Chapter 2: Drummer Boys Don't Like Sand In Their Bed

Alright, so Bodie's layin' one on Marley, but let's see what happens next....

The song is Payphone, because I think it captures Bodie's feelings. He can't shake "Jaz," he doesn't really trust Marley, he's pretty disillusioned about  her in every way, but at the same time, he's kind of...standing at the payphone, trying to make a connection with her...

Still Martha's Vineyard, Still End of Last Summer

Bodie

Well, this is unexpected.

Kissing Marley feels good. Feels real good.

Fuck, I don't even feel pissed off anymore.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't pissed off. Probably sometime during the first week with Bells.

Bells. Shit.

Nope. Not going there. This feels too good.

I slide my tongue along hers, coaxing, and she gives hers up, letting me take it in my mouth, and taste her. She takes like beer and barbecue, of course, but underneath she tastes right. So fucking right. She tastes like what's always missing.

I find myself letting go of my grip on her arms and wrapping her in my embrace, and she reaches around my shoulders and pulls herself around me and that feels right, too. Her embrace is like all the women in my family—warm, solid, real.

Jaz—I mean Marley—she makes an anxious sound inside my mouth and even though I'm ninety-nine percent sure the moan is a green flag to take her down right here on the the sand and take us both from feeling good to feeling fucktastic, there's that one percent chance that I'm wrong. That I don't know this girl like I used to. And she ain't no fangirl. And she's drunk.

I untangle our tongues, and she slips from my grasp. For a second I feel a racing disappointment that she's trying to get away, but then she reaches a desperate hand toward me and I feel the chill over my feet and I realize she's just surprised and unsteadied by the wave that has gotten ahead of the tide and rushed in around us. I grab at her, keeping her from tipping over and she laughs.

"Oh fuck, I'm so drunk," she mumbles. Then she looks up at me, "You must be, too. Kissing me is not an appropriate reaction to the crazy shit going down between us."

Between us. Another racy emotion spills through me, but falls away with the receding wave.

"You right," I tell her. "All I can think is...I don't even know what to call you."

Her grip tightens on my forearms. She's searching my face, hers so pale in the bright moonlight. "What do you want to call me?"

"What do you want me to call you?" I counter.

Our feet are sinking in the sand as the tide sucks away our solid ground.

"I...I...don't know," she says, stumbling away from me and hurrying away up the beach toward the house.

I'm not at all bothered by that. The whole time I knew her, she was like this. Letting me get close, then pushing me away for my own good. She probably thinks that's what she's doing now.

Yeah, I should let her go, but I hardly ever do what's good for me. And I ain't done with this girl. I need to know. What happened to her. How prison treated her. How she rose above it.

I need to hear it, in the morning. We both know what's going down tonight.

I follow her at a distance. She walks straight into the house and plunges into the throngs of people. She picks up a bottle of Grey Goose from a side table and keeps going. I keep following, snagging a half empty bottle of cranberry juice as I weave through the crowds of people, behind the barefoot girl with beach curled hair and the short ass jean shorts and the lavender shirt tied up around her midriff. She walks up the stairs, and I'm still right behind her. When she stops in the upper landing, I take her hand and lead her to my room.

She stares at the bottle of cranberry juice in my hand. "Is that really necessary?"

I grin at her. This was always my favorite part-the words. "That depends on your goals. What is it you want to happen here? You want to pass out, or you want to party?"

"You don't sound very much like a rock star," she snorts, throwing herself sideways in a chair, kicking her feet over the arm, laying her head back against the other and unscrewing the bottle of vodka, taking a small sip. "You sound like a counselor."

"You just gonna insult me all night, when I'm working on being a bigger person? You ran games on me, girl—twice—and I'm willing to let it all go. We ain't the same stupid kids we were, but there's still...something. You know it and I know it."

Her eyes trail from my bare feet slowly up my body. I feel the weight of her gaze, and that feels good, too. When she reaches my eyes, she smiles and she's exactly Jaz, and I can't believe I didn't see it the moment I saw her at the Lunar Lounge, even though she's paler and has loose curly hair and...a nose job, I think, and I've never seen her without high makeup before and she hardly wears any now. Still—her eyes, her smile are exactly the same. I had just pushed them so far down in my memory...they took a while to resurface.

