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Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alma

She was born in Houston, Texas, in the spring of 1962. Her father, Antonio, was a multigenerational Tejano. Her mother, Maria, from Jalisco, Mexico, lived in Texas. They met through her brother. He and her father worked as young men together doing commercial landscaping. One day, he was invited for a cold beer after a hot, sticky, humid day on the job. On her brother’s orders, she met the men sitting under the shade of the back porch with two bottles of beer for them. Politely, he took off his hat and thanked her, and from then on, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Alma was nine months old when they left Texas. She had no recollection of her life there. Her parents left with others, mostly friends, who told them about good-paying work in Missouri. So they took the chance. Starting over fresh as a family unit now. They lived short-term in several other places until they ultimately settled in Strathburg when she was four. So it was the only place she’d ever known.

Growing up in the town, however, came with some strife. They didn’t look like everyone else. They had tan skin, and their names were difficult for the hicks to pronounce. She didn’t know it then, as she was too young, but when she got older, she could recall the racist remarks being made about them. Her parents didn’t fight it, instead they took it. Eventually, everyone realized that they couldn’t run them out of town, and so they tolerated them.

Her parents were as good as you’d want any parents to be. They wanted her so badly. They loved her so fiercely. Her dad would toss a ball around with her, and her mom would let her play in her makeup. They did their best to keep up with her, even in their older age. However, she could see a look flash across their faces, distant and mournful at times. Her mother thought of her sister Liliana, wondering if she had lived, would she and Alma look alike. Her dad taught her to be independent because he didn’t know how long he and his wife would be around for her. Around him, she was a bit of a tomboy, learning to do oil changes and fixing flat tires. Activities he would have taught his son Leo if he had lived.

She learned she was under the shadow of her deceased siblings rather quickly. Ever since she could remember, they had an altar in their home under a framed photo of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Her hands clasped and her gaze low, keeping watch of the little white ceramic urn that stored their porcelain ashes. It may have been macabre to some, but Alma never thought it any different.

Being an only child, some nights she wished for them too. Wished to not be so lonely, wished that her parents wouldn’t look at her sadly in times they thought she didn’t notice. They loved her, but she was a reminder of what was lost and what they could have had too.

She longed to be seen. She was given freedom in exchange for good grades. Even if it was the late ‘70s and most kids were left to their own devices, she was the only focus of her parents. There was not much you could do when there was no one else to blame.

When she was thirteen, she went shopping with her mother for clothes that were more in style. Her mother freaked when she put on a more form-hugging cap-sleeve blouse. They left with knits and formless tunics, much to her dismay and protests. Alma’s body was changing, and that upset her mother. It worried her. That evening, Alma pulled a tee-shirt taut behind herself and looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She had boobs. She knew that, but she didn’t think about it any other way other than she was growing up. This was what was supposed to happen. That night, she saw just another thing that made her different. They were big for her age. She looked down at her hips, and they seemed even wider now, too. Her body was now just another barrier that kept her from being seen.

At the town record store, she perused the bins for something new. She’d venture into many genres that summer after her freshman year of high school. Rock being one. All mainstream bands, but she liked what she heard. One day she came across a punk album, and she quickly let go of it, shocked by the band's vulgar name. She took a gamble, sheepishly bought it, and held it close to her chest when she got home and went straight to her room with it.

It was like her brain was rewired and mashed at the same time, hearing the scratchy guitars, heavily thrumming bass, clashing drums, and lyrics rapidly being screamed. All somehow in rhythm and yet offbeat together. She just wanted to listen to more and more and found anything she could get her hands on that summer. It gave space for this silent rage she had inside herself from years of staying in line. The angst of wanting to break out of where she was and grow elsewhere. The very in-your-face feeling of being unapologetically yourself and abandoning the notion of conforming. Just wanting to scream at people to fuck off and dig deeper instead of taking what was expected of them.

…

1981

It was a hot day in late spring. It was the weekend, and she made plans to be at the latest field party, one way or another. Her fringe backpack was packed with extra clothes, her shoes, and cuter underwear. Her mom entered the kitchen, seeing her pack the burritos she had made to go in the same bag.

“Entonces vas a Carla's?” She asked. She was dressed comfortably, feeling and looking better than she usually did.

“Si, amá. Ya me voy.” She said securing her bag before putting it on.

“Mm. Y cómo llegas?”

“Con mis roller skates.” She smiled.

Maria pursed her lips a little. “Pues. Be careful.”

“Si, amá. I’m spending the night so-”

“Preguntaste a tu papá?”

“He said yes.”

“Ah, ok. Pues cuídate, mi amor.” She said, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

Alma pushed off her roller skates on the smooth road at a leisurely pace. Enjoying the sun and the breeze running through her thick hair, which had grown out since she impulsively cut it short during late fall. Her parents weren’t very happy about that. Especially her mother, but in the end, her dad defended it and said he thought it was pretty despite not preferring it.

A male neighbor with his children was washing his truck outside his home and waved at her as she passed by before she made a sharp left turn. The opposite way from Carla’s home. It was just a short detour to Bill’s house. That week had been a bit awkward between them. They hung out fairly often outside school, but that was usually mostly on weekends. They only had one class together in school, and their lunch schedules switched every other day because they were on different block schedules. It was never an issue. But after last weekend, Bill remained fairly distant from the beginning of the week until that past Wednesday, when they ate lunch together.

As she strolled closer to Bill’s home, she could see him outside on the pathway leading to the porch, crushing aluminum beer cans with his heavy second-hand combat boots and tossing the crumpled metal into an old wheelbarrow.

“Hey!” Alma yelled, coming to a stop as she rolled up his driveway.

“Hey,” he smiled, scratching his bare arm a bit sheepishly. He was wearing a ratty black sleeveless shirt and jeans, which he reserved to do work in. They were stained with random paint splatters and tattered. Ready for daily wear now that they are well-worn in. “What are you doing here?” He asked, tossing the rest of the cans into the wheelbarrow.

“I’m on my way to Carla’s. Her parents are away.” She said, skating up the cleared pathway to stand closer to him.

“Like for real? Or do you want to hang?”

“For real.” She giggled because sometimes Carla was used as a cover. “But I wanted to drop this off.” She shrugged a backpack strap off and swung it around to her front. Bill looked down at her as she dug inside it. She looked pretty today, he thought, but he thought that every time he saw her. “I ended up with extra so,” she said, handing him two burritos wrapped in wax paper. “It’s potato and like serrano, onions, and tomatoes. Uh, you’ll see.” She said quickly, feeling a bit embarrassed because she had been made fun of for the ethnic food she ate by classmates in the past.

“Rad. Thanks. Thank you.” He could kiss her if he allowed himself to. He was starving. Really fucking starving. He only had white bread and a tin of unnaturally pink, salty potted meat to eat that day.

The rumble in his stomach pained him now that he knew he had proper food in his hands. He would have been ashamed if anyone else had given him food, but Alma never made him feel like some charity case. It was always genuine and caring. Yet he held off on monstrously devouring the burritos in the presence of a lady and placed them on a chair by the front door for later like a civilized person.

“Um, are you going to take off already or?”

“I guess I could hang out a little?” She lightly shrugged.

Bill grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow, and then he looked down at her skates. “Get in.” He nodded towards it.

“No way,” she laughed. “I’ll get cut.”

“You’ll be fine. Surface area, you know.”

“Oh, so you do pay attention in class.”

“Get in.” He impatiently said with a boyish smirk on his face.

As gently as she could, Alma sat on top of the crushed tins, clinking together and digging into her lower back when he began to push her to his backyard. They laughed together as mischievous children would.

“What’s with the TVs?” She asked when Bill helped her out of the wheelbarrow. His hand discretely grazed her hip as he did so.

“Uh, they have copper in ‘em. Scotty found them on the side of the road and dropped them off to me yesterday.”

Bill had been scrapping metal for months now. Aluminum, brass, and copper from wherever he could get them. Saving up money for his move to New York City. He helped her sit on top of an old, rusty washer and watched as he stuck long pieces of gray duct tape to the glass screen of a TV.

“What are you and Carla getting into?” He asked, crouched down and ripping a piece of tape with his teeth.

“The field party.” She tilted her head at him. “You never said if you were going or not?”

“Eh…” he said with apprehension as he smoothed down the strip of tape. His fingernails were speckled with flecks of chipped black nail polish.

Just then the worn-out screen door opened and out emerged his brother Gustaf in the midst of pulling a shirt on.

“Hey!” He yelled to his younger brother, and then he softened a bit once he noticed he had company. “Oh. I’m leaving.” He informed. “Hi, Alma.”

“Hi.” She nodded.

She didn’t really have an opinion of him. Usually, he kept to himself a lot when she was around, respecting their privacy. In both instances, his oldest brother, whom she’d only met twice, was barreling back into the house drunk. Kicked out of a paramour's house for the night smelling of cigarettes and some sickly sweet scent underlined it. The other times she saw him, he was passed out, unaware of anything going on around him. In the times when his father was home, Bill never allowed her to stay over and instead opted to go to hers. It was a bit of a haven for him in those times.

“Yeah. Okay,” Bill said dismissively as his brother saw himself out. “But, uh,” he sighed as he turned his attention back to Alma. “I don’t know. It’s the same shit every time.”

Alma rolled her eyes. “What else is there to do around here?”

“Everyone’s gone now.” He gestured toward the house. “We could watch a movie or something? We could watch The Warriors.”

Alma bit her lip in thought. She could stay, and maybe what happened last weekend could progress. However, she had promised Carla, who hadn’t been to the field parties yet, that she’d take her.

“I can’t,” she said apologetically. “Just go. It’s the last one of the school year.”

“How are you getting there?” He questioned.

“Tara has a car now. Early grad’ present.”

Bill scoffed. “Shit.”

He didn’t really like half the group of girls she often hung around with. They weren’t very nice to him if they was forced into some interaction in class. Otherwise, they left him alone. They didn’t understand Alma’s relationship with him either, but they chalked it up to her, feeling sorry for him as if he were a clingy, stray dog. In many ways, they found her strange, too.

“I doubt she’d be thrilled, giving me a ride.” He said, grabbing an old wooden baseball bat, leaning against the washer she sat on before helping her back on her skates.

Alma frowned, looking up at him. “There wouldn’t be room either way. Nadine is coming too.”

“My brother just left with the car.” He scoffed in frustration, scratching the nape of his neck in thought. “I guess I could call Scotty.��

“So you’re going?” She smiled.

“We'll see.” He winked as he handed the bat over to her. “Here. Smash the screen in.”

Alma skated up to the TV, and with a downward swing, she connected with it. A slight crack could be heard, but it wasn’t so impressive, which made Bill laugh.

“Oh c’mon. Harder.”

Alma steadied on her skates and pulled the bat back further and put more strength into the second swing. The screen satisfyingly caved in. They both laughed with glee at the destruction. It felt even a little cathartic. The duct tape contained the glass, and when Bill carefully peeled it away, it revealed the spiderweb pattern skittering away from the bat’s blow.

“Are you actually going to call Scotty?” Alma asked him just before leaving, shuffling on her skates backward on the road.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.” He said absent-mindedly, grabbing a lock of hair that was resting on her shoulder. It made her hold her breath involuntarily.

Once she left, he scarfed down the burritos she had given him, and he could physically feel his body absorbing the nutrients from it. He moaned with satisfaction, even. They were gone in what felt like an instant, and he frowned. He mostly relied on school lunches to keep him fed, but of course, it just wasn’t as good as a homemade meal. It was better by miles.

He walked to his neighbor's house, sniffling a bit from the spiciness of the peppers, and was greeted by the redhead preteen girl who lived there, asking to use their house phone. She was completely unimpressed by him. Once, Bill warned her that she shouldn’t answer the door for just anyone, as it wasn’t so safe to do so.

“I know that,” she snarkily retorted. “But it’s just you.”

His phone line had been cut off for weeks now as his father left the bill unpaid. How he hated living the way he did. Every issue he was met with was just so very inconvenient. All he had motivating himself now was that, soon, he would be gone. In a new city where he could have some control over his life for once. While he knew it wouldn’t be a cakewalk, at least there was no one else to blame but himself.

The only thing he wished was that he could take Alma with him. Their plans for their future were swiftly diverging further away as the school year was coming to an end. No longer would they hang out in town or sleep over each other’s places. No more taking his brother’s car to do donuts in a vacant parking lot when they should be asleep. It would just be phone calls or letters. Maybe he could convince her to eventually meet him in New York, but knowing her, he had to be delicate with how to propose that idea. She would jump on the moment to leave with him rather than go to college. He recognized that she was impulsive in a way. He didn’t want that. His future wasn’t as secure as hers, and he didn’t want to hold her back. He’d feel shitty about himself if he did.

~~~

Alma was with Carla now, in her room, hot-gluing a paper clip she bent in half to a beer bottle cap. Carla was a bit pious and a lot more sheltered than Alma was. She was also an only child, and they came from the same cultural background. Their mothers would arrange playdates for them as children, and they have remained friends since.

Alma plucked cooled, hairlike strands of hot glue off the bottle cap before passing it off to make another. The bottle caps she found were collected inside a plastic margarine container, and when Bill asked what she wanted them for, she lied and said she was thinking of making a bottle cap belt. In reality, she was making Barbie furniture—an end table, in this instance—for Carla’s doll house. She would rather die than have Bill find out she still played with dolls sometimes. A few years ago, she had gotten rid of all her childish toys and came to regret it in the end, but luckily Carla still held on to hers and didn’t mind sharing. Who knew that in the future, Bill would be playing with his own real-life dolls one day? Especially with her.

“Did you bring the books?” Carla timidly asked. She had paused, painting the end table with pink metallic nail varnish.

“Oh!” Alma said, pushing off the floor and crawling over to her backpack just to drag it back. “Yeah. I haven’t read the fantasy one yet. You’ll have to tell me if it’s good, but this other one has a firefighter. A cute one, too.” She smirked, handing the romance novels over to her.

She had to smuggle them to her friend because her parents were a bit strict. Alma hid hers only because she would be mortified if her parents knew the subject matter inside them. She wouldn’t know how to explain herself. It would just open her up to a whole other can of worms. Her parents knew of her friendship with Bill, but they believed it to be innocent, or as innocent as they believed their daughter to be, at least. They thought she knew better and was taught better than to entertain the advances of men. However, she was a teenage girl, and while doing more than heavy petting was daunting, she was just too curious. Her body, she knew, gave her power most don’t often get. The problem, though, is that she didn’t trust so easily. She only trusted one person, who seemed not to be too interested in her. At least not as interested as most teen boys would be, especially with the access she granted.

“You know, there are some cute FFA boys that go to the field. I met one who was a volunteer firefighter once.”

Carla bashfully clasped her mouth as she giggled. “But I can’t… I don’t know how to talk to boys.”

“You don’t have to. Just let them look, you know?” She playfully widened her eyes.

“Hmm.” She bit her lip in thought. “I don’t have anything to wear. Help me? What are you wearing?”

Alma smiled excitedly when she asked. “It’s new. I went to the mall with Tara a few weeks ago, and,” she paused, digging in her back and pulling out a black halter top with a flowy midriff. “And then, these jeans.” She stood up then, holding the tight black jeans against her body.

“Your mom let you get that?”

“Obviously not,” Alma laughed. “But I’m eighteen now. I should be able to wear what I want.”

“I mean, yeah…” Carla said nervously. Even if she admired the garments, she just didn’t have the courage within herself to wear them if she had the option. Besides that, she had never seen Alma in anything but mostly formless tunics. “I know you’ll look pretty in it!”

“Are you two really playing with that for real?” Carla’s cousin asked with her mouthful as she was eating a moon pie when she walked back into the room. Mayra was in town from Houston and was a year older than them.

Alma noticed her friend frown and didn’t like that. “What’s the issue?” She asked, but Mayra’s only response was to roll her kohl-lined eyes at her.

~~~

At his home, Bill was enjoying the space alone for once. He was in his bedroom in only white briefs, looking through his dresser with a skinny joint between his lips, and listening to radio music at a light volume. From his dresser, he pulled out an army green button-down he had gotten from an army surplus store. With a red magic marker, he had decorated it with an anarchist symbol on the breast pocket. He laid down in bed undressed, and taking the last puff of his joint, he closed his eyes, contemplating.

While he did find the field parties to be repetitious, Alma was right. It was something to do. However, that wasn’t the reason he was so indecisive about going. It was because lately, he couldn’t stand to see Alma talking to boys or vice versa. He knew he didn’t have any right to feel that way, as they were only just friends. Even reminding her as much. Yet, in the last few months, they have been rather flirtatious. In the way, they spoke to each other. Their hands touching and caressing in loving ways. Holding hands while walking home from school or their sleepovers, where they would innocently sleep, but still their bodies met and cuddled.

It was such an instance in which he went too far. In Alma’s bedroom, like any old night, he had gone before. When he arrived, he briefly watched her outside the open window. She was sitting on a violet shag rug in the middle of her floor, painting her toenails blood-red, unaware that there were eyes on her. She was in a white, knee-length baby doll nightgown, her damp hair was French braided, and her face was fresh and bare. He could hear her humming to herself as she dipped the brush back into the polish bottle, twisting it closed.

“Hey,” Bill said as his lanky frame climbed through her window.

She gasped loudly and clutched her chest, startled by him. “Bill?!” She harshly whispered. She pulled her nightgown down to cover her lap, as she wasn’t particularly sitting modestly, thinking she was alone.

“Shh.” He lightly laughed, sitting on the floor next to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

“Mhmm.”

They hung out for a little. She even painted his fingernails with black polish, asking what he did that day. It was late when he arrived, so once their polish dried, they were in bed. He brought his copy of a dystopian sci-fi graphic novel to read alongside her under the dim light of a bedside lamp she draped a red chiffon scarf over. Alma listened to him softly read it out loud to her, making different voices for the characters and all. They started the novel the weekend prior, and he picked up where they had left off. She yawned just before he could get to the climax of the story, and he laid the book on his chest to look at her.

“Sorry, I had work this morning.” She said with heavy eyes and nuzzled her head on his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” Bill said understandingly. He had come to know that she would work at the local Dairy Queen during the summers, but she started a month early for extra money for college.

They slept under the covers, inches apart, as if they were leaving any substantial room for Jesus. Their mornings together, they’d be pressed against each other in some way. That early morning was a bit different, though. He had woken slightly and moved his hips away from her bottom. He wore soft shorts, which he wore under his jeans that he had taken off before getting into bed. He felt his cheeks get hot with embarrassment over the erection he had woken up with.

It wasn’t the first time his body betrayed him in this way, but usually, he’d back away from her and tuck it into his waistband, ignoring it. He wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t particularly proud of how he lost it. He wasn’t even seeking out sex when it presented itself to him, in the form of an early 20s-something hippy straggler living in his home. Charlene had been making passes at him, which he just couldn't pick up at fourteen, almost fifteen years old. He thought she was interested in the weird, nerdy things he spoke about. Maybe she was in a way, but it wasn’t so sincere in hindsight.

In their first encounter, she placed a hand on his hairy thigh, and he froze a bit. The next thing he knew, she was blowing him on the couch, and he was scared out of his mind as they were in the living room and anyone could have walked in at any time. He came into her mouth, and she swallowed it, much to his shock. She laughed when she saw his large green eyes looking at her in disbelief with a hint of disgust. He spent a few weeks confused and conflicted about it, as she was technically with his brother, Gustaf. Then they were alone one night. He walked into his bedroom, and she was lying there in his bed with dirty feet and giggling at the nude magazine she found under his pillow.

“Do you want to see mine?” She asked, pointing at a photo of a nude woman seductively spread eagle on the hood of a muscle car.

He gave her a strange look because he had seen hers a handful of times now after her showers, but he wasn’t that naive. He knew exactly what she meant. He hadn’t been with anyone else since, at least not that closely. There were other girls from his old school he’d fool around with, but Charlene had laughed and teased at how fast he came his first time. Even so much as taunting at the mess he made on his belly and chest. It messed with his head for a long while.

With Alma, it was different. He knew if they did anything, he would never get the fuck out of Missouri. That type of intimacy wouldn’t do either of them any favors in the grand scheme of things. He caught himself wanting to kiss her multiple times now, and as their friendship grew, the urge to be closer was getting more and more apparent between them. They were friends, but they didn’t behave as friends would lately. Especially when they knew they were on borrowed time.

Bill took a deep breath and tried to find sleep again until Alma scooted back and pressed her bottom against him again. He stilled for a moment. It felt as if she had awakened too, but he couldn’t be certain because he didn’t want to peer over to confirm it. She rutted her bottom against him again, and her nightgown slipped up, revealing her basic white, floral underwear to him. He bit his lip and gulped.

Alma lay there with her heart racing, pretending to be asleep. An uncomfortable dampness was between her legs. It wasn’t the first time she had felt him at attention against her. More often he’d sleep through it, but it seemed as if he were more aware of it lately and would shift his hips away from her. She felt his hand on her hip, trying to smooth her nightgown back down. Instead, she grabbed it and slowly dragged it over to the front of her sex. Her eyes remained closed, and his hand froze in place.

She could feel his chest rise nervously. They remained silent, but suddenly some mutual agreement was made between them in the quiet. They would do this, but fall back on the claim that they were asleep and had no recollection of it. Neither would ever mention this moment, too embarrassed about their teenage urges even as adults.

Bill cupped her sex as she ground her bottom onto him. In turn, it stimulated the bundle of sensitive nerves ever so beneath her underwear. She could feel him hard-pressed against her bottom and the small of her back. Shallow breaths escaped them, enjoying the feeling. Alma’s breath hitched when he applied more pressure with his hand. He could feel her wetness soak through her panties, but he didn’t dare touch her so directly. The sense of her arousal and the thought of doing so undid him. He held her tightly as he humped and huffed until completion into his boxers.

They both stilled themselves, too scared to even speak or confront what had just transpired. Instead, they both pretended to sleep until he gained the courage to rise out of bed. He lightly shook her shoulder, waking her, and whispered that he needed to help his brother with something that day.

“Hm, okay…” Alma said, meeting his eyes, but they were avoidant. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Um, yeah…” He said, pulling up his pants, but not before Alma had noticed the wet spot on his shorts.

He then avoided her for a few days at school until he got over himself. When he spoke to her again, she acted as if it never happened. Ignoring both the incident and the silent treatment. For which he was grateful, but there was an obvious shift.

Bill finally got out of bed and got dressed after jerking off about it like he had been all week. This time it was out of necessity because there was a high chance he’d be alone with her at some point. He didn’t want to pop a boner he knew he wasn’t going to do anything with. Regardless, he tugged on the chain to his wallet and opened it, double-checking if he still had a condom inside, just in case.

Scotty was obnoxiously honking the car horn outside Bill’s house while he stole sprays of his oldest brother’s cologne before leaving. He checked himself in the broken mirror by the front door and unbuttoned his shirt to his chest, showing the white tank underneath. He wanted to look nicer than he usually did, but this would have to do.

“Taking forever, man!” Scotty laughed. He was a friend from his old school, but he had already graduated a year before.

“Yeah, whatever.” He fist-bumped him and tossed his leather jacket in the back seat. “Thanks for picking me up. I can give you some gas money.”

“Not a problem, dude. Just roll up a few while we head up there. The stuff is in the glove box.” He said tapping it. “Oh. And we're pickin’ up Jones.”

Once Jones joined them, they were on their way. Bill sat with his knees together to hold the Mad Magazine in his lap, using it as a tray to break up the weed to roll up. Scotty was vivaciously speaking about random things and laughing at his own jokes. He was a good-natured guy, but sometimes he could be too high-energy. Jones, however, was more even-mannered, just along for the ride. He wasn’t even so much like them either in regard to sharing similar interests. But being one of the few black kids in town and befriending two white punk kids who didn’t mind scraping with others of their kind provided some buffer of protection.

“Are any of her friends cute?” Scotty asked Bill, passing a lit joint to him.

“Eh,” Bill shrugged as he took a hit.

“He only thinks his girl is cute,” Jones laughed in the back seat.

“They’re okay,” Bill said, exchanging the joint for the flask of Jim Beam with Jones. “For you two, losers.” He laughed as they scoffed with offense.

“You gonna ask Alma out, dude? Or is it still NEW YORK, NEW YORK!” His outburst was sung to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s ode to the city.

“Impressive.” Jones quickly quipped as he passed the joint back to him.

“Oh. Yeah, you like that, Jones,” He winked at him through the reflection of his rearview mirror to which his friend just chuckled. “Anyway, as I was saying.” He said, turning his attention back to Bill.

Bill gave him a strange look. “Yeah…”

“Ah, well. I guess you can’t have it all.” Scotty lamented. “There are tons of other babes out there, though. But before we get off subject, I have a song for you, Billy.” He chuckled deviously, searching around the center console for an 8-track.

He ejected the 8-track that was in the player before and popped the new one in. After he skipped a few tracks, a familiar bass riff began playing, and he turned the volume dial up. Bill shook his head, annoyed yet amused. It was Why Can’t I Touch It by the Buzzcocks.

“You dickhead! I told you that shit in confidence.” He said, but he laughed along with the boys in the car.

~~~

It was dark around the edges of the bonfire at the field party. Carla was feeling a bit wary and uncomfortable. Alma helped her choose a nice skirt, which she helped hem with discrete stitches to meet her knees. There wasn’t much Alma could help her with because her closet didn’t have much to work with. The most she was able to accomplish was curl her hair and let her borrow her red lipstick to wear.

Alma and her cousin, Mayra, were talking to country boys from a neighboring town as she stood by awkwardly. People who lived in the circumference of the field would all meet and mingle, coming together to drink, smoke, and maybe get lucky. Alma was taking a swig of an unknown brown liquor being passed around, and when it came to Carla, she hesitated until she saw her cousin smirking, knowing she’d decline it. Proving her wrong, she took a large gulp, but her face was full of immediate regret.

“Oh my god. You okay?” Alma asked her when she heard her choke.

“Mhmm,” she said with puckered lips. “Nasty!”

“Yeah.” Alma nodded understandingly. “I wasn’t thinking when I passed it over. Sorry.”

“No. No, it’s cool.”

“I have some brews. Would you two like that instead?” A young man wearing a cowboy hat and a lip full of chewing tobacco politely asked them.

“Sure.” Alma smiled.

“Could I get one too?” Mayra butted in.

Eventually, Alma ventured to where Tara and Nadine were, which was closer to where cars would pull into the field to park. Bill was still nowhere to be seen, and now she wondered if he was coming at all. They were talking to Bruce and Casey from school, the two most annoying jocks in school. While she stood around them, pretending to be interested in the conversation, she decided to venture back to Carla to check on her.

She was doing fine. More than fine, she found some cute FFA boy to talk to, and they were both bashfully laughing with one another, leaning on the tailgate of a truck. Alma was stuck on where to go then, until the cowboy beckoned her over, holding out the bottle of whiskey toward her.

~~~

“Fuckin’ finally!” Scotty said, cutting the headlights off and creeping the car into a spot under a large tree. “We’re already missing out,” he said, pointing at a car with foggy windows.

“I’m going to go find us some beer,” Jones said, exiting the car before them to get the night going.

“Wait, but I–” Scotty began to say, but Jones had woven into the crowd and disappeared. “I have beer in the trunk.”

Bill walked to the back of the car with Scotty, and together they chugged a beer and tossed the cans before grabbing another. After Scotty put on his jean vest that was adorned with studs and band patches, they began walking around. Their presence didn’t look so inviting, as they were both pretty tall and lanky, but they also had pierced ears and unusual haircuts. Scotty’s dark hair was spiked up with gel and hairspray, and the sides of Bill’s hair were shorn very short but long on top and laid to the side. Scotty would always try to convince him to get a mohawk because it was nearly there if he buzzed the sides narrower.

“Oh, look, Skarsgård brought his girlfriend.” Bruce Fetterman teased them when they crossed paths.

Their eyes darted towards him with objection. Then Scotty blew him a kiss, taunting him, and Bill joined in making kissy noises.

“Fuckin’ freaks.” Bruce spat on the ground with disgust.

The boys laughed as they sauntered away, unbothered. It amused Bill that his tooth was still chipped, which made him look stupid.

“Where the hell did Jones go?” Scotty wondered out loud as he scanned the field. “And where is your girlfriend?”

“She’s not–”

“Yeah, whatever dude,” Scotty interjected. He knew their story, and he knew his friend had been dragging ass. “Hey!” Scotty harshly tapped Bill’s shoulder and pointed. “That’s… that’s Alma?!”

“Huh?” He quickly looked in the direction he was pointing at.

A few girls were dancing in a truck bed to The Stroke by Billy Squire. Then there was Alma standing on the edge of the dropped tailgate and dancing as well. He’d seen her dance in his room on occasion, so that wasn’t so shocking. It was the fact that now she was on display for everyone to enjoy. However, his heart stopped when faced with her bareback. He could see her soft tan skin in the light of the bonfire’s blaze. Was she topless? He thought in a panic until she turned and saw she was covered. Well, as covered as you could be in the top that she was wearing.

“Holy shit…” he said, metaphorically picking his jaw back up off the ground.

“Yeah. Holy shit.” Scotty repeated. “C’mon,” he said, tapping Bill’s shoulder and leading the way over.

“Who are those guys?” Mayra asked Carla across the way after she essentially blocked her from the boy she was speaking to.

“Who?” She asked, following her gaze. “Oh. I don’t know about the other guy, but the one in the green shirt is Alma’s friend.”

“That’s Alma’s friend?” She said with disbelief. “She plays with your Barbies, but that guy is her friend?”

“Like kinda more than friends, really.”

“There’s no way.” She laughed incredulously before taking a sip of her nearly empty beer.

Mayra saw Bill put two fingers in his mouth and whistle loudly over the music. Alma turned her head in the direction of it, flipping her hair back, and squinted. She didn’t have her glasses on, but she recognized his figure and smiled brightly. She crouched down and hopped off the truck, hearing some disappointed groans from the boys who were watching. Mayra’s eyes followed her as she practically skipped over to him in her wedge heels, and he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up off her feet with a big, dimpled grin on his face.

“I told you.” Carla laughed at her cousin's jealousy and decided to seek out the boy she had been speaking to earlier.

“You look,” Bill trailed off, scanning her from head to toe as his heart raced, noticing her cleavage.

“It’s too much.” She questioned, feeling a little self-conscious now.

“No! No.” He shook his head.

“Not at all.” Scotty parroted as he scanned the crowd, looking for either Jones or a girl to talk to before he was delegated to third wheel.

“Good to see you again, Scotty.” She greeted.

“Likewise. Always a pleasure,” he put an appreciative hand on his chest and bowed his head politely.

Alma smiled appreciatively. “Uhm. What took you so long?”

“Well.”

“That was my fault,” Scotty interjected. “Caught a flat tire on the way.” He waved at someone with acknowledgment then. “Ay, I’ll catch you two later.”

“Yeah, the tire blew. Guess who had to change it?” He said, slightly miffed, showing the dirty marks on his hands before rubbing them on his jeans. “Uh, do you want to grab a beer?”

She nodded, and he took her hand in his and led her back to Scotty’s Buick. Bill reached through the open driver's side window to pop open the trunk, and when he rounded the car, Alma was bent, grabbing beers from the foam ice chest in the back. He gazed at her back again, and when she stood upright, the fabric on her top shifted, and he could see the side of her breast. She passed a beer to him, and then she lifted the bottom of her top, revealing more supple flesh, to pull a flask she had tucked into the front of her tight jeans.

“I stole it from one of the country boys,” she smirked.

“They’re going to come looking for it,” he chuckled, watching her take a swig.

“Fuck them,” she said, passing it off.

They settled, sitting on the front fender of the car, watching the bonfire. They were parked a bit away, but they could still feel the heat emanating from it.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” Bill said, scanning the thick crowd.

“Last party of the school year. You know what I was wondering earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“Whose field is this? Someone has to own it, right?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He said, turning his body towards her more. “No one? People have been coming here forever, even my brothers when they were in school.”

“Is it weird that this is your last field party in Missouri?” Alma asked, peering up at him.

“Mm.” He lightly shrugged. “No… I’m over it at this point.”

“Right,” Alma sighed. And over me too, she thought. “I’m sure New York’s parties will be a lot more fun. I’m a bit jealous. I’ll miss you.”

Bill bit his lip and looked away. He could feel his nerves creeping up on him. “Y-you should, should visit when you can. We can party together?”

Alma smiled. “Yeah!”

“But like when I’m able to get my own place, you know? It might take a while.”

“Mhmm. Are you still on track moneywise?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah, yeah.” He said, sounding more sure than he felt. “Just trying to add some cushion in case, right?” He paused to take a drink of his beer. “I’ll miss you too, by the way. But I’m not gone yet, don’t start giving a eulogy.”

Alma playfully rolled her eyes. “But can I say, it’s going to be so boring without you?”

“I mean,” he gestured smugly, agreeing, and she lightly pushed his shoulder.

“Hey, Alma!” Their little bubble burst then. It was Mayra calling out to her. “Where’d you get that beer?”

“Shh!” Alma harshly shushed her, putting a finger to her lips. “Don’t announce it.”

“I’ll get her one,” Bill dismissively said as he stood upright. “Who is she?” He whispered before he walked off.

“Carla’s cousin.” She informed him, to which he just raised his brows.

“Sorry,” Mayra said, blinking her eyes to focus them. “Hi,” she smiled at Bill until she noticed he was handing her a beer. “Oh, right. Thanks.” She looked between him and Alma for a moment and suddenly felt intimidated. “Um…” she nervously cleared her throat. “I’m going to look for Carla,” she said, backing away like prey keeping their eye on a predator.

“Just don’t tell anyone where you got that,” Bill said, holding two other beers and giving her a strange look.

Alma slid off the fender and passed Bill then. “What’s her deal?” He was confused about her behavior.

“I don’t know.” She said dismissively, opening the door to the back seat and getting in.

He did a double take, and then his stomach sank. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest as he followed her in. The only strategy he quickly thought of was to immediately start rolling the back window down to keep them from feeling as if they had any real privacy. He exhaled with a bit of reprieve when he turned to see Alma doing the same.

When she turned to look at him, her chestnut eyes reflected the distant flames of the bonfire. Her red lipstick had faded in the middle, only softly lining her pouty lips now. They spoke a bit in a friendly, joking manner, trying to break the obvious tension in the backseat as they sipped on their beer.

