Forbidden Faith Page 5

  “You too Mom, bye.” I hang up and hold the phone up to my chest, feeling so guilty; my mother does not deserve to feel abandoned by her own daughter. I need to be more assertive and get back to taking care of her. She needs me.

  Once I get back up to my room, change out of my gray pantsuit and into my yoga attire I make arrangements with my travel agent and book my mom a flight for next month. I immediately text her and tell her about the flight and that she should start shopping for bathing suits. She texted me back with excitement in her words and little hearts, expressing her love for me. I really do love my mother and will try my hardest to make up all the lost time.

  After downing spoonfuls of ice cream, cuddled on the couch and watching sappy chick flicks, I am just starting to feel better when Phillip phones and says he’s on his way up. I make sure my night time security guy lets Phillip in while I clean up the ice cream mess.

  I’m in need of some really good sex right now and knowing Phillip, he won’t let me down—yeah, I know, horrible girlfriend.

  Nothing beats having a fantastic orgasm—what a way to end my night. Phillip noticed my down mood, yet he knew better than to question me because all he saw on my face was sex. I didn’t want to talk about my day—I only wanted him. Phillip really is a great lover. He’s my comfort zone. He’s predictable ( in a good way ) and always does wonderful things with his tongue. I cannot complain about the way he makes me feel. I get off and that’s what I’m always striving for.

  After we both shower—with more sex—on my king sized bed, I lay comfortably wrapped in his arms and rest my head on his chest, stroking his bulging bicep. He takes very good care of himself. He loves the gym and is always working out—he’s in fantastic shape.

  I just wish I could fall in love with him.

  “You need to dress up on Friday evening,” he casually says.

  “I’m always dressed up.”

  “No,” he chuckles. “I mean, extra dressed up. I have two tickets to go see Wicked and you’re going to let your hair down and come with me.”

  This is exactly why I wish I could fall in love with him; he’s always thinking of me, wanting to do fun things with me, yet I am always saying no. Really, I don’t understand why he stays with me.

  “I’d love to go, but I have a party to go to that night.”

  “Dump the party.”

  “I can’t.” I pull away from our cuddling, climb out of bed and put on my white robe. I come back and sit next to him. “June is celebrating her latest signing with a band. This is important to her, so I have to be there.” I know I have disappointed him, yet again; he’s frowning. Even though this was a long shot, I ask him anyways, “Why don’t you come with me?”

  He starts to laugh. “You know that’s not my thing, precious.”

  I shrug my shoulders and give him an ultimatum “Then you’ll just need to find someone else to go see the play with.” I wasn’t going to let my girl down. I had to be there whether or not I wanted to—or to be there to see Lucas, perhaps? Ugh, I cannot go there!

  Phillip sighs with a groan, swiping his hand through his still wet hair. “Okay, okay, I’ll go,” he gives in, laying a kiss upon my forehead. He gets out of bed and gets dressed; once his pants are on he continues his rant about the party. “But just so you know, I’m not too thrilled about hanging around a bunch of tattooed, loud mouthed punks.”

  What he just said made my stomach drop—he sounded just like my father, plus it was uncalled for and pissed me the hell off.

  I throw my hands in the air and sarcastically reply, “Well, geez, please, tell me how you really feel.”

  “It’s the truth, Faith. I don’t fit in that world.”

  I sit up and curl my knees under as I watch Phillip grab his shirt and yank it over his head—he’s frustrated.

  My voice begins to rise. “Whether or not you fit in, doesn’t mean these guys are assholes.”

  “I never said they were. I just meant—“ I cut him off.

  “Yeah I know what you meant and I don’t really appreciate you talking shit about my best friends band. If you haven’t noticed, June is covered with tattoo’s and is loud, but no way is she a punk.”

  “Dammit, Faith, I never said that about her!” Phillip shouts.

  “Maybe not, but it feels all the same when you speak about how people represent themselves. We don’t all come from money you know? We weren’t all brought up in a cookie cutter home where we had butlers and chefs.”

  “I know that, so what’s your point?” He clips at me.

