KIM
“Yeah but why do the rumors make me so angry?” I asked the group of women around me.
The SWS was at Genie’s for an unscheduled, emergency meeting at my request. The girls were happy to meet up. Country music blared all around us. My voice was hoarse from talking so much all at once. There was so much to tell them. Genie’s was decently packed for a Thursday night. There weren’t a ton of bars in Green Valley that weren’t overrun by bikers. Genie’s was the place to be. Their fried pickles and wings were fuhgeddaboutit.
“It makes you angry because it’s bullshit,” Gretchen shouted back. “Women are told that they only have value if they’re screwable and then when people want to screw them, they get judged for it and labeled things like whore. GAH!” She threw up her arms.
Blithe nodded. “It’s true. Damn if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“Damned if you do it, damned if you don’t do it,” Gretchen said.
“Beauty is totally subjective and superfluous anyway,” Roxy added. Her eyeliner was extra dark tonight, even for her. I made a mental note to make sure she was okay. “Everything is a construct of the patriarchy.”
“True that,” I said.
“And I won’t feel guilty for wanting to be sexy either!” Suzie said with emotion. “I can wear sweatpants, or I can hooch it up. But it’s for me … okay, sometimes for Ford … but anyway.”
Just being here with my girls and venting had already improved my mood.
“Also, it’s a creepy double standard. If it was Barry chosen for the solo, nobody would bat an eye. But because I’m young and objectively not ugly, they assume I’ve used sex to get ahead,” I said, feeling empowered around my girls.
“Not ugly?” Gretchen dramatically clutched a hand to her chest. “Watch out now, Kim’s getting a big head.”
I stuck out my tongue at her. “It just sucks because there’s nothing I can do.”
“So cluck ‘em,” Suzie chimed in. “Listen, as a stripper, I’ve been on both sides. People hate no matter what. Who cares? The people who really care about you won’t judge you.”
“Cheers to that,” Blithe held up her glass and we toasted for at least tenth time that night. Mine was just water, but the feeling was there.
“I know it’s easier said than done though. When you’re the one living it and hearing it,” Suzie added, “it just plain sucks.”
I nodded with a pout. “It doesn’t help that I’m really, really attracted to Devlin.”
I lowered my voice, but the music must have stopped at that exact moment because I swore it echoed across the bar.
“What?” This was from Roxy, who had been glaring at a rugged looking biker in the corner. “When did this happen? I thought we were team Roddy.”
Gretchen said, “It’s okay to be attracted to multiple people at the same time.”
“I’m undecided on Roddy. It’s the attraction to Devlin that’s confusing. I feel weird about it. Especially if he only sees me as musical inspiration.”
Once Roddy had pointed it out, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had feelings for Devlin but what did he think about me? I didn’t know. We’d never talked about that.
“You think Devlin is using you?” Roxy asked. “Actually, he does remind me of another devilishly handsome biker we all know.”
“He who shall not be named,” Blithe said.
Gretchen waved her hand, waving away her comment. “Don’t forget Jethro had great taste. Look around you.”
We all nodded in agreement.
“He just wasn’t our person,” Suzie said shrugging.
“Right. Our person. Cause that’s a thing.” Roxy rolled her eyes. “Also, Devlin is the conductor of a symphony and a composer of music—he isn’t exactly riding with the Iron Wraiths and hocking drugs and women.”
“But he’s angry and …” I started.
“Challenging?” Gretchen asked sipping her drink.
“Yes. I dunno how it would even work between us.” I shook my head, clearing thoughts of Devlin. “Roddy says he wants the best for me. He puts everything out there.”
“How nice,” Gretchen said.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t rain on my parade. Not all men are evil.”
She held my gaze. “If you’re really happy and this is really what you want I, of course, support you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“It just feels like you are trying to sell yourself as much as you’re selling us,” she added.
I frowned. I wasn’t explaining myself well if that was how I came across. “Roddy and I have so much history. He calls me Yo-Yo. It’s sweet.”
“He calls you Yo-Yo? That doesn’t sound fun,” Blithe said.
“After the famous cellist, Yo-Yo Ma,” I clarified. “He always has. It’s our thing.”
“He couldn’t think of any famous female cellists?” Gretchen asked.
I glared at her. “Can you name a famous female cellist?”
“I’m not in that industry,” she shot back.
