Lasting Lyric (5 page)

I wanted more nights like that.

I
so
needed more.

Weeks of dreaming over and over of dying on that bus, Slim was the answer to curing my sleepless nights.

The next morning I woke up to the smell of breakfast. My stomach growled, and my mouth instantly watered. When I went into the kitchen, I found Slim cooking up something amazing. I knew he could cook, but this was over the top. All sorts of food made for a family of ten. That wasn’t all - Slim looked edible as well. He looked as if he had a workout; dried sweat twisted in his hair, making it stick up in all areas on his head. Wow, he was so hot! He stood there with no shirt on. I thought last night was going to make me orgasm. No. Slim bare chested, gym shorts hanging low from his hips, and his V exposed? Now
that
was an orgasm waiting to happen. I had to hurry and regroup my quivering legs before I jumped him.

Instead of jumping his bones, I jumped up and got the plates and utensils. We ate, enjoyed some morning TV and made plans to visit Slim’s dad today. It was going to be just an ordinary day with my bestie.

Yeah…sure…ordinary my foot. How could I keep this up?

After leaving Slim’s house I ran home, showered and was just heading back when my dad phones me. I hadn’t spoken to my parents’ for over a week. Which was not unusual. Growing up my parents’ were always working and super busy. Before kids they made back to back movies. Huge film stars. My mom said she took a little break, because filming a few movies and raising five kids kept them busy enough. But right after their last child, my little sister Indie graduated from high school, they couldn’t wait to go back to working full time; especially my mom. She thrived on acting and producing, and was ready to jump back into her pre-kid schedule. My dad has always enjoyed directing and producing. He mostly stays behind the camera these days, but still loves the high of being on the movie screen once in awhile. I grew up surrounded by all types of actors, directors, producers. It was my life. Even though I understood that being insanely famous would take my parents’ away from us for long periods of time, I sometimes wished they would have spent more time with us. We were basically raised by nannies. I am not holding that against them, but ya know…it wasn’t easy being a Crow.

Oh right, my phone is ringing.

With my purse hanging on my shoulder, keys in hand, sunglasses on head, I swipe my phone to answer, “Hey, Dad.”

“Lyric, so happy you picked up,” he answers back, sounding relieved. “I am sorry your mother and I weren’t home when you arrived.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “You’re making a movie right now, no biggy.” I take a step back from my front door and go into my kitchen, placing my purse on the counter.

“Yes, but knowing you came home with no one to pick you up doesn’t make me feel any better.”

I lean against the counter and look down at my feet. “I’m fine and understand, you know I do. I don’t expect anyone waiting for me.” I don’t like my parents’ worrying about me. I always do my best to put up a front with them, no matter how disappointed or upset I may be. Life with parents’ as big as mine are you can’t do normal things - like pick up your daughter from the airport. It’s just the way things are. I continue, “Besides, I went to see Slim last night. We’re hanging out today, visiting his dad.”

He sighs in defeat, “So it’s true, then. You’re going to continue being
JINKS’
manager?”

“Yep. I made that choice long ago, Dad. You can’t change my mind. I really enjoy this job, and enjoy the band. They’re amazing guys.”

“You and Indie…what am I going to do with you both?” Indie was always testing my dad’s patience. She’s not quite the girlie girl he was hoping she’d turn out to be. From wrestling on the all boys team, to drag racing cars in her late teens - yeah, you could say she almost gave my dad a stroke on several occasions.

“You’re going to continue supporting us because you want us to be happy and you love us,” I firmly remind him.

“I still think being Brock’s manager would have been the better choice.”

I roll my eyes. Even though he knows Brock and I don’t get along, he just won’t let the subject go. It’s his way of thinking it will help us bond or something - which it certainly will not. Brock has become too big in the head ever since he became famous after his first film,
Jetlagged
.

He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, and the film industry. Why would I want to work with someone like that? I don’t care if he’s my brother or not. He’s a jerk. “I know you do, but I love music more than the movie business. Get used to it, Dad.”

“I’ll do my best,” he mumbles. “I’ll need to meet these men when we get back from Italy.”

“Perfect. I’ll be sure to let them know.”

“I’ll call you later in the week.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Tell Mom I love her too. Wish I could have spoken with her.”

“Yes, so could she, but she’s extremely busy with this film.”

