She's A Certified Mind Blower
I'm driving home from errands, exhausted and bored. My phone rings; Miles Kane. Huh. I pick up.
“Does it count as a lie if I just didn't tell you I was in town?”
I laugh, my head hitting the back of my headrest, a grin splitting my face for the first time in a while, “Yes! You fuckin’ twat!”
“Bella’s in fifteen?” His beaming voice sounds through my car speakers.
“Do you assume I have nothing going on?” I ask.
“Not more important than me,” He hangs up on me before I can respond.
I pull into a parking lot, turning around. A big smile is plastered onto my face as I head to the bar. When I arrive the dark light shines off liquor glasses; red, brown, and gold are the only visible colors. Miles sips whiskey, smiling at me. Smoke hangs in the air; not a woman in sight. He's sitting at a small table facing me, he's happy, but tired.
I sit across from him, falling into an uncomfortable old chair that creaks in complaint under me, laughing under my breath. He has a drink already set out for me, “Well, how ya been?” he asks, his legs stretched out in front of him.
“Shouldn't we be talkin’ about you?” I take a long sip.
“No,” he answers shortly, “you.”
“Workin' up one more song for The Car, we’re almost done, but I cant write. And I hooked up with a nineteen-year-old girl.”
He freezes. His eyes widen. Though I think his left eye twitches, “Come again?”
“She's the secretary now, technically signed as a tour manager,” I take a long drink.
“So she blackmailed you?”
“No, she was hired by Nick ‘bout two weeks before we hooked up on a Sunday. I was at a club, she acted older. Then I walk into my studio and I see her sitting at the fukin’ desk. She didn't even know it was me when we hooked up! Now she's all proud of herself for fucking me,” Miles barks with laughter, I scoff, “Does feel good to have someone proud of shagging me for once.”
“Is she being professional?” Miles says over a calm buzz of men’s voices.
“Not around me,” I lean back, crossing my arms, “she's kind of a bitch.”
“Harsh language,” Miles teases.
“Well, some of them are just like that,” I reason, “The attitude, I don't know, she's American.”
Miles looks disgusted face, “Seriously?”
“A hot American,” I correct
“Does she have an American name?”
He’s being a little stupid, “Remera.”
Miles nods, “Hot name. What's she look like?”
“Black and white hair, kinda skinny, perfect tits, peircings, American y’know?”
“Do you know you’re a whore, Al?” I nod, “So she’s going on tour with you?”
“No, she got hired 'cause we needed someone to do paperwork. I mean, she mostly does stuff for the studio. If we did go on tour right now, she’d have to work things out. I mean, it's not that hard. Clay books locations. She’d just have to figure out hotels and flights. We thought it was going to be longer before we were done. I almost want to go on tour out of nowhere, but Clay would kill us.”
He narrows his eyes, his sharp jawline shifting as he smirks and holds up his glass, “But really, what's stopping you?”
I roll my eyes, “A suicidal manager.” I lean forward, “And I'm not done talking about Remera-”
He cuts me off with a hand, “So what is the dynamic here?”
I shrug, “She’s a brat. Probably more mature than me. If I slept with a boss at her age I would not be as unbothered as her.”
“But you're attracted to each other?”
“The biggest issue is that the minute I ask she’ll fuck me, I made her squirt.”
Miles snorts, “Well that could be a cause of the attitude.”
“She says she’s not a squirter and I really want to find out,” I groan, running my hands through my hair.
Miles smiles at me, “Wait a month, after that decide if its a good idea to have sex with her.”
“What if she doesnt want to fuck by then?”
“Then it's not a good idea.”
I whine, “But then how do I know if she's a squirter?”
Miles narrows his eyes, “Are you sure you even made her come?”
“Wanna see my car seats?” he rolls his eyes, “Stained, and her nails ripped the leather.”
“Uhuh,” his eyes dart upward, unconvinced, “Take my advice; I’m smart.”
“She’s studying law, those ones are always a little… out of–no–Batshit. Shes fuckin’ crazy.”
Miles laughs at me, “Is she in college?”
“Yeah, getting a pre-law degree.”