“Also, am I allowed to ask something?” Blithe said. “Isn’t that vaguely racist? I know you have some Korean heritage and Yo-Yo Ma is Chinese-American but … you don’t think that’s why he calls you that, do you?”
“No. That would be …” I paused to think. “No. He wouldn’t. It’s only because he’s literally the only cello player most people know.”
But truthfully, now that she’d said it, the seed had been planted. I shook my head to find my previous convictions. “I just needed to talk through things with y’all. I’m still processing a lot of stuff. It’s all good.” I grinned widely to prove my point.
I looked at each of them and they smiled back. Except Gretchen—she stabbed at a cherry in her glass.
“I don’t want to sound crass,” Blithe said, “but can we back up a little? I feel like we grazed over the details of the shower incident too quickly. I need specifics. A rough sketch would be fine too.”
“You saw his dick?” Gretchen asked before sucking very suggestively on a straw.
“Yes,” I said.
“And all the things?” Roxy asked.
“Like balls? I mean, not in great detail. I was distracted, but I saw everything.” I took a deliberate amount of time to eat a fried pickle to avoid eye contact.
“What did it look like?” Roxy said.
“His penis?” Blithe blurted. Like she sneezed.
“Yes, his penis.” Roxy twisted her mouth to the side. “I didn’t want to say it, but now you’ve made it weird.”
Heat flamed my cheek. “Yes. It is weird. But I said it too. Repeatedly. An unhealthy amount actually.”
I waited for the other shoe to drop. I wouldn’t spill Devlin’s secret. It wasn’t mine to share, and I had no way to know how’d they react. What if they wanted me to get an autograph? I could only imagine the irritated expression on his face if I were to ask him such a thing.
Blithe frowned at a cheese stick. “I didn’t think anybody really liked to look at those things.”
“I’m neutral,” Gretchen said. “Some are nice.”
“Are we still talking about the penis?” I asked.
“I want to know about his body too.” Roxy’s eyes lit up.
“For the record, I feel weird objectifying him,” I said.
They all groaned and rolled their eyes.
“Yeah, totally, me too. We are all woke AF, blah blah. So what was his butt like?” Roxy asked.
“That being said,” I continued as though I hadn’t been interrupted. “He’s a swimmer and …” I made a swoony sigh. “To be honest, it’s more than that. It’s the fact that he can completely command a room of a hundred musicians. It’s that when he plays the piano, he moves his fingers like a magician. It’s that he can come up with an entire symphonic movement in his brain from nothing. It’s almost like sorcery. I mean, that’s incredible.” I shook my head with a laugh. “And he can be really funny, too. It always surprises me when he makes me laugh because he tries to be so stern. Gosh, and you should hear him talk about his family. He has these two nieces—”
Four sets of eyes blinked at me.
“But it’s obviously just physical attraction,” Suzie said, a perfectly arched eyebrow judging me.
“I don’t really know him. He hides himself. There’s a lot that’s off limits. I’m not gonna go telling Devlin I have this huge embarrassing crush only for him to look at me like I’m something he stepped in.”
Devlin’s intentions toward me were so unclear. Sometimes it seemed like he maybe he was … I dunno, looking at me like a man looked at a woman. Other times we felt like no more than two business partners working toward the same goal.
“Can we talk about anything else?” I asked. “Suzie, how’s the studio?”
“Crazy busy. It’s amazing,” Suzie said. We talked about Ford’s Fosters and their fantastic visit. Suzie was in the middle of a story about Ford and Jack fighting over the proper way to load the dishwasher when her face completely changed and she cut herself off. “OH MY GOD!”
I looked to the door. I thought maybe Nico Manganiello had walked in. Stranger things had happened in Green Valley. A girl could dream.
When I brought my focus back to her, Suzie was looking at me like she’d just figured out crypto-currency. “You saw it.”
“Yes. Penis. We get it. Can we move on? I’m feeling weird about it.” Blithe threw a limp cheese-stick back in the plastic basket.
“Nooo. No, no, no …” Suzie shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”
Adrenaline spiked my heart rate. Thankfully our waitress came to check on us. She was a cute brunette named Patty, about our age, maybe a little younger.
“Can I get y’all another round?” she asked.
Everybody nodded or said yes. “Anything else for you?” she asked me.
“Just water,” I said. She was about to leave, but I didn’t want to have to get back to Suzie’s discovery. I desperately wracked my brains for small talk. “Patty, how’s your momma?” I asked.
Patty placed a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow. “She’s good.”