Why does that not surprise me? “It’s okay,” I respond in the most upbeat voice, just so he doesn’t feel more guilty. “I’ll talk with you both later.”

I end the call, then put my phone in my purse and let out a big breath. Just once, I wish my mom would have taken one little minute away from her spotlight and say hello to her daughter. Dad, being Dad always makes an excuse for her. They’re always by each other’s sides, making films together; sounded like Dad was on a break, but Mom probably decided that her hair needed fixing or her makeup needed a retouch.
Bitter much
? Nope. Just stating the facts. I have learned that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you can certainly learn from their faults. Someday when I have a family, they will be my number one focus.

Crap, I have to get going.
I text Slim to let him know I am now leaving, and will be there shortly. It takes me almost forty-five minutes to reach his house, which normally takes me thirty. The traffic was horrendous; every street light decided that it hated me and wanted to make me go cray cray by turning red. Plus the drivers were just plain stupid. No one knows how to drive in California! What happened to slowing down when there are pedestrians crossing the street, or using the turn signal? Good grief, people are always in such a hurry, I literally just got cut off by someone.
Slow down people
!

I finally arrive and park my car in front of Slim’s house. Since he told me I could come right in from our texts, I don’t bother knocking.

I step through the front door. “Hey, I’m here, you ready?”

Jumping up from the couch, Slim quickly turns off the TV. “Yeah.” He grabs his keys and walks toward me, resting an arm across my shoulders. I get goosies from that arm laying over me. I like it. “Dad, is quite excited to meet you.”

“Really? How sweet.” He leads me outside to his truck. He opens my side of the vehicle and waits until I buckle myself in before he shuts the door. After shutting it, he races over to his side, looking insanely cute. His hair is all done up in that style I love so much. No one can pull off a 50’s hair style like Slim and not look ridiculous. To match his hair, he wears a plain white v-neck t-shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots. Simple. Hot. Rocker. All Slim. And did I mention how good he smells? He always smells fresh with a splash of something, but I can’t place my finger on what he splashes himself with. Would it be too weird if I asked him what he uses? I don’t want to give him the wrong impression…ya know…him thinking I love the way he smells, even though I really really do love the way he smells.
Okay, get back on track, Lyric
. We sit in the truck for a minute before he turns the key. “Speaking of dads, mine wants to meet you and the guys pronto, when he returns in a couple months, after filming.” I bite my lip, knowing he won’t be too thrilled about that.

He’s looking at his music playlist. “Yippee,” he responds in a dull tone, twirling his finger in the air. Typical, considering how he was treated by my dad.

I know my dad was gruff with him, but he needs to know my dad isn’t a bad guy. “Okay, don’t get all weird over this, Hot Stuff. I told you, my dad has no hard feelings toward you guys. He’s a good man, with some very overprotectiveness issues.”

“If you say so,” not sounding convinced yet.

I place my hand over his hand, the one that is fiddling with the screen on his iPod. “I do say so.”

His eyes meet mine. He gives me a half sided smirk - which instantly melts my panties - and starts up the car. “Let’s go,” he says. Once the iPod is on, music is playing, he backs out of the driveway.

We go through a few lights before I notice Slim is not acting like his usual chatty Slim self. He’s got a hand on the steering wheel, lightly tapping it with his thumb to the beat of the music, not even trying to strike up a conversation. That is so not Slim.

The silence is driving me nuts. “Why are you so quiet?”

“Huh?” he glances at me. “I’m not.”

I bet this is about my dad. He’s overthinking something and it’s bothering him. “Are you still thinking about my dad? I don’t know why you’re so worried about what he thinks of you. You have nothing to sulk over.”

“Sulking,” he scoffs. “I just want to make a good impression on him, that’s all. I’m sure I’m not even remotely close to who he wants you being friends with.”

Well geez, that kinda stung. He’s right, though. “You’re right,” I admit. “He’s not used to his daughter hanging out with rock stars and going on buses, touring around the country. He’d rather I be my brother Brock’s manager and be miserable, but I don’t want that. The movie industry is not for me. Besides, I don’t get along with Brock very well. We clash for some reason. Always have. But I am twenty-six years old, and choose who my friends are. So please, trust me. He will accept you and the band; he’ll like you.”

“I trust you, Charlie,” he sighs.