“Take it easy!” Bill laughed when she took two swigs from the stolen flask. “Uh, there’s a joint in the center console.” He began to reach forward, but Alma pressed the flask against his chest, stopping him.

His chest tightened, seeing her bent forward again as she rummaged in the console. Her bare back faced him again, so close in the confined space that he could see where the leather upholstery indented her skin. The urge to trace the lines and the freckles he newly discovered almost overtook him, but he retreated his hand to his lap. She sat back with the joint between her lips, now seated closer to him.

“Got a light?”

“Uh, yeah.” He procured a white bic lighter from his breast pocket and flicked the flame on.

She leaned into the flame, puffing on the joint until the ember glowed evenly. She peered up at him through her long lashes and smiled when he pushed a lock of her hair back to keep from getting caught in the glowing cherry.

They passed it back and forth, their eyes getting low when the discussion of college came up.

“Eh.” Alma grimaced. “I got accepted to the university, sure. But I don’t know; I might just go to community college. Save some money getting the bullshit out of the way, you know.”

Bill frowned a bit because he knew she could make it at university, but he understood money was an issue with her mom's stacking medical bills. How he wished money would just never be a factor in decision-making for himself or Alma.

“That’s half the reason I started my summer job early. But,” she reached for the joint he was passing. “Whatever. I’ll figure it out…” She took a puff, and it was obvious to him that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Mhmm. Before graduation… uh, I was wondering earlier if you’d want to go to the springs again sometime? Sometime, you’re not working.”

“I could call in,” she smirked. “But yeah. That sounds nice. The last time was fun.” She recalled when they went floating on spring break.

He smiled because there was a place past the spring that he liked to visit when he needed to be alone and away from the chaos of his home. He wanted to take her there to see the serenity of it.

They got cozier and more relaxed after finishing the joint. He had his arm around her now, and her knees hooked over one of his legs. In the distance, they could both hear the synth-piano tones of Telephone Line by Electric Light Orchestra. The chittering of crickets and cicadas blended into the melody.

Their inhibitions slipped. Bill turned his body closer to hers, his fingers moving to thread through her hair as he cradled her head. It all just felt so delightful, their bodies buzzing. Their senses heightened with more dimension being stoned. Alma’s eyes fluttered closed as she felt his pixie nose trailing the side of her neck and his breath fanning across her skin. He could smell the scent of amber and warm vanilla on her goose-bumped skin. It was the sensation of his hair, which had fallen forward and grazed along her jaw, that gave her chills even in the lingering spring heat. Her heart swelled so much that she thought it would burst out of her chest.

Her eyes opened when she felt his low-lidded stare on her. He looked into her eyes so intensely that she lost her breath, and the space closed in around them. He was going to kiss her. It was all over his face. Just as he leaned to clear the millimeters between them, he squeezed his eyes shut and quickly turned away. His face was marred with deep pain.

“I can’t.” His voice cracked with regret.

Alma bit her quivering lip when she felt his rejection and began rapidly blinking, feeling her eyes water. “Okay,” she croaked.

He glanced at her and had to quickly look away again after seeing that he had hurt her feelings. Exactly what he was trying to avoid. He straightened up some and swallowed. Alma noticed the hand on his lap was balled tightly, his knuckles blanched, his nostrils flared, and she felt him tremble.

“I’m sorry. I-I like you too much.” He admitted. “It’s not fair for me to… I’m leaving, I can’t.”

Alma sniffled, trying to hold her breath to keep a sob from sneaking past her lips. She harshly wiped the tears that slipped down her cheeks, feeling so silly for them. It wasn’t very punk rock of her. His gaze remained on the floorboard because he couldn’t bring himself to see her so upset, knowing he was the cause.

“Fine,” she said, taking a deep, shaky breath to settle herself.

“It’s not.” He said with remorse. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I want to be close to you. But I can’t stay here, Alma.” His voice cracked again.

“I know.” She sniffled. “You can’t,” she knew for his sake, he had to get out of his situation, regardless of how badly she wanted to be with him. “I like you too. Too much to make you stay.”

Bill bit his lip and bowed his head. While it was so amazing to hear that she felt the same about him, it broke his heart. Because why him, she could find so much better than him. It felt undeserving. He quickly cleared the lump in his throat.

“I'll let you know whenever I finally get a place. I promise I’ll wait for you.”

Alma sniffled. “Okay. Fuck,” she sighed, wiping away a rogue tear. Her biggest fear was that the distance would just prove to be too much for their friendship to persevere through. She still held onto the little hope she had and hoped that wouldn’t be true.

“These last few weeks will be brutal if it feels this bad right now.”

“Fuck.” He inhaled deeply. “I-it doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be, right?” He repeated. “I told you not to start giving my eulogy.” He finally looked at her, and he was glad he could amuse her a bit.

Suddenly, Jones was reaching into the driver's side to pop the trunk, and all three were startled by each other. Bill had a protective hold on her until they straightened up, and Jones felt a bit awkward, knowing he interrupted something.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jones said with his hands raised apologetically. “Uhm… your friends are looking for you, Alma. One of them isn’t doing so well.”

“Carla?”

“I think?”

“Hmm. I should help get her home.” She said, wishing she didn’t have to leave the party.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, following her out of the backseat.

When they joined the party again, her friends were already around Tara’s car. The FFA boy helped a drunk Mayra inside with Carla’s help. At least the hard part was done. Bill pulled Alma into an embrace before she left him, and they melted into each other. He took the opportunity to rub her bare back unabashedly. It tickled and it made her giggle.

“I’ll see you later?” She worried he would ignore her again after this, but she feared for even longer this time.

“Yeah,” Bill assured. “No silent treatment.”

“Don’t do that shit again.” She lightly chastised, pointing a finger at him. “Goodnight, Bill.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her back by her hand. She looked up at him, and he was peering down at her with soft eyes. “I didn’t get to say. You look really pretty tonight. Beautiful.” He corrected.

“You look good tonight, too.”

“Eh, sure.” He said with a light shrug and scratching his chin, unable to take the compliment. “Goodnight.” He said, allowing himself to kiss the back of her hand.

She took that as a cue to regroup with her friends, but as she stepped off she was still tethered to him as he hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Alma,” he said, looking a bit more serious. “I’d kill for this to be different.”

Alma sadly smiled, but she understood. “Me too.”

#my bill writings #avenue of sins #bill skarsgard #aos neon #aos

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b-afterhours · 16 days

Text

The Finer Things

The High Table - Part 9

Characters: Vincent De Garmont, The Marquis, From John Wick 4.

Setting: This story is set in my own universe, so not exactly the John Wick universe.

Warnings: 18+, prejudice and stereotypical thinking about nationalities, mentions about sex, murder, ageism, some offensive words.

Notes: This story starts to come to its end too. I've really liked creating a believable backstory to Vincent.

Vincent De Gramont looked at Ines Dawson while she slept. She slept on her stomach, her cheek pressed down in the pillow, and her mouth slightly open. She wasn't pretty. Not pretty at all. She was when she was awake, but in her sleep, he couldn't see it. He wondered if he looked as awful when he slept. He hoped not. He imagined himself from above, sitting on the ceiling, looking down on his sleeping self, and couldn't see himself looking like Ines. He was elegant even in his slumber.

He had just shared a bed with three people in his life. Mael, Ines, and... He dragged a hand over his face in disgust. He didn't want to think about him.

Mael had been pretty, sleeping, like he did a photoshoot in his sleep. Ines… Well, she needed to learn to sleep with her mouth closed. And… He dragged a hand over his face again. Vincent really didn't want to think about him.

He stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Lying in bed awake just made him think too much, so there was no point trying to lay there and enjoy Ines' closeness. And she wasn't pretty anyway.

He showered, shaved his armpits and neither region, and then did his procedure; smooth shaving, facial massage, and his special made skin routine. He styled his hair carefully. He would get shivers of disgust seeing men with too much hair product. Vincent had taught him how to do it. Vincent had taught him to be more stylish, just like he had done with Ines. Both of them learned fast; there was just one difference: Vincent was attracted to Ines. Maybe long before he realized it. The man he had never been attracted to, but still, he crawled down in his bed and let him touch him, feel how smoothly shaved he was, and look at his glowing skin.

“Hey? Are you already awake?” Ines stood in the door opening and looked at him, standing in just a white towel around his slim hips. She was pretty again, dressed in a silky nightgown that floated over her curves. She was beautiful in a way that made him want to kiss her neck, so he did, up to her lips. He wasn't much for that sort of intimacy, but Ines' relaxed personality made him want to challenge his normal ways. Ines giggled and laid her arms around his neck.

“You smell so good… You know what you smell like? Lilacs. Yeah, that's what you smell like,” she said, making him look at her. He didn't really care what others said about his scent because he knew that he smelled good. He smelled fresh, clean, and of good memories. Few had bad memories of the discrete scent of lilacs. He nodded a little at what she said and then walked by her to the wardrobe. He didn't even think about how his ways could be confusing; he didn't get that you should be smooth and lovable after kissing someone's neck; he just moved on to the next thing he needed to do.

Ines stood and looked at him, and he looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Don't you have something to do?”

She nodded with a small smile as an answer. She had changed in the time they had been together; maybe she had started to understand how he worked.

×××

They sat eating breakfast, with Ines talking about art, American football, and her hair. Vincent listened with a half ear and tried to nod in the right places. He guessed he must do that now that their relationship has changed. He couldn't treat her like an annoying student anymore; they were partners now. He didn't need to say that out loud; it was obvious to him that they were.

“Who called you last night?” Asked Ines. “Do you have a boss that checks you up?”

She looked at him with big eyes, but not as big as his. It was hard to beat the size of his eyes, especially when they were wide open. He didn't say anything. He hadn't formed a lie yet; he needed some more seconds for that.

“It doesn't work like that,” he just said and hoped it would be an answer enough, even if he more or less knew it wouldn't be. Ines was way too curious.

“How does it work then?

Vincent leaned back in his chair, fixing the sage green waistcoat he had on.

“I know who I need to invite anyway. Everyone knows that.”

Ines smirked a little, and he could see a fire in her eyes. Those big sexual feelings she had, that he couldn't understand. It was nice to have sex, but it wasn't anything he thought about otherwise. He guessed it was a similar feeling to when he fantasized about absolute power—seeing someone fear for their life. He could think about that look. How full their pupils were; like all experiences they had dropped down on the floor, and they were nothing like innocent souls again. Like cute babies. Cute but annoying babies you could just comfort with death. He loved everything about it.

“What about your ex? Ehm…”

Ines looked nervous now, and he took her hand. She was new at this; her experience was not much worth compared to what they did. Hiding the phone from your mother during her overdose and watching her die is a small crime in his book, but the crime had a character that also told him she could do more.

“I just need someone to go to his residence who he doesn't recognize and shoot his head off.”

Ines took a deep breath.

“Not like, cut his throat off?”

“That you can do to someone less valued.” He smirked. Ines looked up at him and smiled darkly for a few seconds.

“Faith?”

Vincent laughed and hugged her hand in his.

“Faith!”

×××

“Tu me manques aussi… Oui, oui. Tu le sais, je serai à la maison quand le travail sera terminé… Oui, une fois le travail terminé.”

Vincent gave Ines a look while talking. They sat at one of Paris' many outdoor seatings when he got the phone call. Lucky for him, she didn't understand what he was saying. She had a black wrap dress on in sheer fabric that made him see her black lacy bra, but it still looked elegant with pearl earrings and the floral necklace he had bought her. He liked that she spiced up the classical look; he did the same thing, but in his own way.

He took a sip of his Chablis and looked at the people walking by, many staring at him. He gave them a tired but threatening look, not really because he was upset, but more because it amused him to see their reaction.

“It feels like you don't tell me the whole story,” said Ines with furrowed brows, and examined his face for something that would give him away.

“What are you talking about?”

His French accent was extra heavy, maybe because of his phone call or to feel more French now that he was out in Paris.

“Who is it that calls you? Your face changes completely while you talk with that person. You look all uncomfortable and anxious.”

Ines looked worried and laid her hand on his. Vincent pulled it away; he felt weird about touching her while thinking about him. He looked away and shook his head.

“You really must stop being so curious; you're creating things that don't exist.”

“Okay, but who is it, then?”

Vincent took one more sip. In some way, he wanted to tell her because he felt so alone in his mess, but he didn't feel like a man like he could share that way. He wasn't that weak sort of man.

“It's… My ex.”

It was almost true. Or hopefully soon true. Ines looked at him with big eyes and spinned her champagne glass between her fingers. His ex, the man she would kill.

“I didn't think you had that sort of contact with him? I can understand why you get anxious about that. Why did you break up?”

As always, Ines asked too much. Vincent didn't know what to do with her questions and instead groaned and became irritated. He hoped that would make her stop, but as usual, it didn't. Otherwise, his bad temper frightened people, but not her. She had been in the beginning a bit, but he guessed the intimacy between them had made her see him another way.

“Can't you just answer? You know, I will just continue to ask.”

If it wasn't such a heavy subject, he would have smirked at that comment. He had started to like how stubborn she was; she challenged him.

Vincent sat quiet for a moment and looked at her. He felt a warm feeling in his chest and a tingling feeling in his cheeks. He didn't give anything away but decided, in his rosy feelings, that he would be honest with her. He couldn't even say why; it just felt like the right thing to do.

×××

His back was ruined. He should be glad he was alive and wasn't buried six feet down with Mael, but Vincent wasn't the one to be thankful for the least. His back was ruined, and he didn't know what to do with his life. While recovering in the hospital, he thought about giving up. Eat and drink well until his body would collapse completely. Shoot people from his wheelchair and get a nice room at a prison. The problem was just that there weren't any nice rooms in prison, and as a cripple, he couldn't afford champagne or lobster. That's why he decided to fight. That's why he succeeded and learned to walk with just as elegant loops as before. But he couldn't run; the pain was too much then, and he couldn't work out the same way as before. He saw his once ripped body become lankier and even soft in a few places, but he was still beautiful and well groomed; he just hadn't that sort of body straight soldiers got down on all fours for.

He wanted what he always wanted: luxury, power, and blood on his hands, and one way or another he would find it. He had fought hard for what he wanted in several ways and knew he could succeed with this too. He wasn't shy and contacted Mael's father, who was just happy to hear from his son's best friend and at once promised to fix him a job. That's how he succeeded in coming into the fine halls again. This time as a bodyguard to an IT billionaire.

“So you could work with that? Being a bodyguard?” Asked Ines. He understood what she meant, because of his back, and continued to look up at the ceiling. They laid naked in bed, mostly because she wanted that sort of closeness. He thought it was nice, but having silk against his body was even nicer.

“To be fair, not really, but I faked it. It's rare that you need to do anything hard as a bodyguard, and I didn't really need to do anything; I just looked big and threatening.” Ines laughed at what he said, and he smirked a little, even if he hadn't meant to be funny.

“And through him I met… Remy.”

Remy was an older man—a delicate, weak older man, but rich and wealthy. He didn't need to be strong because his money could give him everything. Even Vincent. Vincent felt his eyes on him every time they met. His small, watery eyes looked at him from top to bottom while smacking his lips in attraction.

“How tall are you?” He asked one day at a banquet. Vincent stood by the wall in his black suit and earpiece and looked at the little man in front of him.

“192 centimeters, sir.”

The man smacked his lips again and looked at Vincent's big hands, clasped in front of him. Vincent was used to people looking at him and had always liked the attention, so he let the man's beady eyes glide over his body. He took some steps closer to Vincent, and to Vincent's shock, he pressed himself against him so he could feel his erection.

“How much do you want to help an old man sleep tonight?”

“I moved in with him just months later.”

Vincent dragged his short nails over Ines thigh that lay over his hips. He waited for questions. Ines always asked questions.

“Why? I mean, you had a job?”

Vincent looked to her side where he met her brown eyes.

“Money and-”

"Oh, my god. He's your ex. Or… No, you're still with him? You live on him like some gigolo.” Ines interrupted him and spilled his truth so easily. He could feel embarrassment spread out over his cheeks, but with a shiver, he let it go.

“You don't have any money. You have his money.”

Vincent smacked his lips and pushed away her leg from him. The humiliation was hugging him from behind, hard and uncomfortable, and he needed to stand up to not let it swallow him, but it was too strong to answer Ines, and instead he walked naked out of the bedroom, searching for air.

“Vincent! Don't go! I didn't mean it like that!” Ines whined, but he didn't even hear her. He needed air and walked out on the balcony completely naked. At that moment, he didn't care if the whole of Paris saw his smoothly-shaved manhood.

Remy was his boyfriend, or that was what he wanted them to call each other. He had given him everything, and once again, he was around wealth and luxury. He even gave him a new name without connections to his messy family. And he gave him his seat around The High Table. He felt too old, and he had learned fast that Vincent had a talent when it came to manipulation and murder. He was made for The High Table, and there he took over Remy’s title and nickname, mostly because people were lazy; The Marquis. Vincent had never had that status, being a nobleman, but in that setting he suddenly had. They saw him as a powerful man, and they let him kill.

Being around Remy's wealth and being a part of The High Table was everything he could have ever asked for. It was a dream life, except for acting like a boyfriend to Remy. His hands on his naked body, the sweet, sugary feelings from him, and the public affection. He wished he could just be the Marquis for real, instead of just playing the role when he could.

He didn't feel a thing for Remy, and he just wanted him to disappear and never need to feel his dry, unmoisturized, aging hands on his perfect skin again. He needed to die.

He could hear Ines coming out on the balcony, and carefully, she just took his hand and pulled him into the suite again. They didn't say anything, and he was glad for that. She led him to bed again, and he just followed her like his own will had been left on the balcony, or like he actually wanted her to decide. Maybe he actually wanted that. He looked at her crawling down in bed again, every soft curve and her warm, dark skin. He knew what he felt for her, and he felt safe there next to her. He crawled close to her, laid his cheek against a soft breast, and breathed in her sweet perfume. She hadn't changed it, even if she could get anything from him. She had chosen to continue wearing her celebrity perfume, which smelled like marshmallows and strawberry ice cream, but he loved it. He really loved it because he had never been close to anyone who smelled like that before, so this scent was hers and would always be.

“I love you,” he said shortly, hugging her body close to his. They had just known each other for a couple months, but he was sure about his feelings; it wasn't harder than that. Ines giggled a little and put a finger under his chin, so he looked up at her. With soft lips, she kissed him and dragged her hand through his hair without messing up his side part.

“I love you too, Vincent Beaumont.”

×××

Ines looked at the laptop with big eyes next to him while taking a piece of the chocolate cake they were sharing. Vincent took the plate to be able to take a generous piece with the fork while Ines looked at Remy's “modest” residence. It was huge and in extravagant rococo style. It was also Vincent's home, even if he mostly lived at the Shangri-la, either to do his work for The High Table or just to get some space.

Her painting had been the reason why he looked her up. Faith had loudly talked about Ines’ sad childhood in a coffee shop. How her mom had an addiction problem, how she woke up to her mother lying dead next to her, and then how she needed to jump from foster home to foster home, but the man next to her just cared about the Pivoine she also talked about, hidden in Ines dining room. He had been in contact with people from The High Table before and knew the smallest tip could make good money, and they sure liked their art.

As always, Vincent checked up on his target closely and looked through police reports, social services’ investigation, and journals from her mom's therapy sessions at a rehab facility. He could get everything through The High Table. Someone else who read about Ines had seen her as a victim, but Vincent saw something else. She had the potential to be the perpetrator. For him, it was obvious the six-year-old girl had a completely different role in her mother's death.

“So I can just show up there and say that I am the new maid?” She asked while looking at the screen.

“Yeah, there's new staff there so often, and no one really knows anything, so they will let you in. Then I trust you,” said Vincent with a shoulder shrug. Ines looked at him with furrowed brows.

“You trust me? With this? You don't even trust me to choose shoes for my outfit.”

Vincent sucked on the fork coated in chocolate with the same expression as before.

“Shoes are more important than this. I don't care if it gets messy; he has the worst taste in carpets anyway.”

Ines looked at him with an open mouth.

“Just go up to his office and shoot him. He's a part of The High Table; his staff will not dare to do anything, and the only thing they can say to The High Table is that it was a colored girl.”

Vincent patted her knee lightly.

“But will they not understand you're behind it?”

“Of course they will! It's The High Table. But they can't prove it without investigating closely, and they care too little to do that. Nowadays, I'm more important than Remy to them.”

Vincent looked at the laptop and swung the image of the resistance around so he could see it from every angle. He smiled to himself because he wasn't worried at all.

#fic rec #i’m getting nervous

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b-afterhours · 21 days

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Bill Skarsgård in THE CROW dir. Rupert Sanders

#the crow #eric draven #gif #fka twigs

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b-afterhours · 21 days

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Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty-One

August 1993

As Alma rearranged her bedroom closet, Bill was in the living room playing with Echo. Her giggles and even his laughter could be heard in the apartment.

“Silly!” Echo laughed when she placed one of her hair bows on top of his head.

In addition to making room for his clothing, she also needed to make room for the cash he had brought. She suggested they put it in the linen closet, but even if the apartment was small, that was just too far for Bill. He insisted that it needed to be in the bedroom. While on task, it dawned on her that they needed to move sooner rather than later if they could. With the three of them now living together, it would soon be cramped.

On the way home from the airport, she asked if he wanted to drive by a house that she had been shown by the realtor. She found it quite quaint, and it was the only one out of the four others she had viewed so far that she could picture her family in. However, on the drive, Bill didn’t want to go on any detours with a cargo of cash.

After Alma placed some of her clothing and a few pairs of shoes in Echo’s closet, there was finally enough room in hers. She called out to Bill, and it took him a second because their daughter still wanted his company.

“I’ll be back, baby.” He assured her when he grabbed two black packing totes by the front door.

Despite her grumbling, she listened to him and stayed in the living room with her toys to occupy her. She was looking at the duffle bags he had placed on the bed and was somewhat nervous to attempt to open them herself. It had been quite some time since she had been in the presence of such a large amount of cash. Her gaze turned from her room and down the hallway when he approached. He had since showered and was wearing only charcoal-colored Nike running shorts. His body had gotten even more toned and cut since she last saw him. She averted her gaze back to the bags to avoid openly gawking. They needed to stay on task before getting in bed to break their two-month dry spell.

“Are those big enough?” Alma asked with her hands on her hips when he placed the totes on the carpeted floor. Bill’s only instruction was to find the biggest totes, and that they were not see-through.

“Yeah. Open them,” he gestured at the bags with a smirk.

After his shower, he took the clothes out of them so that Alma could put them away. She unzipped one, and her eyes widened.

“Fuck.” She smiled brightly. “How much is it?”

“I got it down to about a hundred fifty.” He said unzipping the other bag. “The other hundred is half laundered through the club, and the other half is in one of the offshore accounts.”

Alma nodded contemplatively, picking up a band of hundreds, and fanned the edge with her thumb. Bill stood beside her, gazing down. He liked the sight of her amongst the money, and it reminded him of old times. When he would throw cash in the air of his bedroom and shower her naked body. Suddenly, Alma felt the sexual air coming off him, and she looked up to meet his lips already crashing down on hers. His hand started to push her tight tank top up, but she broke away from his lips to get some air and stop.

“Wait. Let’s–” She began to say, but she whimpered as he caressed her breast, kissed her neck, and held her tightly. He was half holding her up as she got weak on her knees.

“Papa, come back!” Echo had sneakily made her way to their room.

Reluctantly, they both straightened up then, and Bill quickly closed the totes so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of all the money inside.

“See,” Alma said to him. “I’ll just put it all up myself. You can go play with her.”

“Let’s just deal with it when she goes to bed.” He suggested as he picked up his daughter, who had her arms in the air, reaching at him.

~~~

“Well, do you like it?” Bill asked her, kneeling by a tote as they stacked the cash in neat rows. She was describing to him the house she thought they could all live in.

“I mean…” she tilted her head.

“If it’s not a definite yes, then it’s a no.”

“I’d prefer if you looked at it too.”

“I’ll like whatever you choose.” Bill paused, noticing she looked a bit uncertain. “I’ll look at it.” He relented.

“Okay,” she said happily. “How was Gian? When you two hung out?”

“He was a little bummed, yeah.” He said continuing the task. “I gave him my pull-up bar to have. But, uh, he was fishing a little with me when we had dinner at that new Italian place I was telling you about.”

“About what?”

“About Bianca’s boyfriends.” He laughed. “He tried to casually mention them in a way that I would think he actually knew. But yeah, I just said that I had thought she was single.” He shrugged.

“He knows. He just wants confirmation.” She laughed. “He just turned fifteen. He can’t be that naive.”

“Eh,” Bill lightly grimaced because, knowing him, he still kind of was.

Especially about the girls he’d talk about, Bill would often steer the conversation into something else when he did. He wasn’t interested in hearing about the pitfalls and follies of teenage hormones.

“It’s so funny,” Alma continued as she straightened up a row. “She keeps her boyfriends on rotation, and they don’t seem to care either. I was surprised when she got with Rashad, but he wasn’t really down with that in the end.”

Bill paused with disbelief all over his face. “What. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What?”

“Rashad?”

She got cold, realizing she may have revealed something she shouldn’t have. “Nothing. I’m mixing myself up.”

“No, no.” He shook his head, looking appalled. “When?”

“Does it matter? It's over. Don’t bring this shit up to her, okay? You work with her every day. I thought you’d know about it.”

“I don’t like people at Trigger Finger dating. I had Theo fire one guy in security a few weeks ago because he kept chatting up the girls.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

“It just makes shit weird. Ask me how I know.” He pointed at his chest with a band of twenties.

“Oh, shut up.” Alma rolled her eyes. “Bianca, isn’t you, though, is she?”

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes. “Is it over?”

“Way over.”

“Christ.” Bill shook his head as he looked at what was left inside both duffle bags.

There wasn’t much left, so he dumped them in the totes and decided that he’d fix them neatly tomorrow.

“Hey?” Alma was taken aback for a second until she saw the look in his eyes. He wanted her now.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded.

She slid onto the bed and then turned around, laying on her back, to look where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had a band of fifties in his hand and began plucking bills from it, tossing them at her. She laughed, and when she took her tank off, he threw the rest in the air and dove on her as the currency floated down around them.

…

August 9th, 1993

Bill didn’t feel up for anything too special for his birthday. It was just another year, and there was nothing remarkable about turning 32 either. Alma asked if he at least wanted to get a hotel room, but he was indecisive. Until he thought about it and felt that since Darby’s wedding was just two days later, it would be a better place to get ready rather than bumping into each other in the small apartment.

So Alma booked a room at a new boutique hotel on the bay. When Bill asked why not the hotel where they stayed on her birthday with the jacuzzi, she informed him that Darby and Jennifer had booked that same room for their wedding night.

“Do they know we’ve stayed?” He asked, amused, over the phone.

“No. I just, didn’t mention it when he told me.” She giggled.

That morning of his birthday, he woke very early, much to his surprise. Typically, he slept like a rock in Seattle. Alma was lightly snoring against his side, her hand draped on his bare hip. He lay there for a moment. Not reflecting and not bemoaning another year, but rather he felt present with himself. That he existed, and for once, that felt okay.

Carefully, he reached for his wristwatch on the nightstand next to him. Six a.m., it read. He slipped out of Alma’s arm but quickly halted his movements when she whined in her sleep and shifted her body into a more comfortable position. Silently, he dressed himself for a jog. Running shorts, a gray sweatshirt, and Adidas sneakers. Before leaving, he leaned down to kiss Alma’s head and then left to check on his daughter after using the bathroom. Echo was still asleep, haphazardly lying like her mother with messy curls on her Little Mermaid pillow.

He jogged the hilly neighborhood for the first time. He gave himself a break on visits, so he never worked out besides a few push-ups here and there. Usually on jogs in New York, he’d think about work, what his next plan of action was, what he’d have for dinner that day, or about his family, who were miles upon miles away. Today, he thought nothing. He just looked at the houses passing by and the cars covered in morning dew in the driveway. In the distance, he could see Mt. Rainer in its morning glory. The way the sun shone a pinkish, orange on the snow-capped mountain was so picturesque that Bill thought it almost looked fake because it was just too beautiful.

On his way back to the apartment, it was hitting him now. He was home. He was 32, he was in love, he was a father, and he was home. Those were the facts about him that truly mattered.

Bill entered the apartment with his broad chest still rising from his arduous jog back up the hill. Alma was awake, turning the stove burner off as she had finished making breakfast tacos. Their eyes met for a moment until he pulled his sweatshirt off while kicking off his shoes.

“Come here.” His voice was deep and full of want.

Her eyes scanned his lean, muscular body covered in a sheen of sweat as she approached, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her cold fingertips seared as they touched his hot flesh. He lifted her onto his waist with little effort, which caused her celestial nightgown to bunch up at her hips, and his hands held onto her bare bottom. As they made out, she could smell the salt of his sweat and the smell of mountain air stuck to his skin that mixed with his natural musk. It made her pleasantly dizzy and ignited a fire in her loins.

The passion with which he was kissing her made her breathless. She broke away to catch her breath, but he continued peppering kisses along her neck as he walked them to the room. In passing, he gently closed his daughter's door and then theirs right behind them.

Together, they fell on the unmade bed. Alma pulled her nightgown off, and he looked at her nude body with so much adoration that it almost overwhelmed her. His eyes were low, pleading, and grateful.

“Look at you,” he said, his mouth agape as he stood up to take the image of her all in.

“Look at you,” she said breathlessly, peering up at him.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Alma,” he softly said so earnestly that she felt her eyes well up. “And it’s all mine.”

When his eyes met hers again, there was a possessive glimmer only a man as certain as himself could have. She subtly gulped in the intensity. Sitting up, she reached out to pull his shorts off along with his boxer briefs. His socks went too. Bill pushed her long, dark hair back and watched as she adoringly stamped kisses on his abs. Her hand traveled up his side and towards his pecs, resting above his heart. She looked up when he placed his hand on top of hers. Her heart swelled with so much love for the man who had given her everything.

“I love you so much it fucking hurts,” she said with her cheek against his belly as she peered up at him.

His eyes closed as if he were letting his heart soak up her sentiment. The hand he had on top of hers slid down his torso and flexed his abs for her to feel every ridge and dip of his hardened muscles. She indulgently smirked as he did so, and noticed he was as well. He wrapped her hand around his half-hardened cock that had been pressing against her collarbone.

“Touch me like you love me, then.” His voice dripped with desire.

She stroked his length slowly with perfect, firm pressure as they looked lustfully into each other's eyes. Her eyes never broke off as she kissed along his thick shaft. When her lips met his leaky tip, he twitched when her tongue darted out and teasingly swirled around it. Giving his balls a quick peck, he watched her lick his length, starting from underneath the base of his cock. Finally reaching the tip again, she took him fully into her warm, wet mouth. A pleasant grunt came from deep in his chest as she sucked on him while her hand jerked him at the same time. Her moans reverberated around him just before she took him deeper to the back of her throat, holding him there.

“Fuck,” his eyes shut tight at the feeling as his hand harshly threaded into her hair.

Alma’s hand pushed against his hip, and she pulled her head away, gasping for breath as threads of viscous spit still connected them. She stroked him as she gathered herself.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and looking up at him with determination.

“Ready?” He asked, placing his hands on either side of her head.

She only responded by taking him back in her mouth again. He steadied her head and pushed himself to the back of her throat. He began thrusting lightly, and he leaned back to look at how she was taking him. Her cheeks were red-hot, tears were clumping her long lashes, and drool was falling onto her chest and thighs. He pulled back, and her eyes darted up, almost as if she wanted to say, How dare you stop? Bill flashed her a crooked, devilish smile and nodded, signaling that he wasn’t going to hold back this time. He pushed in again and began thrusting harder, her throat making sounds as he did so. She was taking it, her cheeks now running with tears at the harsh intrusion. Bill could hardly contain the moans and grunts coming from himself. He could come. Not only from the feeling but because of how obedient she was behaving for a change. She was at his mercy.

He gripped himself and pulled out of her throat, and Alma choked, gasping for air. She was just about to wipe her slobbery mouth when Bill bent forward, now face-to-face. His thumbs wiped at her wet, tear-stained cheeks, and then he kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth. His hands traveled down to her waist and picked her up. Repositioning themselves, he was sitting against the headboard while she straddled him.

She leaned back on her knees and held his cock flush against her lower belly as she stroked it with a flat palm. She looked at him with feigned nervousness.

“Will it fit?” She playfully smirked.

He lightly chuckled, both at her and at how insanely hard he was. “Make it fit.” He pulled her up with a firm grip on her ass, making her yelp.

She placed her feet flat on the bed and positioned him at her entrance as he slowly eased her down. His eyes fluttered closed at how wet she was just from sucking him off alone. She moaned loudly once every inch of him filled her fully. His head dove to one of her tits and latched his pouty lips on a nipple as she rode him. She was bouncing up and down on his length like a pro, even if it was a position she didn’t particularly enjoy as much as him. However, it was his birthday, after all.

He felt her spasming around him, and her hips bucked irregularly from the up-and-down motion. To help, his thumb began to rub circles around her clit, and she moaned appreciatively. She leaned back, her hands on the mattress behind her, and now she was fully on display, taking him deeply. The sight was so mesmerizing that it caused him to still the motions of his thumb. Alma greedily shoved his hand away, and with the tips of her fingers on her clit now she got herself off on his cock.

“Baby, fuck!” She harshly gasped as she ground her hips on him.

“That’s my girl,” he said, looking between her face and where they were connected with a smile. He recognized that she was putting his pleasure before her own. She was insatiable, and he didn’t mind that she always wanted to get hers too.

He could feel her slick, velvety pussy flutter and pulse around him, and he sucked air through his teeth. Wrapping an arm around her, he positioned himself between her legs now and plunged back inside her. Both of them sounded out in pleasure. Alma reached up, putting a hand on his cheek as he thrust into her. His white gold chain swayed over her head. He opened his eyes to see her jaw slack as rapid, shallow breaths escaped her, her brows furrowed, and her eyes welling up again. The vibe changed suddenly.

It was as if everything stopped, and only they existed at that moment. As if everything around them went dim, and they were under a spotlight. A fearsome heat radiated between them. There was a look of bewilderment and awe on both their faces. They were chest-to-chest now, holding on to each other as if the other would vanish. His thrusts met resistance, as she was tightening so much around him. Moans filled the room, but it was as if they came from a distance. It felt as if there was something otherworldly happening while they were connected in full-body ecstasy. As if they flowed into one another.

“Bill,” Alma choked out. “I. I’m–”

His hips rocked into hers as she had her ankles crossed over his back. Their bodies moving in one motion.

“Come with me, baby.” He grouted out.

Their joint climax was electric. Hot white lightning flowed between both of their bodies as if they were one unit. Fully collapsing on her, he slammed the mattress by her head with the side of his fist before gripping the sheets while her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. Even after he had released all he had inside her, he languorously rutted his hips, not wanting this feeling or the connection to end. Even if they were both so sensitive.

They held onto each other, gathering themselves and evening their breathing, and suddenly the forgotten world opened up again. The morning birds were chirping, and the sun shone through the sheer black curtains. Dust motes danced unbothered in the light streaks. They were lazily kissing before they begrudgingly disconnected to cuddle. Caressing and tickling fingertips across tingling skin. He tipped her head up by her chin and smiled at her. She was still all blushed out, with pouty lips and low bedroom eyes. She thought the same, observing him.

“I love you,” he said to her softly.

“I know.” Her cheeky grin, looking a bit goofy, still on a high.

