Take Me for Granted

Chapter 11: Grant

It was official. Aribel fucked me up. The asshole at the record label be damned, Ari was the one driving me mad. I’d kissed a lot of girls, and not a single one of them had I thought about longer than a fleeting moment. I’d say I didn’t fuck girls twice, but I couldn’t remember them long enough to know if that were true.

So, why had I driven all the way from the city to see Aribel without the promise of some ass? In fact, I’d been certain she would turn me down. But something about her had made me want to try for it anyway. Maybe it had been the way she put up a fight, her reactions to me kissing and touching her, or her fucking bullshit banter.

And who is the pussy that had taken over my body when I opened up and told her about the band? Any other girl, I would have just fucked until I forgot about it, but no, not Ari. She wouldn’t let me forget about it. She wouldn’t even let me keep kissing her.

I’d thought that maybe since I told someone about what had happened with the label, it would be easier to tell my boys about what had gone down when I stayed behind. But it wasn’t.

I walked into the garage for our regularly scheduled band rehearsal the next afternoon, and all the guys were sitting around on couches, not touching their instruments. Yeah, I’d seen this coming.

“Rehearsal is canceled. We’re going to get beers,” McAvoy told me with a nod.

“All right,” I said. “Want me to drive?”

Miller shrugged as he walked past me and out of the garage. So, he’s pissed. Well, aren’t we all? Last night hadn’t gone down how any of us anticipated.

“That means, yes, dick,” Vin said, punching me on the arm, as he followed Miller out.

“Are they going to hate on me all night?” I asked McAvoy.

“It’ll blow over, dude,” McAvoy said, holding a joint between his fingers. “Want some before we go?”

He handed off the joint to me, and I took it graciously. I fucking need this. After taking a few long drags, I passed it back to McAvoy, and we walked out to my truck.

I headed to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that we frequented in town and pulled my truck into the run-down parking lot. They had good food and cheap beer, which was all that mattered. We took our normal seats in the back of the restaurant and ordered a few pitchers.

“So, what happened last night?” Miller asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yeah, you ran out of the fucking place like some motherfucker was chasing you with a gun,” Vin said.

I shrugged. “The label offered me a solo gig.”

The guys nodded like they had been expecting that. They still looked pissed, and I couldn’t blame them.

“I told him to fuck off and that I couldn’t be in this business without my bros.”

“I told you,” Vin said, smacking Miller upside the head.

“We all thought that, Vin,” McAvoy said. “It was just a shitty night for everyone, and then you just disappeared.”

“Yeah. Where did you go?” Miller asked.

“You know he went to get himself some ass,” Vin piped up.

“Of course I did.” I didn’t want my boys to think I was losing my game.

“No one knows Grant here like I do,” Vin said. “Man needed some pussy. Nothing wrong with that.”

Miller and McAvoy shook their heads at Vin just as the pitchers arrived.

“Anyway,” Miller said, already shrugging off the weight of my disappearance, “what do you guys want to do from here? We don’t have a show for another two weeks. I haven’t heard from another label. I was thinking we could take a breather. Just take some time off and regroup. In your case, Grant, fuck yourself out of disappointment.”

Sounded about par for the course.

Aribel’s dark blue eyes flashed before my eyes, and a small smile snuck onto my face. She was the only thing I wanted to be fucking over the next week. A streak of blonde hair, her groans as I’d touched her tits, her lips making my whole body hard as a rock crossed my mind. I shook my head and tried to get her out of my thoughts. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I want to fuck myself out of disappointment,” Vin said, “with that fucking ginger, Cheyenne. I’m ready to find out if the carpet matches the drapes.”

“So, how long are we talking?” I asked, ignoring Vin’s vulgar comment.

“A week?” Miller offered.

A week sounded good. I needed to stop obsessing about Aribel, so maybe the next time I saw her, I wouldn’t try to attack her.

“Cool. I think I’m going to call Sydney then and go visit her,” I said.

Vin whistled. “Bring her back with you. I’ve never seen a nicer ass. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I slammed him back into the booth and cut off his windpipe. “Pipe the fuck down, and remember who you’re talking about.”

Vin glared and pushed me off of him. “All right, bro! Fuck off! I’ll stick with my redhead.”

“Yeah, you fucking will.”