Ким Карр - Torn

“First you have to promise you won’t hang up on me.”

“I promise to never hang up.”

Making a crossing motion over his heart he says, “I promise to call.”

“River, I’m sorry we never made it to Las Vegas.” We haven’t discussed our postponed elopement and I want him to know getting married to him is something I still plan to do.

He stares at me for a long time, maybe searching for answers to his own questions, questions he should already know the answers to. “There’s a lot going on right now. We’ll make it there when the time’s right.”

With that, I know we have done enough talking for one night. So when he wraps his arms around me, rolling us over, I close my eyes and get lost in him again.

This time we don’t take it slow, either, but River pours his heart into every touch and I show my love for him with every single kiss. I don’t know what time it is when we finish, but I lie back on top of him, ready to drift off to sleep. Tonight I don’t need to pick a side of the bed. I will stay where I am, where I want to be.

Rebel Beat

“River, get your ass out of bed! We have to meet with Ellie in thirty minutes.” Those are the first words I hear, right as our bedroom door swings open. I grab for the blanket and pull it up as far as I can.

Rolling to his side, he pulls me behind him, shielding me. “What the fuck, Xander, did you forget how to knock?”

Xander stands there looking very hungover. Leaning against the doorframe he says, “Shit. I thought you were alone. Didn’t know the Muse came home. Well, we have a meeting, so get your ass up.”

“I’m not going to any more meetings. Go without me.”

“This one is with the label.”

“Xander, I’m not going.”

Xander shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath that sounds like “asshole” but then he says, “Whatever, Loverboy! I’ll call you later with the details.”

As River pulls me tighter to him, I nestle my head contentedly on his shoulder.

“I’m sure you will,” he says to Xander.

“I’m outta here. Glad to see you worked it out.”

I wave goodbye to him and River says, “Xander, thanks for last night.”

Xander rubs his hand against the back of his head. “Whatever, no problem, but maybe next time we could stick to vodka.”

River and I both get a laugh out of that. Xander really does look like a mess. Funny I thought he could hold his liquor.

“Yeah man, but I’m not planning on there being a next time,” River says and I tighten my hold on him and kiss his shoulder.

Xander smirks as he leaves. Closing the door behind him he yells back, “By the way—nice shiner.”

Leaning around to kiss River, my fingers dance up his bare back. “You should go to those meetings, you know. It’s not good for the lead singer of the band to look disinterested.”

Turning his head to meet my kiss, he rolls over. Hovering over me, his lips almost touching mine, he answers me. “I’m not interested so I guess the way it looks is the way it is.”

I shove him a little.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Well since the tour is really happening I think . . .”

He doesn’t let me finish before he rolls us over so that I’m once again lying on top of him. “There. Let’s start the morning over.”

I laugh and let him do what he’s so very good at—changing the subject.

One hand moves the hair off my face as he asks, “What do you want to do today, beautiful girl?”

“I think we should probably work. Don’t you?”

He shakes his head. “I just want a few hours alone with you.”

Circling my fingers around his now very black eye, I grin slyly and say, “That can be arranged.”

“So any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, everything.”

“Well that narrows it down,” he says as he continues to stroke my hair.

“Does it hurt?” I’m staring at his eye.

He raises his arm over his head and shakes it before saying, “Nope, just a little sore, I’ll be able to lift the Starbucks coffee you’re going to get with no problem.”

I burst into a fit of giggles before I can respond. “First of all I meant your eye, but I’m glad your hand is better, and, second of all, I did not lose, you did! You couldn’t have stayed underwater if I would have held you there.”

“Yeah, I might have been a little buoyant.”

I can only laugh. He was more than a little buoyant, but talking about why he drank so much is not what I want to do right now. “How about we stop for coffee on the way to do something I have always wanted to do?”

He slides his body along the length of mine, then slips his arms under my back and presses his lips to my ear. “Hmmm . . . that sounds fun.”

I sigh deeply. With his body so close and his warm breath on me it’s hard to concentrate. I think a day away from all the chaos will help us both find the courage to have the conversation neither one of us wants to initiate. With determination I place my hands on his chest and push him off me slightly.

“What?” he asks, glancing down at me.

“Not sex!”

He pauses then kisses me. “I know,” he laughs, “but I can’t help it if my mind wanders when you throw words around like ‘something I’ve never done.’”

Careful not to grab his sore hand, I scoot out from under him and pull him by his other hand. “Come on, Loverboy, we’re headed to Keanu Reeves territory.”

He looks at me questioningly and shakes his head no.

“Point Break. Keanu Reeves. Johnny Utah. Latigo Beach,” I say so he knows where I’m talking about.

All signs of playfulness and laughter disappear. “I know the movie, Dahlia. But I’m not going to the beach with you.”

I gently clutch both of his hands and mold my naked body to his. Staring right into his emerald green eyes, I beg, “Please. Let’s go to Malibu. I’ve never been and I think it will be a good place for us to spend the day together.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“You have to go to the beach with me eventually. Let’s just get in the car and hop on the 101. Once we get there, if you’re still not feeling it, we can just hit up Neptune’s Net for breakfast.”

He looks straight at me when he says, “God, why can’t I ever just say no to you?”

* * *

Once I’m showered and dressed in my bathing suit, shorts, and my concert T-shirt of The Who, I pull my hair back and head downstairs. I’m in my office typing out a few e-mails when he enters. He had to take a call from Xander so I decided to get a little work done.

