"I know…but, I can't compete with tambourines and douchebaggery, baby," he chuckled, ruffling her hair when her face fell into a scowl.
She wasn't sure she could either. God help her.
Wednesday arrived, and with it came band rehearsal with Fire Extinguishers. As promised, Big had sent her a text with the address the night before. She had just slipped into bed, exhausted from rehearsals and the show that night, looking forward to blissful sleep when her cell phone came to life with his ringtone. Flipping open her phone, she read the text, surprised by his brevity. She'd expected something Bigish, but figured that maybe he thought it best to not push her since he was already on shaky ground. Just as she'd found the cool, comfy spot on the pillow, her phone rang again; he called that time. And because she was too tired (and maybe a bit too cowardly) she let it go straight to voicemail.
"Sup, Larrington. Just wanted to say that I'm looking forward to giving you the full Biggerone experience at rehearsal tomorrow. Can't wait to hear you hit the high notes as you bang it out…on the tambourine. Get that mind of yours out of the gutter. Naughty dreams, Shorty."
She blamed her busy day yesterday on the fact that she was still sleepy today. It had nothing to do with his voicemail (that she may or may not have listened to more than once) and that deep, sexy voice in her head right before bedtime. Nothing at all. And the dirty, obscene dreams that she had last night were absolutely, unequivocally not about him. She was adamant that she'd been yelling out fuck repeatedly in the dream because that's exactly what the tall, dark haired man had done (expertly and repeatedly) to her. And this morning, as she took to ridding herself of that deep, primal ache between her legs, his face and sweaty, half naked body never once entered her mind. His name most certainly did not tear from her lips as she hit her peak.
She also decided, as she pulled open the door to the rehearsal space, that, for an actress, she was a pretty terrible liar.
Glancing around the large, open room, she spied James setting up his drums and the other two (Mike and Matt?) getting out their instruments (guitar and bass respectively) as well. There was no sign of Big, which simultaneously calmed and unnerved her. He wasn't here now, which means she didn't have to be subjected to his filthy comments right away. On the other hand, he would eventually show up and the inevitable embarrassment she was sure to feel seeing him after the thoughts she'd had was almost enough to have her running for the door. She absolutely couldn't fuel that fire. She'd already gotten drunk and kissed him, which was bad enough, but if he ever knew that he'd been on her mind as she…
"Hey, Lisha!" James called in greeting.
She focused her attention and smiled brightly at him. "Hi, James," she said, walking over towards the group.
"Mike, Matt, this is Alisha, Alisha, Matt and Mike," he casually made the introductions.
Alisha gave them both a friendly smile and shook their hands. "Nice to meet both of you officially."
"Thanks a lot for bailing us out, Alisha," James said in a grateful tone. "I'm really sorry that he roped you into this."
"Yeah, Big's kind of a doucheasaurus rex sometimes," Mike laughed, tightening the strings on his electric guitar.
She giggled at the term. "No problem. I wouldn't tell him so, but I'm actually looking forward to it. This gives me a chance to sing something different for a change." Unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and removing her hat and coat, she tossed them over the back of a chair. Not wanting to sit around and twiddle her thumbs until Big graced them with his presence, she said, "Do you boys want to wait, or should we go ahead and get started?"
The three exchanged amused glances and shrugged. "Let's see what you've got," Matt smirked, strapping on his bass.
Big jerked opened the door, running late (as usual) to rehearsal and could hear that they'd started without him. James pounded away on the drums and Mike was getting really into some Joan Jett and the Blackhearts on the guitar. His eyes instantly gravitated towards the gorgeous brunette shimmying slightly to the beat and gripping the microphone. She opened her mouth and the gritty rock lyrics poured out.
We've been here too long
Tryin' to get along
Pretendin' that you're oh so shy
I'm a natural ma'am
Doin' all I can
My temperature is runnin' high
Cry at night
No one in sight
An' we got so much to share
Talking's fine
If you got the time
But I ain't got the time to spare
Yeah
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
There, yeah
Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Every girl an' boy
Needs a little joy
All you do is sit an' stare
Beggin' on my knees
Baby, won't you please
Run your fingers through my hair
My, my, my
Whiskey and rye
Don't it make you feel so fine
Right or wrong
Don't it turn you on
Can't you see we're wastin' time, yeah
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch (yeah)
Do you wanna touch me there, where
There, yeah
Big tossed his bag carelessly onto the floor and stripped off his fleece as he watched and listened to Alisha, who seemed oblivious to his presence while she sang. She was so fucking talented and versatile. He'd heard her belt out show tunes and pop songs and now she was digging into some rock