~~~

They went about at a relaxed pace on his birthday. They arrived at the boutique hotel, and while checking in, Alma asked the young, college-aged woman if her delivery had arrived at the hotel.

“Yes, ma’am. It’ll be waiting in the room for you.” She took a glance at Alma’s accessorized fingers. Covered in rings, some even on her middle knuckles, and she thought it looked cute.

Bill had been off to the side with Echo, who had taken an interest in the white grand piano in the center of the lobby.

“What delivery?” He asked as he picked Echo up.

“You’ll see,” Alma smiled. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, though.”

The bellhop, who had taken their luggage to their room, was standing outside the door in wait. Alma thanked him and smoothly pulled a loose fifty-dollar bill from her back pocket to tip him. A lost bill she had found still stuck to the sheets. Once she opened the door and let him and their daughter step in, he turned back with an amused smirk.

“You’re making me feel like I’m one of your good-time girls,” he joked because usually he does all the work when it comes to hotel stays.

“Yeah, yeah.” She laughed as she walked past him to open the curtains further. “Do you like it?”

Bill looked around the very nice and modern suite. The carpet felt plush beneath his feet, and the bedding on the king-sized bed to his right even looked as if it were pressed. Before joining Alma, he looked to his left towards the little living area and saw what he could of the large bathroom.

The room windows faced the water, the sun shone on the rippling waves, and boats were leisurely sailing the bay. They stood there, taking in the scene before them for a moment.

“When did this place open?” He asked.

“Around the beginning of the year, why?”

“Why didn’t we stay here on your birthday then? This view is legit.”

“The other place had a jacuzzi.”

“Hm. Fair.” Echo was squirming in his arms and kicking her legs to be let down then. “Alright, honey.” He sighed, placing her on her feet.

“No, no,” she whined. “Bed!” She pointed.

“Say please, Echo.” Alma reminded her as she made her way to the tiny kitchenette, where the delivery sat on a counter.

“Bed, peeze?” She said, looking at him with her sweet hazel eyes.

He sat her on the edge of the bed and held onto her leg before she crawled on it with her shoes on. Once he took them off, he set her free. He watched as she crawled to the middle and then rubbed her face into the soft duvet.

“Comfy!” Echo exclaimed, pleased.

“Echo,” he said lightly, chuckling at her behavior, and she turned her head. “Thank you?”

“Tank yew.” She said snickering.

“Good girl.” He turned towards Alma, who was inspecting something in a white pastry box. “Is that the delivery?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly. “It looks so rich!”

Bill stood beside her and inside was a six-inch round chocolate mousse cake covered in glossy coco ganache and decorated with ribbons of dark chocolate. Besides Bianca's cupcake, he hadn’t had a birthday cake in such a long time.

Bill couldn’t remember much about his very early childhood. Suddenly, the hazy memory of his late mother lighting previously used birthday candles on top of a single slice of chocolate cake resurfaced in his mind’s eye. She was leaning with crossed arms on the table, smiling brightly at him. It was clear that there was only a slice for him. They didn’t have a lot of money, and she had most likely picked it up from the grocery store bakery. A discounted piece from a sheet cake they failed to sell whole. Even if they had to pinch pennies they didn’t have for it, she made it possible on his special day. The memory stung with how abruptly it presented itself and how quickly it faded.

“Doesn’t it kinda make you want to,” Alma playfully pretended to plunge her clawed hand into the cake. “Do you like it?” She wondered. “Maybe you wanted a pie or something different?”

Bill swallowed. “It looks really good. Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of her head, and avoiding her lips. Keeping Alma from registering the strange expression he was certain was painted across his face.

The memory appearing that way was jarring, but he decided to let it go while they lounged around the suite having room service for a light lunch, and after an eventual family nap, Alma decided to get ready for dinner.

They were only going to a steakhouse. Nothing fancy, but she wanted to change her jeans into a skirt and refresh her makeup. She walked in from the bathroom, putting on her hoop earrings, where Bill and their daughter waited in the bedroom. He was holding her up by one hand and gently crashed her down on the fluffy mattress with added sound effects, and she just couldn’t contain the boisterous laughter coming from her little body.

Alma smiled at them. “Should we do the cake now?”

Bill took a deep breath. “Before dinner?”

“It’s alright to be a little naughty sometimes,” she smirked. “So that Echo could have some since we’re dropping her off at Yolani’s after?”

“Oh, alright,” he said, catching Echo in his arms, who impulsively launched off the mattress into them.

They gathered in the living area, where there was a small table by the window. Echo sat on his lap while Alma leaned in from the other end and placed three birthday candles in the center of the chocolate cake.

“Could I see your lighter?” She asked with her hand out.

Bill nodded, reaching into his front pocket for his gold zippo lighter and passing it to her. While she lit them, this scene before him felt so similar to his memory. It was different, of course. He had a whole cake now, and it was the woman he loved before him. Suddenly, he realized every decision he made in life, even the most fucked up ones, led him right where he needed to be in the end. It didn’t make sense how he could be so lucky, but he wasn’t going to question it for fear it would run out if he did.

While she would have if he asked, she omitted singing the happy birthday song to him. They just felt too cool for that.

“Happy Birthday, Billy,” she smiled. “Make a wish.”

It felt like déjà vu hearing those exact words. When she said it, he swore he heard his mother's voice just underneath hers. How could Alma know that this cake would bring this emotion in him? To know to say those exact words? He only just rediscovered the memory himself. He licked his lips nervously, but at the same time, he composed himself well.

“Really?” He chuckled.

“Or don’t?” She said amused.

“Hm. How ‘bout you make a wish, Echo?” He said, pointing at the lit candles, which were melting quickly, as he looked down at her.

She smiled, overjoyed, as if she thought they’d never ask, and closed her eyes tightly, making her parents lightly laugh. When she opened her eyes, he told her to blow out the candles. She tried her best, and ultimately her father had to discreetly help.

“Yeah! Good job!” Bill praised her, which made her clap her hands excitedly. “What’d you wish for, baby?”

“You can’t tell, or it won’t come true,” Alma said, tapping the side of her pointer finger to her lips.

“It’ll come true,” he said, tickling her side. “Go ahead.”

Echo looked between her parents, conflicted because she would really like to tell them. So she peered up at her dad, who was giving her approval to reveal it, and pointed at the chocolate cake before them.

“Cake, Papa.” She said it like was so obvious, which made her parents laugh.

…

The Darby Wedding

Alma was doing her makeup, getting halfway ready during work on the day of Darby and Jennifer's wedding. It was Sunday, so at least the shop closed early. She would be working for a solid four days while they had a staycation for their first days as newlyweds. Their honeymoon wouldn’t come until the following spring.

Today, her body finally felt in order, with some help from an over-the-counter pain reliever tablet. Her lower back and the muscles in her inner thighs were still sore, though. It felt worse after her and Bill’s night in the suite alone. Even if she knew she was going to surprise him with anal, she got a little ahead of herself. It had been a very, very long time since she had done that, besides a finger or a tongue being in that territory. While he was gentle, and they used plenty of lube, it still took her breath away. For once, she was happy he came quickly.

Alma was leaning on the circular cash counter, her hand propping her head up, and looking at the store clock. It felt like the minute hand was dragging on purpose. It was only Ash and herself working, as she let one of the teens off the clock early. Ash was asking her another payroll question, catching her attention. She started training her last week to replace herself. Once the shop purchase was finalized, she was going to delegate herself to entertainment and booking.

Alma was halfway through explaining when the front door chimed, and they both turned towards it, annoyed by whoever walked in just before closing.

“Shit,” Bill said with his hands up, meeting their icy stares. “It’s just me.”

“Good to see you again, Bill,” Ash said, with a nod.

“Hey, Ash.” He turned to Alma and could tell she wanted to know about their kid. “Dropped Echo off with Yolani, already.” He leaned in to give her a peck on the lips. “She was actually very excited to see her. She hardly said bye to me.” He lightly laughed, even though she kind of hurt his feelings.

“She’s not coming?” Ash asked them.

“Mm. No.” Alma said. “Besides, if it’s lame–”

“We can use her as an excuse to leave early,” Bill said.

“Ah, I see,” Ash laughed. “Baby scapegoat.”

“Eh, I mean, we’ll stay a bit if it's not.” Bill looked around the shop, seeing that it was empty. “Is it slow?”

“It’s Sunday.” Alma raised her brows. “We’ve done all the closing stuff. We’re just waiting for the clock to hit the hour.” She sighed.

Bill looked at his wristwatch. It was about thirty minutes until closing. “Just close.”

Alma peered up at him. “You’re not the boss, yet.”

“Hmph.” He puckered his lips and walked over to the neon open sign to turn it off. “Not yet. But no one's here to stop us.”

Ash began to gather her things under the cash wrap, eager to leave and get ready herself. They were currently missing the ceremony, but at least they’d make it right on time for cocktail hour. While she knew Bill wasn’t exactly her boss, he was right; no one was going to stop them.

“I’ll see you two there.” She was just about to punch her time card, but Alma stopped her.

“I’ll be able to pay you the full hour.” She clarified, which she appreciated. They were still on Lewis’ dime, after all.

…

Cocktail hour at the Darby Wedding was held just outside the large event tent on the green grounds. The hedges and garden beds were shaped and pruned to perfection. Alma was holding onto Bill’s arm as they approached a cobblestone pathway. She paused, looking wary at the uneven stones and the thick gaps between them, revealing the earth. She was wearing high-platform heels and was worried about tripping. When Bill helped latch the thin ankle straps, he warned her again that they would be in a garden, not on flat grounds. She didn’t listen because they looked good with the long Belgian silk slip dress that he gifted her. To wear it well, it required some height.

“Just hold on to my arm tighter,” he said, feeling her trepidation. “I won't let you fall.”

She gripped his bicep tightly and took steady steps while he walked at her pace. He had dressed in a black blazer, a gray mock neck tucked into pleated black trousers, and his Louboutin chelsea boots. He got ready in hardly any time compared to her, who still needed to fix her hair, which she chose to put in a sexy updo.

They weaved through wedding guests and servers holding platters of bubbling champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres when they found their record shop friends. Ash had beat them there and was wearing an evergreen bohemian dress that looked great on her complexion, and her locs were put into a neat bun to show the heavy, intricate earrings she had on. She spoke to Ulyssa and Gregory, who were shoving hors d’oeuvres into their mouths. The two of them had the munchies, clearly.

Gregory looked a bit put together in his button-down with a bolo tie and trousers that fit him well thanks to Ulyssa’s help. She was in a cornflower blue Betsy Johnson dress that she had bought on a shopping date with Alma a few weeks ago. Her bleached hair was grown out, revealing dark roots, and was styled in a choppy, textured pixie. It was the most hair Bill had ever seen her have since meeting her.

“Hey!” Ulyssa said, waving at both of them from the standing table they were at next to a bushel of violet roses.

They joined them, and suddenly a server approached and took their cocktail orders. Alma eased her grip on his arm, as she was now stationary for the time being. While Ulyssa described the ceremony and mentioned how beautiful Darby and Jennifer’s vows were, Bill peered down at Alma, gauging her reaction. She was only attentive to her friend's retelling, but nothing more.

After two drinks and Ulyssa hoarding hors d’oeuvres in a random sandwich baggie she found in her tote bag, guests started queuing to enter the large event tent. Once again, Alma held on to Bill tightly. He peered over heads to see inside the tent and informed her that they had laid flat event flooring, to which she was relieved. Before entering, Bill was asked if he’d like to check his blazer, and he quickly said no on reflex. In New York, he never checked his coats because his gun was typically in a hidden pocket. Even without it, he still unconsciously operated as if he did.

They entered the dim, cozy, lit tent. Twinkling lights above and flickering candles on dinner tables. Pink and cream-colored fabric was draped from the pinnacle of the tent and pinned to line the walls cohesively. At the far end were a pianist and a violinist playing calming melodies in harmony as guests filtered in.

They were seated at a table reserved for those who worked at the record shop, and took no time to choose one of the three meal options on the menu. Steak and baked potato with a side of sautéed broccoli. Grilled chicken fettuccine alfredo with a side of roasted asparagus and a sourdough roll. Salmon with a lemon-butter caper sauce on a bed of white steamed rice and a side of roasted rainbow carrots.

The menu was impressive and Matt, who had shown up late because he picked up two teen coworkers, Chrissy and Donnie, expressed as much.

“This is fancy as hell!” He said, earning some side glances from guests seated by them.

Bill looked around and wondered just how much this wedding cost. The food alone was quite a lot. He was calculating in his head, but then he took notice of all the other guests. Besides cousins, siblings, and friends, the other guests were a bit older, maybe aunts, uncles, or colleagues of either of their parents. Darby and Jennifer’s union meant their generational wealth would combine, and some were here to witness the merge and get happily drunk about it.

He caught Alma looking around then, too. She took notice of the nearly three-foot-tall ivory cake decorated with a cascade of pink roses that the wedding party sat by. He gazed over at her again, and while she looked at the decor appreciatively, she looked rather neutral. Bill was going to propose to her once he found the right ring, but what their actual wedding would look like, he wasn’t so sure. They had the money for a similar wedding but not the number of guests to invite, making it worth it.

“Very pretty.” Alma slightly smiled at him, feeling his gaze. “A lot of people.”

“Mhmm.” He said, rubbing her cool silk-covered thigh underneath the table.

Everyone at the table was lightly speaking about this and that while waiting on their dinner, when Bill decided to look around at the guests again and noticed a group of older men, clearly ones with money, with intrigue.

“One more bleach and tone and I would have been bald again, but worse,” he heard Ulyssa say to her friends.

The older men had tumblers of whiskey in one hand and cigars in the other, obnoxiously laughing with one another. One thing about being in Seattle he didn’t particularly like was that he didn’t really have any pull here. He’ll have to schmooze for it. While it was annoying, he wasn’t above getting what he wanted. His gaze turned towards the entry as he tried to give the table his attention again, but suddenly he abruptly let go of Alma’s hand, who had been holding his in her lap.

Her brows furrowed, looking at her empty hand with confusion, and then at him for his rudeness. He straightened up in his seat and even scooted a few inches away from her.

“Bill?” She said in a harsh whisper.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He told her under his breath, causing Alma to take offense, even if his tone wasn’t one of condescension. “Your boss is here.”

Alma's back snapped against the chair as if she were being cornered. Bill discreetly pointed in Lewis’ general direction. He was indeed there with his wife, Helen. However, they sat with the Seattle elites, then relegated to the Sheisty Sound Record employee table.

Alma swallowed. “But. But he introduced us. You know me.”

“I do know you. But we can’t touch. I’m sorry.” He frowned apologetically as he scratched his temple.

She took a deep breath to settle her quickened heart rate. “Okay.” She nodded.

No one else at the table seemed to notice Lewis’ presence except themselves, whom they kept an eye on every so often. Once dinner had arrived at their table, they relaxed, as he seemed to be focused on the meal just as much as everyone else was.

“Do you want to taste the pasta?” She whispered to him.

“Mm,” he paused, leaving the bite of salmon he speared on his fork as he peered towards Lewis and saw him occupied. “Hurry.” He said, quickly trading forks for a taste of each other’s dinner.

As Bill ate, he realized he’d have to approach Lewis first. If he came up to the table, there were just too many chances for someone to slip up and mention or allude that he and Alma were a couple. Besides Ulyssa, Ash, and Darby, the others knew he was in the middle of purchasing their place of employment, but not the intricacies or the scheming behind it.

After dinner, there was still a whole hour of wedding points on the reception timeline. Such as Darby and Jennifer's introduction to their reception. It seemed as if they chose to have dinner together in private up until that point. Then came their first dance to At Last by Etta James. Once they joined their wedding party, drinks began to flow, and soon after, the toast and speeches by family and friends came. The last speech was given by Darby's mother, who was quite drunk as she slurred and did an awful job of holding the microphone to her mouth to be heard. Maybe it was for the best, and ultimately, his sister stepped in to cut her off.

“Well… alright then,” Ash said of the awkward moment and held her drink up so that everyone could tap glasses with hers.

Bill scooted back in his chair and acted as if he was tying his shoe, even if they didn’t have laces to speak to Alma directly. “I’m going to go talk to Lewis.”

Alma looked ahead to keep from looking at him. “Well, wait a second. Darby and Jennifer are coming over.”

“Hey, guys! Thanks for coming.” Darby smiled in his three-piece tuxedo.

“Was the food good?” Jennifer asked in her big ball gown of a wedding dress. She looked like a princess with her Hollywood waves. They looked great together, especially with how giddily in love they seemed.

Everyone was talking over each other to congratulate them and shower the newlyweds with compliments.

“Darby,” Bill said, as he was just next to his wife, who was taking all the compliments and dishing them back.

“Yeah, man.” He said, turning to him.

“Those guys over there where Lewis is. What are they about?”

“Ah,” he raised his brows. “Money.”

“Legit?”

“Eh, well, I’m sure you've met patrons at your other establishment who maybe... don’t operate ethically.”

“Right, right,” Bill smirked.

“A few of the guys there are my uncles. The main one, talking to Lewis, likes me.”

“Got it.” He nodded. “And congrats, man.”

“Thanks! After all this, I can finally get my neck tattoo. I’ve been holding off for the wedding.”

“He’s been chomping at the bit,” Jennifer said, turning her attention to her husband now.

Together, they left to greet others, and the DJ started playing tunes. He was actually surprised this crowd was getting up to dance, but everyone had been generously watered with cocktails. Even Matt began to chat up the older women who had given him disapproving stares earlier, making them blush and laugh.

“I’m going.” He said to Alma.

She inconspicuously squeezed his hand before he left her. “I love you.” She smiled.

“I love you, too.” He caught himself leaning in to kiss her, but she turned her head quickly. “Shit.” He chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his hair to play off his affections. “You just look so pretty.”

Her eyes darted towards him disapprovingly. “I have a boyfriend, sir.”

“Will you dump him for me?”

“Get out of here!” She chuckled, nudging his knee with hers under the table.

When Bill approached Lewis' table, he spotted his tall frame and happily waved him over, offering him the empty seat that Darby’s uncle once occupied. Quickly, he introduced his wife, Helen. She was a white, blonde, and blue-eyed woman. She looked great for her age, but Bill suspected that she may have had help from some tasteful Californian cosmetics.

“Nice to meet you,” Bill said, shaking her hand with ease.

“And nice to meet you!” She smiled. “And Lew’ this is—”

“It is. Bill is the gentleman who is purchasing the record shop.”

“Oh, how lovely of you!” Helen was relieved that they wouldn’t be attached to the place anymore. They had made memories there as a family, too, but it was time for them to spend the rest of their days with margaritas and beach days under the Mexican sun instead of Malibu. “I’ve heard a bit about you.”

Oh. Shit… Bill thought.

“You’re from New York. You have a daughter?” Bill nodded, relieved, even if being from New York wasn’t entirely accurate. “Oh, she’ll have so many good memories growing up around the record store. Our babies bring up fond memories all the time.” Bill found it endearing of her to still call her grown children babies.

“Yeah,” Lewis smiled, patting his hair down. “So. I’m glad to see you here.”

“Darby extended an invitation,” Bill explained. “I visited a few times after the show, and well, now I’m here.”

“Good deal. I saw you seated with the others from the shop. I’m glad you’re getting to know them.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They were speaking a bit about some minor hiccups with the sale. Mostly on the slow process of licensing and the dreaded roof. Helen had somewhat checked out of the conversation then and chose to watch the dancing wedding guests illuminated by colorful party lights.

“Oh, hello!” Helen cheerfully greeted. “You two look so lovely!”

“Thanks,” Alma smiled as she stood next to Ulyssa. “You look great too!”

Inconveniently, the route to the bathrooms had them past Lewis’ table to get to them. It would have been rude not to greet them in passing.

“Ah, this old thing,” she said of her modest plum-colored dress. “You’re too sweet. Did you bring your little girl with you?”

“She’s with the babysitter tonight.”

“My twin sister,” Ulyssa added.

“Oh, it’s always good to have an evening to yourself sometimes. Actually, I find them to be important. Don’t forget to do stuff for yourself when you can.”

Lewis noticed Bill glancing a few times at Alma and Ulyssa while they spoke to his wife. He turned towards the two employees and quickly greeted them before they went on their way.

“Have you spoken to Alma much?”

“Uh, yeah, a little.” He nodded.

“Besides Darby. You’re going to want to keep her. She, uh, she’s very good with money, if you get what I’m saying. She’ll keep the place booked.”

“Right, right. That’s good to know. I’m not planning on letting anyone go, though.” He assured, as it seemed that Lewis was wary, that he would lay everyone off even when he said he wouldn’t. “Ulyssa is great too.”

“A little odd, I think, but I agree. I’m hoping the transfer of the shop and such is settled before the holidays. If it happens earlier, even better.”

“Yeah, same. Just trying to get everything squared out.”

“Of course.”

“Uh, before I become a bother—”

“Oh, you can sit here for as long as you like, dear,” Helen said, taking a sip of her prosecco.

Bill gave her an appreciative, purse-lipped smirk. “Thanks. But, uh, why me and not one of these guys to sell the place to?” he asked, nodding his head toward the obnoxious men close by.

“Well. Have you taken a good look at those jokers? It’s the pot calling the kettle black for sure, but a few of them there are ancient.” He laughed. “The Californian partners were too aloof for me. But, eh, what I’m saying is, well, it needs someone young like yourself. The year 2000 will be here in six years. When you’re old like me, that’s just around the corner. Hell, this year alone is basically over. It’s coming in no time at all. And well, you emailed me. No one else did. I know I stink at answering the phone.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Helen retorted.

“Okay, honey,” he sighed, patting her hand. “I know email is relatively new,” he continued. “But you seemed more determined to reach me by doing that. More modern.”

“Hmm. I see. Well, I’m glad it was me then.” He lightly laughed.

“For sure. I think you’ll be really good for it.”

Bill dismissed himself and, by luck, Lewis mentioned that he and his wife would be leaving shortly.

“Past our bedtime,” Helen winked at him. “You’ll get it one day.”

Going back to his original table, he noticed Alma hadn’t come back from the bathroom. He heard his name being hollered over the loud music. It was Darby calling out to him with his hands cupped around his mouth. He had ditched the tuxedo jacket and was just wearing the vest and his sleeves pushed up to his tattooed forearms.

“Hey, you want to meet the old fucks?” He chuckled as Bill approached him.

“Oh yeah. Sure.” He laughed with him. “Have you seen Alma?”

“Uh, no man.” He said apologetically, to which Bill just nodded with worried furrowed brows.

They were all rambunctious even at their age, but it might have been the help of the scotch loosing up their old bones. They weren’t all so old though, but they were the loudest. All of them huddled and crowded two tables, where plumes of heavy cigar smoke rose above them. He was introduced to two uncles by Darby when there was a slight opening. Through the haze of smoke, he noticed Alma and Ulyssa sitting with the men.

His eyes met Alma’s, and he gave her a strange look, while she sat there smoking a cigarette and lightly laughing at whatever joke the thinning gray-haired man next to her had said. Ulyssa sat there incredibly uncomfortable, seemingly thinking of a reason to dip out of the situation. This was a side of Alma she hadn’t ever seen.

Bill recognized, then, that she had noticed him noticing them earlier in the evening. She wanted to know what these men were about, too. And she knew how to get information that a man like himself just couldn’t. Ulyssa sat there, turned off by the underlying crudeness in their liquored words and their demeanor. Their leering eyes that Alma opened herself up to and invited. If it weren’t for their setting, this group of men would have felt a lot more dangerous. She turned towards Bill, wondering if he was upset with his girlfriend's open flirtations, but he was given a glass of scotch by a server replenishing the others and was speaking pretty amiably with Darby’s uncles. He was unbothered.

“Sorry. What was that?” Alma said, leaning toward a gentleman to hear better or to reveal more of her cleavage. Both, mostly likely, Ulyssa thought.

“I said, surely you’re taken, darling!” He laughed, deepening the creases around his eyes and with old, yellowed teeth on display.

“Oh? Lucky for you, I just dumped him this evening.” She playfully said, making him and the men around him laugh.

Ulyssa's eyes darted towards Bill with worry. However, he had overheard and smirked before biting his lip as he listened to Darby’s favorite Uncle Harold. Alma playfully bantered back and forth with the men next to her, and she noticed now what she was doing. Asking about vacation spots, asking about what cars they drove, and playfully asking who was the real boss at the table. To which they laughed and started lightly arguing amongst each other about who had what. Which further revealed more information she hadn’t realized there was a question for. As Alma played along using her provocative wit and body with these nauseatingly unsavory men, Bill was there, listening. Gathering. Ascertaining who was worth his time to bother to even know.

They were like vultures as they worked the table for the best pickings. For Ulyssa, it was vicious to see. It was also the most captivating thing she had ever witnessed. It was ruthless—even merciless—and these people had no idea. One thing was quite clear to Ulyssa if it hadn’t been before, that these two people, Bill and Alma, were those who always got exactly what they wanted and weren’t afraid of the lengths to get it.

#my bill writings #avenue of sins #aos neon #aos #bill skarsgard

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b-afterhours · 22 days

Text

Love Just Happens

A New Chapter - Part 22

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Setting: This story is set in the future but because it's hard to say how the world is then (and it isn't that important for the story) the future is similar to our time now, even with fashion and so on.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, smut, alcohol, ageism, cheating, gossip, bullying.

It started to get cold in Sweden. The trees in their yard were dressed in yellow, while the sky looked sad and gray, like the sun had abandoned it.

Bill looked at the yellow leaves falling slowly from the closest tree and how they landed in the grass. He stood in the kitchen, looking out over the depressing weather while listening to his mother-in-law. He had the phone on the counter with the speaker on while he stood and polished a big wine glass. It was just one; he was the only one in the house drinking alcohol.

“So all of it is lies?” She said it skeptically with a harsh voice. She could be hard on him sometimes, honest, and a bit scary. She was, after all, his mother-in-law, and she was the one he needed to impress. That all of the world accused him of being a cheater and an asshole didn't impress her, and she was pissed.

“Yes! I've never even looked at someone else!” He said and groaned in irritation.

“The thing about you hurting her career, that you decide over her money and her wardrobe-”

“No! All of it is bullshit!”

“But Roxy? She did lose Roxy as a friend. She said it was a fight, but it wasn't about you then?”

Bill was silent for a moment. Suddenly, she asked a question that wasn't as easy to answer.

“Not because I cheated,” he said, and he put the glass on the counter before walking away to the wine fridge closer to the dining room.

“But it was because of you?” Melinda sounded upset.

“Yeah but… It was Roxy who-”

“Just like that young actress?”

“What are you saying?” He sounded irritated for real now and pulled out a wine bottle harshly.

“Don't you hear it? You're the problem! You're the problem here!”

“I know! Okay? That's why I'm fucking-”

“Hey!” exclaimed Melinda by the swear word. They were maybe closer in age than many other sons and mothers-in-laws, but that didn't stop her from putting him in place.

“Sorry,” said Bill quickly. He knew he shouldn't speak like that to her; he was just really upset about it all.

“And Bill, yes, I heard your question, but no, I didn't tell Felix anything about you. I told him to stay away you and blocked him everywhere. I actually don't think it's him.”

Bill poured up a big glass of wine in silence. He really thought it must be Felix, or he wanted it to be because the alternative would be horrible. His ex. The mother to three of his children.

To say she has had mixed emotions for Aurora was a really big understatement. Maybe she hadn't hated her, but she had shown her dislike towards her quite openly, and he had been forced to even tell her off.

Bill could see why it was provoking and could sometimes feel so much for her that he felt bad for how his life looked. Aurora was twenty years younger than her, and because he was a man, he could also have more kids, even if he was middle-aged. He had accepted, worked through, and solved so many things with Aurora that he had just let be with his ex. Instead of hiding away his private life and his private self, he gave everyone around what they needed to let him be happy in peace—see his happiness. With Aurora, it was hard not to show it, and he had panicked in the beginning because he believed it would be more rumors, and intrusive questions but instead it was the opposite. People let them be a boring, married couple, until now.

“I just want you to fix this, Bill. I just want the kids to be able to see you, and I just want you and Aurora to be safe and reliable for them again. I've never wanted to hurt you, and even if it doesn't seem like it all the time, I want you and Aurora to be happy. The kids love her, you have a child… I just want you to be happy.”

His ex’s words were sincere, and it warmed Bill's chest. It had been hard that she had shown such dislike for Aurora, both for him and Aurora. He had been in love with his ex once upon a time and she had been his closest person. It had been sad to see how she seemed to begrudge him and his happiness with Aurora, but maybe this crisis made her realize she didn't want to be that person.

“But the kids… I think it's better if they stay here, until you have solved that mess? I think it's the easiest for both you and them?” She continued without Bill being able to react to her earlier statement. He took a deep breath.

“Yeah… Yeah, you're right in that… Thank you. Really, thank you.”

“It's okay, Bill. Say hello to Aurora. And Isis.”

He smiled a little. In the middle of the mess, he could feel another weight lift from his shoulders.

“I will. I will.”

He took a big sip of his wine after having hung up and left the kitchen for the TV room. On his way, he looked into the library, where Aurora sat and read. He wanted to stop, watch her play with her hair while reading, and see her small smiles and fluttering eyelashes, but it felt like he didn't have the right to that. He knew she was reading a super romantic novel about a hippie writer. Silently, he wondered if that was the only romance she needed now. He felt pushed away and left out of her pregnancy, but somewhere he knew it was his own fault.

He took a larger sip of the wine, sat down on the living room’s couch, and scrolled through their streaming services. He spent a long time just scrolling, even if he knew he wouldn't be able to find something; it had been the same thing the day before. It had been two days since their fight, and they had just talked about practical things, mostly about Isis, and sometimes it felt like they were close to a split.

He heard her light steps and turned around as a reflex. She looked like a scared deer as she stood in the door opening.

“Ehm… I'm going to bed now..” she said with a small voice. Bill swallowed hard. He didn't want this. This wasn't like with the mother of his oldest children, or with Hilma. He still had the same feelings for Aurora, the only one he wanted to be with, but still, they started to glide away from each other.

“Can I come?” He said it, but his voice broke a bit, like it was a struggle to ask. Aurora just nodded. They hadn't stopped sleeping in the same bed, so the question felt odd.

“It's your bed too…”

Bill nodded a little, even if he wanted to hear that she actually wanted him close.

After having made himself ready for bed, he crawled down on his side in just boxers but sat against the headboard, and waited on his wife. She had chosen to get ready in the bathroom in the hall instead of next to him in their bedroom.

Bill looked at her with big eyes when she came into the bedroom in just panties and a silky spaghetti strap top. Her hair was gathered in a long, thick braid. She was so beautiful, and the only thing he wanted was to be close to her. Still, he couldn't get a sound out when she crawled down next to him.

“Good night…” she said with her back to him. He sat and looked at her with a pained chest and his pulse beating fast. He couldn't let this continue. He just couldn't, so carefully he crawled down behind her with his chest pushed against her back. He could feel her tense, even if it was just him, her husband.

“I just want to cuddle a little…” He whispered, and he dragged his big hand over her smooth upper arm. “Just be close to my wife…”

Aurora didn't say anything but let him lay behind her, smelling her neck and dragging his hand over her arm. He breathed heavily and calmly, soothing. At first. She had been close to him so much, so she could recognize every breath of his. They got even heavier and louder; he had opened his mouth a little, and when she could feel him growing against her bum, she wasn't surprised.

“God, Bill!” She stood up in offense and looked at him with big eyes. He had laid his hands over his face in shame.

“It's not like I can control it! It was a long time ago now!”

He didn't even want sex; he just wanted to be close, but her skin was too smooth, the small of her back too curved, and she smelled too good. His body reacted in primal instinct.

“You're unbelievable! You just disappoint over and over!”

Bill looked at her in silence for a few seconds, watching her cry with her arms hugging herself. He was hurt, too. He didn't want to disappoint her. It hurt that she felt like that.

“Babe…” He tried to take her hand and drag her down in bed with him again, but she moved away. She looked towards the door, and he understood she thought about walking away. “Babe… Please… I will fix this, I will… Please just… Please just don't…” he begged with panic in his voice. Aurora sighed and wiped away her tears.

“So you’re not just saying that because you believe I will sleep with you then?”

Now Bill looked at her in offense. He was not that kind of guy, and he thought she knew that.

“Of course not! This-,” he said, making a gesture to his crotch, “is just biology. You're beautiful, you smell good, and my body recognizes yours… It's just biology.”

Aurora looked at him, listened to him closely, and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I get it… I know that… It's just… I feel betrayed. I feel so betrayed by you.” She said it with her back toward him but turned around when she had stopped talking. Bill looked at her face, reddened by tears, and swallowed hard. He knew what she felt, but it hurt hearing it again.

“I know. But I will fix this. I want you to think about the pregnancy and take it easy. I’ll take care of this. I promised. I will do everything in my power, okay?”

Aurora looked deep into his eyes and nodded a little. She took a few deep breaths and wiped her eyes again before crawling down into bed again.

“I trust you to do that then,” she said, turning the light off on her nightstand.

“I promise. I promise.”

Bill took some stressed breaths and looked up at the ceiling. It was the truth, but he was stressed about what he should actually do. He needed to call his manager.

In the middle of his stress, he felt Aurora crawl closer to him and lay a calming hand on his chest.

“I love you, and it will take much, so much for me to stop loving you,” she whispered close to his ear.