  “My point is, you can be pretty shallow.” I didn’t mean to say it that way, yet it was the truth.

  I think I may have hurt his feelings—hell, I’m always hurting him.

  His eyes lock on mine while he bites his bottom lip. He is pissed as can be and insanely quiet. I can feel his anger building inside my room. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. “Shallow? Is that how you see me?” I can’t answer him; he sees it in my eyes. I have no other words for him because, yes, he’s shallow. When I don’t answer him he bitterly states, “Perfect. I’ll see you around,” and picks up the remnants of his clothes and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

  I fall back on my bed feeling defeated and horribly guilty, yet I cannot help how I feel. The worst thing my father ever did was make anyone he thought was beneath him feel like trash. I don’t understand all those charities he would go to, pretending he was doing something good when in truth he couldn’t care less. He only cared about money; giving money to those charities meant good advertising for his construction company. Phillip reminds me of him right now, and I really really hate it. Yet, he is also a very sweet guy who I take advantage of. It’s not right that I only want him for my own needs, I hate myself for continuing it and it sure as hell isn’t what Phillip deserves—but why does he always come back? Maybe after tonight he’s out of my bed for good?

  Black Silk

  Written by Lucky Jones, Composed by Lucky Jones and Danny Jay

  Produced by Shackle Music Productions

  I’m tied up in knots, rubbing raw to my bones, cutting me off from the truth

  The life I lead means nothing, it has only led us to the proof

  Proof only hurts your soul

  You’ll never be the same, I’ll never be the same, take me away from here

  What was hidden inside that hole, carried the weight from this atmosphere

  Flesh eating flesh, fire blazing fire

  Silk runneth on my chest

  Black coldness black, ocean white capped ocean

  Silk runneth on my chest

  Your Black Silk tying me down

  Tying me down

  Feathers from my wings, touched by your tongue, sucking me away

  Every lick on every inch, my wings flutter with wanting to obey

  To obey and forget

  Take me away from here, I’ll never be the same, You’ll never be the same

  The snake will tear us apart, choke us till death, unless we play his game

  Flesh eating flesh, fire blazing fire

  Silk runneth on my chest

  Blue ocean deep inside my soul

  Black coldness black, shivers run me back

  Your Black Silk tying me down

  Tying me down

  IT’S GETTING PRETTY HOT THESE days. I usually love the heat, but today it’s stifling; our crappy air conditioner decided to break and is getting fixed tomorrow, so for now I’m sitting outside on my deck shirtless, and playing a new song I just wrote. I’m trying to figure out the composition when Danny steps out.

  He pulls up a chair and leans on his knees. “Sounds great, man.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I say, strumming the guitar and smoking a cig.

  “Thought you quit smoking.”

  “Thought I did too,” I inhale the last bit of the bud and place it in the ash tray. Yeah, I really should quit.

  “Let me hear that melody again, see if I can pick up another sound wit
h you.” Danny goes inside the apartment and grabs his guitar. He may be the drummer in the band, but he also plays other instruments. This guy was born to be a musician; he can play the piano, guitar, drums, saxaphone—he’s insanely talented.

  I start playing Black Silk; slow, with a little edge around the melody. Danny immediately picks up another sound and before you know it we are killing the song. We’re in our own world, feeling every single word, every single piece of poetry that comes out of our mouths. My foot is bouncing with the beat of the song, and my fingers have a mind of their own, strumming the guitar; I get a high every time I touch my strings—there is no other feeling like it.

  At the end of the last verse we sit there in complete silence, taking it all in as if it were the last song we will ever play—the song is that good. I surprise myself all the time with how powerful words can be expressed through music. I love writing, I love singing, I love playing. I hope I never lose such a thing.

  Danny whistles. “Fucking sweet, man. It’s crazy good.”

  “Yeah, with your added sound, it’s pretty amazing.” I sit my guitar up against the wall, wipe my brow and take a long drink from my water bottle.

  Seems as if Danny is feeling it as well. “Hey, let’s get out of this damn heat and go down to Whiskey Flats, get a few beers, shoot some pool?”

