Sandy knew of course. How could she not? I just hoped she would keep it to herself and never tell Gena.
I got out of work around seven and headed to the parking lot, praying that the car would actually start. It did, so I figured I was already ahead of the game for the night and headed over to Gena’s dojo to pick her up after her lesson. Not one she was taking, but one she was giving. Even after three months to get used to it, it was still weird to think that my girlfriend could kick my ass. Of course, she could probably do the same thing to every guy I knew. Once I tried to play macho when a guy was bugging her at a party. Gena told me in no uncertain terms that she could take care of herself.
So the asshole thought that meant he was in like Flynn. Big mistake. Gena had him on his knees and begging her forgiveness within thirty seconds. Idiot should never have tried putting the arm around her shoulders. What could I do? I just walked back to my bandmates with a shrug as they all busted up laughing.
Gena was waiting for me outside the dojo, talking to Sandy. I forgot she had a lesson tonight. That explained the early departure from work. As I pulled up in a cloud of burning oil, Sandy and Gena hugged each other and Sandy headed for her truck with a quick wave and a wink for me. Gena slid in as I left the motor running. I dared not turn it off.
“Hiya Tiger,” said Gena, leaning over to kiss my cheek. Her face was flushed and warm. She put her left hand on my knee and kept it there. I glanced over as we headed east towards her house. She must have got a good workout tonight, because the ruddiness in her cheeks did not seem to be abating. The warm glow it leant her face made her even more beautiful to me.
“Hey baby,” I growled back, “Did you have a good lesson?”
“You could say that. Sometimes I think I learn as much from giving the lessons as they do from me. Oh, and by the way, you do know that I like Sandy and I am not jealous of how you used to try to fuck her, right?”
I recovered in time to keep the car on the road.
“Um, yeah, well, what do ya mean? I mean, she is just a friend ya know? There is nothing going on, I mean, I never tried anything, I …”
Gena’s laughter brought me out of my stumbling denials. “Lance, relax. I meant what I said. I like Sandy. I’m not jealous. But I’m not blind either. And if you and I are both going to be friends with Sandy this needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.
You wanted her bad. Sometimes you still do. It’s okay.”
“Umm, you’re not jealous? Even though we work together?”
“Lance, I know you better than you know yourself. I trust you. One thing I can be sure of is that you will never cheat on me. Oh, you might break up with me so you could sleep with someone else. But you’ll never cheat. Your honor would not allow it. Plus, and baby, I am not saying this to hurt you; it would be too much like your mom. You would never do to someone what she did to your Dad.”
Gena was right about that. I would never put anyone through the hell I had seen my dad go through. It just wasn’t in me.
“So what time should I pick you up on Saturday Gena?” I asked hoping she would say very early. Despite all the hard work in the garage and at parties I was really nervous about Saturday night and I wanted to have the chance to let loose a little before the gig. One thing Gena and I had discovered in the past couple of months was that I played better right after getting laid. It relaxed me enough that I found it easier to not tighten up my hands and I slipped into what Sean and Jimmy called “the zone”. What they meant was that I became oblivious to the external world and just lived in the music for a while. The guys said when I did that the band went from good to great, and all humility aside, I knew they were right.
“Oh Lance, I’m sorry,” replied Gena, “I agreed to do a private lesson. I won’t be able to ride down in the van with you guys. But I promise I will get there as soon as I can and before the show starts. Sandy is going to pick me up. Don’t be mad, okay?
Please?”
“I’m not mad. It’s just that we are already missing out on Friday night because of your parent’s thing and I had hoped that Saturday afternoon…”
Gena laid her finger across my lips to shush me. “I know what you hoped, you slut of a man. But if I promise to make it up to you, starting now, while you forgive me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked as her hand slid up my thigh towards my crotch.
As if to answer, her other hand came across to join the left and she began to unbutton my 501’s. I flipped on the headlights as she moved my boxers aside, thankful that the light was fading and hopeful no one would see her. As her lips touched my cock I prayed I would be able to concentrate enough to get us to her place alive. I barely succeeded.
Friday I did not get to see Gena at all. I told Sandy all about my little adventure in a moving car. Big mistake. For the rest of the day, every time Sandy caught me looking at her, even for an instant, she licked her lips. It was exquisite torture.
Saturday morning came and Sandy and I opened the store. I had deliberately asked for the early shift knowing I needed time to get ready for tonight and would have plenty of rest from not having seen Gena the night before.
Sandy and I left JB’s at 3 p.m. sharp. I was really starting to get nervous now, and I knew Sandy could tell. She stopped me as I was about to get into my car.
“Lance, relax a little. You guys are going to be great. I am so looking forward to this.”
“C’mon Sandy, knock it off,” I replied, “Listen, I am really happy that you are going tonight. But don’t pretend it’s your kind of music. All you listen to is that Urban Cowboy shit.” I said it with a grin. It was a tease, not mean. “Seriously, this is a part of me I’ve wanted to show you for a long time.”
“But not the only part, eh Lance?” Despite all the things I had experienced over the course of the last two months, Sandy could still make me blush red enough to stop traffic. I swear, Gena couldn’t make me blush like that! I tried to fight it off and make a suave comment to follow, but I could not quite get my tongue to work.
I met up with the guys over at Sean’s about an hour and a half later. I had rushed home and hurried my way through a shower. I decided against shaving because I was short on time and I didn’t have to worry about makeup or anything. We had talked about going glam like some of the bands in L.A. were starting to do but had decided against it.
Even though we had that “Hollywood” sound like Steeler or Crue, most of us were more influenced by old gods like Sabbath or Zeppelin and current bands like Maiden. So we nixed the makeup and stuck mostly with denim and leather as opposed to the spandex and bright colors.
Besides, Gena had often said she liked a little roughness to me. Not like a beard, just a five o’ clock shadow. I slipped on a pair of 501’s that were starting to show their age in the right places, slipped on my black motorcycle boots and an old concert tee, and grabbed my fav black leather on the way out the door. My gear was already at Sean’s from Friday’s rehearsal.
We got to the hall just in time to check things out and hear a little from the band that was headlining tonight. They had a guitar player named Jake that could absolutely shred.
Suddenly I was glad that we would be off the stage a couple of hours by the time he took his first solo. There were four bands playing tonight and we were the first. Jake wouldn’t get on stage until midnight and our set would start about 8:30. I knew I was good but I would be remembered better for the time lag then if I had played right before him.
“Dude, he’s almost as good as you,” said Jimmy from behind me.
“Bite your fuckin’ tongue J!” I replied, “He totally outclasses me. He is way cleaner and he doesn’t have to pause between phrases as much as I do. His notes ring out as individuals, mine tend to run together. He’s a pro, I’m an amateur.”