×××

He thrust deep and slowly, listening closely to her sounds to know what she wanted. He just wanted that. Being close, being inside of her. Bill looked down at his wife while laying on top of her, and she met his green eyes with her brown. It was she who had searched after closeness when he woke up. Her kisses and touches were like a soothing balm.

She moaned softly, already close to an orgasm. Bill continued in the same rhythm, holding himself up a bit to not lay on Aurora's belly. His deep breaths sometimes became grunts, and when she clenched around him, it felt like he would spill his seed too early. He wanted them to come together and share that moment of intimacy after period with a lack of it. He kissed her hungrily and thrust a bit harder, his right hand finding her sensitive clit. After just thirty seconds of rubbing it he could feel her clench around him harder than before and moan in his ear louder. He could feel her climax, hugging his member hard, and he moaned and let himself reach the same high.

×××

The both of them mimicked the silly sound Isis made while she played with a bear with several different buttons and sounds. She made many funny sounds but didn't say anything that could sound like a word yet. She looked at them with a silly smile, showing off her two small teeth.

They laughed at her grin and moved closer to each other, with Bill laying his arm around Aurora's waist and pulling her closer to his body. He wished it could be this easy all the time.

“So Mattias comes today?” He asked when Isis was busy with her bear again. Aurora looked up at him with Bambi eyes, the same as their daughter, and nodded a little.

“Yeah, I want to work. I need to work.”

Bill nodded with a warm smile and dragged his hand over her rounded belly. She laid her hand on his and smiled back.

“I will ask him, but I'm sure he doesn't have anything to do with it all. You know how graciously he took our breakup.”

Bill let his hand crawl in under the t-shirt she wore and patted her belly, skin against skin. He nodded a little. Mattias had taken their breakup with honor, even though he more or less stole Aurora from him, but they still needed to ask.

“And I will meet Hilma today… It was okay around lunch, right?” He asked, obviously uncomfortable. The breakup between them had been harder, but he also knew she had a new boyfriend, so hopefully it would be cool between them.

“Yeah, Mathias will come around three, and in the beginning, Isis can be with us. He doesn't mind.”

Bill smirked.

“But does she?” He nodded to their daughter, who looked up at them at the same time the bear exclaimed, “Dance!”. She looked confused and gave her dad an irritated look. They laughed softly at her, and Aurora shook her head.

“I think she can muster an hour or so with Mathias. Lucky for her, it's not Hilma she needs to see.”

Bill laughed and threw his head back. “You're right in that…”

×××

Bill had let Hilma pick a restaurant for them to eat lunch at; maybe it was some sort of hubris that made him get worried she would pick something with a romantic vibe, but she chose a bright, fresh restaurant by Stureplan. It was a bit too mainstream for his liking with their healthy, picture-friendly food, but he felt forced to say yes now when he had let her decide.

Bill had chosen a table further into the restaurant and asked the server to wait for his company. He played nervously with his phone, even so much that he was close to dropping it on the floor. He had no idea what to say to her. The times he had seen her since he and Aurora got married, he had just given her a short hello, even if they had shared a bed for a year. Now he would also ask her questions, which she could see as accusations. He didn't know if she had gotten over his bad way of ending their relationship, if she had gotten over him, or if she was happy with her new partner.

Just when he put his phone on the table and fixed his black sweater, he saw her come into the restaurant. She was definitely over him. Definitely. She was dressed in a brown knitted dress and chelsea boots. Her face didn't have the same striking bone structure, and her cheeks were rosy, but the thing that stood out—literally stood out—was her big pregnancy belly. It looked like she could give birth on the restaurant’s floor.

Bill stood up with a surprised smile and waved a bit towards her. Hilma smiled brightly and wobbled over to him. She glowed in that way pregnant women just could, like they could feel the joy of life inside their womb.

“Wow!” Said Bill and looked her up and down with a smile. Hilma giggled and gave him a hug.

“And you know what? It's a girl,” she said, dragging a hand over her belly. Bill laughed, a bit uncomfortable because it felt a bit private to share with an ex you hadn't really spoken with for years.

“That's, that's awesome,” he stuttered, pulling out the chair for her.

Hilma giggled again when they sat opposite each other.

“How are you?” She still smiled so brightly, and Bill felt a bit weird about it. His life wasn't as easy; just a day ago, he had thought he would lose his wife.

“Ehm, good, ehm…” He wanted to sound just as positive as her, otherwise, she would believe she had won. If it was a competition.

“Oh right. I'm sorry. I heard about… The rumors?” She said it with big eyes. Bill smacked his lips and smiled uncomfortably. He knew he needed to talk to her, but it was still uncomfortable. Just as he was about to answer, the server interrupted him, wondering what they wanted to order. Hilma ordered a vegetarian option she had probably eaten before. Bill looked at the menu and thought everything sounded dry, like it would grow in his mouth.

“I take the salmon,” he said, just to order something, and gave the server a quick smile. He needed to always smile; otherwise, someone would do a thing of it, especially now when the rumors around him were everywhere.

“I know it's not true; don't worry. I think most of Stockholm gets that. You and… your wife, it's obvious you're really in love, and you… No one dislikes you. Everyone who meets you likes you. No one believes that shit,” she said comfortingly. Bill looked at her and lifted the corner of his mouth. It was nice to hear, even if he didn't know it was true. He had heard the same things from others, but he couldn't be sure they were completely honest either.

He scratched his eyebrow and then turned his attention to Hilma instead. He could ask what he wanted to know when she had been able to talk about her life.

While eating, she talked about her boyfriend, the retired soccer player who worked for an organization for kids' health. He sounded like the perfect guy to handle her sons, who now spend the majority of their time kicking a ball. She was pregnant in week 38 and so ready for a baby girl. It had gone fast for her and the soccer player; her ovulations didn't seem to be a problem at all.

“I guess we were just really compatible,” she said with a pointed smile. He understood she didn't mean anything towards him because he and Aurora also had a child fast. That she was pregnant with child number two was still a secret for most; only a few in his family and her mom knew.

“Yeah… Probably,” he said with a smile. “Ehm…” he took a deep breath and looked down at his empty plate. “I need to ask you something, even if I'm quite sure of the answer, but… Do you know anything about the rumors? The person knows things that… Not everyone knows?” He gave her a fast look before he looked towards the restaurant's desk. Hilma gave him a crooked smile, then sighed.

“I kind of knew you would ask that, and… I don't know anything. Bill?” She made him look her in the eyes. “I was hurt when I heard about you two, but that was then. A lot has happened since then, and contacting an American gossip magazine? I don't even have time for such things. I wish I could help you, but I haven't heard anything in my circle. I'm sorry.”

×××

Aurora laughed with Isis while she walked against the coffee table, holding herself up with the help of the table edge.

“You're such a good girl!” She said it with a silly voice, which made Isis smile even bigger.

Mathias cleared his throat, a little irritated. They tried to write new material for her, even if she didn't have a record deal, but Aurora seemed to be busy being a mom. He had never been amused by babies, even if Isis was cute and, most often, quite quiet.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she's just so cute!” Said Aurora with the same silly voice. Mathias looked at her judgingly. She was far from that sexy girl he had gotten to know. The whole mom thing was a turn-off.

“Mm…” he said uninterestedly. He had better things to do than this. Aurora turned towards him and waited for him to start playing the guitar again. Mathias gave her a fast look. She was dressed in leggings and a big burgundy sweater. He guessed it was Bill's, and he silently judged her for her comfortable outfit. What he didn't know was that she was dressed like that to hide the bump that seemed to be getting bigger every day.

They continued to work again, with Isis staring at them with the biggest eyes. The fact that both her father and mother had big eyes had made her eyes almost cartoonishly big. Aurora couldn't stop herself from smiling towards Isis, who then made a high-pitched sound, and Aurora laughed. Now Mathias couldn't stop himself from laughing. Not at Isis but at Aurora.

“You're such a mom,” he said with a warm smile. Aurora turned towards him and smiled blushingly.

“I know. Shit. So much has changed,” she said with a dreamy sigh. Mathias nodded with a smile. He hadn't acted interested in her since she and Bill got married and had helped her with her music generously.

“But it suits you. You're good at it.”

Aurora put her long hair behind her ear and looked at him with big eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Totally.”

She and Bill had decided she would be the one asking Mathias, even if he had the responsibility to fix this, just because it was easier.

“Mathias,” she said carefully. “I can trust you, right? Even if we have history?”

Mathias looked at her, examining, seeing that it was something.

“Of course.”

“So you don't know anything about the Page Six thing?”

Mathias gave her a sad smile.

“No. And I would never do such a thing. I'm over us.”

Now it was Aurora looking at him examining and made Mathias want to show his innocence even more.

“Promise. Fuck no, like, why would I? I really care about you. As a friend. No. I would never.”

He looked her deep in the eyes. Aurora never believed it was him, but it was nice seeing his honest eyes. She gave him a light hug, which he answered, but then pulled away, looking down at her belly and then up to her face. Aurora smiled a little and nodded. She knew what he had felt.

Mathias laughed and nodded.

“Congratulations. You really are an amazing mom. I hope you know that.”��

Aurora giggled and looked at her daughter, sitting down on the floor, a bit clumsy.

They continued their work, and suddenly the songs got a bit more hopeful than they had been before their talk.

×××

“That's great, Bill! Shit, you're like a detective!” Bill's manager was impressed for real, but Bill laughed at his way of expressing it. He made him feel like an eight-year-old.

"Yeah, and we both feel that their answers were really sincere. And Felix doesn't really know anything about us.”

It was early morning the next day. Bill and his American manager always had a problem finding a time that worked for their different time zones and schedules. This time it was the evening for his manager, while the clock was 6 a.m. for Bill. He had accidentally woken up Isis, who now sat with her head against his chest, drinking gruel.

“I guess it could be Roxy but, but…” Bill sighed; it felt far-fetched.

“No, no. There were headlines about Aurora and her friendship being over. No one would see her as a believable source, and also, I heard from a source on Page Six it was a man.”

“A man?” Bill furrowed his brows. Was it Mathias anyway? Had Aurora been naive again and believed him too easily? He sat in silence and helped Isis get the last from the bottle.

“Oh…” said suddenly his manager and Bill looked at him confused. The manager looked at a spot behind him, and he turned around. Aurora stood behind him in the kitchen and waved a bit awkwardly. Her nightgown was tight, and it was obvious what his manager had said “oh” about.

“I have cravings… Where is the granola?”

Bill looked at her, a bit amused.

“So that's why we run out of it so fast. Do you eat it at night?” He said it with a smirk. Aurora gave him an irritated look. Her cravings for granola were not funny in her eyes.

“Where is it?”

Bill sighed and stood up, irritating Isis in his arms. With one long arm, he took it down from the top of the pantry. Aurora didn't say thank you; she just looked at him, a bit irritated, and walked up with the jar to the bedroom, much to Bill's annoyance. It would crumble on the bed.

He walked to the laptop again and started to rock Isis in his arms. She would fall asleep in just a few minutes.

“Ehm… Yeah,” his manager laughed a little at the drama on the other side of the screen.

“A man?” Bill said to get them to talk about something else, the important stuff.

“Yeah. A younger man.”

Bill made a confused face. Mathias was his own age, and he guessed they couldn't mean him. His own friends weren't younger either.

“They never saw him, just heard from others; they believe he's Swedish.”

Bill sat in confusion for a while, but then his face fell, and he closed his eyes. Of course. Now it was so obvious. Of course it was the person he would have suspected first of all a few years ago, but somewhere he'd have gotten stuck in that this was someone who he had contact with, who wanted to punish him just because the source had talked mostly about him.

He didn't want to be right but he was so sure he was. Aurora's best friend in Sweden. The guy they believed was more than everyone thought.

Sonny.

#fic rec #wasn’t expecting that

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b-afterhours · 30 days

Text

Love Just Happens

A New Chapter - Part 21

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, smut, ageism, bullying, gossiping, mentions of abuse, cheating, mental health problems.

Notes: It's just a couple chapters left of Bill and Aurora's story. Or at least what we get to be a part of. I'm trying to prepare myself for a life without them lol.

Bill scrolled tweets over and over. He searched his own name, both with Å and A and searched for Aurora, knowing the results with her full name would show up too. It wasn't often he looked himself up like that, the times he had he most often searched his project's name instead of his own to be able to ignore most of the weird sort of tweets.

The results that came up were mostly things he had already read but it made his chest burn anyway.

Bill has cheated several times on Aurora. It was the reason they broke up the first time.

It was he who decided Aurora's career was over. He knocked her up and took her money.

Their relationship had always been weird. It started with Aurora cheating on Timmy since then their relationship has been full of toxic behaviors.

I wonder who the source is. Some say his ex, others say her mother. Poor baby being in the middle of this.

He didn't recognize himself in the things they wrote, he didn't recognize his relationship with Aurora in their words either. He had never cheated, their relationship was far from toxic. He would say it was anything but. He continued scrolling and seeing the same things over and over until he found a YouTube link.

Things I Hate About You.

Leaked Aurora Lou song about her and Bill's relationship.

Bill sat and looked at the link for a while. He knew she had written many songs about him so that wasn't new but the word ‘hate’ stood out to him. He clicked it after a few seconds and put it on low volume.

It sounded like one of her regular songs, inspired by 90s RnB. He smirked a little to himself when he heard her sing about small silly things he did. Everything from him being bad at parking to how strict he could be towards her dogs but his smile fell quickly when he heard the line:

“I hate your stutters.”

He wouldn't care if it was someone else saying it but it got so personal when he heard it come out from his wife's mouth. He had never been bullied but like many children he had been teased and it was always the stutter and those comments would still come back by others, mostly when he had been out and met people who were probably jealous of him in reality but instead insulted him.

He laughed a little to himself and shook his head, tried to brush it aside but he didn't have time for that before he heard one more that actually hurt.

“I hate listening to your middle child traumas.”

He had talked with her much more than anyone else. He had opened up about being the child in the middle, why he had such high expectations of himself and how pushed aside he sometimes had felt when drama happened in the family. He had believed Aurora was interested in it, in him, but now he didn't feel as sure and he felt shame sneak up on him.

The bathroom door creaked a little when Aurora came out. She wore just a lacy mint green lingerie set and her hair was in blown out curls. She had decided they wouldn't lose the intimacy between them even if there was so much drama around them, and had bought a lot of new lingerie to be able to surprise him every night. She furrowed her brows when she thought she heard a melody she recognized but couldn't say what it was.

“What are you listening to?”

Bill looked at her. He tried to smile teasingly but Aurora could see the hurt feelings behind it.

“‘Things I Hate About You.”

Aurora looked at him, still with furrowed brows but when the light went up she crawled over the bed.

“Has it leaked??” She said, upset and looked over his arm at his phone. Bill just nodded, he became a bit annoyed that was her first question, not how he felt about the song.

“What?! No one has contacted me! Have they missed this?” She took her own phone on the nightstand but then looked at Bill again who bitdown so hard it looked like he would crunch his teeth to pieces. She sighed when she realized he hadn't taken the lyrics so lightly as she had thought.

“I wrote it when we had broken up…”

Bill nodded and laid his phone on the bed and stood up.

“You know I really love all those things… I was just hurt.”

He stood just in a pair of white Calvin's with his hands on hips and dragged a foot through the short fibers of the rug.

“I'm glad you never released it because then our life would have been very different now.”

“Of course I wouldn't release it. It was just therapy.”

Aurora sat like a mermaid in bed while the song ended but instead of silence you could hear a familiar giggle.

“Do you feel better now?” Said Mattias. Aurora giggled sweetly again.

“It does. It really does. Fuck him.”

Aurora shut her eyes and sighed. She had forgotten that it was a part of the track. It was never made for release so nothing was as it should be in the song.

Bill raised his eyebrows and laughed unamused before scratching the back of his head. Aurora loved when he did that, when his biceps showed so well, the muscles in his torso stretched out and she could see the dark hair in his armpit but in that moment she couldn't look at him like that because he was obviously hurt.

“Bill…” she whined when he walked out of the room. She walked after him but he didn't turn around.

“I just need some time alone, okay? I get that this was some sort of therapy for you but… That's personal stuff you just blurted out in front of your new boyfriend and…” Bill finally looked at her. “Now awful shit about me and us is everywhere. Did you tell him shit and he has talked to the press?” Bill gave her a serious look but it changed to confusion when he saw how offended she looked.

“What? You're saying I said to him that you cheated on me? That you were controlling? Do you think I am such a bitch?”

Bill dragged a hand over his face, he really didn't like to fight.

“No but… You maybe said shit so that in his head it sounded like such. You can be a bit unclear sometimes.”

Aurora crossed her arms.

“Is this about the middle child thing? I'm sorry I wrote that shit but it wasn't meant for anyone to hear it.”

“More than your new boyfriend.”

“He wasn't even my boyfriend then!” Aurora raised her voice and he lowered his shoulders to make himself smaller. He knew that the few times she raised her voice was because she felt an unbalance in power between them and him, making himself shorter was a way to make them more balanced. He sighed and looked at her with big puppy eyes.

“What about my stuttering? It's not that much… I hardly do it anymore.”

Aurora smiled comfortingly and carefully walked up to him.

“I love your stuttering, okay? I think it's cute.” She laid a hand on his sternum and looked up at him. He still looked at her with puppy eyes. He was hurt but he also loved the attention so the puppy eyes remained.

“But I hardly do it nowadays…”

Aurora smiled a little and kissed his collarbone, the place she could reach. She didn't say anything because he still stuttered and he probably wasn't conscious of it all the time. He was too used to it, but she loved it. Sometimes she wondered if that “flaw” had made him into the man he was. Such a soft, sweet man. The stutter suited him.

“Should we go to bed?” Said Aurora with a low voice when Bill had laid his arms around her.

“Yeah… And hope this bullshit ends soon…” he whispered and dragged his hands down to her bum.

Even if everything sucked and he still thought about Aurora’s song he still had eyes and could see how sexy his wife looked in the little lacy fabrics she wore.

×××

She cheated on Timmy, Bill cheated with her best friend and his co-star… The perfect facade was really just a facade…

He let their trainer feel her up! What the fuck is wrong with this dude?!

Our Lou :( She's completely destroyed by this guy. We should have known when she lost weight and started to look so old and ugly.

Page Six had dropped even more things about them and Aurora couldn't stop looking at all the comments. There were so many. So, so many and they all had strong opinions or even new accusations without any truth. The problem with Page Six’s article was that it was lies but based on truth. They knew about Roxy, Sheilo, about the trainer, Dennis.

She laid in bed with anxiousness and pregnancy hormones so wild she didn't have energy for anything else.

Bill on the other hand became restless by his anxiety but his anxiety was different from Aurora's. He thought about the rumors too but he could also hear Aurora sing in his head, about him from time to time. He could feel his stutter like a physical thing in his mouth. Like a spiked ball that bobbed between his throat and mouth and it felt like he couldn't talk at all anymore. It was silly how strongly he had reacted to the comments but they felt harsher when so much else was happening. Maybe it was his brain trying to focus on being hurt by Aurora instead of the abstract hate outside of their house’s walls.

He thought about what he had actually said about his childhood before their break up and wondered what she maybe had said to Mattias. Had she told him about that time he had been forced to care for the wound on his knee by himself? How he had been hiding it to not make his mom feel bad?

He wasn't the person to share at all. The baggage he had been carrying was so heavy until he met Aurora and he could be completely free in his feelings because she was.

How much had she told Mattias? Had she told him all of it? All his strange habits and his insecurities and then picking and choosing what to have in the lyrics?

He walked into the bedroom to her, looked at her lying on her side checking her phone. That was what she seemed to do that day. He looked at her worried but felt the wounded feelings in his chest and the ball in his mouth. It felt like he had forgotten how you talked.

Aurora looked up at him where he stood awkwardly against one of the green armchairs in the corner of the room.

“God… They write such awful things…” she said with a sigh and rubbed her anxiety filled chest.

Bill wanted to answer, talk with her but his tongue seemed to not work. He took deep breath after deep breath, scoffed and closed his eyes when he couldn't make it work.

Aurora sat up and looked at him worriedly. For a moment she wondered if he had something in his throat. Bill scoffed again but looked up in relief when Isis cried out from the nursery and he marched away to her room.

“Hey, hey baby…” he said, lifting her up. He could speak to her. There weren't any problems so he hadn't lost that ability.

Isis got quiet at once when she came up and knew she would get a fresh diaper and apricot purée. She didn't know what was happening in her parents' life. Her older sisters knew but luckily it hadn't affected them much. His middle daughter had a new best friend with almost as famous parents as her. Her not being with Algot had made things just better for her. His oldest had many friends who all saw through the gossip tabloids lies.

Bill changed diapers on Isis and put on her little Moomin soft set. He sang lowly to her, both to keep her and himself calm.

“They should see you now… World's best dad and husband…” said Aurora from the door opening and Bill looked up at her while Isis sat on his hip. “You can even sing.”

Bill looked at her for a while. He looked tired but she could also see the pain in his eyes.

“I know… This is awful…” said Aurora and moved closer to him but when she took the last step to push her body against his he backed away. She looked at him confused while Bill looked at Isis. He wanted to tell his daughter they would go down and eat a little but when her mother was close his voice didn't work again.

“Is it something? What?” Aurora said worriedly.

Bill took a deep breath and licked his lips. He needed to talk.

“I… I.. I just…” he groaned in frustration. He was eleven years old again. “It, it hurt.”

Aurora gave him an expecting look, waiting on him to say more. She believed he had seen a mean comment or something.

“The song.”

He said it shortly to not trigger the stammer.

Aurora sighed and looked away. Isis whined on Bill's hip and he gave the baby a look. She still hadn't any language at all so the whines were still important to listen to.

“Purée, yeah?” He said shortly to her and he gave Aurora a look before walking down to the kitchen with their daughter. His wife followed.

“As I said before, it was just a stupid song I wrote as therapy. I love everything about you that I mention in that song…” Aurora explained while they walked. Bill sat down Isis in her high chair and she whined even louder.

“With Mathias?” Said Bill while taking out a jar of baby food. Aurora took out some white fluffy bread and butter. She didn't think purée was enough for Isis to eat as a snack. She had eaten too little at lunch for that.

“He just recorded. And yeah, he knew how broken I was after the break up. But you know that?”

She put butter on the bread and then cut it into small pieces.

Bill had sat down with Isis and let her try to eat by herself with the spoon and encouraged her softly.

Bill took a deep breath, he hadn't even thought about the ball in his mouth which disappeared and his tongue woke up to life.

“But you didn't talk about that shit with him? My “middle child traumas”?

“Of course not! He didn't ask either. Fuck, he probably even knew I would never get over you if I talked about you all the time.”

Aurora sat down next to Isis on her other side and moved the purée to the side and started to give her pieces of the bread.

Bill looked at Aurora a short moment before smirking.

“But you never got over me anyway.”

Aurora looked at him amused then shook her head.

“No. So are we cool now? It was just a bullshit song, just proof how hung up I was on you, okay?”

Bill smiled and gave Isis her water bottle.

“Okay… And yeah, my stammer is cute.”

Aurora giggled.

“Totally!”

×××

They had a fix-it baby. Their marriage failed before it even had started.

She must have done something wrong. Bill would never do such a thing just like that. She must be such a fucking bitch.

Poor baby. Someone should save that girl.

Aurora sat and looked out over the archipelago. Her body felt heavy and sore like she had the flu but it was that way because of all the tears, anxiety, fear she had felt for a week.

Bill had decided they would pretend like nothing was going on. He continued to prepare for his next role, waved away everything that could be a question, an accusation or even friendly worry. He had decided to sweep everything under the rug, hide it away in a dark corner until it disappeared.

Bill had decided. Once again he felt he knew best and had taken a decision and Aurora just let him because she didn't have any answers anyway.

Aurora Lou loses her record deal.

How Bill Skarsgård killed Aurora Lou’s career slowly.

The headlines showed up two days after Aurora's fight with her label. Her video call with Dana.

“I don't know how we should fix this, Aurora. I know your agent believes it will blow over but this… You know what we think. Bill will be the death of your career,” Dana said with fake concern.

“This is not Bill! It's just lies!” Aurora defended even if she didn't care what Dana thought. For her it was a dead relationship, the one between her and the record label.

“Mhm. Mm. It sounds like the source is a person knowing much about you… Maybe they know more than you?”

“They don't know shit. Bill has never cheated. Neither did I on Timmy.”

“Mhm. What does Bill's team say about it all? Men can win on this sort of news."

Aurora was quiet, thinking about what to say. Bill's team seemed to just do what he wanted and Bill wanted silence. Bill believed that was the best even if she wondered if it maybe was the best for him but not for her.

“Maybe there is truth in this honey… Maybe he isn't… So pleased as you think?”

Aurora scoffed.

“Sheilo is attractive… Younger than you.”

Aurora gave Dana a tired look then she stood up and took off her velvety jacket so she stood in just a sports bra. Her belly was round and she was obviously pregnant. Already in week 17.

Dana sat quietly then she laughed nervously.

“Congratulations…”

Aurora sat down again and looked at Dana tiredly, waiting for her to say something but Dana just played with her phone. Aurora guessed they were distressed messages to her boss.

“This… This changes things…” Said Dana while pulling in her turtleneck uncomfortably.

“I know. My contract ends in just months…” Said Aurora with a pointed voice.

Dana looked at her stressed but then smirked. She understood what Aurora was doing and this time she would let Aurora win. Maybe it was a win for the label too. Aurora's career was dying.

×××

While Aurora looked out over the archipelago, Bill sat on the floor with Isis who laughed loudly while dancing and holding her dad's hand. They listened to a male singer Aurora had collaborated with once and she wondered silently if she would ever do such a collaboration again. She looked at her daughter with a smile but looked at her husband in disappointment. He saw what was happening and how her career especially was affected by it all, still he didn't even want to talk about what people were writing. She was impressed that he could disconnect from it all but she could feel the hate like it was a heavy koala around her neck. She was unemployed and no other label had yet contacted her. Bill still had his planned roles and instead of her career he talked about Isis and the new baby like she would become a stay at home mom now.

He was a man. A white, talented, attractive man. He could always rise from the ashes, even this. He didn't need to worry.

She on the other hand… She was a woman. Her prime time was over and she had mixed heritage.

She cried again, silently. Bill looked up at her but looked at their daughter again who hadn't noticed her mom's tears. He felt his chest ache but let Aurora cry. He knew it was awful but he didn't want to talk more about all that was happening. He wanted to forget that now. For two weeks it had taken over everything. It didn't need to be such a big deal. When it had calmed down they could think about fixing her career but for now they had two kids to think about, he even had three more. He couldn't stay in those feelings Aurora clearly wanted to stay in. They must continue forward.

Aurora stood up and walked away while wiping her cheeks with her finger. Bill looked at her and the pregnancy belly. He was worried she forgot the pregnancy but when he had tried to bring it up she had closed off. Their differences were remembered under that time.

×××

The next night Bill crawled close to her in bed, dragging his hand over her belly and talked about the renovation of the house they had talked about. When they talked about that Aurora seemed to forget a bit of the drama and talked enthusiastically about the new kitchen. Bill let his hand crawl inside of the big t-shirt she wore and after having dragged his hand over her belly a few times it caressed her chest. Aurora could feel him grow against the back of her thigh. He kissed her neck and didn't react when she suddenly stopped talking. She let him kiss her neck, pull off her t-shirt and move her panties to the side so he could play with her until she was wet enough for him to push in. Awkwardly he pushed down his boxers but still didn't react to her half hearted kisses and lack of interest.

Bill was just happy to finally get to come close after two weeks without sex. It was an eternity when they both were home and he let his hornyness devour him. He felt how she got wetter and wetter and saw that as proof she wanted him too.

“No, no, I can't,” Aurora said when he laid between her legs, ready to push in. Bill looked at her in disappointment and stood up on his knees.

“I think it would be nice… You need to think about something else…” he said and dragged his big hands over her thighs. Aurora just looked at him with a pointed gaze. He knew what she meant and moved away. That wasn't cool.

Aurora pulled on the t-shirt but Bill crawled down naked under the cover, still hoping she maybe would change her mind.

“I can't think about anything else… I'm unemployed, people think we're the most toxic couple, bad parents, I'm ugly and too skinny…”

Bill sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He had heard this so many times now. Couldn't they just fuck and sleep?

“Don't sigh! Don't you dare make me feel like a pain in your ass!” She said and stood up. “It's so fucking easy for you! You have your fucking jobs and even when it's you who cheat-”

“Me who cheats?” He said, confused but with some attitude.

“You get what I mean! Even if they believe you're the one cheating I'm suddenly the one everyone looks at! Like I've been a bad wife! Because you're a serious fucking actor-man while I'm just your stupid pop girlfriend!”

Her voice got louder and louder but had a harder time coming out because her voice shook with tears.

He really didn't like when they were fighting but this subject he hadn't much more to say about. They had already talked about this.

“I just wish you wanted to save me from this, instead you let me drown because that's the easiest thing for you…” she cried and sighed in resignation. Bill swallowed hard and then looked at her leaving the room. She spinned her rings around her finger again and it made him lay his hands over his face.

He hated when they fought, he hated that he was the one hurting her and he hated when he was in the wrong. He had probably not thought things through from her perspective and then just made a decision for them both. He was a pig. He had really just taken a decision over her head. Because he was the husband? Because he was older? He couldn't say what had made him feel he had the right to that. Maybe he still hadn't gotten used to being with a woman with her own career?

Bill wanted to hit himself for his behavior but settled with dragging in his hair hard and biting his hand as hard he could muster. He really should be ashamed and he was. He had said so many times he would do anything for her, he had said that to both her and others it was time for him to do that.

He needed to stop this. He needed to make his pregnant wife happy again.

He needed to find the person who had talked with Page Six, save Aurora's career and for the first time ever tell his truth to the media.

#fix it bill!!#fic rec

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he’s so crazy for that 😏🤭

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#aos vibes #alma vibes

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Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Twenty

Mid-June 1993

Bill was back in New York City. Doing what he always did. It was the same every day for nearly ten years. Visiting Seattle was the only thing that ever broke up the monotony of it all.

Leaving Alma this time, she managed to keep her feelings at bay. As now she knew this arrangement would soon be in the past, she held onto it. However, after passing her accounting final, she considered going to New York with him, but that would have needed more notice to reasonably take off work. So once again, he was gone, and she stayed behind. He needed to settle things in New York now.

Bill was walking inside Trigger Finger with a photo frame tucked under his arm. Alma had given him an extra copy of their family photo shoot to give to Bianca but had stressed to him to buy a frame for it before giving it to her. Today he was finally telling her his plans to move to Seattle and thought the photo would be a good ease into it.

Bianca gasped with delight when she was handed the photo while he sat down on the couch opposite her in the loft.

“You all look so darling!” She exclaimed, tapping on the glass protecting the photo with a long French manicured nail. “Alma looks gorgeous! I love her dress. Was it something you picked?” She looked at him.

“Nah, that’s something she had in her closet already.” He smiled.

“That’s taste, babe! You clean up nicely too!” She complimented him with a cheeky wink. “Echo looks like such a big girl. When I was speaking to Alma over the phone, she mentioned that she’s in a toddler bed now.”

“She is, yeah.” Bill smiled, rolling the sleeves of his black dress shirt up his forearms. “Took her a while to actually want to sleep in it, though. Um, I was wanting to talk to you.”

Bianca looked at him with intrigue and laid the photo down on the cushion next to her. “Oh? Everything okay?”

“To be upfront, I’m in the process of purchasing the record shop Alma works at. So, uh-”

“You’re moving.” She looked a bit sad, which Bill hadn’t expected.

“Well, yes. Um,” he rubbed his stubbly chin. “It will be my more permanent residence in the coming year. I just think that for Echo, it’s the right place for her to grow up right now too.”

“I understand.” Bianca took a deep breath. “And then, that means you’re stepping back. That means–”

“You’d take on my role,” Bill sat back and laid an arm on top of the backrest. “Is that something you want? You know, when Myrna passed this place off to me, I always thought it should have been you. It’s a reason it was such an easy decision for me to partner with you too.”

“Mhmm.” Bianca gazed down in thought. “‘Cause I had my boys. They were much younger then. Having kids changes a lot.” She smirked.

Bill lightly chuckled. “Yeah, it sure does.” He knew that for a fact now. “Priorities change too. But I’ll still be around, you know. Every few months, I’ll drop by. I’m still keeping my place here so.”

“To make sure the place hasn’t burned down?”

“There are extra fire extinguishers in the kitchen, right?” He said which made her laugh. “Nah, but I trust you. I really do.”

“Thank you,” she smiled appreciatively. “But wow, it’s just so... This kind of feels like a breakup.” They both laughed. “But you know what’s best for your family. This place wouldn’t be what it is without you, though.”

“Yeah, but you helped me too. It’s just… time.”

“Right. I don’t think Myrna would want you to burn out and wither here like she did. Bless her soul,” she said, crossing herself. “And this record shop, Alma, told me about the show. That she’s been busy booking bands since it happened?”

Bill crossed his legs. “Yeah, everyone wants their moment at the venue now,” he lightly laughed. “She’s almost booked out this year.”

“She also told me something she maybe didn’t mean to?”

“Like what?” Bill asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Well, she said she was looking at houses.” She smirked as she did have some kind of clue about his eventual departure.

“Mm. I see.”

“Mhmm. And my son, Gian, may have mentioned something...” She peered at him through her thick mascara lashes with a knowing smirk. “Is he bugging you, by the way?” She pointed at him. “He’s been tagging along on your errands after the gym lately.”

“Ah, he’s fine.” He said with a dismissive wave. Giancarlo had been joining him on his errands. Just the other morning, he decided to tag along when Bill went grocery shopping. “But what did he mention?”

“He told me that you two went to the diamond district.”

“Yeah, my watch needed a new battery, and I got my rings cleaned.” He said, splaying his accessorized fingers.

“Right, but he noticed you looking at diamond rings.”

Bill sucked his cheeks to keep his smile away and looked at the shining disco ball out in the club, feeling caught. “Mhmm.”

“You know, like for a lady. The kind a woman might especially like.”

“Right,” he bit his lip, turning his head to look at her.

“You’re going to ask her, aren’t you?” Bianca grinned excitedly.

Bill sucked air through his teeth. “When you talk, don't tell her.”

Bianca gasped with offense and pretended to clutch invisible pearls. "Now, why would I ruin something like that?”

“I’m just saying. Honestly, I’ve looked about more times than that. But I don’t know what she’d like.” He said nervously scratching his collarbone.