  I nod my head. “Sounds good. Call the guys and tell them to meet us.”

  All week it’s been in the high 90’s—I don’t expect anything less in the month of July. However being in the coolness of the air conditioned bar felt fantastic. We come to Whiskey Flats quite often. It’s a great place to hang out, chill and be ourselves. We’ve been playing pool for the last two hours, talking about the new song I wrote and how stoked we are about finally getting signed. We couldn’t wait to get on the road for a tour—I hope that will happen soon because we are ready to show the world what we are made of and to rupture their lives with our music.

  “Yes!” I shout, with my fist in the air, high fiving Jason. We were killing the guys at pool. My cell starts buzzing in my pocket. It was June. “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hey, this is June. Where are you guys, sounds noisy!” She shouts.

  “At a bar. How are you?” I walk near the restroom where it’s quieter.

  “I’m great actually. So, I need you all to come in tomorrow, meet the producer. He wants to get your album started ASAP.”

  “Yeah, sure, we’ll be there.”

  “Great! I’ll have lunch set up for us as well. Let’s say around 11:30?”

  “Cool, see you then,” I hang up and walk back to the guys.

  “That was one crappy shot Slim, what the hell! We’re trying to beat their asses, not get creamed,” Wayne shouts, with his hands spread out, holding the pool cue.

  Slim nudges Wayne. “Speaking of cream, check out 4 o’clock, right over there.”

  Wayne turns toward the 4 o’clock lady and places his hand over his heart. “Sweet holy ass cheeks.”

  These guys are my entertainment; I get a laugh every time they get shot down from a lady. They need to learn how to keep their balls intact.

  “Slim, Wayne, we’ve got a game to finish! Let’s go,” Jason shouts.

  Jason is the quiet one of the band. He usually keeps to himself and rarely raises his voice to anyone. I love the guy. We clicked the minute we met and have a lot in common; we both come from disrupted homes, deadbeat parents and poor as hell. Music was and is everything to us and has made us who we are today. Without music we would be nothing, a forgotten soul. Dead. Having him be a part of JINKS was meant to be. Slim and Wayne met Jason at a concert a few years back. They are all the best of buds and never stopped being there for one another. I am pretty proud of who my band mates are. We are like any other family—we have our ups and downs, yet we always come back to one another because we are brothers and brothers never let each other down.

  “Guys!” I clap my hands together to get their attention. “. . . . .we’re meeting our producer tomorrow. So no more drinking. We have to be on top of our game, alright?”

  “Right on Luck,” Jason chimes in.

  “You mean I can’t go get creamed with 4 o’clock?” Wayne asks with a whine. I just chuckle; he cracks me the hell up. Wayne really doesn’t know how to keep his trap shut. He wonders why the ladies never come crawling for him—he’s an asshole. Nevertheless, I love the guy. He’s a native of San Diego and grew up in Clairemont with Slim. They have known one another since they were small boys—connected like conjoined twins.

  Slim slaps Wayne behind the head, pissing him the hell off. “What the hell, dude!” Wayne yells, holding the back of his head. I can’t seem to stop chuckling. Like I said, they’re my entertainment.

  “Take your shot,” Slim orders with a smirk.

  “Come on guys, lets finish the game and head out,” Danny says.

  Wayne points in Slims face and scowls. “You’re gonna pay for that, pee wee.” Slim pushes Wayne’s hand away from his face and slings his arm around his neck, rubbing his head like a puppy. We all get a big laugh out of the scene they’re causing and finish the game.

  Just as I thought, Jason and I win the game. Since we bet against one another, the guys put in their stash; Jason and I claim our win and stuff the cash in our pockets.

  The whole night I’ve had my eye on this one girl. She was also eyeballing me, giving me a glance every now and then. I believe she was Slim and Wayne’s 4 o’clock girl? She is hot with her long blonde locks, skimpy ass, short black jeans skirt, legs that are a mile long, high black heels and a blue tube top that was ready for my willing fingers to take it off—her tits were calling my name.

