She was gone when I woke up. I had been excited to wake up to a quiet apartment, assuming it meant she was still asleep and that I could surprise her by actually cooking breakfast, but when I walked into the kitchen I was greeted by a box of a half a dozen donuts with a note attached.
Gene--
I'm sorry for running out so suddenly. I remembered very last minute that I had a meeting this morning and so I needed to bolt. I wanted to say goodbye, but you looked so peaceful sleeping, and I figured that all that rowing must've worn you out. I hope we can meet up again soon, I really enjoy spending time with you.
Yours,
Bea
I ran over the note for the millionth time in my mind as I walked to practice Monday morning. I had read it so many times yesterday that I already had it memorized. Her handwriting was gorgeous, a wide, loopy cursive that was as graceful as she was. She still hadn't given me a way to reach her though. No number, no address, not even what company she worked for. The only way I could get in contact with her was through Paul, and he still wasn't giving me her number. I needed to see her again. I needed to feel her lips pressed against mine.
Strawberries. That's what her lips tasted like. As if I had wandered into a field, picked the reddest strawberry, and popped it into my mouth. I knew why, I had been with enough women to have heard of Lip Smackers. I couldn't recall seeing her put the lip gloss on though, so she must've done it just after her shower.
She had been planning the kiss.
It wasn't a spur of the moment thing that she had then regretted, resulting in her leaving without a goodbye. It had been planned. She probably meant to do it before dinner but didn't have the nerve, as that would be when the lip gloss flavor was strongest. Whether she had waited to work up the nerve or because there just wasn't the right moment before then I wasn't sure of.
The only thing I was sure of was that I needed to feel her petal-like lips pressed against mine again.
I looked up abruptly, realizing I had been so lost in thought that I had walked right past the studio. Heaving a sigh, I retraced my steps for half a block, finally stepping inside.
"Good morning Mr. Simmons!"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, good morning," I said absentmindedly, drifting past Dottie and able to see a frown appear on her lips out of the corner of my eye. Lips that were nowhere near as enticing as Bea's.
I wandered down the hall, having to double back as I walked past the room we were playing in, still trying to figure out the events of last night. She had kissed me, told me goodnight, and practically shoved me out of my own bedroom before I could so much as blink. But I had heard her giggle once the door was closed, the same laugh she always did whenever she was proud of one of her jokes. So she must've been pleased with her actions.
Unless it was just a joke.
But then why the lip gloss? Why the notes? Why the donuts? How did she know I liked chocolate donuts from that shop anyway? A lucky guess? Had Paul told her? How did Paul know? Why did she sign the note 'yours'? What was that supposed to mean? Was she asking to be mine? Or was she just too lazy to write out all of 'respectfully yours?' But if that was the case, why not just write out 'respectfully?' Why--
"Can I please have my guitar?"
I snapped out of it, looking at Ace before looking down and realizing I had picked up his guitar instead of my bass.
"Oh! Y-yeah, sorry. I just...got distracted," I said.
"Yeah I'll say. You didn't even say hello when you walked in here," Peter said, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke as he leaned on his drum kit. "The hell's on your mind?"
"It's...nothing," I said slowly, and Ace nodded, perpetually half-closed eyes opening a little wider.
"Still hung up on Paul's sloppy seconds," he said with a tsk, and a hot wave of anger shot through me.
"Watch your fucking mouth," I spat. "Don't talk about her like that, she's not that at all!"
"If she's so perfect, then why did he give her to you? You know Paulie, Gene-o. He'd probably kill Peter if it would get a girl to be waiting for him when he came home," Ace said, ignoring Peter's offended look and extended middle finger. "He'd have rescheduled the date if he wanted her."
"Well maybe she's just not his type," I said defensively, and Peter snickered.
"Oh, right. An apparently attractive, intelligent, caring, humorous, and just all around perfect woman. Who would ever want to date someone like that?" he said, voice oozing sarcasm, and I felt my face grow red.
"I don't know. But obviously he doesn't," I said defensively.
"Or there's a catch. There's something wrong with her. Oh! Maybe she's got some secret dark past Paul didn't want to get involved in!" Ace said, and Peter rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"You read too many pulp magazines. She's probably just a whore. Maybe she's got an STD or a kid or something. Not that that's ever stopped you before, of course," he said, giving me a look, and I scowled.
"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about. She's not like that at all," I said, face hot. "She's not like that. Just-just shut up"
"All I'm saying is you've got it real bad for a broad who's probably not even worth tripping for, let alone actually falling," Peter said, flicking aside his now-finished cigarette. "Ace is right. Paul's desperate. He'd jump on any woman that so much as said they were looking for a man. He'd have rescheduled the date if he really wanted to go, or he'd have cleared his schedule to be able to go."
"Well where the hell is he anyway?! We can just ask him directly!" I snapped, trying to shove away the fear creeping into me, the uneasy feeling that was starting to tie my stomach into knots.
Peter and Ace both just shrugged.
"Beats me. Haven't seen him yet," Ace said.
"Maybe he's secretly gay," Peter mused. "What're the odds he was using her as some sort of lavender marriage situation?"
"The hell would he do that for?" Ace asked, giving him a baffled look. "Bill's gay. What, he gonna fire Paulie for taking it up the--"
"No, you bunk, because Paul's the sex icon of the band. Out of all of us, he's the only one who'd need a lavender marriage because him being gay would be the biggest hit to our fans. Think of all the teenage girls who'd be devastated to learn their favorite heartthrob is homosexual," Peter said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Ace nodded slowly as if it made perfect sense.
"Cripes, I get stuck in traffic and you guys start speculating I'm gay?" Paul scoffed as he walked into the room. "I'm dying to know what you'd say if I got sick and didn't show up because of that."
"All I'm saying is my logic is perfectly sound," Peter said with a shrug, and Paul gave him a flat look.
"It absolutely is not," he said.
I cleared my throat, still reeling from what Ace and Peter had been saying. "Can we talk about Beatrice?" I asked, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.