“You know what she likes. You just haven’t found it yet, honey.” She assured. “Ah, such big things are happening for you. I’m happy for you. You changed, you know,” she said softly. “It happened slowly, but I noticed now that a few years ago there was a shift. You were different. Whatever it was… it had to happen.” She subtly flashed him a knowing look, and he just responded with a serious nod.

Bianca would never really know what had happened that night, and she didn’t care to ever know either. Working closely with Bill, the way Alma behaved after, and the context of Craig Russo working at the club, she could make a guess, but she would never dare imagine or speak of it.

“Is Alma happy?” She asked.

“I think once everything’s said and done, she’ll finally settle and take it all in. But she’s happy, I can tell under the anxiety.” He sighed.

Bianca nodded understandingly. Alma would ask for advice at times, and she could sense her first-time-mother anxiety even over the phone.

“Anyway, to answer your question,” Bianca quickly said. “This is something I want. I think it’s my turn, don’t you think?”

Bill smiled. “I do. Of course.” He nodded.

“I’ll miss you,” she said sincerely, and then turned away to blink rather quickly when she felt her eyes watering. Bill noticed her take in the club below with a wistful look in her eyes.

“You okay? I, uh, I’m not going away forever,” Bill said, feeling a bit awkward. While he hadn’t expected sadness, tears? No, that wasn’t Bianca.

Bianca sniffled, turning to look at him bashfully. “I know. It’s just… I’m happy for me too.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Me too. You worked hard, harder than me if we’re being real.”

“You don’t even know,” she laughed as she stood up, smoothing out her burgundy pencil skirt. “Let's go grab a drink, honey.”

Bill stood up to open the loft door for her, but she paused, and they shared an embrace. She held him tightly, as a mother would, and rubbed his back.

“What if I said no?” She inquired, turning back to look at him after they descended the stairs.

Bill raised his brows, stressed by the thought and happy that it wasn’t the case. “Then I’d be fucked!” He said, making Bianca laugh loudly.

…

Days later, Bill was in the loft smoking a cigarette and speaking to Theo and Queenie about the acquisition of the record shop. They were thrilled and optimistic about his next venture. Even Queenie suggested he get a huge marquee outside the shop to advertise the musical acts that performed. That idea was already proposed by Alma, but he told her he’d definitely do that now that she had brought it to his attention.

The phone rang in the loft, and Bill excused himself as he walked away from the lounge to the desk. He stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray there before picking up the phone.

“Hello?” A very familiar female voice was annoyed on the other end of the line.

“Alma?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “This must be my other girlfriend, then.”

“Very funny. Why do you let the phone ring for so long?”

“I have guests,” he said, turning back to see them already leaving the loft upon overhearing who he was speaking to. “Well, not anymore. What’s up?”

“I got a copy of Rolling Stone, and they wrote about the show.” She said getting up from the dining table to sit on the couch, where their daughter was watching a princess movie.

Bill took a seat on the desk chair then. “What’d they say?”

“Good things. That they’re still in touch with their roots, and the show called back to some of their other iconic small venue shows when they started. There are quotes from the band; I guess they spoke to the journalist over the phone after the fact. But get this!” She laughed with delight. “I passed my number along to the press, and Rolling Stone bought a few pictures. They used one.”

“For real? Are you serious?”

“Yes! And the Offbeat too! But their copy doesn’t come out until next month.”

“But Rolling fucking Stone!”

“Yeah! Rolling fucking Stone!” She laughed.

Just before getting off the phone, he spoke to Echo, who happily blabbed back to him. They were both going to the birthday party soon, and his child seemed excited about it.

“Party, Papa!” She would tell him, giggling.

While walking out of the loft, he commissioned one of the security members to pick up the whole rack of the latest Rolling Stone magazine for him. He noticed Bianca standing by their VIP booth with two bookish-looking gentlemen; one of them had a pocket journal in his hand. He didn’t like the look of that; it was giving him FED vibes.

“Actually, he’s coming right now.” Bianca gestured towards him, and they looked behind themselves to see his tall, imposing figure approach. “Bill, these gentlemen are doing research for a script, apparently.” She said, looking at them with suspicion.

They sheepishly introduced themselves, Douglas and Jeremiah; they were brothers. They held their hands out for a handshake, but Bill looked down at them disapprovingly until they retreated them.

“For what studio?” Bill’s chest broadened when he crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge against the fabric of the black button-up, and looked them up and down. He’s met people in the film industry at his club, but they were only in attendance to let loose, not to work.

“Uhm, well,” Douglas said nervously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We're still pitching it. But, uh, we were wishing to speak to you two as owners and maybe some of the strippers.”

“Dancers.” Bianca corrected.

“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat. “Dancers. We’d like to add some real-life inspiration with whatever you’d like to share for our script.”

Bill's eyes darted towards Bianca, who shared a similar look of reservation. “I don’t know. Do you want to share B’?” He asked her.

“I don’t have anything to say.” She dismissively said. She had a world of backstory that she’d only sell for top dollar, and these two schmucks before her didn’t have that.

“Me neither.” He said looking down at them both again, causing them to shift nervously on their feet. “What is it that you want to ask the girls?”

“Just know their experience. What is it like servicing these men? What this lifestyle is like for them.” Jeremiah, who held onto the pocket journal, spoke up now.

“Hmm.” Bill turned to Rashad, who stood guard by Bianca. “Are you hearing these questions?”

“Yes, sir.” He said with a nod.

“Pay for a lap dance, and you can ask them,” Bill said.

“For each question?” The bespectacled brother blurted out without thinking, feeling not only Bill’s intimidating presence but also Bianca’s getting to him.

They were all washed in pink neon light, but something about it made Bill’s large, inspecting eyes glow in a peculiar, inviting, and threatening way. Like a fallen angel amongst topless beauties who volunteered without a second thought to join him in hell.

Bill smirked devilishly when he noticed Jeremiah’s face drop at his brother's poor negotiation. “Sure. One question per paid lap dance.”

“I like the sound of that,” Bianca agreed. “And Rashad, could you keep these gentlemen on task with their questions?”

“Can do, ma’am.”

“Could I use your walkie-talkie first?” Rashad obliged, and she quickly relayed the information to Marcy in the locker rooms to inform the dancers of the script writer's presence.

Bill was now sitting with Bianca in the VIP booth as Venus was on the main stage. Topless, in sparkling pink hot pants she was teasingly shimming down her bottom. However, they were looking past her act, keeping a watchful eye on the scriptwriters.

“They don’t seem like FEDs,” Bianca mentioned out loud before taking a sip of her wine.

“Nah, they’re nerds. Look how that Douglas guy is sitting,” he said, nudging his head in their direction.

Douglas had his legs uncomfortably crossed and was pushing his foggy glasses up while getting a lap dance from Toni, who was leaning over with her breast in his face, and speaking to Jeremiah, who scrawled fervently in his little notebook.

“Christ. He’s got a fucking boner,” she laughed, shaking her head with pity.

“Mhmm. We should check their notebook before they go though.”

“Good idea.”

They were speaking about the patrons and other work-related things when finally the security worker he commissioned returned with a stack of about eight issues of Rolling Stone.

"Oh, fuck yeah,” he said as he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth to grab a copy off the top.

“Why the hell do you have all of these?” She asked, setting her glass of wine down on the table.

“Here,” he said, passing her one. “Alma’s photography is in here.” He began flipping the pages and landed in the middle. “Look!” He laughed proudly, holding the magazine toward her.

“Wait, let me get to the page,” she said, rapidly flipping pages. “Oh my god!” She gasped. “Oh! It credits her too! Alma Lucio!” She exclaimed with perfect Spanish pronunciation.

The glossy photo the publication chose was one of the band taken from above the crowd. One Alma shot while on top of Zeph’s shoulders. All the members looked so kinetic and energetic, even in a still shot. The slinky drummer was shirtless and drenched in sweat as he banged on the drums, the bassist's feet were floating off the ground in mid-jump, and the lead singer roughly strummed the guitar while his hair was blown behind him as he headbanged.

Both he and Bianca went silent as they began reading the rave review of the show.

“This sounds so great, honey,” Bianca said.

“She got paid for the photo too,” he added.

“Even better!”

…

Alma and Echo had been at her librarymate Austin’s second birthday party. It was a sunny day in Seattle with perfectly clear skies. She now had time to eat her hot dog once Echo was satisfied after having hers and ran off towards the bounce house.

She was watching her as she ate, bouncing around in her light blue dress and white tights underneath. Giggling with the other children hopping around. She sat next to some other guests who were more familiar with each other at the picnic table. They were speaking with each other until Liz took a break from hosting and introduced Alma to them. Quickly, Alma wiped her hands with a stiff napkin with Winnie the Pooh and his friends printed on it and then took off Bill’s Wayfarer sunglasses to seem more personable. The only person at the party she wasn’t thrilled to see was Cheryl, who was as fake as they came. Despite this, her little boy, Jordan, was a sweetheart.

Alma was surprised that Liz had invited her, but maybe she was too wrapped up with her children to notice the judgmental slights she threw around. Liz and her friends, Lauren and Ally, spoke about how they all knew each other from grade school and then about what they did for work.

“Alma, don't you work at a record shop?” Cheryl mentioned before Alma could herself because she was too occupied discreetly rubbing out a mustard stain from her dark wash jeans.

Alma tilted her head at her with a smirk, trying her best to keep it from turning into a sneer. “I do! I’m a manager at Sheisty Sound Records.” She smiled kindly at Liz’s friends.

“Oh yeah! I know it!” Ally said fondly, brushing her heat-curled brunette hair off her shoulder.

Liz was caressing her pregnant belly when she mentioned the big show there recently.

“And you met them?” Lauren asked excitedly.

Alma caught Cheryl looking a bit put off, and then she turned to see her son picking dandelions, which seemed to further upset her.

“I did, yeah.” She nodded. “Very nice guys. They’re famous but not like, uh,” she paused to ensure there were only adults around. “Well asshole famous, you know.”

The women all laughed, except for Cheryl.

“Hey, babe?” Liz’s husband, James, called to her as he closed the lid to the charcoal grill. He looked like a typical military guy, clean-shaven with an even neater haircut. “I’m going to the garage now.”

“But the piñata?”

He grumbled a bit then and began walking towards the yard shed. Echo then came up to her mother, the feet of her white tights beginning to stain with streaks of green from the grass now. She had joined Jordan in picking heads of yellow dandelions and sweetly presented her with them.

“Aw, thank you, Echo.” She said holding onto them. The petals had been crushed by her daughter's grip. “So pretty!”

“Cute!” She giggled.

“Cute too,” she said to her, but she had run off again.

“Your little girl is adorable,” Lauren complimented, tucking a short strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “It’s good she got out of the bouncy house because– HEY!” She yelled, noticing the other boys were beginning to wrestle while one of the only other little girls at the party was against a netted corner, fearful of being caught in the tussle.

“Austin! Enough of that.” Liz spoke up. “Let’s get this piñata going, right?” Alma held her hand out for Liz as she got up from the bench seat, struggling to do so gracefully because of her growing bump. “Thanks!” She exhaled loudly.

Alma spoke with Liz’s friends a bit, and they were pointing out the children who belonged to them while the piñata was being roped up a tree branch.

“You just have the one?” Ally asked, as she had two kids in tow.

“Yeah.” Alma nodded. “Just her.”

“Do you plan on having more?” Cheryl asked, speaking up. Lauren flashed her a look, surprised at such a blunt question. “That was Echo’s dad at the library a few weeks ago, right?” She noticed her sitting on his lap and kissing while perusing the library, and she found it classless.

“Mhmm.” Alma flicked her hair off her shoulder, revealing a gold hoop earring. “Yeah, that’s the guy. We’re pretty busy people, so...” Alma trailed off, disinterested in her probing.

However, Alma noticed an expectant glimmer in her eye, as if she were waiting for Alma to ask if she was planning for more children too. She wasn’t going to give the conversation over for Cheryl to speak about how much unprotected marital sex she was having. It didn’t matter if she would sugarcoat the language; that’s all Alma would imagine, and she didn’t want that in her mind.

“Um,” Lauren cleared her throat. “I think the Pooh piñata is ready to get beaten.” She said, trying to add some brevity and to break up whatever issue this uppity Cheryl woman had in her pastel business casual outfit.

The gaggle of children lined up impatiently, waiting for Liz’s sister-in-law to retrieve her niece Aubrey, who had woken from a nap inside, before they could beat the piñata. Alma had to help Echo hold the pinata stick and tap the pinata a few times for her to understand the task before stepping back to let her give it a few wacks. She looked a bit conflicted about it, which made her mother giggle.

After the children failed to break open the piñata, James had to rip open the cardboard body of Winnie to shower the children with candy. Alma had to jump into the pit of children to help Echo grab candy before it was all snatched up, and she was left with the brandless hard candies none of the other kids wanted.

Cheryl decided to leave after, skipping out on the sheet cake topped with cheap plastic Winnie and Friends figurines with some dumb excuse. Yet Liz insisted they at least take a piece home for Jordan to have. She accepted as if she had just realized she should consider him in the situation. This wasn’t her crowd, and she made sure everyone there felt and knew so. Her son had pocketed his share of picked dandelions in the front of his overalls, and when he tried to give them to her, she tried to seem appreciative.

“You should play with the boys more. Leave the flowers for the girls.”

Alma could hear her say as they left the party, which made her frown. She was feeding Echo cake when Ally spoke up after taking a bite of hers.

“So Sheisty Sound should have some good shows coming? I used to go when I was younger and drag anyone there with me.”

“Yeah,” Alma smiled. “We’re booked until January right now, actually. You should just stop by because there's always something going on. We have craft events too; even the kids can enjoy it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there were craft events held there too,” Lauren said. “That’s good to know!”

Alma and Echo left the party as it began to clear. She let Echo hop around the bounce house just once more, and she noticed her rubbing her hazel eyes, clearly fighting sleep to continue playing. When they drove to their home, Alma felt herself becoming tired as well, and it didn’t help that the perfect skies had darkened with rain clouds. She had a high social battery but for a child's birthday party, it hardly felt like she had one at all. Pulling up, the rain began to fall, and she quickly jogged her sleeping daughter inside their home.

She slipped into bed after a shower wearing Bill’s hoodie and a pair of panties with the phone in her hand, having every intention of calling him even if it was late in New York, but when she closed her eyes to relax, she fell asleep instead.

…

August 1993

Bill arrived at Trigger Finger in a not-so-pleasant mood. He hadn’t even dressed up like he usually would, not wanting to even bother. His arrival was rather early—too early. He just wanted to leave his house after arguing with Alma over the phone. Wearing his Converse, he stomped up the stairs to the loft, but they didn’t have the satisfying boom against the wrought iron like the heft of his boots would have.

He huffed, throwing his plain black baseball cap on the royal blue couch as he lay on the other in the dimness of the loft. No one was there but him. The only light was that of the neon lights below and the speckles of the mirror ball glittering around the room. He closed his eyes and covered them with his forearm to achieve total darkness, trying to somehow ease his pounding headache.

He had a lot on his mind. So much that it was affecting his sleep. Not that he slept well to begin with, but the night terrors were much more persistent. Of course, it was stress and anxiety getting the better of him. He was leaving for Seattle in a matter of days, but this time he’d be gone for a few months rather than weeks. In between that, his birthday was soon, Darby’s wedding would be right after, he was still in the middle of finalizing his purchase of the record shop, and then there was Alma being stubborn rather than working with him.

“But why? That’s so soon?” She argued back.

He had brought up going back to Strathburg again, and she was still trying to work her way out of it.

“I told you,” he said, frustrated that he was explaining again. “The sooner, the better. What the hell, Alma? We go do what we need to do and never have to think about it again.”

“We’re already so busy, Bill?”

“And we’ll be even busier in the coming year. September,” he reiterated. “That’s the only time we can go, that makes sense. Your dad’s not getting any younger.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” she said, rolling her eyes, and wished he could see it. “Good try. Why the hell are you so bent on going?”

“Alma,” he said, taking a deep breath through his flaring nostrils, trying to settle his rising temper. “I don’t want to go back any more than you do. What is the deal?”

“I don’t like Strathburg,” she stressed. “I told myself I’d never go back there, much like you did when you left me there to rot!”

“Please! Be fucking serious right now!” His jaw ticked. “Like you didn’t leave me here to fucking rot in New York!?”

“Fuck off!” Click!

He angrily threw the phone on his bed and ran his hands through his hair as he paced his room. While the thought of calming down crossed his mind, he couldn't help himself and quickly grabbed the phone to dial her back, but she just let it ring. He dialed several times until he was only met with two high tones, signaling the line was disconnected. She had taken the phone jack out of the wall.

Bill had accidentally dozed off for a bit, but it helped relieve his headache some. He cleared his throat before getting off the couch and sat behind the desk. He peered at his wristwatch and then dialed Sheisty Sound.

“Shei–”

“It’s Bill,” he interrupted.

“Oh…” Ulyssa said on the other end of the line, and her eyes darted over to Alma.

Alma stood before her, mouthing, “Bill?” To which she confirmed with a nod.

“I need to speak to Alma,” he said with a sharpness to his tone.

Alma chopped the air by her neck with her hand, signaling to her that she didn’t want to speak.

“Uhm, she’s busy with a customer right now.”

“That’s not true.”

“What?” Ulyssa’s eyes widened.

“Just tell her I called.” Click.

“Shit. He hung up on me…” Ulyssa said gently, laying the receiver down in confusion.

“Asshole,” Alma muttered under her breath. “Sorry. I’ll tell him… something for doing that.” She said scratching at her head as she ducked off between shelves, trying to avoid customers.

Bill was smoking a cigarette in silence when Bianca arrived, and he lightly startled her when she entered the loft.

“Just me,” he said, exhaling smoke.

“What are you doing here so early?” As she approached the desk, she was surprised to see that he was just in dark jeans and a black shirt, covered with a bomber jacket.

“Eh,” he shrugged, taking a puff. “I just needed to get out.”

Bianca could sense his less-than-savory mood. “You’re okay, though?” She asked, sitting in a chair in front of him and setting down a white pastry box next to her purse on the desk.

“Yeah, just trying to settle this stuff with the buy these last few days. This guy fucking sucks with answering the damn phone.” He stressed, but it sounded like he was speaking about two things at once. “I have to email him to call me. Like, just answer the fucking phone, you know.” He shook his head and took the last puff of his cigarette before roughly stubbing it out in the ashtray.

“Right…” Bianca nodded. “Uh, so since we're both here. Alvin, I don’t mind collecting the fees from that freak.”

“Mhmm.” He laced his fingers on his lap as he leaned back.

“But I don’t think we discussed–”

“I didn’t realize we didn’t,” he sighed. “But yeah, I’m fine with you taking a cut.”

“Half.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Half,” he nodded in agreement. “What’d you bring?” He asked, pointing at the pastry box.

“Well… I know you’re going to be in and out rather than working after tonight, and you’ll be gone on your birthday,” she said, grabbing the box and opening it. “I got you a cupcake.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, looking at the large vanilla cupcake that had a hefty mound of icing on top. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“Oh, just take it, silly. Happy Birthday!”

Bill stayed as long as he could stand that night. While working day in and day out at Trigger Finger could be tedious, suddenly, on his last days, he felt a twinge in his heart. It bummed him out that this wouldn’t be his whole life anymore. Change was hard, but deep down, he knew the change was needed. It was a chapter that was difficult to end, and while it was rough, and dirty, and sinful, the good times that fell in between filled him with a sense of nostalgic melancholy.

When Bill arrived home, he called Alma’s apartment again, but it only rang, and he groaned in annoyance before heading off to shower. Tucked into bed, he lay there awake, debating dialing her again while he held the receiver. Instead, he just rolled over on his stomach and stretched out his long body. He had two clocks now on his nightstand, one on Eastern Standard Time and the other on Pacific Standard Time.

It was nearing midnight for Alma, so she should be home, and his child tucked in bed, fast asleep. He was grateful he had at least a cordial conversation with his daughter before he argued with her mother. If he hadn't, it would have pissed him off to a whole other degree he didn’t want to fathom. He closed his eyes, resting them, thinking about how long this silent treatment would last. Surely, she wouldn’t ice him until she absolutely had to talk to him once he was in Seattle.

The phone rang in his hand, causing his eyes to snap open with surprise. He let it ring a second time before answering.

“Alma?”

He paused with furrowed brows, trying to register what he was hearing on the other end of the line. She was moaning softly. Then he felt his heart rate quicken when she moaned his name. He bit his lip while listening to her, and his free hand traveled underneath his duvet and towards his stiffening cock.

No, no, no, he thought to himself as he shook his head. She wasn’t getting him back easily. Click.

“Oh, bab–” Alma's mewls became stuck in her throat, and her hand between her legs halted when she heard the dial tone sounding back to her. “What the fuck?!”

Bill sat there in his bed with a devious grin on his face as he lightly laughed to himself. The phone rang again in his hand, and he let it ring and ring while he laughed harder. He took a deep breath to settle himself and bit his lip before answering.

“Really?” She said annoyed, but all he did was laugh again.

“It’s not so fucking nice, is it?” He smugly said.

“That was me trying to say sorry.”

“Yeah…” he said, waiting for her to finally agree.

“Okay. I’ll go, okay.”

“Okay… We’ll be out of there before you even know it, love.”

Alma deeply sighed. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have ignored you today. I know you're stressed out. I shouldn't be adding to it.”

“Mhmm. You were very bad today.” Alma could hear his mischievous grin over the phone.

Alma bit her lip, and she reached over to her nightstand to retrieve her bullet vibrator. Excited that he was playing along with her now.

“I was a bad girl.”

He pulled the duvet off, and his hand dove into his boxer briefs, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. Over the phone line, they were speaking terribly dirty and vulgar words back and forth to get each other off and blow off steam. Both happy that phone sex would be a rare occurrence now.

…

Bill was nearly done packing, but he paused to look over his home and made sure to unplug appliances. His flight would be early in the morning, and rather than fly commercial, he was flying private this time. On his way back to his room, he looked into Echo’s bedroom. The things inside were now out of use; she had grown out of them. It would be a year in September that she had been in his life, and it was strange just how much his life has changed since.

Back in his room, he walked into his closet, grabbed a few pieces of clothing he would like to have with him in Seattle, and laid them on his bed. Just before going back, he opened his nightstand, where he kept the lewd photos of Alma and his Glock for easy access. Opening the large safe inside his closet, he flipped through the photos one last time and placed them inside along with his gun. He had since cleared the safe of all his things from Trigger Finger as well, and now he was sitting on quite a bit of cash he didn’t want to leave behind. The kilo of cocaine could stay, though it was there in case an emergency ever arose.

He transferred all the banded cash into two duffle bags, which he placed articles of clothing on top of. He didn’t know why he did it, as nothing would be checked, but it was just for good measure. Doing a once-over of his safe before locking it, he plucked out a small velvet dust bag, and the sound of metal clinked together when he did. He sat on his bed, pulling the drawstring apart, and spilled the cold gold and silver rings into his palm.

They were Alma’s rings. She had asked him if he could bring them back to her. She had left them behind over two years ago. When she thought she would never see him again. Thinking they were better off with him rather than go to waste with her body down a cliff.

He plucked out a gold band with four small peridot gems in a starburst setting and remembered one night at a sketchy after-hours party several years ago, noticing it was new while she sat sideways in his lap. He raised her hand to inspect it before his thumb ran over the gems, and he complimented them.

“Green. Like your eyes.” She said, playfully wiggling her adorned fingers in front of his face before making out with him. They had eventually moved on to a dark corner of the party where he may have not-so-discretely fingered her.

“Hm,” Bill expressed, spilling the rings into the dust bag from his palm, happy to be returning them.

That very morning, Theo had come to pick him up just before the sun rose on the horizon. They were driving on the tarmac of a small airport and fell silent as their eyes scanned the plane and parked right up to the private plane.

“This is major,” Theo chuckled as he shifted the gear in park.

“It’s not too bad,” Bill playfully smirked.

“Ah, don’t be so humble now.”

Theo offered to help bring his luggage onto the plane, but once he popped the trunk of his car open, staff had reached in to do it before he could even get out of the car. Bill rolled the window down quickly and asked them to place them inside the cabin, where he would be able to watch over them.

“Do you want to check it out?” Bill asked, putting his baseball cap on.

Theo quickly agreed, and while the stairs were daunting for his big frame, he was pretty excited that he had gotten to meet and shake hands with the pilots in the cockpit. Both the men looked around the private jet, feeling the leather upholstery and noticing the clean cream-colored carpeting that matched.

“We’ll be departing in fifteen minutes, sir,” a pretty flight attendant announced in passing.

“I’ll let you get situated,” Theo said, smoothing down the front of his shirt. “I’ll see you on Thanksgiving with the family?”

“That’s the plan,” Bill nodded.

“Alright.” Theo smiled. “You stay safe out there, brother. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“You’re my eyes and ears,” he said appreciatively as he walked with him toward the entryway.

“Oh.” Theo reached into his light jacket and presented Bill with a single-wrapped cigar. “For your birthday. I didn’t forget.”

Bill thanked him before giving him a farewell handshake. It was a gift Theo always gave him whenever his birthday approached. Bill watched Theo through an airplane window as he got in his car and chuckled when he noticed him picking up an envelope he left on the seat. Theo looked up at the plane and found his boss's face looking back at him. He was a bit displeased and flipped Bill off before giving him an appreciative nod. Before arriving at the airport they bickered a little back and forth on the drive because Theo didn’t want to be paid for a favor he offered. Reminding Bill of the times he had helped with his own daughter's medical bills for nothing in return. Still, he left a grand right there in the passenger seat of his car, right where he sat.

Bill sat down on a nicely cushioned plane seat then and was elated that he could stretch his long legs out comfortably. Even more so when he discovered the seat had a footrest and reclined.

“Is it your birthday?” The stewardess had overheard and asked after informing him that he’d need to put his seat belt on for takeoff.

“In two days,” he said, holding two digits out.

“Happy early birthday, then.” She smiled.

“Before you go, that phone,” he said, pointing over to a telephone on board. “It’ll work if I use it.”

"Yes, sir,” she nodded.

With an hour left on his flight, he decided to use it and call Alma. The line was a bit choppy from being thousands of feet in the air. Through so many words, she was able to discern enough to head on her way to the airport, which was a bit further away than SEATAC. It was still fairly early, and Echo was having breakfast when he called. Rather than rush out like she wanted to, she had to go at her daughter's pace, but they were out the door no less.

She was ushered onto the tarmac, and an attendant informed her that his flight had just landed and would taxi close by. Alma parked, and she grinned with amused disbelief on her face. As the plane stairs went down, she got out of the vehicle and helped Echo out of her car seat. She was leaning against the hood holding onto her, and the mountain air was blowing their hair back when Bill quickly descended the stairs with a backpack and a baseball cap on. She put Echo on her feet and told her to run towards him. The sight made her wish she had brought her camera. Echo happily giggled as she ran right into his arms just before the private plane. Bill was kissing his daughter's cheek with a smile on his face and then instructed two staff members to load the jeep up.

She noticed the staff members struggling with two large duffle bags, knowing exactly what was inside them, before turning towards Bill and smiling into the passionate kiss he planted on her. He finally felt himself relax being off the plane with his money intact, but also because it had been almost two months since he'd been whole again with his family.

“What an entrance!” She laughed. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said, adjusting his cap by the brim. “But, uh, I’m home now.”

Alma smiled, biting her lip when she felt it quiver a bit. A lump had formed in her throat, and she responded by hugging him tightly as relief washed over her. The love in her heart for him at that moment was just too big for words.

#avenue of sins #my bill writings #bill skarsgard #aos neon #aos

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b-afterhours · 2 months

Text

Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Nineteen

May 1993

The Seattle Police were outside Sheisty Sound Records, trying to disperse the lingering crowd outside. The band was long gone, but the buzz and excitement persisted among the concertgoers. Flashing red and blue lights from the police cars on the road were yielding traffic to pedestrians. After the Wayward Sons left with a thick envelope of untaxed cash, those who were left were the employees.

Bill and Alma had been eating cold pepperoni pizza from Vons by the cash wrap. The mozzarella had congealed into a solid piece, and the bread had been steeping in grease, but they were so hungry they didn’t care.

“Okay, the teens left with their rides,” Darby said, locking the shop door behind himself when he reentered. “The cops got a big chunk of the crowd to leave. Everyone ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later,” Alma said as she placed her camera and the camcorder Gregory kindly operated in her backpack before slinging it on. “We have the baby, so you all have a good time.”

“Where are they going?” Bill asked as he carefully switched his sleeping daughter to his other arm.

“The Rooster,” Ash answered, overhearing him.

“Oh…” Darby frowned regretfully. He wasn’t thinking when he suggested they all go for a drink after the show. "Uhm, well…” he looked down at his fiancee, who looked surprised at his inconsideration. “Maybe let’s go back to our place.”

“You’re so much farther away, though,” Matt whined, unable to read the room.

“It’s okay, guys. We–”

“Alma, you can–”

Bill and Alma spoke over top of each other and paused, sharing a look for the other to talk.

“Darby and I have a guest room Echo can sleep in.” Jennifer sweetly offered.

“Let’s just go for one drink,” Bill said carefully to Alma, knowing she would like one.

“Out of everyone here, you deserve a drink the most,” Darby chuckled. “Matt said the band left like two cases of beer.”

“They’re cold too,” Matt added, fixing the short sleeve he had over a long-sleeve shirt.

“Uh alright. Yeah, let’s go.” Alma smiled.

She was happy to hang out with them after a work event for a change. Darby hadn’t forgotten that she had her daughter in tow, but rather, they all just really stopped asking her to go out in general. They’d always ask, and she’d say no. As her excuse of having to go home to her kid became repetitive and known slowly, their invites became few and far between. She’d sneak a drink after work here or there at the small tavern up the road from work and leave right after, but that was usually no fun for them or her.

…

Ulyssa had caught a ride with Alma and Bill and was sitting in the backseat with Echo, listening to their light banter. Echo had woken up a little when she was settled into her car seat but quickly fell back asleep with the rumble of the tires on the road and the engine's hum.

“Are your arms tired?” Alma asked Bill while he drove. She was taking her hair out from her updo. Pulling bobby pins out and placing them into the Jeep’s clean, unused ashtray.

“Mine? No.” Bill nonchalantly said.

“You held her for most of the set?” She said, shaking her hair out, and her scalp relaxed in the most pleasant way.

“I lift weights a lot heavier than E’.” He said turning into a residential neighborhood as he followed Ash’s Ford Taurus to Darby’s home.

Alma playfully tutted. “Yeah, yeah.”

Bill chuckled to himself. His arms were a bit tired, but he was too proud to say so.

Ulyssa watched as Bill reached over to lace his fingers into Alma’s hair to massage her scalp gently but before he could she pretended to take a bite out of his bicep. She found it cute but she was feeling a bit of a way because of Gregory. He had been distant and weird towards her, and tonight he had actually upset her a bit.

Before plans changed, he had invited her to ride with him to The Rooster, which she accepted, but then he had gotten weirdly indecisive about going to Darby’s. He wasn’t the type to go with the flow when plans changed on short notice. It usually threw him off, and in turn, he just preferred to go home. Bill had overheard their little exchange a few cars over after closing Alma’s door. It didn’t sound like an argument to Bill exactly as he rounded the Jeep to get in himself, but he could hear her frustration. When Ulyssa started walking to her car, Bill whistled to get her attention and opened the backseat door inviting her in.

Watching the couples' interactions was making her feel a bit sour only because she had been talking to Gregory. As much as she tried to figure him out, outside of the context of friendship he was doing the same with her, and it felt like it was going nowhere. And now she just felt like she had been kidding herself.

“What did Lewis say to you?” Alma asked, taking hold of his hand now.

“Uhm, well, not a lot,” Bill lightly shrugged. “But, hmm, I don’t like to say stuff out loud because I don’t want to jinx it.”

“But it was all good?”

“Yeah. I’m still in.” He assured.

“He seemed to like you,” Ulyssa spoke up. “He let you into the office and all of that.”

“That’s true,” Alma nodded.

“You think?” Bill looked at Ulyssa through the rearview, and she nodded. “Eh, while it’s nice that he may like me, I’d prefer if he’d just finally tell me he’s going to sell to me already.” He said pulling beside a curb in front of Darby’s Tudor-style home. “What the fuck? This is nice. I thought, uh, you know what you told me A’ about his family disowning him.” He said, turning to her.

“They kinda did, but her family has money too.”

“I see,” he nodded, impressed by their home.

Walking up the pathway, Bill took notice of Darby’s truck in the driveway. A restored 1960s Chevy painted light blue with white accents. Up ahead, Ash and Darby were carrying boxes of leftover pizza and helped themselves inside; however, Bill still asked if they should knock. Even if they could see inside the house through the glass storm door. Ulyssa walked in anyway, and so the family followed.

Oldies were playing over a stereo, and the scent of sandalwood, leather, and worn paperback books welcomed them in. Bill was looking around their foyer and the grand staircase when he peeked into their living room, which was decorated with mid-century furniture and vintage decor. They continued following Ulyssa toward the back of the house, and she paused for a second. Bill only caught a glimpse of what had made her stop in her tracks. It was only Darby and Jennifer sharing an intimate kiss, thinking they were alone.

“You guys made it!” Darby said, straightening up. “I know it’s a bit out of the way.”

“Are the others in the backyard?” Ulyssa quickly asked, wanting to smoke the joint in her tote bag.

“Yeah,” Darby nodded, gesturing to the sliding back door and letting her go on her way out. “Uh, I can show you the guest room.”

“Thanks again, Darby,” Alma said to him. “And Jennifer.”

“Oh, any time.” He said waving his hand for them to follow him.

They followed him down a corridor, and Bill was met with the main entrance into the living room, and now he could see the tall wood-beamed ceiling. In a corner, the home record player was spinning, and the record sleeve for the single Searching for My Love by Bobby Moore and The Rhythm Aces was on display. Near the record player on a Chambord-colored chaise lounge was a white fluffy cat sleeping.

“This one here,” Darby said, opening the second door on the right. He walked in and opened the curtains to a multi-pane window that faced the backyard. “This way, you’ll be able to look in here if you want to. Um, there's an ensuite bathroom through that door,” he pointed to the opposite wall. “And yeah, help yourselves. Just remember to close the door. I don’t want Garbo, our cat, wandering in and bothering the baby.” And with that, he let them be.

