“That guy is bizarre,” Greg said. “And as someone who regularly works with homosexuals, directors with over-the-top OCD, production managers with undiagnosed bipolar disorder, and just plain crazy people, that is saying a lot.”
“Charlie does take some getting used to,” Jake agreed as Greg brought them to a halt at his golf ball.
Greg’s shot was about as close to perfect as it could be. He made solid contact with his own three wood and the ball was right on the line. It bounced and rolled and finally stopped just short of the fringe of the green.
“Almost on in two,” the actor said with a shake of the head.
“You’re just showing off,” Jake said.
“I do not show off,” Greg said. “I perform.”
“Right,” Jake said as they lurched forward again, heading for Jake’s ball.
“How is the tour rehearsal going anyway?” Greg asked. “Celia is obviously telling me very little about it.”
“It’s dialed in tight,” Jake said. “She may be dealing with her demons and her own issues off that stage, but when she steps up there and starts playing, all that shit seems to slip away and she puts on a hell of a show. The audiences are going to love the performance. She’s a natural.”
“That’s good to hear,” Greg said. “The suits over at Aristocrat keep insisting that the whole thing is going to be a failure—she did tell me that much. They continue to pressure her to put on the sexy outfit and do a little bit of dancing.”
“Yeah, Pauline and I both keep hearing that crap as well. Trust me, not them. It’s a stellar performance we’ve put together that is pure music in the format it’s supposed to be heard in. Even the opening band that Aristocrat is sending out with her isn’t half bad—for a bunch of hackers anyway. We’re doing two days of dress rehearsals next week. After that, the roadies will start setup and tear-down training so everything will be ready when they hit the road for the first date in Phoenix on the 27th.”
“Hmm,” Greg said. “As of yet, I have not been invited to either of the dress rehearsals.”
“I’m sure you have an open invitation,” Jake said. “We’re doing them Wednesday and Thursday nights, with the openers taking the stage at 7:30, which is what time the show starts at most of the venues.”
“I will talk to C about it,” Greg said. “I’m sure she’ll just tell me to do what I want. That’s been her standard answer these past months.”
“Hopefully things will get better,” Jake said with sincerity. He honestly did want things to work out between Greg and Celia. “She’ll have lots of time to think while she’s out on the road.”
Greg nodded. “That’s kind of what I’m afraid of,” he said softly, speaking more to himself than Jake.
Since returning home from South America, Laura had turned into a considerable homebody. She would go days at a time without ever leaving Jake’s house, and if she did leave, it was only to perform a brief, necessary errand and then she would come right back home. Her routine these days was to sleep until well after ten o’clock in the morning, at which point she would shower and dress in comfortable clothes like shorts and a T-shirt, usually leaving out the bra. She would then eat whatever Elsa had prepared for her—or leftovers if it was the weekend and Elsa was off—and then spend the rest of the day either reading some novel from Jake’s collection or watching television. She listened to no music and her saxophone remained in its case in the music room. At night, after dinner, she would drink wine and smoke some of Jake’s marijuana, getting herself into a mellow mood. Most nights Jake would imbibe with her and they would end up in bed for a lengthy session of sex. Her lovemaking (or ‘fucking’, as she still preferred to term it) was as passionate as ever with one small exception. She no longer asked Jake to perform cunnilingus on her—an act she used to demand during nearly every session—and, if he went downtown on his own, she would usually let him lap away at her for only a few minutes before dragging him back up and encouraging him to bury himself in her body.
Jake thought this new aversion to having him eat her out was a bit strange—and disappointing, as he truly loved performing that particular act—but in all other things Laura was pretty much the same Laura he had fallen in love with. True, she had developed a considerable taste for drinking wine and getting stoned during her tour, but other than that she was still the funny, quirky, adorable redhead she’d always been. He did not mind that she was doing little work these days. He certainly understood that tours were brutal and one needed to rest up after completing one. Her bank account was nicely swollen thanks to the tour revenue and the royalty checks she regularly received from KVA Records, and even if it hadn’t been, Jake had more than enough money to support them both.
“I’ll pick up the sax again soon,” she assured Jake the one time he had asked her about it. This had been in bed, just after they’d finished taking a few hits from the old pipe. “I’m just a little burned out on playing after all the touring. Right now, there’s only one horn I want to blow.”
“Oh yeah?” Jake asked, smiling as her hand began to caress the horn in question.
“Yeah,” she said, licking her lips and then lowering her head to begin the performance.
On the night of April 8th, however, her presence at Celia’s final dress rehearsal was pretty much mandatory. She put up no fuss when Jake told her this. In truth, she was getting anxious to start interacting with the world once again, and she had not seen or talked to Celia in a long time now—since a few days before she’d left on the American part of the Bobby Z tour. She dressed in a pair of new blue jeans and a fashionable blouse, put on a little makeup for the first time in weeks, and even did her hair a little. Before getting into the limo that Jake had arranged to take them to the performance she made sure to pack her one-hitter pipe and a baggie of Jake’s greenbud in her purse.
“Greg’s going to be there?” Laura asked Jake as they sat in the back of the limo and sipped from a bottle of wine she’d opened.
“That’s the rumor,” Jake said.
“Is it awkward being around them?” she asked. Jake had told her what the situation was between the actor and the singer, including the reason for the rift. She felt bad for both of them, but also more than a little sympathetic. She certainly did not approve of infidelity in a relationship, but she also knew what it was like to be far away from the one you loved and understood the sexual frustration that went along with it. Yes, she understood that very well indeed.
“Most of the time, no,” Jake said. “They both remain personable with everyone else, and they don’t fight or put each other down or anything like that. It actually takes a while to realize sometimes that they’re not talking to each other. It’s subtle.”
“Interesting,” she said, pondering that. She then turned to Jake and grinned. “Do you mind if I suck you off really quick before we get there?”
“Uh ... well ... no,” he said. “I’m certainly not going to say no to that.”
“All right then,” she said, putting her wine glass down. “Break that thing out and let’s do this.”
He broke it out and she did it, putting her head in his lap and sucking his manhood between her lips. She had been doing this a lot lately. She tried to tell herself she just loved the taste and texture of Jake’s cock—and she truly did—but she knew that wasn’t the complete truth. Being out on the road all those months, the only girl among a band and crew of males while her lover was far away had put a sexual pressure on her that she had never experienced before—had never even really imaged. She was still trying to come to grips with how she had chosen to deal with that pressure in order to remain sane and faithful to Jake. Her compulsive need to have her hands, mouth, and vagina on Jake’s erection now that it was available to her was how she was dealing with a combination of guilt, confusion, and desire brought on by the experience.