He comes in wearing jeans, a white short-sleeve T-shirt, and his Wayfarer sunglasses. It looks more than hot on him but it’s not exactly beach apparel, so I have to laugh. Especially when I look down and see his Adidas—at least he traded his work boots for sneakers.

“You can’t wear jeans to the beach.”

There’s a flash of the smirk I love before he slides the waistband of his jeans down so I can see his board shorts. Come to think of it I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in shorts and I know he would never own a pair of flip-flops. I have to draw in a deep breath to compose myself because he looks amazing no matter what he wears and showing me his bare skin does amazing things to me. But if I act on them we’ll never make it to the beach.

“You’re not going to make me wear a Ronald Reagan mask, are you?” he jokes, turning around and lacing his fingers in mine before pulling me out the door. We head back upstairs and grab some water bottles, towels, and my camera. As we exit through the kitchen, he stops to pick up the key lying on the landing and puts it back on top of the doorframe. I point to the hole in the wall. “Did you do that?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“River why . . . ,” I start to ask, but I know why so I stop.

He responds anyway. “Well, let’s just say I was in a piss-ass mood and the key wouldn’t cooperate.”

I look away in avoidance. I’m not ready to talk more about Ben, and I know he isn’t, either, so I step by him and head down the stairs. I really just want to spend the day together and enjoy each other’s company.

We cruise down to Malibu in his vintage black Porsche, managing to somehow keep the mood light.

“Did I tell you Jack talked to me about helping him produce MC Hammer’s Too Tight album?”

Snapping my head in his direction, my jaw drops. “Shut up. You’re shitting me. How did he get that? I thought it was buried along with his career.”

He laughs. “No I’m not. He picked up some small production company that years ago had acquired Death Row Records’ vault and it’s just sitting in there waiting for someone to show it some love. Jack just has to see if he can get MC to sign off on it.”

“Isn’t gangster rap a little passé?”

River shakes his head. “Maybe, who knows? But the cameo by Tupac will have everyone listening.”

I nod my head, trying not to think about the sadness of Tupac Shakur’s murder. River rolls his window down and I follow suit. Then he starts singing “U Can’t Touch This,” and I laugh hysterically. Soon I’m grabbing my camera and shooting pictures of him. He turns and mouths, “You can’t touch this” as well as some of the other best lines and I capture them all.

To get in beach mode, I pick up his phone and scroll through the iTunes store, downloading every song I can find with the word beach or fun in it. I want him to be excited to go to the beach, but most of the songs I select just make him roll his eyes—until I download “California Girls” by the Beach Boys. As it plays his smile widens. He sings along with me and we unknowingly have a contest for who can sing the words “wish they all could be California girls” the loudest. He smiles so brightly I can see his dimples. He even splays his hand out in the wind thumping to his own beat. When the song finishes I turn the volume down and just watch him.

He glances my way and lifts his sunglasses. “Yesss . . .”

“Nothing, I’m just surprised that you like the Beach Boys.”

“Well . . . not that I want to ruin my cool rocker image or anything but I’ll tell you a secret,” he says, winking at me. “My dad made us listen to them every time we ever went to the beach and after a while they started to grow on me.”

“That’s actually really cool. And your rocker image is still intact, no worries. I won’t tell anyone.” River falls silent for the rest of the drive. I wonder if it was the song, the conversation, or the fact that we are quickly approaching the beach.

A part of me knows River feels the beach was a place for me and Ben, but that simply isn’t true. True, we both loved the beach, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love it with River. I want to be able to experience the beauty of one of the most magical places with him and this feels like the time to bridge one of the last barriers between us.

We pull into the public parking lot and he swings the car into a spot. When he turns the ignition off, I can see his reluctance. “Hey, are you okay?”

Removing his sunglasses, he looks at me; I mean really looks at me before speaking. Then pointing to the beautiful Pacific Ocean that stands before us he says, “I’m not sure we should be doing this.”

I don’t hesitate in the slightest before saying, “Well, I am.”

Then I reach over and push the hair from his eyes. “I love you. Only you. Okay? And I want to share one of my favorite places with you. I want us to experience this together. We need to do this, River—for you and for me. For us.”

He sits quietly, like he’s weighing the pros and cons of what I just said. He stays like that for the longest time. I try to hasten his decision by opening my door. But when he doesn’t do the same, I move back in my seat and decide to resort to enticement. Pulling off my T-shirt, I sit there with the hot sun beating through the window in my black bikini top then lean back and wiggle out of my shorts.

While he watches me, his lips part and his chest moves a little more rapidly. A wicked grin appears on his face as he runs his finger up one of the strings of my top. “If you’d have taken your clothes off when we first got in the car, we probably would never have made it to the beach, you know.” With that, he opens his door, takes his shoes off, and stands to strip off his jeans. I watch him and think he’s right.

* * *

“Come with me,” he says, quirking a finger and leading me up the mound of rocks. I stop halfway to snap photos of him climbing. His strong muscular legs easily carry him up the rocks. When he sits on one of the boulders, I crouch down and snap. The wind blows through his light brown hair and with his sunglasses on he not only looks content and carefree, but sexy as hell. Every muscle in his chest and abs is on display as I click, zooming in to capture one or two close shots. “Sing something for me.” I have to raise my voice to be heard around the camera and the sound of the ocean splashing against the rocks.