  She is coming my way as we are about to leave the bar. The guys see me stop when the lady murmurs in my ear, “Leaving so soon? Thought we could, maybe, get a drink? Just you and me?” Her full tits are touching my chest, I can feel the nipples harden, which makes my dick go stiff.

  I bend down and murmur back, “Sorry, darlin,’ have to get a good nights sleep.” Which is complete bullshit; I know she’s gonna come back to my place and let me have my way with her. This happens pretty much on a weekly basis. I don’t have to do anything to get a girl into bed; I never have to say a word to them, they always come crawling to me.

  Her fingers runs down my shirt, while her other hand cups my balls. I grunt with the connection of her hand. She is one brave chick. “Well, how about I make it even better for you?” She slyly purrs to me with her big green eyes, batting her lashes and biting her bottom lip.

  I cup her ass and reply back, “Can’t say no to a beautiful face.” She smiles, raises her left brow and leaves to retrieve her purse. I watch her perfect ass sway back and forth—I know she’s doing that on purpose. I am not complaining because I know that ass will be in the air as I pound in from behind—this hot night just got even hotter.

  “Naw, come on Lucky, not tonight,” Danny complains.

  “Bro,” I chuckle, “it’s your home too. I’m not forcing you to go anywhere else.” The girl comes back and I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

  “Shit, no way do I wanna hear. . . . .” Danny sighs, “. . . . go ahead, get outta here.”

  “Why does he always get the ladies!” Wayne shouts with his arms spread out like he wants to hug someone. “What about me sweet stuff?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Catch you guys tomorrow.”

  The guys walk outside; Danny approaches me before the girl and I leave the bar. “Text when you’re done, yeah?” His eyes are pleading with me. I slap him on the shoulder and lead the girl out.

  Yep, don’t even know her name. Don’t give a shit—sex doesn’t need a name.

  The next morning I wake up sweating. After the girl left last night I couldn’t sleep a wink; there was no breeze coming from my opened window and the fan above my bed was blowing nothing, but hot air. If that air conditioner doesn’t get fixed, somebody is going to get the shit beatin’ outta them. I cannot handle one more night
like this.

  I take a cold stone shower, get dressed in a pair of jeans, black tank, saunter into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of OJ. Danny boy is out on the balcony, wearing a pair of jeans—nothing else—seated on a chair with his feet propped up on another chair, arms crossed, sleeping. Guess he had a bad night too?

  I wake him up and tell him to go take a shower. While Danny’s in the shower I text the band, reminding them about meeting our producer and to reserve a table at IHOP for breakfast; it’s not even seven in the morning, yet my stomach is growling and I need an omelette.

  Once breakfast is finished, we hang around at the restaurant and drink loads of coffee; I am dead tired, therefore I need this coffee to keep me awake while we meet our producer.

  I immediately wake up once we meet Gary Sams at the studio. He is a really smart, cool guy and has worked with some incredible artists—I am beyond grateful for this chance to be working with him. I’m also glad to know he isn’t a suit wearing kind of guy; he’s in his mid-fifties with shoulder length silver hair, white, bushy goatee and wears jeans with vintage t-shirts. I find him laid back and down to earth. I can tell the guys are feeling the same way; we all are pretty comfortable and at ease around him. It makes this experience all the more incredible.

  During lunch with June and Gary we talk about our music and how we became JINKS. We get to know the history of Gary too and how he used to be a musician, but never felt it was his calling, yet still loved the industry. Being behind the window, helping musicians create their sound is what drives him, excites him. Winning six Grammy’s, I guess he’s done alright in his life.

  The guys and I can’t wait to get started.

  “I have to say, men, your sound is brilliant,” Gary praises.

  “Thanks, Gary, we appreciate it,” I reply.

  “You did good doll,” he says to June.

  She has her arms crossed and has a proud look upon her face. “Well, it wasn’t my doing, I’m just glad I found these guys. So what do we say we get to work?”

  “JINKS, I’m ready when you are,” he slaps his hands together.