“Wow,” Bill said, looking out the window after swaddling and laying Echo down in the middle of the queen-sized bed. “There’s like a little courtyard and like a guest house out there.” His gaze then turned to the folks under the large pergola, laughing together.

“Getting some inspo’?” Alma asked as she lined the edge of the bed with pillows.

Bill turned to her and smiled. “I think we could find something nicer.” He said which made her lightly laugh.

“Everything square with them?” Jennifer asked Darby when he joined her again in their kitchen. She was rearranging pieces of random slices of Von's pizza on a sheet pan to reheat them later.

“Yes my love,” he said, scratching his tattooed arm as he walked towards their liquor cabinet. “I know it was short notice,” he sighed. “My mind was everywhere today.”

“I bet. You could hardly sleep last night, but I don’t mind. I just hope they’re comfortable.” She turned away from the kitchen island to preheat the oven.

“Do you know where the old drink glasses are?” He asked her as he tried to search for them himself.

Bill and Alma appeared at the threshold, hand in hand. “You guys have a really lovely home. Thanks for having us.” Bill said to them, and they both thanked him back.

“Bill, do you drink scotch? I’m about to have some myself.” He said holding the bottle up.

“I’ll have some. Thanks,” Bill nodded, recognizing the bottle as being quite expensive.

“Sweet. You two can go outside. We'll join in a moment after this.”

When they went outside, Matt was shotgunning a beer while Ash and Ulyssa sat cheering him on while passing a joint back and forth. He let out a loud burp and then laughed, tossing the can into a trash bag. He passed them a beer when they joined, and they all tapped their tin cans before sitting on the nice patio furniture surrounding an unlit propane fire pit.

“Oh my god, these are so comfy.” Alma sunk into the plush cushion on the wicker couch and took a drink of her beer. Bill was digging into the breast pocket of his shirt jacket next to her and pulling his pack of smokes out. “Can I have one?”

“Really?” He raised a brow at her as he placed a cigarette between his lips.

She just held her hand out, waiting for him to oblige. He lit the one he had between his lips and passed it off to her before producing another from his pack for himself.

She took a deep drag, kicked her feet out, and laid her head back, looking past the checkered trellis above, lined with twinkling lights, and at the clear night sky. Shortly after a window that faced the backyard was opened to let the oldie tunes float out, Darby and Jennifer joined. He was carrying a wooden tray covered with drink glasses, and she was carrying a heavy recycled glass ashtray and the bottle of fancy scotch.

“Okay, G&T for ‘Lys,” Darby said as he began giving his guests their drinks. “Vodka cran’ for Ash. I forgot to ask, but I found some grenadine and made you a tequila sunrise, Alma.”

"Perfect, thanks,” she said appreciatively, taking her glass from the tray.

“Here’s your old fashion, babe,” he said to his fiancee, who had taken a seat after setting the ashtray on the edge of the fire pit. “And our scotch neat.” He said passing Bill his before setting the tray down on a side table. “You sure you didn’t want a glass, Matt?” He asked, sitting down now.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he chortled with raised brows. “I’ll stick to the booze.” Bill was offering a taste of his scotch for Alma to try and put it to her lips, which caught Matt’s attention. “Are we allowed to talk to your boyfriend now?”

She turned to look at him and lightly laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Do you want to talk to them?” She asked Bill sarcastically.

“What did she tell you guys?” Bill asked, holding his glass on his knee.

“She told everyone,” Darby began. “My boyfriend’s coming. You can say hi, but don’t talk to him.”

“To be honest, we were too busy to ask questions. It wasn’t hard to do.” Ash lightly laughed.

“Right, fuck! How about today, guys?” Darby said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I’ve never seen it so packed like that,” Jennifer said as she sat a bit behind him and held onto his free arm. “Like all the way up to the cash wrap, almost.”

“Are you sure we were still at capacity?” Ulyssa asked, turning to Alma.

“I let the pizza delivery boy stay for the show,” Ash admitted. “So we were over at least one head.”

“I saw that,” Bill laughed, leaning to stub his and Alma’s cigarettes out in the ashtray.

“Well, I think we might have been over by more than one, but eh,” Alma shrugged.

“Who do you think ratted us out to BUZ’R?” Matt asked, crushing his beer can and digging in the ice chest for another. “Imagine if I hadn’t been listening to my Walkman when I was? We’d have been mega fucked!”

“The teens?” Ash wondered.

“Nah, they at most told their friends at school, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t even believe them.” Darby laughed.

“I think it was Dean,” Alma said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oooh, that makes more sense. And what the fuck was his deal? He had like a stick up his ass since we met him in the morning.” Darby said, which made Bill chuckle.

“I know!” Alma laughed. “He was an asshole. At one point, when I was talking to the press with him. He called me, “the shop girl”. And then he was like, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot your name’. Like, no, you didn’t fucking forget it!”

“Yeah! He referred to you that way with me at a point too, and I said, uh Alma, you mean? He just goes, ‘Sure, sure’.” Darby relayed, which made Alma roll her eyes.

Alma, having worked at Trigger Finger, was familiar with insecure men like Dean, who would come and talk down to the dancers just because they could, especially if they found them particularly pretty. Bill found the friendly manager's back-and-forth interesting to experience. Over the phone, she didn’t really talk about him much–outside of a work context–but they seemed like better friends than he had assumed. However, it made sense they would have a good rapport with each other, managing the shop together.

“He’s bullshitting,” Darby continued. “'Cause the lead singer was like all about your name this morning,” he laughed.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, chewing on his lip. “And then he kisses you right in front of me too.”

“Mackin’ on your girl in front of everyone, dude.” Matt quipped.

“On the hand,” Alma quickly added. “You’re making it worse in your head.”

“Sure,” Bill retorted playfully, but there was still a hint of annoyance.

“Oh my god! I saw those girls swarm you!” Ash exclaimed, jutting her pointed finger at her. “They were about to lick your hand clean off.”

Everyone began laughing then and continued speaking about the show. Eventually, the conversations became split between the women and men. The ladies had all begun getting up from their seats without a word. All except for Alma, who quietly told Bill she would check the baby inside.

“Where are you all going?” Darby asked with a cigarette between his lips as he heavy-handedly poured himself his third drink. “You want some more?” Darby held the bottle toward Bill.

“Wedding stuff, honey!” Jennifer said, kissing his cheek.

“Oh, alright. Wait a second,” he plucked his cig’ from his lips. “What happened to Greg? Ulyssa, you know?”

“Eh, I don’t know.” She sheepishly shrugged. “He was set on Rooster, and then...”

“What the hell?” Darby sneered disapprovingly as he shook his head. “I hate when he does that shit. Like, if you don’t want to come, just say so. I wouldn’t have cared. It’s more rude to say yes.”

“Well, he didn’t come,” Alma shrugged before hooking arms with Ulyssa, who seemed uncomfortable. “Let’s not waste time talking about him.” The ladies all continued to walk into the house then.

“Anyway, more?” Darby asked, holding the bottle out again.

“Sure. Could I look at the bottle?” Bill asked, reaching for it.

“Go for it. It’s like aged in French oak barrels for… whatever many years it says on that.” He waved his hand.

Inside the house, Alma asked Ulyssa to follow her to the guest room. She had noticed her friend struggling, and while she did know there was a thing between Gregory and her, she didn’t know much of the details. Alma had been so busy with her stuff that they hadn’t hung out like they used to in a minute.

“Is everything cool with Gregory ‘Lyssa? I know he’s flakey, but he asked you to ride with him. Like, be a fuckin’ gentleman, you know?” Alma opened the door slowly and peered in. Echo was still mummy-wrapped in the middle of the bed, soundly asleep, even with the stereo on.

“We just hang out like we do. But yeah, he wants to be more, but I don’t know.” Ulyssa sighed. “I shouldn’t have entertained it because I think he feels like I’ve strung him along.”

They began their way to meet the other girls on the opposite side of the house. Jennifer needed advice on color-matching tablecloths and wanted to show off some dinner table centerpieces.

“Well, he can get over that.” Alma knew full well that Gregory was trying to play the long game with her friend. “If you want just to be friend–”

"Well, I have my boundaries, sure, but I don’t know. Maybe I should try?”

“Okay… but remember you’re in charge. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, you know.”

“Yeah,” Ulyssa nodded.

“We need to have a girl's day. Sometime after my final?”

Ulyssa smiled. “Mine are coming up too, so I’d like that.”

“Ulyssa!” Jennifer exclaimed when they walked in. “You’re good at this kind of stuff, right?” She asked, holding shades of pink fabric swatches.

Outside, under the pergola, the men had turned on the propane fire pit and enjoyed watching the flames lick at the pebbled lava rocks. In some way or another, the topic of women’s breasts came up.

“You two were way in the back, okay?” Matt said, crushing another beer and replenishing himself with another. “I was in the pit! I saw them get flashed. I saw two pairs from where I was.” He said holding two digits up for emphasis.

“Even if I saw, I’d have to pretend I didn’t anyway. Jenny was next to me the whole gig.” Darby laughed.

Bill found this conversation rather amusing as he sipped on his drink. “Were they nice?” He asked just to participate.

“They’re all nice, man!” Matt enthusiastically said, which made Bill laugh. “Hey, when was the first time you two ever saw a pair? Like in the flesh, not like in your dad’s nudie stash.”

“You go first,” Darby said, running his hand through his slicked hair as he leaned back in his chair.

“Alright,” Matt said, taking a sip from his beer. “It was the summer before high school at the public pool. I went almost every day, and there was a girl there with some nice ones.” He raised cupped hands toward his chest. “She was like going on to be a senior. Her name was Jenny, actually.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Darby kicked towards him.

“Hey, I’m not trying to be funny! The name's beside the point.”

“Then why even mention it?”

Bill smirked at their little tiff, but he liked that Darby took up for his partner in the same fashion he would for his. Maybe not to the extreme end of that but it was admirable.

“You’re right.” Matt put his hands up in surrender, tilting his head. “I apologize. I apologize. I’m not trying to be a disrespectful fuck.” He digressed. “But yeah, one day she jumped off the high diving board, and she resurfaced bare-chested. Her top was on the other side of the pool, and while I feel sorry about what happened, I’m very grateful I didn’t leave early that day. It changed me.” The men began laughing as he reminisced. “Okay, you, Darby.”

“Eh… well, the first pair I’ve seen was actually my mother's, unfortunately.”

“Fuck!” Bill laughed.

“NO!” Matt cracked up. “Like breastfeeding you, what the hell do you mean?”

“No, man,” Darby shook his head regretfully as he looked at his glass of scotch, realizing it was why he accidentally revealed that. “She used to sunbathe topless like all the time by our pool growing up.”

“And what?” Matt said. “They nice?”

“Ugh. They’re,” Darby grimaced with disgust. “Dude. Anyway, after that. It was some girl from my English Lit class. Dawn was her name. I invited her to a frat party, and one thing led to another, and then yeah.” He shrugged. “Those were nice. But I like them bigger, so.”

“I guess it’s my turn then?” Bill finished his drink and asked Matt for a beer before starting. “Alright,” he said, sitting up a bit. “I was 14, almost 15,” he said with one eye closed as he recalled. “Yeah. My middle brother had this girl, Charlene, in our house for that summer. His girlfriend, I guess, but she was some hippie hitchhiker who he picked up, and then she just stayed a while.”

“Until the next ride,” Darby said, taking a sip.

“Yeah, exactly,” Bill chuckled. “So one night I had my bedroom door opened, just laying there reading a comic and she was in the shower. Then she just passed by the door with only a towel wrapped in her hair. Just completely naked.” He slid his hand down the length of his torso as he explained. “She did it quite a few times.”

“So you saw tits and muff all at once?” Matt said. “Hairy?”

“Well, yeah,” Bill shrugged. “And she didn’t shave anything. She even kind of had a little bit of a happy trail, but you know, I actually didn’t mind that so much?” He playfully raised his brows with a crooked smirk on his face.

“Hmm,” Matt puffed his lip out as he nodded, thinking about how that could look nice. “It’s different, but good different, I guess.”

“Sure.” Bill nodded, taking a sip of his beer.

Inside, the girls were having a conversation of their own about the band now that they could enthusiastically speak and gossip without the men rolling their eyes at them.

“But didn’t you hear the lyrics he sang at the end of Declared?” Ash said, rifling through a sample stack of differently weighted cardstock. “Something like, ‘Honey, I’d never leave you, but you’re not the girl you said you’d be’?”

“And then he went, ‘But I declared myself to you, but I can’t change to what you want me’,” Ulyssa said, recalling the next part of the added lyrics.

“Yeah!” Ash said. “You know, I’ve read in the magazines about him and his wife like they’re not doing so good.”

“Mhmm,” Jennifer said. “He has a dope problem that she doesn’t like. Then he made that whole display, kissing Alma’s hand as if to say–”

“Okay, wait.” Alma scoffed. The thought of being used as some symbol to make a point was not only anxiety-inducing but also seemed ridiculous. “He’s a rockstar girls,” she nervously laughed. “I’ll admit it with you all but sure he was flirting with me but that’s nothing. He sees all sorts of other girls on the road!”

“True!” Ash said. “He probably got caught cheating, and he’s just being the asshole by acting like it was his model wife who did something instead!”

“See,” Alma said because that made a lot more sense.

“Men can be very over-emotional when in the wrong. And yeah, he is a rockstar,” Jennifer agreed.

“Fuck, can you imagine dating a guy in a band and he writes a love song that is now obvious bullshit but it’s a damn radio hit?” Ash proposed the thought.

“And like a love song that he just shits on, on top of that,” Ulyssa said.

“I would kick his ass!” Alma said sharply at the hypothetical question.

“I would drain his bank account and then kick his ass!” Ash said, which made all the ladies laugh.

Outside, the men were talking about workouts that focused on specific arm muscles before Matt excused himself to use the bathroom inside, leaving Bill and Darby. The topic of his upcoming wedding came up in how he spoke about trying to get a bit more fit for it. Bill could tell it was a daunting subject. He looked visibly nervous. Instead, Bill asked about his bachelor party plans.

“Oh, nothing major,” he said, finishing off his scotch and refilling it. In turn, he offered more to Bill, which he accepted. “Um, I’m having dinner with a few frat buddies and my siblings at a nice steakhouse. They want to golf before that. And eh, I’m not so good at that, but it’s something,” he lightly shrugged. "But, uh, I’m not 100 percent certain, but my fraternity brothers probably have some bullshit under their sleeve.”

“What do they get into?” He asked to take a sip of his drink.

“Well,” he hushed, and his eyes darted towards the back door briefly, making sure his fiancee wasn’t near. “I’ve been to their bachelor parties, and the night always ends at the strip club.”

“Right!” Bill smirked.

“Yeah, I don’t imagine it would be any different. But Jenny doesn’t know so.”

“Would she be mad?”

“You know… not really, I don’t think? But I’ve gone behind her back, and that is the part I think she’d be mad about when I should have just been up front.”

“Mhmm,” Bill nodded. He’s witnessed displeased wives and girlfriends yanking their significant others out of his club in a furious huff more times than he could count. “Yeah, that’s tricky.”

Bill then turned the conversation around and brought up Darby’s Chevy truck when suddenly the music changed to hip-hop. Matt and Ash's elation could be heard when the beat started as they were the culprits. Darby didn’t mind. After all, it was his collection. He spoke a bit about his truck and the work that went into it, even admitting he wasn’t very handy in that department, so he had some help. It made him feel better when Bill explained that he just bought his cars restored and lamented at the fact that he didn’t have a garage to work on them even if he wanted to.

“I used to have an Impala, but I traded that off for a ‘68 Thunderbird,” Bill said.

“That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, I like it. It’s all black, pretty sick. But I guess if I get another car to drive around here, it’d have to be like an SUV or something.” He scratched his ear and then got up to grab a beer after finishing his drink. He was starting to feel the liquor getting to him, and he needed to slow down.

“Right, right.” Darby nodded, understanding he would need room like that when having a kid. “Is the Thunderbird your dream car? The Chevy is mine.”

Bill quickly passed him a beer as well before sitting down and opening his. “No,” he smirked. “I’ve always wanted a Mustang.”

“What year?”

“A ‘65 Fastback Coupe,” Alma said, overhearing their conversation as she approached. Bill turned and smiled, scooting a bit so that she could comfortably sit next to him after grabbing a beer. “He’s wanted one forever, and I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten it.”

“He’s just keepin’ the dream alive!” Darby chuckled. “What, uh, is Jenny talking about in there?” He curiously asked in a hushed tone.

“She just wanted some opinions on things.” She assured holding her beer over to Bill for him to pull the tab open for her. “The wedding is going to look really pretty, I can tell.”

"Ah, thanks,” he said appreciatively, even if he anxiously scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t worried about Jennifer but more so her father. Especially, when his younger sister told him a story about a father offering the bride a payout if she pulled out of the marriage. Though Jennifer would never take such an offer he wouldn’t doubt his father-in-law at least trying to attempt it.

Ulyssa exited the house and joined those under the pergola. When she was informing the parents that she had checked on their child the music tracks were switched around. It was a rather vulgar and explicit rap song, and Darby felt some embarrassment.

“I should make them change that since your kid is here.”

“She’s asleep.” Bill dismissively waved his hand as he blew cigarette smoke above his head. “I hear this stuff at the gym I was telling you about. They’re all young guys there.”

“Do you still see Simi?” Ulyssa asked after lighting up a cigarette.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He nodded. “He’s been working out at someone's private gym lately, but he still comes by. Um, I was going to say, though, at the gym. My business partner’s son comes with me some days out of the week.”

“He’s fourteen, by the way,” Alma chuckled.

“Yeah, so my business partner heard him listening to rap tracks like this at their house, and she took the tapes away from him. Which is funny because be– Well.” He tripped over his words, realizing he couldn’t finish the story like he wanted to. “Uhm…” his brows pulled together and his lips pursed in thought.

“Just tell him,” Alma encouraged as she wrapped her fingers around his hand which had been resting on her thigh. She knew the story and found it funny herself.

“Yeah?” He turned to her to make sure she meant that. She noticed his eyes were heavy from the drinks. It was rather early in the morning, and now she realized why he wasn’t concerned. His excessive chatting was also a tell of his. “Well, the bar I own has dancers. It’s a gentleman's club, really.”

Darby bit his lip and crossed his arms in thought until an incredulous grin started to spread across his face as it seemed something clicked in his mind. “No shit? You were trying to tell me at The Rooster…” he said, snapping his fingers and recalling their conversation then. “Fuck, it went right over my head!” He laughed.

“You were throwing him bread crumbs?” Alma leaned forward and turned to look at Bill directly with slight disapproval.

He just shrugged, looking amused, and now she wondered what exactly the men had been talking about when she wasn’t around.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, as I was trying to say, a dancer had played 2 Live Crew, and my business partner got so annoyed after having to confiscate her son's tapes,” he laughed. “But it’s funny because she also used to dance to some, maybe more mildly suggestive shit–Hardly. Anyway, she got over it because she noticed that the old white business fuckers were throwing so much damn money whenever the real dirty rap tracks played.”

“That’s not the demo’ for that kind of music at all!” Darby laughed.

Bill laughed. “Exactly! It’s quite funny to see them all up from their seats, throwing cash to the point where I can’t even see the dancer on stage anymore. It’s like they almost forget why they’re even doing it.” They were all laughing at the thought.

"Ulyssa, you knew this? When you were in New York, did you go?” Darby asked through the last of his laughter.

“I did,” she giggled, having been in on the secret. “I even threw some dollars.”

“Really?” He playfully raised a brow. “Oh damn.” He sighed. “Alma would always say you were a businessman, you know? But when we played pool, I noticed your Rolex and your pinky ring, and this is stupid now–I know–but I thought you were like a drug dealer.”

Alma nearly choked on her beer before she let out a loud guffaw. Maybe too loud, but Bill couldn’t help but laugh as the others joined them, oblivious to how close they were to the truth.

Darby poured Bill another drink, and they spoke a bit more until Ash, Matt, and his fiancee Jenny came back. Matt was eating a slice of pizza that had been reheated inside. Both he and Ash drove together, and while inside, they both decided to head to The Rooster before it closed.

“It’s probably time for us too,” Alma said, looking at Bill's nearly empty glass. “I’ll drive.”

Bill cleared his throat to protest until he tried to get up from his seat, and his balance faltered as he felt the effects of the scotch pulling him back down on the cushion. Instead, he just nodded and blinked, trying to focus his vision.

Ulyssa, Alma, and the baby were waiting in the Jeep with the engine running while Bill and Darby’s conversation extended to the front porch. Alma reached over to the passenger seat and rolled the window down to have a clearer view of the men. They were there, laughing loudly about something.

“I’ll give you my number,” Bill said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Darby watched him open it and not only notice it was full of cash but there was an old photo of Alma also in it. She was younger, early 20s, with teased, box-dye black hair looking over her shoulder and a bright smile on her face. “Uh, do you have a pen?” Bill asked, plucking out a matte black business card from his wallet.

Quickly, Darby snatched up a stray pen from a tiny side table in the foyer, and Bill took it, flipping his card around as he pressed it flat against the door frame and wrote his home number on the back. The shiny black ink from the pen contrasted against the sheenless paper. He passed it over to Darby along with the pen. When he flipped it over to the other side, in glossy pink print was Trigger Finger XXX in cursive, and then just below in smaller, clean print was his name and business number.

Finally, Bill got into the Jeep after giving Darby some kind of bro-handshake. Alma bit her lip to keep from laughing at him a bit. He was trying hard to conceal his intoxication as he walked rather cautiously to the car. He slumped in the passenger seat, took a deep breath, and heavily exhaled.

“I love you,” he said, grabbing her hand to kiss the back of it. Though even as drunk as he was he paused realizing it was the hand and just before his lip pressed the same spot the famous rockstar had down he flipped it over and kissed inside her palm.

“Really,” Alma giggled. “No, kiss me right,” she whined, flipping her hand over, nudging it towards his lips.

Instead, he jerked her by the hand toward him and and with his other he held the side of her face to kiss her deeply on the lips. Ulyssa just looked out her window while they shared a moment. It was kind of odd to see Bill like this when he had always seemed more reserved. Despite sharing a joint a month ago he was just more laid back and to himself then too. Even if she had heard them having sex, this was different. Alma heard Ulyssa yawn rather loudly and softly pulled away from him especially as he began to drag her hand towards his crotch.

“I love you too,” she gently pushed him away even if he tried to kiss her again.

She switched the gear to drive and when she looked over he looked a little pouty and displeased just like a child when tell them no but he left her alone. It had been a long day and long night but she was glad that he and Darby got along, but she also figured they would if they ever got to know each other better. She found Darby to have values similar to those of her boyfriend, and in some ways, he was easy to work with because of it.

…

Bill woke up the next morning in bed quite groggy. His daughter woke him up, playing loudly with a ring-stacking toy. Clanking the plastic rings against a hot wheels car he had bought her while she sat in just a diaper and socks between Alma’s legs. Her damp hair was in a clip and was reading a romance novel unbothered by the noise, having learned to tune it out by now.

He sat up, causing the blanket over him to slip down his bare torso, which he quickly pulled up again so that his child wouldn’t see the ugly yellow and green fading bruise on his side. Alma rested her book on her lap and smiled at him.

“Did… I embarrass you last night?” His voice was still coarse with sleep.

Alma’s brows furrowed. “You don’t remember anything? You were drunk, but I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“Just asking.” He said carefully, sneaking a hand under her oversized band shirt to touch her bare back.

“Well no. Should I be?” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “I wasn’t there when you boys were talking.”

“Ah, just stupid guy talk,” he smirked, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “I gave Darby my business card.” He said it as if he were recalling that he had done that.

“Yeah, I saw.” Alma lightly yawned.

“What time is it?” he asked as Echo began crawling to him, and he reached an arm for her. She laid her little body on his, hugging him before sitting up on his stomach.

“Almost eleven.”

Bill frowned a bit. While it was nice that he felt comfortable in Seattle that he could sleep in without a problem, he didn't like the hours of valuable day he’d miss because of it. Alma assured him that they would have time to execute their Sunday plans during the week, kissing him before he lazily got up for a shower. His stay in Seattle was extended because he had left New York City early.

“Do you remember coming home?” Alma asked him later when they had recharged a bit after lounging around in bed.

“Hm,” Bill scratched his temple while leaning against the headboard. “Sorta? Why?”

“You took the longest piss I ever heard in my life last night. I was laying here and then it stopped so I was about to turn the lamp off but then you started again.” She laughed.

“I only pissed once there. By a bush outside with Darby.”

“With him?” Bill just puffed his lip out and shrugged. “Well…” she looked over at Echo who was too busy eating cheese puffs and playing on the carpeted floor beside the bed now. “Do you remember this?” She said, pulling the neckline of her shirt down to show her chest.

Bill’s brows raised when he saw a smattering of hickies on her skin.

“Yeah,” she said, letting go of the collar.

“Did we?”

“No. You fell asleep sucking on my tit,” she shook her head amused.

Bill rubbed his forehead a bit bashfully with a dimpled smirk on his face. “Well… it does relax me.” He said leaning forward nuzzling the side of his face into her bosom making her giggle.

…

In the middle of the week, they finally bought Echo a toddler bed. The crib sat by the curb for less than an hour before someone scooped it up. Bill built the bed while Alma studied over the pretest she took. That day back in class, she slumped in her seat when she received the test back facing down and was confronted with a C-minus when she flipped it over. It was the worst grade she’d ever gotten in her life. Even Bill asked if she received the right test back when he saw it, despite her name being written at the top.

She chalked it up to being very busy and anxious while arranging the show because many of the mistakes she noticed during the class review was her rushing through and not bothering to check her work. Luckily, she could study from it for her final next week, and that’s all that mattered to pass now.

Echo had trouble adjusting to her toddler bed. Even with their adult-sized legs hanging off the edge, her parents tried to show and tell her how comfy it was. They even encouraged her, saying how she was in a big girl's bed now, but still, she looked at them with apprehension. After several nights of them having to put her back in bed when she’d wake up and cry at the side of their bed, Alma bribed her with a visit to the children’s storytime if she slept through the night by herself. They were going anyway, but it worked. However, Echo made sure to wake up really early, and instead of putting her back in bed, they allowed her to sleep in theirs so that they could all go back to sleep to wake up at a more appropriate time.

They went to the library and dropped off their daughter in the children’s area, where she squirmed out of her father's hold to scurry over to the other similar-aged children who were all playing on a large apple-shaped rug. They walked away when they felt she was in the safety of the librarians there, until Alma was stopped by a young mother. She was pregnant, holding a child less than a year old in her arms. Bill, wearing his sunglasses inside, politely acknowledged her and kept walking towards the technology center, hoping to find an unoccupied computer.

“Oh, um, I just wanted to give you this.” The lady was named Liz, and her son Austin was similar in age to Echo. She was fairly young at 23 but was one of the mothers at the children’s story time that she bothered to speak to because she wasn’t judgemental like the others.

Alma offered to hold her daughter, Aubrey, because she was struggling to hold her, and her pregnant belly kept pushing the baby bag on her arm from her grasp while she tried to dig through it. Holding the small baby gave Alma another wave of woe over the fact that Echo wasn’t this little anymore. The whole ordeal with the toddler bed saddened both her and Bill, even though they tried to be positive about it for their child's sake.

“Thanks,” Liz said, pulling out a honey-colored envelope from the bag. She took the opportunity of having free hands to gather and twist her dishwater blonde hair into a clip before taking her daughter back in her arms. “It’s a birthday party invite for Austin. It’s next month.

“Oh, thanks for inviting her. I think she’ll enjoy that.” Alma lifted the card from the envelope, saw that it was Winnie the Pooh-themed, and smiled.

“We’d like to have her. We’re renting a bouncy house, and we’ll have a piñata. You know shit kids like,” Liz lightly laughed. “Um, was that Echo’s dad? He can come too. My husband is inviting his buddies to drink beer in the garage if he likes to do that?”

Alma looked at the card again to check the date on it. “Well, I think he’s going to be out of town for work that day. So…”

“No biggie. As long as you and Echo go,” she smiled.

Alma was sidetracked when she left Liz behind and found herself with two new romance novels to read before she joined Bill in a less populated area of the library. He was at one of the only two computers the library possessed. He looked around them to see if there was a spare chair around for Alma to sit next to him, but there weren’t any, so she just sat in his lap instead.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking up the envelope that sat on top of the books she laid by the computer in front of them.

“Echo’s first party,” she lightly laughed.

“Technically, her first party was Darby’s last weekend. She was even one of the last to leave.”

“Yeah, 'cause she crashed out first too. And what is this?” she asked, pointing at the screen in front of them.

“My inbox.”

She looked and noticed he had several correspondences with Lewis, almost a bizarre amount, as if they were pen pals. She reached for the mouse and clicked a random one with the subject line titled An interesting article. Skimming the email, the subject matter revolved around an article he had read about some new technologies in regard to music mastering.

“What the hell?”

“He just sends me random emails sometimes. He’s just bored, I guess.” She could feel him shrug behind her. “Anyway, he hasn’t emailed anything about the shop.” Alma looked back at him with concern, but he just puffed his bottom lip out and shrugged again, unbothered. “I’m not worried. Let me log off, so you can make yourself an email too.”

He reached around her for the mouse and signed out to help her create an email, and before his allotted time with the computer was up, he decided to check his email one more time. Alma leaned to the side so that he could quickly log back in. There in the inbox was indeed a new email from Lewis. He clicked the email with the subject line, Ready for the next step. As the email loaded, they would read each line of text on the email as they appeared. With the context of the emails, contents were leading up to exactly what they thought once it had loaded on the screen, and Alma gasped loudly.

“Finally,” Bill said behind her. “I was about to throw in some money in cash to sweeten the deal, but now I don’t.”

“This is crazy,” Alma said, turning to look at him.

“Yeah,” he smirked, looking satisfied with himself. “You doubted me?”

Alma bit her lip and turned away for a second. “No… I just didn’t want to–”

“Get your hopes up.” He finished, to which she just nodded. “Well, it’s happening, so…”

“You’re so sure?” She said getting off his lap.

“Not all the time. But money is an easy language. Anyway, could you kiss me now?”

She gave him an incredulous smile before leaning down to kiss him. It felt surreal that this new chapter in their lives was beginning to unfold. That when they drove by houses in Seattle talking about what they liked or didn’t like about them as they dreamed up their future home didn’t feel in vain now. A future where they were finally together, away from their sins.

While they could dream with more certainty now there were still a few more things to attend to.

#my bill writings #avenue of sins #aos neon #aos #bill skarsgard

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b-afterhours · 2 months

Text

The Finer Things

Psycho - Part 8

Characters: Vincent De Garmont, The Marquis, From John Wick 4.

Setting: This story is set in my own universe, so not exactly the John Wick universe.

Warnings: 18+, SO MANY. Sex, abuse, violence and murder.

Ines sat in the big hotel bed under the covers in a black slip. It was Vincent’s room, or now it was theirs. They shared a room now, more or less. He didn't let her move all her things there because he thought it became too cluttered. He didn't want her make up close to the bathroom and had been really clear with that after he had gotten her powder on his white suit pants.

She looked around the tidy room and listened to the faint sound of Vincent brushing his teeth in the bathroom. She had gotten some new information about him that she couldn't stop thinking about.

Boyfriend. Vincent has had a boyfriend. Of course she had thought about what sort of partners the Marquis could have had before her, she had even wondered if he had experience with men but that thought hadn't come up while they had been more intimate with each other. She just saw him as her guy then and the thought that he would have chosen the company of another man before he met her had been erased.

The door to the bathroom opened slowly and the tall man came out, dragging his hands through his unstyled hair. She knew he got stressed by feeling hair in his face and when he didn't have any products in it he showed his annoyance by his soft hair openly. He was dressed in a baby blue satin pajama set with his cursive initials on the breast pocket. It was so shiny it snatched all the lightning from the room. Ines looked at him from top to toe and smiled to herself with mixed emotions. Yeah, the Marquis had had a boyfriend.

He crawled down next to her and did the last of his nightly routine. He put on a black eye cover on his head, moisturized his lips, and then his hands. No wonder he was as soft as a baby. He took care of every part of himself with the best French products.

Ines looked at the sleep mask. It had become a signal for her: no sex tonight. She had a much bigger need for it than Vincent, and she suspected the only real satisfaction he could get was from seeing a life fade away in his hands. But the mask also meant they could talk; if he hadn't a book in his hand, it was okay.

“So you're bisexual? Or Pan?” She asked curiously with an expecting expression. It was probably the most private question she had asked The Marquis.

He looked at his hand while giving his cuticles some extra moisturizing.

“You Americans...” he said with a downgrading tone. Ines looked at him tiredly.

“You're also American!”

“Not in my heart,” He said it like it was an obvious fact.

“Yeah, yeah. Continue.”

“With what?” He looked up at her with a bored expression.

“Are you bi?”

Vincent clicked his tongue and laid down in bed on his back, while Ines sat up more instead, against the headboard.

“I don't see it like that. I am with the person I want to be with.”

“So you're pan?”

“What the fuck is pan? A frying pan? Peter Pan?”

“Ha ha ha.” Ines faked a laugh but smiled when Vincent gave her a dimpled one.

“I just think it's unnecessary to throw around words. Why does it matter? Do you want a word so you can judge me?”

“Noo…” Ines felt stupid about her conservative thinking, especially because she in one way wanted to judge him. She wanted to be able to put a label on him.

“Can we stop talking about this now? It's such a boring subject. I've been invited to the opening of Dior’s boutique this weekend. That's a better subject.”

Ines looked at him unpleased and crossed her arms.

“You don't need to come with me,” he said irritatedly, pulling down the eye mask.

“Must you be like this? Why can't you just share things with me?”

Ines sounded irritated for real now, and it made Vincent pull up the mask again.

“I do! I just said you can come with me to fucking Dior!”

“I don't want Dior! I want to know shit about you! I know you know my whole fucked up story while you don't tell me shit!”

Vincent sat up and pulled on his pajama shirt, which twisted around his body.

“Your “fucked up story” is just bullshit! It was just child play! I will not share my story with someone who can't even handle their own bullshit story.”

In his upset state, Vincent lost his accent again, but also that elegance that otherwise lay over him like the thinnest chiffon.

“You maybe let your fucking junkie mom die in front of your eyes, but I broke every fucking bone in my trashy parents bodies with a hammer! And that's fucking soft for me!”

