. It’s hard to hear each other at this point. Our conversation will consist of expressions and body language at this point.
Out of nowhere my father grabs my face and plants a big one on my cheek.
All I can do is laugh.
The lights dim and the room illuminates with energy. They are going crazy before they know who is coming to the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to be verrrrry excited!” The familiar baritone voice announces his prize. “You will talk about this night for years to come. McCandy’s welcomes back to the stage, the one and only, Montana!!!!”
Oh shit! The place goes wild. Screams and whistles, as the curtains pull back revealing the band. Dove opens her arms to the room and the guys begin to play their first number one song, “Mined”. It comes to me that they are the same as they were that first night. The same talent, sexual appeal, just as dedicated and one-minded in their art. The public just needed to find them.
Now, as they sing the chorus, the audience joins in. Singing along, knowing every word of the clever combination of notes that have captured people’s attention. I love it and so do the band members. Dove is playing the stage, picking a person to focus on for a minute. She goes from one side to the other, engaging her fans.
The guys do their thing, varying little from what I watched a year ago. Tony still checks out the fresh meat, and Oscar stays in his mind, feeling the music. ZZ beats the rhythm with the same one-minded aim. Getting lost in the drums. Jimmy, he may be the only one who is in a different headspace. I catch him looking at his girl and not being able to control his smile.
So much has happened in a year.
As the song ends and the applause dies, Dove speaks.
“Hello, McCandy’s!! We are so happy to perform for you tonight! We want to thank you for your steady affection. Here’s a song you might remember us singing. It was our most requested, a year ago.”
“Wild Thing’s” opening chords play, and again the crowd explodes with energy.
I catch the eye of my mother, who sends me a wink and a nod. Then she locks eyes with my father and smiles. Her own wild thing.
Sunlight streaks across the room and illuminates her face. Being in my house again feels better than good. Maybe because it’s rare that we are here. In the last year it’s only been a handful of times. That has made the coming home, if even for a few days, kind of magical. I remember how I felt the first time I saw the property. It’s like that again. I’ll never sell this place. It has become touchstone, not just for me, but for both of us. Thank God.
“I wish we had another few days here,” Dove says, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. “We could go fishing.”
“Are you really thinking about trout when I’m laying here naked?”
She rolls against me and crosses her arms on my chest.
“No baby. It’s just that your squirming cock reminded me of a fish jumping.”
That fucking look that she gets whenever she talks about my dick. Like it is her favorite toy. It’s an aphrodisiac. I push the conversation aside and get to more interesting things. Like her ass and pussy, the beautiful breasts and the softness of her skin. And how she smells like a summer morning.
“Come here,” I say, touching my lips.
She abandons talk of anything outside this room, this bed, and takes the kiss. Nothing in this world compares to how it feels to make love to Dove. To have her make love to me. She paints with all the colors. Words are an injustice.
I throw the bedding back and start a tour of her body. Lovely thing that it is. My hands wander over the wonderland. Fuck. Those nipples. They are in my mouth before I finish the thought. Babe. There is nothing like making love slowly. Like walking without a destination. Just for the journey’s pure pleasure.
