Page 15 of Such A Good Guy
One amazing thing about Luke was that he was such a good listener, dropped everything he was doing to give you his full attention. I knew he had a big scholarship for piano playing, since he was a piano genius, but he was even good just picking up a guitar for the first time.
“Yeah, you could be a rock star playing like that,” I said.
“Would you like that, Luna?” Luke asked.
I had been just a little tipsy, champagne bubbles sparkling up my nose, and I felt an embarrassing twitch and pull deep in my belly at the way his voice saidLuna.
“Yeah!” I said, a little too anxious to distract myself from that pull I didn’t want to think about. “That would be cool.”
“A lot of women would say you’re pretty lucky knowing him for so long,” Ignatius said with an ingratiating smile, bringing me back to the present. “You must know him very well, because I’ve heard him mention you a lot. He never talks much about his past; I’m hoping to get some great stuff about his childhood from you.”
“You should probably ask him about that,” I said politely, trying to fight my instant irritation at the idea that I would be sharing gossipy stories. But I was a bit prickly and didn’t like people easily, so I fought the urge to dislike Ignatius.
“How did you end up working for Luke?”
I remembered with a pang that Luke had asked me a few months ago if he should hire a business manager and PR agent. I had said yes but given no further instructions. And Luke O’Neill wasn’t the kind of man you wanted in charge of doing his own hiring.
He was so nice he had always gotten taken advantage of and sometimes I had to positively drag him away from overspending or doing something way too generous.
“Staffing company,” Ignatius said.
I nodded neutrally, then turned away and back to where Luke was starting his concert.
I had been lying in the plane. I did know Luke’s songs. Because most of them were ones we had written together, fucking around while baking Christmas cookies or reading by the pool in my parents’ sterile mansion.
The buttons of my black jeans dug into my belly, and I tried to stretch inconspicuously as I watched Luke move into a set while cat pictures his fans had sent in played on a PowerPoint behind him. Good lord, my jeans were tight. I desperately wanted to pop the top button. Why were they this goddamn tight? I must have gained a little weight, which was fine, but odd, since I hadn’t been doing anything differently. My belly seemed to swell so hard against the zipper that it dug into my flesh, and I finally undid the top button, biting my lip as I looked around nervously to make sure no one had seen me. With my bra in my purse, my nipples rubbed against my T-shirt, the surface of my breasts so heated that even the soft feel of my shirt made my nipples sting.
And now I had the first button of my jeans off, too. I needed to get looser clothes pronto.
Luke glittered when he played his final song, the spotlights giving his hair a golden halo. He looked totally relaxed and at home on the stage, like he was born to do this.
“What do you do?” Ignatius asked as my ears ached from the roars of the crowd.
Luke had the audience in the palm of his hand and he had risked his whole reputation by inviting my loser brother to play backup for this high-profile tour of Canada. Some men were just too pure for this world. . .
Feeling a bit self-conscious, I began to explain my job to Ignatius. Maybe being an accounting and tax major didn’t go very well with a crystal shop, but I didn’t care. I thought my accounting background helped me keep my business afloat. And we were growing, too! Up until the last dip in my sales, anyways. If I could get back on track I might even be able to hire an employee. We had been growing with steady, incremental growth. Although my town of Providence Bay was quite staid and conservative, I did get a surprising number of customers, from all walks of life really.
“Oh, can I see one of your crystals?” he asked.
I pulled out a pretty pure milk and lilac colored lepidolite for relaxation, and it slipped through my fingers and rolled down the hallway.
“Oh, I’ll get that,” Ignatius said, chasing after it.
He was pretty cute, honestly. Big brown eyes, all that chocolate mousse colored hair, interestingly rumbly and bumpy muscles beneath his suit. There were possibilities, even if he did seem like a yes-man.
“Let me,” Luke said, walking through the door from the stage with his easy, tall pace, his guitar slung around his neck.
I could see a bit of slick sweat on his tanned throat and felt that same embarrassing little pull down in my pussy.
Maybe I wasn’t about to start my period at all. Maybe I was ovulating. That could be the only explanation. Or maybe it had just been way too long since I’d had sex. Ever since my freshman year of college, I’d had the worst luck with men. Sometimes I’d even have a phenomenal first date, loads of chemistry, great conversation, and suddenly the man would totally ghost me, or say he couldn’t date me.
When I asked why, they’d never answer.
My breasts felt like they were swelling, my nipples rubbing against my T-shirt. It felt almost obscene how tight and pebbled they were and how much it turned me on to feel the fabric against them.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got the rock,” Ignatius said cheerfully, getting down on his knees and reaching for sparkling crystal.
Maybe there were possibilities there, because I really needed to get laid. Ignatius seemed anxious to please, at any rate.