"You look...good, Bodie. Are you good, in this new life of yours?"

I swipe the bottle of vodka from her hands, pour a sad quarter of it into the juice, and shake it up. I take a long swig, give it to her.

"I'm on top of the fucking world. Are you good, girl?"

She raises an eyebrow and stretches a little in the chair. "Do I look good?"

I laugh at her boldness. If it were somebody else, I might worry about how much she's had to drink, but Marley ain't no silly drunk teenager. She's a woman, and even buzzed it's clear to me that she knows what she wants.

"You look...different. But just as fine."

I step inside the en suite bathroom and grab a towel off the rack. I toss it on her feet, then I pull the towel roughly over them as she drinks. She raises an eyebrow as I rub her feet.

"Why are you doing that?"

"I don't like sand in my bed, baby," I tell her.

She makes that crazy Jaz laugh I remember—somewhere between a mock and a giggle, with a shade of snort mixed in. Never heard anybody laugh like that but her. Sugar-sista-cheerleader with a side of nerd. Then she gives me a deadly look that rivals Trace, but with posture totally relaxed.

"If you want to fuck me, say my name, Bodie."

I hold out my hand for the jug of juice. After a long swallow, I put it aside. She watches with the bad-ass face as I take her by the ankles and pivot her in the chair, planting her feet on the floor, falling to my knees in front of her legs.

She bites her lip. I spread her knees.

"I see you, Marley. But you can't blame me for remembering the scent of Jasmine."

It was the right thing to say.

What can I say? I'm good under pressure.

Her gaze softens. Her body moves forward toward mine. She wraps her fingers around my dreads.

"Bodie...I'm...still...so sor--"

I cut her off with a kiss. I don't want her sorry right now, I just want her mouth.

Because it's so fucking good.

And I would know.

I'm not like Trace and Adam. I come down on the side with the Lawson Sibs—I kiss the fangirls. Yeah, I kiss 'em...I just kiss 'em in the dark.

It ain't ever like this.

It's never...this good. I never want to keep my eyes open, to see what my kiss is doing to them.

Fuck. That looks she's wearing.

Marley looks...sure. And she's pushing my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, scraping her nails down my arms as she's sucking on my bottom lip.

I can't even stop. It's part drunkenness, part lust, and part past.

A big part past.

In seconds I'm tugging shorts unbuttoned, and I'm kissing her belly button. Memory guides me to her left hip, to kiss the bower of blushing pink jasmine that curves across her hip bone.

If I had any doubts if this crazy shit was real or not, that layed them to rest. Tracing her tat with my lips is not something I would ever forget. I know this girl. And I don't have to decide what to call her. That don't make a damn.

I know her.

I'm making her sigh with the licks and sucks on her skin and I'm teasing her purple panties down when her butt vibrates.

"Fuck," she whispers.

She lifts her hips, grabs her phone and tosses it on the floor without looking at it, running her fingers through my dreads in encouragement.

I'm just about to grab her panties off and taste her for the very first time, but the light of her phone screen catches my eye.

The picture and the name.

TJ.

I still, my hands curved around the fabric of her underwear. She thinks it's one of those, 'I need to hear it' things.

"Yes," she encourages me. "I want this. I swear. I'm a big girl and it's fine. Two drunks make a right," she jokes.

That ain't it. I feel her, and it ain't about the mild drunk we both are. I know she wants me, like I want her.

My fingers clench in the fabric of her clothes. and I look at the phone again.

TJ.

Fuck. TJ was my boy, and even I haven't talked to him in years. What the fuck is he calling Marley for? I just assumed she faded Jaz. And TJ. And Daemon.

I guess not.

It happens without me meaning it. I'm snatching up the phone and thumbing to accept.

"This is Bodie," I say gruffly. Marley's head snaps up, her hips retreating from my grasp. We glare at each other, all ease gone. I'm pissed again.

TJ, I mouth at her. Now she's pissed too. She reaches for the phone. I rise quickly, avoiding her grasp.

A long silence on the other end. Finally, TJ says, "Bodie? For fucking real?"

"Yeah."