Ugh, I was being so awkward. “And your cousin, Willa? How’s she?”
“She’s good too.” Patty glanced quickly around the packed bar. “Haven’t seen you out in a while. How are you?”
“Been busy. Oh, can you tell me about softball? You play softball right?” I asked with sudden inspiration. Suzie looked like she was about to burst with her discovery. I wouldn’t be able to lie if they out right asked me who Devlin was. My face was an open book. I could only stall.
Patty smiled but it was strained. Her gaze flicked to several people trying to get her attention. She said, “I’d love to sometime, but I got about ten tables needing something. Open mic night is crazy. We’ll catch up later. I’ll get all y’all’s round.”
When she was gone, Suzie said, “Enough’s enough. Spill it. What did you see when that mask came off?”
The others gasped and leaned closer, catching on. They threw out guesses of disfigurement and scarring. They were so wrong.
“You can’t freak out,” I warned.
They’re eyes widened but they nodded with mouths clamped shut tightly. But then, the quick happy notes of a familiar melody cut through the air and the bar went quiet. It was as though someone made an announcement.
“I love this song,” Roxy whispered.
We all nodded. Tiny Dancer by Elton John was one of those songs that brought everybody together no matter their age or background.
Chills traveled down my body as a familiar voice broke through the air. My eyes shot to the piano player on stage. Devlin was here. Excitement shuddered through me.
Devlin’s rich guttural voice broke through the air. He sat at the piano with his back to the bar. His mask was pulled off his face so he could sing into the microphone, he couldn’t be fully seen with his hat on. But I would know that profile anywhere.
I glanced to the other girls to see if they figured it all out. Their shocked expressions told me they did. That voice revealed all. He was a ragged mix of Eddie Vedder and Hozier. His rich voice burned like Tennessee honey whiskey showing his roots, but his range and technique came from years of practice combined with his own virtuoso talent. The man was captivating. It wasn’t just me who noticed. All the women and dang, most of the men, were just as entranced as I was. Pure, raw talent like that was hypnotic.
He had the skill of a classically trained musician with the cool casualness of a busker. The muscles of his neck, shoulders, and back were prominent under his thin shirt. They strained as he sang with every note. He poured everything into it.
My stomach flip-flopped. I hadn’t been prepared to see him. Been prepared to have this reaction.
A guitarist went up on stage and asked to join in. Devlin nodded to him with a smile in his voice. The guitar strummed along so perfectly it could have been staged. A tall woman with a shaved head joined on the steel guitar.
As the chorus built, people went to the dance floor. I couldn’t move. The things happening in my body were more than the music and more than the attraction. The things happening in my body were infinite. I had serious feelings for this man. Hearing him sing transported me back in time. Heat pooled deep inside me when he groaned out a particularly intense line.
A drummer got on stage and softly kept time. His grin spoke to the magic of the moment. It was magic. There was no other way to describe it. The lyrics were about holding a woman close, laying with her, softly, slowly—how she was always with him. My heart raced. I wouldn’t read into it.
As the famous chorus broke out, the whole bar sang along. Even busy Patty stopped to listen to the impromptu band on stage. Without talking, the five of us moved to the floor, rocking slowly at first, smiling and swaying.
Everything felt so perfectly coordinated that anything planned could never possibly top it.
This moment. Right here, with my closest friends, singing with unencumbered passion, I felt fully alive. It was more than I could ever ask for. I wanted to scream along at the top of my lungs. I wanted to cry. I was happy. I was loved. I wasn’t alone. I wished I could hold on to this feeling even when the doubt settled in.
Gretchen, Roxy, Suzie, and Blithe laughed and sang. But when Gretchen caught my eye, she shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, girl, you’re in big trouble,” she yelled over the music.
I shook my head looking to the ceiling. “I know.”
Blithe grabbed my hand and twirled me.
I wished I had my cello so I could run up on stage too. Then I allowed myself just for a moment, to imagine what it might be like playing with him without any expectations or a deadline. Just to play together. To hear him sing so beautifully, to play any instrument he wanted, while I joined on the cello. We would make beautiful music together.
The whole bar sang along loudly. Devlin’s hands danced happily up and down the keyboard, but he still kept his face from the crowd. The girls and I belted out the lyrics at the top of our lungs and yes, I had tears in my eyes. How could I not? This was the power of music.
There was no going back from here. I could no longer delude myself that my feelings for Devlin were anything less than epic.