Ines turned to him in shock. She furrowed her brows. She looked upset, but Vincent looked at her with a killer look. She knew he would kill her then and there if she said the wrong thing. The thought of that was so hot. She wondered for a second how he would do it. Strangle her? It felt like the easiest way, but something told her that was too boring for him. It was more believable that he would bite her and drink her blood.

Ines squirmed and Vincent looked at her pressing her legs together. His angry look changed slowly to a mocking one.

"Filthy girl,” he said lowly and sat up on his elbow.

“Shut up,” she said but with an amused smirk. Vincent laughed and sat up more and lifted the cover to look at her panties.

“You're such a psycho. Who gets wet from such a story?”

“I said shut up!” She whined but with a laugh and pulled up the cover. Vincent smirked and shook his head. Ines looked at his handsome face and thought about jumping him, begging for his cock but she had a question she needed an answer to.

“What happened after you killed your parents? Did the police understand it was you?”

Vincent laughed and laid down again with his hands behind his head.

“Of course not. Do you know how cute I was? I was fourteen with angel eyes and the cleanest record. High grades, liked and good mannered. Appearance is everything.”

Ines looked at his proud smile and thought about how he was now. Appearance was still everything to him and he had slowly taught her the same thing. Her Dr. Dre t-shirt and leggings with holes was probably not the best look to have to be trusted.

“Why are you so sexy?” The word just jumped out her mouth. She couldn't control her horniness any longer. She laid her chin on his chest and looked up at him.

“Because I'm everything other men wished they were.”

Ines laughed and kissed him. He was probably right, she didn't care really, she just wanted his cock.

She unbuttoned his pajama shirt and looked at his broad chest and his biceps. His body contrasted beautifully with the soft shirt and even that was turning her on. Appearance was everything but under it was a sexy, wild man.

They kissed again over and over, Ines straddling his hips, grinding against his erection. She was so turned on but even when The Marquis moved her panties to the side to touch her sensually she couldn't stop thinking about one question. She pulled away from him a little which made Vincent look at her confused.

“Did you take or give?”

Vincent didn't understand at all and looked even more confused.

“I guess you slept with your ex. Did he fuck you in the ass?”

Ines furrowed her brows when she saw how offended Vincent got. She just wondered. Or maybe it would be a little hot if he had?

“Did you just ask me if I…” he looked at her still as offended.

“What? It's not a big deal. I've had anal sex too. It wasn't pleasant but that's another story.”

Vincent pushed her away from his lap and shook his head in disbelief.

“I guess that means you didn't? You seem offended…” Ines felt nervous now, it felt like she had maybe said something stupid. Vincent stood up from the bed, still without a shirt. He didn't say anything, instead he walked out of the room slowly. Ines looked after him with pain in her stomach. She hadn't expected that it would be so sensitive. To her surprise he came into the room again, but with a glass of an amber colored spirit.

“You know that you're the most annoying girl ever, right?” he said and sat down in bed again.

“Yeah?” She answered and smiled nervously. He looked at her while taking a sip of his drink.

“If I tell you… My story, will something between us change then? Is it something you can't handle to hear?” He looked at her with big eyes and when Ines looked closely she could see there was worry in them. He really had some sort of feelings for her.

“Maybe rape?” She said honestly. He showed himself vulnerable so she had no reason to lie.

“I have never done such a thing. I promise,” he said sincerely while looking into her eyes. “The only woman I have hurt is my mom but she was worth it.”

Ines laughed low and crawled closer to his side. Vincent laid his arm around her shoulders and took a deep breath before he started to talk.

×××

Vincent didn't understand at all why his parents left France. They moved to his relatives in New Orleans, his poor, trashy relatives. He looked at them with distaste, even if he was just eleven years old, and looked down at them like they were vermin in his life. In France, his life had been totally different; his mother came from a noble family, and he learned at four years of age to eat escargot, with pincers and all. His grandparents thought it was amazing but also a bit funny that he showed more class than both their kids—his mother and uncle. He was a natural. Early in his life, he stopped playing games like normal kids and instead focused on what he noticed his grandparents seemed to think was important: culture, food, politics, history, and how they looked. He was born to live like the rich, but his parents had other plans.

Vincent hadn't thought about who would inherit after his grandparents and had a naive belief that he would be able to continue his luxury life. There was nothing else for him. Money and luxury were the grounds he was standing on. The day both his grandparents had died, the family realized there was just one person who would inherit everything: Vincent's uncle. He was older than his mom, was a man, and had more class. His mother had chosen a man from a simple background, a dentist without his own practice. Vincent was ashamed of his father, the peasant, even if he hadn't been alive without him. He wished his mother could find someone else, but she chose to stay with him and rip away everything that was important for the eleven-year-old Vincent: money, good food, and pricey wine. They destroyed his life and moved to his father's home country. USA. The land of tastelessness and hydrogenated fat. He was sure he wouldn't survive.

His parents became middle-class and believed they could spoil him with soda and chips. They seem to believe the American lifestyle would fit an eleven-year-old boy better, but Vincent looked at everything with distaste. His family, relatives, and everything around him. He dreamed about champagne and oysters. He wished for hand-tailored suits and cufflinks in platinum.

Even if he felt like a prince lost in a garbage dump, he succeeded in charming most people around him. He knew he had the looks for it, the manners, but also the intelligence. It was known in the area that he was an unusually smart boy, an unusually well-mannered boy. He was the golden boy, so golden neighbors bragged about him, even if they just met him once or twice. Females were especially weak for him, and even he thought it was weird how grown women wanted to be around him, a thirteen-year-old boy. It was also how he got money. They gave him money just to listen to their problems. They gave him liquor to make him stay longer. He thought it went well for him until he noticed a group of people who would give him even more money: men in “not so functional straight relationships." He knew it was strange, and many would have looked at him as a victim, but he never saw himself as a victim. He was not the type.

He probably earned more money as a boy courtesan than his mother did as a social worker, and he spent it all on himself. It was the day his father came home in anger after hearing a rumor about his son selling his body to rich men Vincent killed both of his parents. He hadn't planned it, but seeing his father throw out his Louis Vuitton bags on the floor, spilling out his YSL perfumes, and digging in his jewelry box, he had enough. They were so disrespectful and also so below him that he needed to get rid of them. So why not do it in a fun way? That night, he snuck into their room, tied them to the bed, gagged them, and gave them a hammer hit for everything they had taken from him. Bourgogne wines, seafood, belts in real leather, a good hairdresser, watching polo... The list was long, so their bodies looked more like minced meat when he was done. He looked at his craft in excitement. It felt like a great accomplishment, maybe even an artwork. He wished he could take a picture of it and show people, but he knew no one would understand. People around him were way too unintelligent to understand it.

×××

Vincent had pulled her up in his lap and held her face and kissed her deeply. He made a sound of pleasure and kissed her again.

“But you understand, right? It looked like a blood red butterfly, a meaty, powerful butterfly. And it was what they were. Finally they were there they should be, you know? Their kill was the most beautiful thing in their lives,” he said with wonder in his voice. Ines giggled.

“You sound like a psycho!”

Vincent looked at her and licked his lips.

“Noo… I just know my art.”

Ines shook her head in amusement and kissed his lips again.

“But what happened after that?”

Vincent leaned back against the headboard and looked around dreamily.

“I went to one of the rich men and then I had my alibi. Not like he dared to say something else. He was fifty years old hanging around with a fourteen year old boy. Better they believed I was there as his literature student than telling the cops I was there getting drunk on cognac and showing off in his pool. Everyone was on my side anyway. I was the golden child.”

Ines dragged her hands through his hair. She wasn't surprised. He had that aura that made him feel like the most valuable thing, person in the room.

“And then?” She asked.

×××

Everyone felt sorry for him. He was an orphan. Several people offered to help him and open their homes for him, but Vincent knew where he wanted to be. He wanted to go back to France. He had his uncle there. Social service thought he should live with his father's cousin, but Vincent handled that situation with crocodile tears and an accusation of abuse. He got what he wanted, what he had planned, and moved in with his uncle and his family in their castle. They still had his grandparents estate, but the family didn't want to live with the elderly couple’s old things and bought a castle for the inherited money. Vincent loved it. All the big rooms, the light, but mostly the soft rugs that were in every room. He could spend a whole day just digging his toes into the rugs. He was happy there. He could live as he wanted again. He didn't need to dress up for pathetic old men but instead did it for the other young socialites. He met his first girlfriend that way, but then there was also the young man who would change his life. Mael. His father was a sponsor of several politicians, and when they got power, they paid him back from the state's treasury. Vincent admired the father, but it was the son who created lust in him.

×××

“But seriously, now, can't you just answer if you take or give?” Ines pleaded and dragged her fingers over his shoulders. She still sat over him. Vincent looked at her tiredly.

“It depends on the person,” he said, just to please her. Ines nodded a little.

“And Mael..?

“Both. Okay?”

Ines smiled in excitement and then giggled. She couldn't hold it in.

“Is it weird I think that's hot?”

Vincent now smirked at her pointedly.

“You're a filthy girl, so...”

She smiled teasingly, and he smiled back in a similar way. Both of them reached out to each other so their tongues could meet. Ines pulled away again in a flirty way, but continued her nosy questions.

“Is it Mael I will kill?”

“Mael died a long time ago... So no,” said Vincent, looking around in the room. It felt like he didn't want to look at her. She hadn't felt before when he talked that Mael was such a loaded subject, but now it felt like a minefield. They were quiet for a while, with Vincent dragging his hands over her thighs with a low gaze until he spoke again.

“Should I continue to tell you?”

Ines nodded eagerly.

×××

Vincent didn't get what he had wished for on his eighteenth birthday. He had hoped for a car or a trip, but instead his uncle said goodbye. He was grown up now and could leave their home. He knew his uncle didn't like him very much because he always made him look bad. He could talk about politics, history, and art in a relaxed and confident manner, while his uncle pretended to know. Vincent couldn't stop himself from correcting the older man and making the other socialites laugh at him. Vincent laughed too, like he was the man of the house making fun of the servant. His uncle wanted to get rid of him now, when he could. Finally, he could throw the boy out.

Vincent’s ground tumbled under his feet again, and suddenly he stood homeless and penniless on the street. Maybe he could have treated his uncle and family better, but he was never mean; he was just more sophisticated than them. That they sat on the money was a stupid mistake from his grandparents; it was he who could make their family name flourish and not buy a castle and let the family estate decay.

Lucky for Vincent, he had a rich boyfriend. Mael was kind, beautiful, and caring. A man to trust. He was the same age as himself, but instead of getting kicked out into homelessness, his parents gave him a luxury apartment in central Paris as an eighteenth birthday gift. An apartment big enough for them both. They didn't know if people understood they were a couple, but they didn't really care. No one said anything about it, and if people want to believe they lived together as two buddies, they could believe that. That they shared a bed and let each other in as close as possible was not anyone else's business.

Still, Vincent wasn't pleased. Mael took care of him in every way, but Vincent walked around in annoyance because of the emptiness in his chest. He needed more. He needed what his parents gave him. Their lives and blood. The only thing that could make him sleep was the image of the fleshy butterfly. Its beautiful scarlet color and the satisfaction it gave him. The feeling of pumping power into his veins.

Mael started to talk about his father's plan for him one day. He hadn't shared it before, probably because he was afraid of hurting Vincent, but their relationship had started to fade. He didn't seem to have such a big interest in closeness and seemed restless and trapped in his modern apartment.

Mael’s father wanted to send him away for some sort of education to become a soldier in a special group of the army. It was not only the fancier group but also the group with more interesting jobs. Guard the premiere minister, be a spy in Russia, or do secret operations in the Middle East. Mael had started to think about it, but he hadn't expected Vincent's eyes to become even bigger and rounder. Mael believed he saw a chance to get an important job that could connect him to the socialites again, but Vincent just felt the butterflies wet wings around him. The smell of metal and death.

×××

“Was it there that the thing with your back happened?” Ines asked softly and dragged her hands over his waist, back to his sensitive back. Vincent looked at her a bit surprised that she understood that.

“Yeah. I got the most physical jobs because… I was good at it while Mael…” Vincent looked down but nothing of his manners gave away sadness, he masked it so well. “He couldn't handle it. We were in Somalia, searching for someone together. The mayors saw us as best friends so they let us work together, but also because he was weak but also rich while I was strong.”

Vincent continued to talk neutrally about his young love and Ines couldn't really say if he was upset over his death or not. He even sounded a bit condescending when he called the young man weak.

“He got a panic attack while we talked with some guys and started to wave with his weapon and they started to shoot. That weak boy died at once while I survived but with my back all messed up and without a job. No one wants a soldier who can't run.” He looked at her with an empty gaze but she could see a sadness sweep by when he talked about his back. He seemed more upset over his back than Mael. His first love. Ines dragged her fingers through his soft hair and inspected his cold expression.

“Are you not sad? For Mael?”

Vincent looked around in the room but his expression was still unreadable. “I was. But now he's dead and I'm not. It was fun while it lasted.” He leaned back and took his glass with the amber colored drink and took a sip. He looked elegant and calm even if he was without a shirt and talked about the death of a loved one. She looked at him a bit worried. She wondered if he maybe lied to himself and hadn't gotten over Mael or if he maybe didn't know what real love was. It wouldn't surprise her.

“But-” she wanted to ask what happened when he once again stood outside of the social elite but his phone rang on the night stand and he took it in his big hand. He looked at the name for a few seconds and bit his lip then he answered in french. Ines, who still sat over him, could clearly hear the male voice from the phone.

“Bonsoir ma chérie, je te manque?”

#fic rec #marquis finally opening up!!!

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b-afterhours · 2 months

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what was the category?

jeopardy just said bill’s name in a question 🥰🥰

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b-afterhours · 2 months

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Love Just Happens

A New Chapter - Part 20

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, alcohol, drunkenness, ageism, cheating, gossip, bullying, pregnancy, miscarriage.

It would be a surprise. A big, wonderful surprise. A gift, mostly to themselves, but they hoped others would feel the same.

Aurora sat in the waiting room to meet her midwife. She couldn't stop herself from fantasizing about all the things she and Bill had talked about. Their lives would be even more amazing with one more baby. It would mean so much for Isadora's life. She looked at her belly, which was weirdly flat for being a pregnant belly in her eyes, and sometimes she got caught up in her emotions and made up a whole story in her head about the pregnancy test being old and showing a false result. She had cried over that thought and done test after test after test, and all were positive. Still, she didn't dare to believe it fully. Her midwife confirmed the test, and Aurora, high on happiness, called Bill while still sitting in the examining chair.

Bill was happy too, hearing the confirmation, but he had never been that worried either. He had believed the test because it said on the box that a positive test was always accurate.

She was in week twelve, and that surprised Bill. He hadn't really seen anything on her, while she had gotten a belly quite fast the last time. He had hoped that the doctor would help Aurora with her mood swings, but the only thing they could do was give her antidepressants, and he didn't like the sound of that. She wasn't depressed; she was just on a hormonal roller coaster. He hoped it would end soon because he didn't have much more to say when she worried about her looks, career, or him getting tired of her. He had said everything there was to say, and she still continued.

He felt bad that he kind of liked being alone in the apartment in Scotland, being able to watch movies and series with blood; the pregnancy made her nauseous by it, to use his shampoo that was great for strengthening his hair (preventing hair loss) without her complaining about the scent, or to get stuck on his phone without her saying he was annoyed at her. He was annoyed, but he couldn't say that because it was his seed that had made her like that. He had to suck it up, so suddenly being able to do whatever he wanted without tipping on his toes was liberating.

They had gone home to Sweden together, and the thought was to visit the doctor together, but Bill had been called back because of his role as a producer. Both of them were really disappointed, but both of them were also used to unforeseen things happening.

Bill had taken his time alone to get together with the rest of the team. Getting to know the director better, taking a relaxing after-work break with one of the producers he had worked with many times, and also getting together with the whole team when they had filmed the last scene. That Saturday, they would visit an old castle for a guided tour and then eat and drink in the castle’s restaurant. He knew Aurora wouldn’t have said anything about him doing those things if she was there, but it was nice to do it without having a bad conscience out of leaving her alone on the couch, not even being able to have a glass of wine.

×××

Bill didn't notice he and the producer had started to talk and laugh a bit too loud, taking over the whole dinner with their stories. The wine he had been drinking moved like waves in his head and made him both energetic and a bit nauseous. Maybe he was more easily affected because he hadn't been drinking for a few months.

He had spoken with Aurora again before meeting the gang, and he knew she would have a nice night with Sonny at home in their house. She sounded a bit nervous when he said the whole team would be there. She really tried to cover it up, so he didn't say anything about it. She tried, and he didn't want to fight. Her emotions were everywhere, and some jealousy was probably natural, he had realized.

The night got wet for him, with not just wine but also booze. His head spewed when he stood outside of the restaurant, puffing on one of the director's cigarettes. He had stolen the pack but hadn't understood, in his drunkenness, that it wasn't his, so they laid it in his jean pocket and gave him a familiar feeling.

Sheilo looked at him amused as she stood leaned against a bench’s backrest.

“Aren't you too old to be this drunk?”

Bill looked at her with a smirk and made a confident smoke ring.

“I'm not drunk.”

“Oh, sorry, tipsy?” She said it with a giggle and walked up to him, a bit too close. She was taller than his wife and took the cigarette between his lips easily and placed it between her own. He looked at her with heavy eyelids but just took up a new cigarette from the package and lit it.

Sheilo smiled teasingly before talking again.

“Sorry, you're not old. I just think it's weird you're like that old. But not old, if you get me?” Bill looked up at the star-lit sky and shivered. It was surprisingly cold for September. He listened just with one ear on her. It sounded like she wanted to give him a compliment but instead just got caught in the fact that he was much older than her. Aurora had never made a thing of his age like that; even if she were younger, it wasn't information that made her think about him differently.

“You're twenty years older than me; still, I can't notice that? You could easily be like 35. Or something.”

Bill smiled at her, mostly to make her shut up. He wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t still feel second-hand embarrassment. Sheilo smiled back and laughed softly. She looked at Bill's profile while he continued to smoke.

“Do you like younger women?” She asked. Bill cleared his throat. He started to see where this was going and that his wife had been right.

“Ehh… Not really?”

Sheilo made a sound of disbelief and smirked flirtily.

“Your wife is my age.”

“That just happened,” said Bill with a shoulder shrug. “That was not the thing I fell for.”

“That was a long time ago now; I guess she's not really the same woman you fell for? Mommy and all.”

He could hear his own voice in his head saying that he should leave, but the shame of not having listened to Aurora made him feel a need to talk.

“Aurora will always be amazing. And she has morals and class and would not do what you’re trying to do now.”

Sheilo looked at him, upset, and stepped away from him.

“What do you mean by that?”

Bill chewed his lip. He was drunk, and sometimes while being drunk, a colder, more ignorant side of him took over. He had probably never even shown that side to Aurora because there had never been a reason to come out with her.

"Oh, come on, I'm married. With five-, four kids. I will not say more than that.”

He knew what he could say, he knew where the line was. He had just made her think for herself.

Sheilo made a sound of offense but seemed to have gotten the hint. Both of them knew it wasn't good for their careers to fight. Bill, because he didn't know what she could say to the press, while she was afraid he would talk with his powerful friends. He was much more successful and seemed to become friends with everyone he worked with. She also knew that his wife looked and acted like a delicate flower but had more power than you’d believe by watching her.

Sheilo took a taxi back to her hotel. She regretted flirting with Bill. It could have been a successful thing if he had been interested. He was tall, handsome, and powerful, but he was also sweet in a way few men in Hollywood were. He had respect, connections, and was driven to do his own things. He would have been perfect. A girlfriend or wife had never stood in her way before; men would always be just men, but clearly she had underestimated Bill and Aurora’s marriage. They didn't fit, they had already broken up once, and now she had left him in Scotland just like that. But clearly, she had missed something when it came to Bill and Aurora’s marriage.

She was happy that there were just two weeks left of filming.

×××

Aurora was quiet, and it looked like she was thinking when he looked at her face on the iPad. Bill just waited for her to say something instead of stressing her out. He sat in bed, newly showered in boxers and a hoodie.

“But you're sure she flirted with you?” Said Aurora carefully. She had taken a pause from the standing lesson with Isis and let her watch a colorful series made for kids speech development. Isis sat and watched with her whole hand in her mouth, with her mom lying behind her on the floor. Bill gave Aurora an amused look. It was so typical of her to suddenly think the best of someone.

“Yes,” he just said, scratching his eyebrow. Aurora nodded.

“I just have to wrap this film up... But I want to have your approval to do that.”

Aurora looked at him with big brown eyes, and even if she didn't say anything, Bill had a bad conscience. He could also see that it was a totally different thing to film kissing scenes with a girl who had a real interest in him.

“Bill… That's mean…” She said that and looked away, hurt. He sat up a bit better in bed and looked closely at her. He didn't understand.

“I thought it was respectful to let you have a saying in this?”

“I get that, but whatever I say, it just gets weird. It's not like I want you to make out with her. I want to cut her tongue off. So if I say ‘okay’ it's just to be a good wife or pretend to be one. I get that ‘okay’ is the only right answer to this.”

Bill furrowed his brows.

“What? No, I would quit if you wanted that.”

Aurora looked at him, but then at Isis, who had started to make a high-pitched sound towards the TV.

“Okay. Do that then,” she said, without looking at him. Bill looked at her, shocked, but then he sighed because he could understand what she meant now. He actually believed she would give him approval when he showed he was prepared to leave the project. He was mean.

“I'm sorry,” he said regretfully with a sigh. Aurora just gave him a look and shrugged her shoulders. She didn't blame him; she understood he wanted to finish his work, but she didn't want to pretend she was okay with it either.

“I will just finish this. I will have as little contact with her as possible, and then I will come home, okay?”

He gave her a serious look with wide eyes. Aurora lifted the corner of her mouth.

“I do trust you, baby. It's just the hormones that make me crazy. And I know you will handle that situation perfectly. But I will fantasize about using your trimmer to shave her hair off.”

Aurora smiled sweetly, and Bill laughed at the face that didn't suit the words. He looked at her for a long time and listened to Isis happy sounds. He missed them so much. He wishes he could lay there on the floor with them, let Isis fly in his arms, and feel the softness of Aurora's body next to him. Fuck, he missed them.

×××

She didn't look at him. She had smiled and laughed at everyone for two days, but she didn't look at him anymore more than when they did their scenes. Bill didn't really care what Sheilo did, as long as they got the job done. She had never been so great of an actor, so it didn't matter that she had a look of irritation all the time while acting.

She stopped smiling towards everyone else the third day because the director had talked with her about her attitude. The director had told him that she said he had come on to her, but the director wasn't interested in her words. He didn't know Bill well, but Bill's morals shone through, as did his love and admiration for his wife. Since the director had ignored Sheilo's words, she walked around like an angry bee. Bill almost thought it was funny, but he also knew a conflict on set was never good. He thought about talking with her, especially when Aurora said it might be for the best. He even had her blessing in it. But he thought too long about how to do it because, with one week left of filming, Page Six posted an article about him. The interest in him had grown because of Aurora, and maybe especially now when they could create headlines about him and another young woman.

BILL SKARSGÅRD CHEATS ON AURORA LOU ON SET WITH YOUNG ACTRESS

They wrote about how Bill and Sheilo had an affair that led to a big conflict because Bill had just played around. How he had then succeeded in turning everyone against Sheilo. They even said Bill had shown this behavior before but didn't give any source to what they said.

Bill had comforted Aurora over a video call for hours, but he could understand her wild emotions. He felt it too, but instead it was like his brain couldn't cope with all the information, and a numbness spread over him. He knew he would get hate from both Aurora's fans and his own, but he didn't care about that. He could guess this wouldn't be a positive thing for his career, but he didn't care about that either. The only thing he cared about was his family and his wife. He wondered how this would affect them when everyone pictured him as a cheater, disrespectful to women, and a bully.

“I promise, I haven't said anything to the press. Okay, I'm mad. But I wouldn't do such a thing. I know such shit most often comes back to you,” said Sheilo while they sat with their managers, producers, and director. Bill just sat and played with his phone, thinking about his wife and daughters. He didn't care about Sheilo at all; he didn't know if he cared to know who it was who had talked to Page Six either. It didn't matter now anyway. It was too late.

Bill sighed and nodded a little. He just half way listened while they spoke about how to solve it to help him. All of them wanted his best and the project's best, even Sheilo, but he couldn't really see an easy solution, more than ignoring it and pretending like it didn't exist.

×××

Isis whined next to Aurora and Bill's oldest daughter. They were laying together in Gustaf's family's guest room, all of them on the bed. Isis lay in between them, and they tried to make her take her afternoon nap, but it had been hard this last week. They had moved in with Gustaf at once when the gossip had started and had isolated themselves, even if it wasn't good for any of them. Gustaf had taken Isis out, but he didn't succeed in taking Aurora out. She was just an empty shell, silent and lifeless, but he and his family could hear her cry when she talked with Bill. The heartbroken cries. Gustaf had tried to talk with her. This didn't need to be such a big thing. People would forget it soon. He tried to talk with Bill, but realized this was as hard for him. He had heard gossip about himself before, but nothing like this.

"Please, honey,” said Aurora tiredly to her daughter. She tried to make her calm down while she just sat up and whined. Bill's oldest daughter looked at their struggle but didn't say anything; she was afraid it would make Aurora even more upset.

Aurora succeeded in laying her baby down again and patting her back soothingly, but after just a couple minutes, Isis spit out the binky again and sat up. Aurora sat up too, with a deep sigh.

“I give up.”

Bill's oldest daughter looked at her with just as wide eyes as her father and swallowed hard.

“Aurora, how are you?” She hadn't really dared to ask her this simple question before. Aurora gave her a resigned look while holding a grip on Isis's pajamas so she wouldn't fall out of the bed.

“To be honest, I don't know. It's just… So sad. Your dad would never, ever cheat, but still, the whole world seems to believe that now. They don't even have a picture, a source, or anything. Still, everyone believes them.”

His daughter nodded. She knew her dad wouldn't cheat. It could have been just naive belief from a daughter, but she knew her father so well and how much he loved his wife. He would never cheat on her. He and Aurora were deeply in love.

“Maybe I’m making this into a bigger thing than it is; I don't know, but I know I can't even open an app without either seeing headlines or tweets or having so many messages about how I should leave your father and...”

She wiped away a tear and pulled Isis closer to herself again.

“I'm pregnant… And this was not the way I hoped everything would unfold.”

The teenager looked at her with shock. She didn't know how to react. She never believed they would have one more child, and now it would be in a moment where the world turned against them.

“Oh wow… One more baby?”

Aurora smiled through tears and shrugged her shoulders.

“We will see.”

It didn't feel like the right moment, even if she did want the child more than anything, but maybe it wasn't right to put one more child into this mess, or maybe her body would protest against it. She had already miscarried one time.

Bill's oldest gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course there will be another baby!” She said happily to cheer her up, and Aurora laughed a little, affected by the girl's positivism.

×××

People were used to Bill not being the loudest guy on set, but after the gossip had come out, Bill had been almost scarily quiet. The crew members who hadn't really spoken with him wondered if the gossip was true and if he would suddenly burst out in anger. Bill could absolutely be angry, even more shockingly mad than people thought, but it wouldn't happen there. He had no one to be angry at there, or he didn't know who, at least. It was probably someone there who had talked with Page Six, but he didn't know who.

When he sat alone, playing with his phone in his trailer, waiting for his next scene, there was a knock at the door. He gave the person outside the door a look through the window. It was Sheilo, dressed in a hoodie and leggings. He sighed a bit to himself and gave Aurora’s face on his home screen a final look before opening and walking out to Sheilo.

“Hey, eh, how are you?” She said it nervously. She looked younger and more nervous than she had done before, and Bill tangled up his crossed arms to seem less threatening. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the ground.

“I just… I'm really sorry. I haven't talked with Page Six,” she said nervously. Bill looked up at her and saw the tears stream down her cheeks. He nodded and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. More comfort than that, he couldn't give.

“I know. It would be stupid,” he said with an unamused laugh, and she gave one back between the tears.

“Yeah… It's awful how much shit people can write.”

Bill nodded. He wondered how much hate she had gotten. He knew the gossip was mostly about him, but she was a young woman accused of having an affair with a married man and father; she probably got more than him. He didn't look. He hadn't even opened a news app in days.

“Can we do something? Like, make a statement or something?” She asked and looked at him like he was the wise one. The problem was just that he had never had something like this written about him. He knew Aurora had such attention when she was together with Timmy, but together with Bill, she lived in their own little intimate, protected bubble. He smiled unsurely and scratched his neck.

“I don't know, actually. Ehh…”

Sheilo waited for him to say something more, but Bill didn't have more to say than that.

“But when you got together with Aurora Lou... People must have been writing then,” She said, questioning. Bill wagged his head from side to side.

“Sure. That we dated. And some said Aurora cheated on Timmy with me, but that disappeared fast. It was obvious they hadn't been a couple for many months, but it was just fans writing it. There is nothing like this. I think both me and Aurora want to just wait it out. It's just… It's just bad timing,” said Bill, thinking about their unborn baby and Aurora's hormonal state.

Sheilo nodded, even if she didn't know what he talked about.

“Can you think about, maybe, talking with Aurora about making a statement? I don't… I'm afraid this will really destroy my career.” She laid her hands over her face and cried, so her shoulders bobbed. Bill felt bad, even if he hadn't done anything, and for the fact that he couldn't comfort her. It would be weird for him to hug her at this moment, even if nothing had happened between them.

“Sure… I will say it to her."

Sheilo wiped away the tears from her cheeks harshly and smiled painfully.

“I'm sorry for... That night,” she said with a low voice, looking down on the ground.

Bill looked at her in silence for a few too many seconds, but it was just weird how much younger than Aurora she felt. She was three years younger than her, but still, their mannerisms were so different. It wasn't like Aurora didn't cry, but it felt so different from this. It felt like a schoolgirl standing in front of him. He would have never approached a girl like her; he would feel like a dirty uncle. He just nodded and gave her a strained smile as an answer to her apology. That night didn't really matter in the context.

With an awkward goodbye, she walked away, and Bill stood behind her, looking up at the sky. It was perfect blue—not a cloud in sight. He would film in thirty minutes even if he just wanted the sky to be black and he could sleep.

×××

He walked through all the people at Arlanda Airport. It wasn't often he felt ogled at in Stockholm, not even on Arlanda. Of course, he always got curious looks, sometimes a friendly word about what a great actor he was, but otherwise the shy Swedes let him be. It felt different that day. It felt really different, even if no one approached him this time either.

It felt like he could hear people whisper about him and feel their judging eyes on his skin. He had always been quite good at shutting such feelings off, even if he knew in reality that he was quite sensitive to negative attention to him as a person. Negative attention about his professional self could make him just want to do a better job but his private life should be private and not examined closely by unknown people.

He had gotten death threats from people who believed he had cheated on Aurora and wanted to stand up for her. He wondered if they would want to take it back if they knew everything was a lie or if this was just their chance to throw their bitter feelings at him. He guessed the latter.

He knew his managers didn't tell him everything and was glad he didn't need to know how much hate he actually got and how many wanted him gone from Aurora's life, one way or another. That they recommended him to have security in Sweden said a lot but he had refused. He didn't need that when he was alone and felt a buffy guy behind him would just stress him. He was stressed now anyway. He didn't believe anything would happen in Sweden, but he didn't want to relax too much.

Aurora knew her husband would finally come home that day, and she had gotten help from Sonny to move home again. He was still at home with her and Isis, not because Aurora had asked but because he was too afraid to leave her alone. He had noticed she took this really harsh, harsher than he had thought, but he didn't know what was happening inside her body. He wondered for a few seconds if it was all true. Maybe Bill had cheated with a woman even younger than her. Maybe he had gotten the Hollywood obsession with younger women? But no, had you seen Bill and Aurora together, you knew it wasn't a possibility. He adored his wife.

He looked at Aurora walking around in nervous circles while at the same time watching Isis crawl around on the floor along the couch. She picked on every dog's hair and showed them in pride for both him and the dogs, like they hadn't seen the hair before.

“Shouldn't you sit down a bit? He just wrote that he is in a taxi on his way home, give him some time,” Sonny said carefully, patting the couch seat next to his. Aurora shook her head fast.

“No, no, I can't relax. I need him now. He must come now.”

She continued to walk around the couches while dragging her fingers through her messy hair. Sonny looked down at Isis again, who had started to play with the Corgi's ear. The dog just continued to sleep with its nose in the off-white rug. It may have been a bit cozy to have two baby hands around her ear.

When they heard the sound of the entrance door opening, all five creatures in the living room reacted and turned their heads towards the door entrance closest to the hallway. Aurora also heard Bill's familiar low-smacking sounds from his lips, and she couldn't stop herself from running out to him like she was a child. Bill heard her soft running steps, and by reflex, he was already prepared to catch her when she threw herself around his neck. He lifted up his wife so she could have her legs around him and they could hug without the height difference separating their bodies. They were so close now that their hearts started to beat in the same rhythm. Aurora trusted Sonny with Isis, and so did Bill. During the time of their marriage, he really got to know Sonny and saw him now as something more than just the person wanting to be in the center of attention. He was intelligent and trustworthy, and on the side of his media gigs, he studied to be a psychologist. He wasn't that one-dimensional character Bill had seen him as first.

The couple kissed deeply, not of the passion created in happiness and sexual desire but the passion of love and healing. They needed to be together right now. Especially because it would only get worse.

#fic rec #i’m getting nervous 🫣

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b-afterhours · 2 months

Text

Avenue of Sins: Neon

A Sequel to Avenue of Sins

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

The completed first series can be read and found here.

Chapter Eighteen

May 1993 The Day of the Secret Show

Alma was yawning loudly while sitting on top of the cash wrap counter before having another sip from her coffee cup. It was seven am, and she had already been there for an hour along with Darby, who turned up to help. Their schedules as managers were flipped and overlapped on a day like today. Only the band's sound mixer had arrived, and after Darby had finished helping him bring in his equipment, he was now double-checking the employee schedule. All employees were expected to have a shift—even the four part-time high school students.

They had left the back door open, and they both peered over when they heard some commotion to see a roadie wave at them and announce the presence of the others, all carrying a piece of musical equipment.

“Shit,” Darby said under his breath as he turned to lean back on the counter. “That’s their stuff.” He was checking out their worn guitars, adorned with faded stickers and random splotches of spray paint.