"Shit," he says.

"Yeah."

"How you been?" he says.

"Can't complain. Like, not at all."

"That's good, Dawg. That's...money."

"Yeah. You?"

"Good. Not rock star good...but not thug life either."

"I hear that. I'm glad, man. Real glad."

"Yeah." Silence. Finally, "Jaz there?"

"Yeah." I hand the phone to her. Jaz. Marley. Who-the-fuck-ever.

Her face is panicked but her voice is calm. "Hey."

There's a long silence on her part as she listens. I can hear TJ, but not his words. There's some emotion building in her face. It's almost violent. Finally she bursts. "Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me!?!? That was not supposed to happen! TJ—" she hisses.

TJ's cool, ambiguous voice cuts her off, but I still can't hear his words. He talks for a long time while she bites her lip with a pained expression. "Do you actually believe that?"

He says more things, she sighs heavily. "I know. I know. Okay. Thank you for letting me know. Look," she glances at me apologetically. "I'll...I'll be home day after tomorrow. We'll talk more then." She disconnects, stares at the phone a minute and throws it across the room.

"FUUUUUUCCCCK!" She screams and curls up into a ball in the chair, putting her face into her knees.

I jump slightly at her outburst. I've seen Jaz upset, but never Marley. I kind of forgot she was capable of anything but being cool and reasonable. What the fuck did TJ tell her? Why the fuck is she even talking to him?

"Marley," I say gently. "What's wrong?"

She quiets but she doesn't say anything. She's fighting for control and I'm kind of losing it. Oh Jesus. Is she still with Daemon?

"Marley—tell me you're not still loyal. To Daemon, I mean."

She looks up, shocked. "What? Of course not! To TJ, yes. To Daemon, hell no."

"Shit...you...got something going on with TJ?" Goddamn, he's practically married. Been staying with his girl for like, four years. Has a kid with her. At least that's what my momma said. She still keeps in touch with Patricia, TJ's mom.

She glares at me. "He's engaged, you know."

I shrug. "Wouldn't be the first dude to keep a side piece."

She hits me with the pillow in the chair. "I'm not TJ's fucking side-piece. He came to visit me every month in prison." TJ was one of the few that didn't go down in the raid. The feds had nothing on him because Daemon always kept him out of the serious shit and Daemon made sure no one fingered his little brother with their testimony. "He's...he's like family. Still. That's all."

I hold my hands up against her pillow onslaught. "Ok, ok, then what's the fucking problem? Is TJ in trouble or something?"

"No. TJ is fine. It's Daemon."

"What, did he finally get shived in prison like he deserves?" I ask bitterly. I heard the dude took his drug business to the inside with him, and he's still as dangerous as ever.

"No. Daemon won his appeal this time. He's being released." She looks at me, her face twisted like she doesn't want to accept what she just said.

I feel nothing but shock. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was his third strike. He got life. He was in with the fucking cartels. They had him for negotiating a deal to buy a million dollars of heroin from a DEA narc." I hold my hands out in exasperation. "How?"

She shrugs. "Procedural errors in his original case. Taps without warrants and stuff. Entrapment allegations. Plus, none of his lieutenants would ever name him and they did the DEA deal, not him. They'll spend thirty years in jail and he's walking after twelve."

Suddenly, I think I understand Marley's fear. I grip her knees again. "Did you testify against him?" He's not the kind of dude to forget a betrayal.

She shakes her head, not looking at me. "No. I could maybe have gotten off with probation if I had—my parents wanted me to, but..."

"You knew him. You knew better." I collapse onto the floor, looking at the ceiling. "Thank fuck."

She slides off the chair beside me, gripping my arm. "Did you?"

"Fuck no. I did my time like every other brother in the gang. I just got way less, because I was tried as a juvenile." I roll up on my elbows and look at her. "Look, it's gonna be fine. It's been twelve years. Daemon will be more worried about his rep, getting his shit together, probably rebuilding his damn drug empire, much more than he'll be worried about picking back up with you. Just...look...just fade your connection with TJ and don't look back. You don't have to see Daemon, ever. If he bothers you...I'll help you...I mean...Soundcrush, we'll help you. Security or whatever you need. You're SCIC now."