“Good,” I sock him in the shoulder. “Now turn up the music.” He chuckles and turns up the music. I get all into the song and sing annoyingly loud. I know I totally suck, but I don’t care. It’s an oldie by
Queen
- who I friggin’ love, so I rock out every time. Well, let’s face it, I love all classic goodies. It’s one of the reasons I got into music. I’m the only one in my family that has chosen the music industry. Acting wasn’t something I was too crazy about. I did a couple commercials and took a tiny part in one of my mom’s movies, but the acting bug never settled deep. Personally, I found it dreadfully boring; too many cuts and retakes. It just wasn’t me. Surprisingly, (I say surprisingly because dating wasn’t easy for me.
Famous parents’? You get the picture.) I dated a guy in college who was in a small garage band. During that time, I was getting my bachelors in business, since acting was a huge no go. Going to my boyfriend’s little gigs, my wheels started turning. I could do anything I wanted and music was it. I just wasn’t quite sure how I was going to use my degree toward music, since I couldn’t sing or play an instrument, but I knew down the road I was going to make something of myself. Now, here I am, doing something I love and doing it with a bunch of people I have grown to admire and love.

The song is still going strong as we make it on the freeway. I continue blaring my God awful voice while Slim laughs at me. Good way to get him out from sulking.

“Holy fuck, woman, you seriously cannot sing worth my left nut sack,” he says, still laughing, after the song ends.

“Hey, not everyone is blessed with a good singing voice,” pretending to be irritated, even though I wholeheartedly agree.

“Please, do me a favor, sweetheart…don’t sing anymore. My ears will thank you later,” he chuckles back.

“Oh, good grief,” I exclaim, then mutter out, “Jerk.” I cross my arms and look out the window, half smirking. We totally love to push each other’s buttons.

He places a hand on my shoulder, lightly shoving me. “You still love me, Charlie.”

“Shut it,” I snap. Slim begins to laugh again. I am getting irritated, for real this time. “Stop laughing!”

“I friggin’ love watching the smoke come out of your ears.”

I look down at his crotch - which by the way is a very nice crotch.
Okay enough.
“That left nut sack is not very important to you, is it?”

“Leave my nut sack outta this.”

“You’re the one who brought him into this, so when you wake up tomorrow morning and find him missing, don’t come crying to me.”

He wags a finger at me. “You are wicked evil, and have offended my left nut.”

I can’t hold back. I laugh my butt off.

Slim’s dad lives in Clairemont, about a twenty-five minute drive from Slim’s house. We park in front of a small, blue painted house. The neighborhood is nothing like what I grew up in. Mine was all gated up, trees blocking the streets, and mansions on every corner. Here, every house is tiny, some have bars on their windows or chicken wire fences surrounding their yard. Slim’s dad’s house is not too runned down, yet not kept up either. Slim explained to me that he tried to offer buying his dad a new house, but he won’t accept it. Pride is a big thing to him and it’s respected. However, Slim wants to take care of his dad, make up for all the times he worked seven days a week, and on holidays, just so he could put food on the table. I don’t blame Slim for wanting to take care of his dad. I hope someday he’ll take up on his son’s offer and begin to accept the help.

Before I get the chance to get out of the truck, Slim makes his way over and opens my door. What a gentleman he’s being today. First breakfast and now opening/shutting my door? So very un-Slim. I like this side of him. I mean, I like Slim whether he’s un-Slim or not, but un-Slim makes me gooey inside.
Ahem. Back on track, Lyric.

An older version of Slim walks out the front door of the house. He’s tall, on the heavier side - not too heavy though - with broad shoulders, dark blonde hair - turning gray, slightly buzzed along the side of his ears and back of his head, short on top; he has a shortened goatee with a shadow of scruff around it, like he hadn’t shaved today, wearing black rimmed glasses, a gray buttoned up shirt tucked inside a pair of blue jeans, and on his feet are thick laced black boots. Wow, he’s very handsome. He comes down the walkway, greeting us with a big smile. What a great smile, he seems so happy to see his son. What comes out of his mouth is unexpected. He’s got a faded Irish accent that is totally adorable and awesome. “There’s me Slim and his lovely, lovely Lyric.” He comes straight for me, giving me a big bear hug. How sweet, he called me Slim’s lovely Lyric. If only that were true.