“To be an American lawyer?” I nod, “huh.”
“What?”
“You’re just not the kind of guy to date a lawyer.”
“Fuck off.”
“Well, I have to meet her.”
“She won't be here for long.”
“I'll pop in when you're off guard,” he winks, setting his hand on top of mine, pursing his lips and rubbing my knuckles, “I know the others get jealous of me.”
“Get off of me, pervert!” I yank my hand away from him.
“I know you like it! You're grown; it's legal!”
“Not if I don't consent!”
“Oh, I'll have you moaning yes.”
I run my hands through my hair, “Why am I friends with you?”
He doesn't answer but blows a kiss.
We sit and talk until the sun goes down. He offers to babysit Marley if I ever need and I drive him to his hotel room. Deciding to stop by the studio to grab a bag I left.
The lights are still on, unusual. Stepping in, the office door is open. Remera is still here.
I stomp to my bag, trying to make as much noise as possible. I don't hear a word and her blinds are closed so I walk to her door.
I freeze.
She's asleep.
Her arms are folded under her head, hair sprawled on the desk, a textbook is open on the monitor in front of her.
I clear my throat, nothing.
She has to be in R.E.M. I can't let her sleep here, and she needs someone to drive her home, she shouldn't be on the subway this late.
“Remera?” I ask softly, she stirs.
Causiously I step forward, walking around her desk and setting a hand on her sholder. Slowly she rises, blinking away sleep. Hair covers her face but I can see messed up makeup, “huh?” She groans.
“Burned out?” I tilt my head as she looks at me.
“What?”
I chuckle, “You fell asleep at your desk.”
She's silent for a moment, looking around. Suddenly she finds consiousness, standing up suddenly and almost shouting, “Fuck sorry.”
She stumbles, I catch her by her hoodie holding her up, “Jesus woman.”
“Shit,” Remera runs a hand through her hair. Still holding her up, she leans on me.
“I'll drive you home.”
“No,” she pulls away and starts frantically shoving stuff into her backpack, barely able to keep her eyes open.
I grab her arm. She doesn't look at me, but I see her breathe in sharply, an odd look of fear washing over her, “You’re not taking the subway this late; you can barely stay upright anyway.”
Remera stares at the door for a moment, looking almost dazed, “Fine,” she hisses.
I let go, placing my hand on the small of her back and following her closely, turning off lights as she walks.
When we reach my car I walk to the driver's side door. I chuckle when I watch her face drop at my seats, “It’s that bad?”
I laugh at her again, “Don't worry about it love, I'm sure you couldn't afford to replace them anyway.”
“I… didn't know it was that bad,” she says, her eyes dart up to me again, she's flustered. I look away almost immediately.
I slide into my seat, watching her out of my peripheral vision. She inspects the rips made, she's remembering it. I turn it on. Seeing the car again has to remind her, I didn't think about that. She's imagining us. How the car rocked, how she screamed for me. I give her my phone and she puts her address in, being shown a twenty minute drive.
I could kiss her right now, drive to my house, and fuck her until the sun comes up.
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about this. Both of us would regret it, her especially.
She's nineteen. Ten very long years younger than me.
And just because she doesn't act like it doesn't make it right.
“You restock your condoms?” She asks with a raised brow.
I ignore her like the question was inappropriate and rude. As the silence continues I wonder if she meant it with intent to fuck, or if she was teasing me.
She's mad, silent for the next five minutes. Eventually, I notice her eyes close; she's asleep again before we make it to her dorm. It's a cute blue one-story with window planters. It doesn't look anything like a college house.
I wake her up by asking, “Are you rich?”
She jolts, blinking a few times and yawning, “Kinda.”
“Upper middle class?”
“Dad's rich, but I’m the least favorite kid, so the only money I get is a shakily secured tuition promise so I don't give others a bad impression of him.”
“Oldest?”
She shakes her head, “I'm not related to him. A dead second wife's kid; got his last name. Dont know why he kept me around.”
I wonder if Remera would tell me this if she wasn't so tired.
She stalks inside, I wait until I see the door close, and then I go home.