She doesn't respond. She stares at the wall. Finally, she jerks her head, like she's trying to clear it and wipes tears that are about to spill. "Thank you, but I'll be fine...I...I can't do this...I've got to go..." she murmurs, trying to climb to her feet and stumbling slightly. I clamber to my feet and steady her.

"Stay. It's 2am. You're drunk. Take my bed. I'll find somewhere else to sleep."

She shakes her head, protesting more. "Pfffft, Jaz...come on...you're upset...just..." I sigh heavily. "Please. I'll feel better if you stay."

She looks at the floor.

"Thank you," she says stiffly.

"You're welcome," I say, just as awkwardly. With Daemon between us, like he always was, our vibe has fallen to the floor.

I leave her, but there are no empty bedrooms. I end up crashing in the chair in Leed's bedroom, but he won't shut the fuck up with his questions as to why I'm here, so I finally tell him I started some shit with Marley and then I thought better of it, and he takes that to mean she walked it back and gives me a bunch of shit about my crash and burn, and then I give him a bunch of shit back, noting that it ain't exactly a Summer of Love for him and that he hasn't been laid in weeks as far as I know, and I give him shit about the Tequila Girl because I know exactly who that is. That shit is about as awkward as what just went down with me and Jaz. I mean, Marley.

Shit. The girl's name is Marley. Jasmine wasn't real. I don't know where Jaz came from, but obviously she wasn't real. I've got to stop thinking of her like that.

Finally we just decide to stop giving each other shit and go to sleep.

In the morning, when I knock on my bedroom door, Marley doesn't answer. She's not here, but she left her phone. After a long moment of debating, I do a very morally sketch thing. I thumb in a few dates for the code. Jaz's birthday doesn't work—shit, I don't even know if it was her real birthday. Neither does the date of the raid. There's only one more shot, one more date that connects Jaz to me.

I thumb in the date of my initiation. 021407. Some fucking Valentine's Day that was.

Her phone unlocks.

Well, this is some fucking shit. I try not to think about why Marley uses that date for a security code.

What am I going to do now?

I resist the urge to check her texts and email. Really, there's only one thing I want...TJ's number.

He's on her favorites widget. So is his mother, Patricia, and I didn't even know Jaz knew her. There's also pictures of a middle aged couple labeled Mom and Dad, and a few women who are probably girlfriends or maybe her sisters, because I realize I don't anything about Marley. Then, there's a clients group. In there, there's a picture of a bass with the intials AH, and there's another of a guitar that's labeled TG. Wow, she's got my all my boys on speed dial, doesn't she? What the fuck?

I fight the urge to add myself to her contact list. I also fight the urge to creep in her life and look at her photos.

Ultimately, I do the right thing. I just take a picture of TJ's contact information, in case I need it.

I wander downstairs, figuring I'll find Penelope and figure out where the SCIC guests are staying, and run Marley's phone back to her, and hopefully have a sober discussion about her life since the last time I saw her--the night we got arrested--but as it turns out, tracking Marley down is completely unnecessary.

The Maneater has her cornered in the kitchen, ripping her throat out.

This is fucking great. Like I don't have enough bullshit to deal with from our past, now I have to pull Mac off Marley over Adam? I mean, this is all Adam's doing, not Marley's. He really has no idea that he can't just 'befriend' vulnerable chics on the rebound without them crushing on him. Of course they will crush on him—he's a blonde rock star Adonis with big muscles, and the world's nicest dude. He's like the Prince Charming of Alt Rock. I mean, I don't think Adam got with Marley, but this situation Adam has gotten himself into with her just underscores why fangirls should always be a one and done. Unless you are really prepared to date 'em. Or fake date 'em. Or whatever I'm doing with Bells.

Shit. Mac looks like she's about to throw down with Marley. She can't do that. She's got to think about the baby. I guess I'm refereeing.

Man, Jaz has never been anything but a big hassle for me.

Thoughts? Why is Marley still connected to Daemon's brother TJ? What's going on there?

How do you think Bodie is going to navigate in the next few months? We know he gets more deeply involved with Arabella and disappears after the tour is over. Why do you think that is? Does it have anything to do with Marley, do you think?