“They’re probably coming right after they set up.” Alma smiled as the excitement built inside her. “You sure Lewis isn’t showing up for this? I know I asked before I left last night, but did he tell you anything different?”

Darby nodded understandingly. “He said he’s just coming for the show. Said, he had other things to attend to.”

“Right, right,” Alma nodded. “I want Echo to take a pic with them after their sound check,” she smiled.

She had brought her professional camera with her. And now she was thinking she should have dressed up better. She knew what she’d wear to the gig, but it was too early to want to get dressed for this. She was just in loose, ripped-up jeans and had tied the hem of a plain white shirt to form better with her body because it belonged to Bill.

“Me too?” Darby chuckled.

“I’ll take yours with them too,” she laughed.

Bill was parked out front in the Jeep while Echo continued sleeping in her car seat. He was keeping a lookout for Lewis and waiting for a signal to come in from Alma. The radio volume was shallow when he ejected the strange ethereal music that was playing on the cassette. He took a look at it, Cocteau Twins. The music was pretty, but it wasn’t helping him want to stay awake under the overcast skies. He swore they weren’t really saying any real words, but sometimes he thought he heard a phrase or two. He turned the radio on at some shock jock station after putting it away in its case.

Inside the record shop, Alma had met the band's manager, Dean, in the backstage area. He was checking the place out, asking questions about ticket sales and what the maximum capacity of the venue was.

“And I see you have what they requested. But the ice?” He turned to her as he clasped his hands in front of him.

“It’ll be here by the time they perform.”

“Good, ‘cause we want the beers cold,” he gestured towards the cases. “And at least half the water ice cold, and the other half room temp’.”

“Right. Anything else?” She raised her brows.

He smiled wryly. “Nope. They’ll be here in about 30 minutes,” he said, checking his expensive wristwatch. “They’re only sound-checking three songs. This place opens for business at 9 am?” Alma nodded. “Okay, that gives them time to get in and get out then.”

“And for the gig? How would they like to be introduced, or what’s the plan there?” She asked, looking at how his eggplant-colored silk shirt ripped as she followed him out to the stage area.

“These curtains close right,” he asked, lightly tugging on the thick braided rope holding one half back.

“They do—be careful.” She said a bit too motherly when she saw the rope wanting to loosen. He quickly tugged the knot tighter before it did.

He lightly laughed as if he meant to do that, but it was clear he was visibly embarrassed by his near mishap. “Um, make sure these are closed before the roadies leave while the place operates. I don’t want equipment missing.” Alma nodded a bit annoyed because, of course, she knew to do that. “Anyway, the band will come in a nondescript van, so please make sure there’s a spot for it right outside the backstage door where they’ll come in about ten minutes after their set show time.”

“Creating anticipation,” Alma smirked.

“Right,” he said dryly. “I have a guest list here,” he said, digging in his jeans pocket. “A few journalists.” Alma opened the printed paper he passed and saw the large publications they worked for right next to their names. “And a few radio hosts.”

“Um,” Darby said loudly by the exit door, looking a little starstruck. “Hey, what’s up? They’re here.”

Bill was outside and could hear the muffled sound of cranked-up guitars and heavily booming drums from the shop, even where he was parked with the windows down. Echo was now in the front seat, sitting on his lap, and eating dry Cheerios from his large cupped hand. He was anxiously bobbing his knee up and down, and his signal to enter finally came. The neon open sign flickered on and off for him several times.

He squeezed through the door while Alma quickly locked it behind him after she handed him Echo’s noise-canceling headphones. Dean, who was standing by the sound mixer, turned his head and gave the tall man with a child an odd look until he saw him kiss the shop girl. He wanted to remind her that this was a private soundcheck, but seeing her now next to her partner intimidated him. Of course, a girl like her would be with someone just as good-looking, and it irked him.

Echo was clapping her little hands to the band's most popular single as they closed out their short soundcheck session. And it felt totally surreal to experience such a thing with less than ten other people in the room. They have been on MTV, constantly played on the radio, and received several accolades and awards, including a coveted Grammy. They have been on a continuous international tour, and yet here they were.

“That’s really them,” Bill chuckled lightly in disbelief after their song ended.

“It’s a fucking trip, man,” Darby responded under his breath.

They all stood at the back end of the concert floor and off to the side. Twice, Alma had to tug Darby back by the shoulder because it was as if the music had some pull on him, and he kept inching towards the stage. The wiry, sleepy-eyed, disheveled-haired lead singer was now crouched down with his guitar, giving some corrective notes to their sound mixer.

“But, uh, yeah, I think that’s all good, man,” the lead singer said in a nearly bored vocal fry tone, but it just seemed as if that was just his natural deposition. “Who’s running the show, Dean? One of you two, right?” He pointed between Alma and Darby, looking at them through his locks of greasy, disheveled hair.

“It’s the baby, man.” The shaggy-haired bassist playfully joked.

The lead singer lightly chuckled. “I got one of those, too. But, uh, it’s you,” he pointed at Alma. “Your buddy is there, pointing at you.”

She glanced down and saw that Darby was indeed pointing at her. “Yeah, I’m Alma.”

“Alma. I like that.” He tapped his stubbly chin for a second. “Means soul in Spanish. Am I right?”

“It does.” Bill glanced down at her and noticed her blush lightly. “Uh, would you guys be okay with taking a few pictures?”

“We have to leave in like ten minutes, guys,” Dean said, seemingly wanting to exude some type of control like he had been since he’d shown up. Bill frowned, dissatisfied with the guy’s self-important attitude.

“And could you all sign these records?” Darby quickly added, taking the bundle out from under his arm.

“I think that’s all the time we need. Isn’t that right, Alma?” He said, flashing her a crooked, boyish grin.

“Plenty,” she said, smiling back.

“Sweet. Pictures, then we’ll sign.”

They all quickly shook all the band members' hands before taking pictures of them outside the front of the building. Alma crouched down to get the shop name in the frame for a couple of shots before leading them to the back of the building for more privacy. Darby happily took his turn taking photos with them against the brick wall with a wide, elated grin. He was usually an even-mannered guy, but it was funny seeing him behave like this. Having his fan moment.

“Could you take one with my daughter?” Alma asked, gesturing to her still in her father’s arms.

“Yeah, sure.” The lead singer said and then Bill passed her along for him to hold. “She looks about my daughter's age. What’s her name?”

“Echo.”

“Echo, echoo, echooo.” Their tall, slinky drummer imitated as if he were hollering into a cave.

"Yeah, that’s a good one,” Alma sarcastically said, pointing her camera at them. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard all the jokes at Trigger Finger before.

Echo was touching the lead singer's tan cardigan; its fibers were all worn, fuzzed out, most likely reminding the little girl of her stuffed animals. Alma snapped some shots of their interaction before calling her name several times, which incidentally added to the drummer's joke. Nonetheless, she gained her attention, and luckily she smiled brightly, which seemed to charm the lead singer, making him crack his cool exterior and give a little smirk.

“Okay, family photo time for my bad joke,” the drummer suggested as he gave Bill a nod.

“We got less than 5 minutes, guys,” Dean impatiently reminded them as he stood off to the side with his arms crossed.

Alma passed her camera to Darby and quickly moved in place with the band. The lead singer, still holding her daughter, had waved her over to him, and he put his arm around the middle of her back.

“Uh, I-” Bill began to say, but Alma cut her eyes at him. “Okay.” He relented and stood at the bassist's side. He kind of felt a bit dorky doing this kind of thing. Sure, they were world-famous, but his story of meeting them and seeing them live made a better story than a picture, he thought.

“Okay, okay. One more, but with me and Darby this time, and I’ll let you all free.”

“Go for it,” the lead singer said, much to his manager's dismay.

After Bill took their photo with one hand while holding Echo, the band stuck around even as they were herded towards the white commercial van they arrived in by their haughty band manager. The band, even with their fame, came across as very gracious.

“This one you want made out to you too?” The lead singer asked Darby, as he passed the other records he signed to his bandmates, to do so as well.

“That’s Alma’s copy.” He said, stepping aside for her.

“To Alma,” he smirked at her before writing with a silver magic marker. “See you guys at the show. It’s good to be home,” he said, climbing into the van once the band was finished signing and giving fan service.

…

Alma was at home with her family until three pm to switch shifts with Darby until he’d come back before the show. His taking the morning shift made more sense since she was going to be busy with the show that evening.

Bill and Alma had been in bed for an afternoon nap after putting Echo down for hers. She had woken up with Bill caressing her. His hand was inside her panties making lazy circles with his two middle digits, while she lightly ground her bottom on his crotch. The movement stimulated both him and assisted his hand with his ministrations. Satisfied, shallow breaths began to fill the air around them. When he kissed her shoulder and trailed up her neck, she smiled. Reaching back to hold the back of his head, she turned to meet his pouty lips with her own.

Bill was hard-pressed against her, enjoying how she pushed her bottom flush against him. Sliding his hand across her hip, he pushed her panties down, and without so much as a prompt, she lifted her leg to place over his hip behind her. She glided her hand out of his hair, reaching down to pull him out of his boxers, and stroked his stiff cock a few times until he took over. He pushed in, and she let out a gratified gasp as he stretched her.

She could feel her stress and anxieties about the day ahead chip away the more his thrusts built up to an even and determined rhythm. He slipped out of her, but that gave her time to take her shirt off as he greedily swept his dick along her slick folds. His lusty eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

“Harder,” she moaned when he thrust back inside her. “Fuck me harder.”

He grunted as he picked his pace, and her satisfied moans became more emphatic and erratic. He bent the arm her head lay on and put his fingers in her mouth to stifle them. Her lips wrapped around them, and he felt a low moan reverberate around them.

“Ah, fuck,” Bill grunted through clenched teeth, feeling her velvet walls constrict around him.

The ridge of the head of his cock was stroking against that utterly deep spot within her, and she tensed, feeling the buildup of an orgasm. She unlatched her mouth from his fingers as her head fell back. Bill’s head bowed to look at her blushed face, her sweetly furrowed brows, and gaping mouth. She looked back at him, putting a hand on his high cheek, and a needy yet bewildered look flashed across her eyes. She was going to come, and so quickly too. He pushed her leg that was draped across his hip and held it against her body with his forearm for leverage while his hand reached to rub her clit and plowed into her then, seizing his opportunity. Her eyes rolled back, and she cried out in ecstasy. His hips rocked into her then, as if to coax every ripple and wave he could feel. She wasn’t thinking of her neighbors, and neither was he when he let loose inside her. Pumping everything he had.

Her body went limp, and so did his as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, trying to catch his ragged breath.

They remained connected and cuddled afterward, not yet wanting to leave their blissful bubble. He had his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her tightly as she softly ran her fingers through his arm hair.

“He was flirting with you,” Bill said huskily, speaking into her wild hair after he had been nuzzling his face in it.

“Who?”

“You know who? ‘It means soul in Spanish, right’,” he playfully mocked the lead singer’s slow way of speaking.

“Please,” she giggled. He could feel the reflex of it with him still inside her, which made him smile. While his softening cock was sensitive, it still felt lovely to him. “He was just being nice.”

“Yeah, maybe if he were a regular guy, but he’s a rockstar.”

“He’s married to a model, and they have a kid. I don’t think you should take his politeness as a slight.”

“I’m not threatened.” He said possessively, tightening his grip around her, but it made Alma laugh because he somewhat was. “Him being married and having a kid is probably for tax purposes only anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s a rockstar; I get it.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

“Since working at the shop and all the gigs you’ve seen, have you ever?”

“Really?” She groaned, side-eyeing him behind her.

“I’m just curious. I don’t care, you’ve always been mine.” She was silent, contemplating whether she wanted to be a smartass or not. “You have,” he said, figuring out the answer for himself and laughing.

“Why is that so funny?” She was annoyed. “Yes, I have. That’s a long time ago now, around the time I began working there.”

“It’s just so… cliche.”

“Shut up,” she tried to say with some bite, but her amusement leaked through.

“Have you done it with anyone I’ve maybe listened to?” He chuckled. “Ow, fuck,” he said when she gripped onto a patch of his arm hair and pulled harshly.

…

Alma was at work after helping with some final rearranging with her coworkers. Bill was off at the plaza down the road, with Echo killing sometime before heading home so they could both get dressed for the evening.

Customers in the store were looking on curiously; they had never seen much prep for a show before. Some even asked employees at the cash wrap where Double Helix’s records were to see what the fuss was about. They were annoyed when they were told their albums were “sold out” but they should buy a ticket if they wanted to give them a listen. Smart ones did; others left in an annoyed huff.

Time was ticking down. Darby had shown up to the shop much earlier than Alma expected him to. Which made her glance at the store clock with alarm, thinking it was much closer to show time.

“Hey, I got the ice!” He winked at her, remembering her little faux pas from yesterday. “Matt’s grabbing them and the coolers from my truck. He’ll set that all up. And, uh, there’s a line starting outside already,” he informed, shrugging off his tan corduroy jacket and draping it over his forearm. “Short one for now, but that’s earlier than normal.”

“Alright.” Alma nodded. “Let’s run down the tasks with everyone, and then,” she said, looking around the store, which was quite busy with customers.

“We should get everyone the hell out?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

“Let’s go,” he said, excitedly clapping his hands together.

He rounded up the employees at the circular cash wrap and started assigning their positions. Alma stood by his side, listening on, holding onto her camera.

“Shit! Am I late?!” Ulyssa said right as she walked in, gripping on to her tote as she scurried over. She was wearing a light blue tartan two-piece and combat boots.

Alma smiled, waving her over. “You look cute! We just started early.”

“Oh! Okay. Sorry Darb’.” She hushed bashfully.

“I just have one more thing. Teenagers,” he said, looking over at them. “As the law says, you have to clock out at 9 pm. You can stay for the show, but I’m asking all the adults to keep an eye on them.” The teens sneered with annoyance.

“I’m seventeen, not seven.” A young, chubby girl named Chrissy snarkily said it in age-old teen fashion.

“Sure,” Darby smirked, unaffected. "Alma, do you have anything?”

“Uhm,” she straightened up. “I know some of you asked about a guest list. There is one. But,” she stressed. “We’re allowing one per employee.” The teen collective groaned. They were the ones who pestered her the most about it. “I’ve spoken to a few of you individually today. So I have those names down. Anyone else, I need those names by the end of the hour. And yeah, that’s it.” Everyone began to disband then. “Oh! Wait! A picture first since we’re all here.”

There were some gripes heard as they all shuffled back to place in front of the cash wrap, but they were all smiles as she took a couple of photos.

"Alma, you should be in it,” Ash said. “You!” She startled a boy at the magazine stand. He sheepishly turned to her. “Yes, you. Could you take a picture of us?”

Alma quickly instructed the boy on how to take the photo and joined her crew. The door chimed, and Darby looked over and saw that it was Lewis with a big grin approaching.

“Could I hop in?” He said inserting himself in for a photo.

Once their employee photo shoot was over and Darby and the other boys ushered customers out of the shop, Lewis asked his crew to regroup by the cash wrap again.

“Look at you guys,” he said appreciatively with his hands held behind his back. “Uh, I know a lot is going on tonight. But I have some news.”

“I hope it’s good,” Matt quipped.

Lewis chuckled. “I’ll start there then. So the good news is, everyone gets tomorrow off with pay.” People cheered, but all Alma did was smile because she was always off on Sundays, but getting paid was nice. “I also hired a cleaning crew for tonight, so you all don’t have to fuss with that after all your hard work tonight. And on to some not-so-good news. Maybe.”

Darby looked down at Alma with a knowing look. They both knew what he was going to announce and were now anxious about how everyone else would react. However, they were relieved that they didn’t have to bear the responsibility of delivering the news themselves.

“Well, as you know, I’m about half retired. But I’ve decided, along with my wife Helen, that it is time for me to step away.” A few scattered gasps were heard. “I’m in the process of selling Sheisty Sound.”

“Selling?!” Gregory said, shocked.

“Yes. I am hoping to find a buyer who will respect what has already been established here. But also make it something a bit more fresh.” His eyes became a bit misty, but he composed himself very well. “I appreciate you all very much, and I’m so excited for this show tonight. I think it’s a good last hoorah for me. I see this place evolving in a great direction even without me in it.” Darby patted his shoulder, feeling a little sentimental himself. “But, ah, yeah,” he let out a shaky sigh. “I wanted you all to hear it from me. I feel like I owe you all that much. And since that was such a downer, I bought pizza from Von’s for everyone here for dinner. Should be delivered soon.”

After employees spoke to Lewis, some congratulating him on a well-deserved full retirement and others practically giving him condolences, he got the attention of his two managers. He looked at the two rather stylish young leaders. Darby had slicked his dark hair back instead of styling it in the usual bouffant he did. He looked like a 1940s blue-collar working man, with high trousers and a well-pressed button-down and Alma in a tight black ¾ sleeve denim jumpsuit. It was only zipped up enough to show some cleavage, and her hair was in a loose, playful updo with long curtain bangs.

“You two look great! Is there anything you guys may need from me tonight, or is everything all square?” Lewis asked.

“Nah, I think everything has been settled.” Darby nodded.

“Ah, you two make my job too easy,” he chuckled. “And Alma,” she nodded at his acknowledgment. “You’ve hired security, correct?”

“Um, yes. A local motorcycle club. The Wayward Sons. They do charity drives for children with special needs and also Christmas toy donation rallies. Their chapter leader has a securities business, WS Security, so they’re experienced.” That she lied about.

When she had to inform them that they couldn’t set up their illegal bar, Big Rod wasn’t too pleased. Mostly because he didn’t want to be paid with a check because he didn’t want taxes garnished from it, but Alma assured him that she could arrange that they get cash. Which would be her paying them out, taking the check they would have gotten, and eat the taxes herself.

“Yeah… I know of them, decent guys. I used to date a Wayward Son’s sister,” he chuckled at the memory. “Okay, well, I’m going home to freshen up, and I’ll be back about an hour before nine. Oh,” he snapped his fingers. “I overheard some employees giving you names for a guest list, Alma.”

“Yeah! Do you want me to add Helen?” She asked, holding her clipboard up and plucking a pen from behind her ear.

“She didn’t travel with me, unfortunately, but there’s a gentleman I’d like to add. His name is Bill Scarsgord.”

“Mhmm.” Alma had to use everything in her power to keep from visibly grimacing at the butchering of his last name.

“I’ll spell it for you. S-K-A...” It was even harder to keep herself from completing the spelling before he could finish reciting it. “Yeah, there you go,” he said when she finished writing. “He’s a rather tall guy. A little taller than Darby. Uh, big eyes, short styled hair, dresses pretty sharp. But he’s tall,” he said again, running out of descriptors. “You’ll see him.”

“We’ll look out for him,” Darby said with a slight smirk.

“Great. I’ll see you all soon,” he said as he glanced at his wristwatch. “Pizza should be here soon. I left the tip with Ash.”

…

The makeshift box office was really just three white folding tables built into a horseshoe shape underneath an instant canopy in front of the door. Ulyssa, Gregory, and Chrissy were the first group assigned to operate it. On one side, people with prepaid tickets lined up along the storefront, and another smaller line directly across was for day-of tickets. Bill, with Echo in his arms and the baby’s backpack over his shoulder, passed a loitering group of teens playing with a hacky sack and lined up right in front where there was a written sign that said ‘Guestlist Only’. Alma had called him just before he left the apartment to inform him that Lewis had added him to the list. He was on it just by word, but that Lewis added him personally, he felt good about. There were two others in front of him wearing press passes on lanyards. He didn’t want to be rude by passing them up and just walking in, so he waited. Ulyssa was counting out change for a customer buying a ticket when she glanced over, noticing him.

“What’s your name?” The young girl, Chrissy, whom he had never met before, asked him when it was his turn.

“Hold on, Chrissy.” Ulyssa took the clipboard and pretended to peruse the listed names. “I don’t see your name here.” She peered at him from over her blue-tinted sunglasses, and he noticed her eyes were super bloodshot. Stoned beyond belief. And taking a glance at Gregory, so was he.

“I never said it,” he smirked.

“Fuck. Never mind, just come in,” she laughed. “Hey, cutie girl!” She said to Echo, to which she smiled.

Walking in, he did his best to weave between some concertgoers who were congregated close to the front door. With his height, he was able to spot Alma, who was chatting with Ratz, or rather, he was talking at her while she adjusted a tarp that was covering a record table. Every shelf or table had been covered with a tarp or old sheets to protect the merchandise. As he got closer, he noticed Ratz's shirt had “Motherfucker” stenciled with red spray paint on it. He raised a brow, because what did he mean by that exactly?

“Hey, I’m running to the store for energy drinks,” Matt, whom he met very briefly at The Rooster, announced to his coworkers who were scattered about. “Who wants one?”

He saw Alma turn her head, ignoring Ratz completely and saying she wanted one. Matt quickly took a count, dismissing the random patrons who also asked for one, and spun on his heel as he put on the headphones attached to his Walkman. Alma saw Bill then and smiled brightly.

“My boyfriend’s here,” she said, brushing off Ratz without so much as a glance, and he just begrudgingly shuffled away. “Hey, guestlist! Hey baby,” she said, kissing her daughter's cheek. “You dressed her up so cute!” She tickled her side, which made Echo snicker. She was in a carnation pink dress with little embroidered daisies on the front. “Was she good?” She looked up at him.

Bill nodded with a pursed-lip smile because he wasn’t going to tell her he caught Echo with his shoe in her mouth while he was trying to get ready himself. He had to brush her teeth before they left.

“Did you have fun with Daddy, E’?” She said kissing her again, and then she tiptoed to kiss Bill.

“Papa,” she said happily, in the only way she could answer.

“You’re in a better mood,” he said, grinning at her while his hand caressed her waist. He had liked how she looked in this new outfit she showed off to him at the apartment. She had made him cinch the rope belt as tight as she could handle. She has had to loosen it some since then, though.

She grinned back at him knowingly. It seemed that Bill had maybe spoken too soon when suddenly Matt came barging in the front door and slammed into a local newspaper stand by the front door rather cartoonishly. It immediately caused Bill to turn Echo away from the door protectively, unsure of what happened behind him.

“Ah, fuck!” Matt choked out, holding onto his groin. “Ash!” He pointed at her, where she was behind the circular cash wrap. “Turn the radio on right now! BUZ’R FM! Right Now!”

“What’s going on, Matt?” Darby asked, striding over from the sound mixing table where he was speaking to the operator.

“They’re talking about the show!”

“What?” Alma said, confused.

Ash was scrambling to switch the sound system over to the radio and over the store speakers, and suddenly the radio jockey's voice cut through across the airwaves.

“We’ve given you two hints since our program started, and it’s almost time for us to get off the air. Have you figured it out?”

Alma’s brows furrowed with worry and confusion. “What the fuck are they doing?”

“This mysterious Double Helix is playing at Sheisty Sound Records tonight that we still haven’t found a record for. Isn’t that odd?” The jockey coyly asked. “Oh, wait a second, wait a second. No, here it is. Here’s your next hint.” The sound of scratchy guitar chords opened the most popular record-breaking single by the world-famous band playing there tonight. There was no confusion about it.

Alma's eyes widened as she gasped loudly; even Darby’s stomach flipped.

“Holy shit, Alma,” Bill said, maybe with more elation than he meant to. But this was going to be big.

"See, I told you! I told you I figured it out reading that zine!” A concertgoer with wine colored hair could be heard talking to his group of friends.

“So... are we fucked?” Darby asked Alma, who seemed to be in thought or maybe shock; he couldn’t tell.

“No…” she said, sounding a bit uncertain, looking at the store clock. “Big Rod is coming pretty soon with his guys. There’ll be eight of them tonight.

“Maybe we’ll need two more?”

“I’ll tell him that when he gets here. It’s all just a matter of getting everyone in and…” She trailed off, putting her hand up. “I need to talk to Ulyssa,” she said, hustling away, leaving Bill and her child behind without a word, but he understood.

“Uh, it’s going to be alright, right?” Bill asked Darby, who seemed to be in thought as well. “I mean, it gets pretty rowdy here, even for a local gig.”

Darby took a deep breath. “Yeah. This just feels so much bigger, but Alma knows how to run this. She’s good at this. But, uh, I gotta make my rounds with everyone.” He was hustling away as well.

“People with tickets first,” Alma explained to Ulyssa while Gregory and Chrissy listened. “Besides the guest list, everyone else has to wait until we get all those people in.”

The revving of motorcycles could be heard up the road, and she was grateful for their deafening motors. It was like a cavalry arrived when they pulled into the reserved parking space made for them.

“Hey, here for duty,” Big Rod said, tipping his weathered cowboy hat as he approached. “Where do you need us?”

“I think BUZ’R blew your spot up,” Zeph quipped from beside Rod.

“Yeah, about that. You think you can get maybe a few more of your guys?” She said to Big Rod.

He nodded. “May I use the phone?”

“Yes, yes. Please. For now, I need one of you out here. Um, Darby will let you guys know your places.”

“Of course, Miss Lucio,” Rod said with a polite nod.

Archie positioned himself in the box office while Big Rod led the rest of the crew inside.

“Okay, Gregory, do you have the clicker?” He picked the steel people counter from the table to show her he did. “What’s the number?” The day of line was still fairly short, but for how long she didn’t know.

“Uh, twenty-seven?” Gregory said.

“What?” Alma brows furrowed, baffled.” Twenty-seven? There’s more than– you’ve only been counting day-of tickets?”

“Uhm, I see now how that was dumb...” he looked rather regretful.

Alma shook her head while she quickly added that number to the pre-sold tickets and the guest list. “Set the clicker to 146. Once you’re able to start selling tickets again, start counting how many bodies come in. We can’t go past 232, or the fire marshal will shut us down. And with us working we’re pushing it, so please pay attention.”

“Shit, Alma, you think it’s going to get crazy?” Ulyssa asked, looking worried.

“We’ll do what we always do,” Alma assured. “Tonight will just be busier.” She tried to sound positive, but inside she wanted to scream.

Bill was inside, and most of the patrons in the store area had now begun to bunch and congregate closer to the stage, wanting to claim their spot. He was crouched down with his back against the wall just outside the office, with Echo standing between his knees as he took the wrapper off a tiny yellow bendy strap before stabbing it into the designated foil-covered hole of the apple juice box. She took the slobbery fingers she was chewing on from her mouth and wiped them on his jeans before taking it.

He was rubbing the slobbery spot on his knee into the denim when the front door blew open, and he caught a glimpse of Alma speaking to someone in line, but didn’t look too pleased before the pizza delivery boy came in with a tall stack of pizza boxes. The bangles on Ash’s wrist chimed as she waved him over to the cash wrap and happily accepted them. He heard the pizza boy ask her if the band was really playing there tonight and that he heard so on the kitchen radio at his job.

“For real?” He said when Ash confirmed it as she tried to give him his tip. “I’ll let you keep that if I can stay.”

“Aren’t you still technically at work?” Ash said, giving him a strange look.

“Fuck that,” he scoffed. “Can I stay?” He asked again, taking his work cap off and brushing his flat hair out with his fingers.

“I guess?” She shrugged, watching him pull off his red work shirt and sling it over his shoulder before smoothing down his greasy undershirt as he jogged over to the stage.

Alma walked in, looking rather perturbed, but Darby caught her attention as she walked in. Being a spectator at something like this was really strange for Bill. He ran his club and had hectic nights. Though maybe it had never had this much public buzz, things at Trigger Finger were rather discrete. He watched how hard Alma worked at Trigger Finger, but this was different, and even though he could tell she was swamped, she ran with the radio jockey curveball just fine. He noticed the people with tickets were filing in with more frequency than before. He had some space for himself and his daughter, but he worried for how long.

Bill looked up from where he was as Alma approached her family with two slices of cheese pizza for them on a flimsy paper plate.

“Here you go,” she said, sitting down on the floor next to him. The cool floor seemed to soothe her nerves and ground her a bit.

“You’re not going to eat?” He said as he was piecing apart a slice for his daughter.

“I might barf if I do,” she sighed and rested her head on his arm.

“Ah, Papa,” Echo said, opening her mouth and wanting to be fed. He handed her a piece when Alma decided to get back up to work so suddenly.

"Hey," he said, looking up at her. “It’s like any other show, right?” he assured. “If I could help–”

“I know. Thanks,” she leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He unabashedly nudged his head into her cleavage, taking advantage of the proximity. “This starts the part where I don’t know you.” She whispered in his ear and hated how it sounded. He only nodded, not liking that he’d have to treat her like a stranger from this point on.

“Mama, eeksa.” Echo had her hand out, offering a piece of cheese pizza to her mother, but she had already walked away to tend to things.

Bill smiled at her empathy. “Sweet girl,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Shortly later, Echo decided she was finished with her slice of pizza and continued drinking her juice. He had given his slice to some random who gladly took it off his hands. If Alma wasn’t eating, he didn’t feel comfortable eating either. Together, they went to the other side of the store, further away from the front door, as the place filled up.

“Echo, stay close,” he said before she strayed off as she was weaving between his legs where he stood.

He did a double take when he turned his head and saw Darby with his arm around his fiancee, Jennifer, speaking to Lewis. The place was getting packed, and show time was nearing. So far as he waited, the other record store employees who knew him kept their greetings or acknowledgments towards him minimal. He wondered what Alma said to them. All she had told him was that she’d think of something when he dropped her off.

As Lewis approached the cash wrap, he spotted Bill and gave him a little wave. Then he looked down and noticed a little girl pulling on his wallet chain.

“Glad you came,” he said, shaking Bill’s hand. “I hope you didn’t have to stand in line. I heard about the guest list at short notice.”

“Oh, it was no issue. I didn’t wait long, if at all,” he smiled. “Uh,” he looked down at his daughter. “This is my kid; I brought her along tonight.” He had tried to get her to say hello, but instead, she shyly hid behind his leg. “Her mom is, uh,” he thought for a moment. “She’s having a girls night.” That to him sounded better than to say she was working because why would someone like him have a partner who worked when he made the money he had.

“Hi, little miss,” he lightly chuckled. Bill was now wondering if having his daughter with him would endear Lewis or make him look irresponsible. “It’s getting hectic out there,” he continued. “I’m sure you figured out who’s actually playing tonight,” he said, giving Bill a witting glance. “I saw some people trying to buy tickets off those who bought theirs in advance.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Triple the price too. It’s ridiculous, but quite funny, how desperate some people are acting out there. I’ve listened to these guys' first record. It’s… okay.” He shrugged indifferently. “Maybe it helps that the lead singer is a good-looking guy. Other than that, I don’t get the hype much.”

“All style, no substance?” Bill added to his indifference, even if he liked the band's debut record. He found it to be one of the best showcases from a band in quite some time.

“Seems to be that way these days. Or maybe I’m just showing my age?”

“Up Papa? Up? Papa.” Echo was patting his leg to get his attention.

“Excuse me,” Bill said, picking his daughter up.

“No worries. You know we have an office just on the other side,” Lewis pointed towards it with his thumb. “If she needs a moment or some space, you’re more than welcome to use it. I’ll let the managers know.” Darby was passing them by at the moment. “Actually, this is one of them, Darby.” He waved him over.

“Yes,” he asked, doing his best to not give Bill any ounce of recognition.

“This is Bill. He, uh, well, he’s a prospective buyer.”

“Is that so?” He smiled at Bill.

“Since he’s with his child, I offered him the office if he should need it for anything.”

“Oh, for sure. But the rocker baby might outlast us all tonight,” he lightly joked.

“Could you let Alma know? Where is she actually?” Lewis wondered, trying to scan the store, but there were too many people, and he didn’t have the height to overlook them.

“Talking to press. Sorry, but I gotta run,” Darby said, backing away to head towards the stage. “Nice to meet you, Bill.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he said that.

“Thank you for that,” Bill said appreciatively.

“Yes, of course. I’m old, but I still remember having my daughter run around this place when she was little. My son, too. We’d have gigs, and she’d watch while sitting on top of the desk,” he smiled at the memory. “Or if she wasn’t fond of the music, she’d pile all her blankets under the desk and sleep.”

In his peripheral vision, Bill saw Alma approaching the cash wrap asking Ulyssa to hand her camera to her; she had since switched jobs with Ash.

“You know this night is a bit of an anomaly,” Lewis continued. “I haven’t seen it so busy, but that could be me being out of the office, so to speak, these last few years. The '70s were pretty good. The band booker just stacks up gigs like I’ve never seen. I’m a bit impressed with her arrangement of this. I know you’ve been noticing things that may need changing here. Like the stage lights and a lot of things needing polishing. It’d be smart if– this is her. Alma.”

“Uh, yeah?” She said putting the strap of her camera around her neck.

“I know you’re busy, but just one moment.” He quickly introduced her longtime boyfriend to her, unbeknownst to him. She shook his hand, and she had to break it free because it felt like he was holding it for too long.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” She said impatiently as Lewis explained who he was to him. Never in her life had she ever wanted to get out of Bill’s presence. However, it was a relief when Lewis informed her about the office situation. Bill said he’d just take Echo out to the car if she got fussy, but now he didn’t have to. “Is, uh, are you one of the Cali’ guys?”

“He’s the gentleman from New York I had mentioned.” Lewis said.

“Right! The email guy,” she smiled as Bill looked at her with an amused expression.

“Ma-ma. Mama.” Echo reached out to her, and she tensed when she felt herself wanting to take a hold of her, but she shifted on her feet to keep it from being obvious. Bill’s eyes widened for a moment, but he lightly brushed his hand over his daughter's face to pull her attention back to him.

“Aw, how funny. She’s sweet.” Alma lightly laughed to play it off.

“Mhm,” Bill said, giving her a pursed-lip smile.

“Well it was nice to meet you,” she said quickly. “I gotta…” she said to Lewis, who nodded understandingly as she backed away. “Doors are closing!” She turned on the heel of her Converse and paused when she saw the police coming in. She cursed under her breath and turned back towards her boss.

“I’ll handle them,” he said to her. “Do what you need.”

She thanked him and then disappeared, with her camera, into the crowd. The police were just making their presence known; they weren’t breaking any rules.

“Um, if I don't see you,” Lewis turned to Bill before dismissing himself. “Enjoy the show. And keep an eye on those emails, eh?”

“I will. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yes. Of course. Uhm, you might have similar nights like this to look forward to.” He smiled and went on his way.

Bill brows raised with satisfaction hearing that from Lewis. While it was somewhat cryptic, he knew it was a hint that he was closer to owning the place than he thought.

“And Echo, what was that?” Bill turned to his daughter, who just gave him a strange look. "You've gotta be cooler than that, darling.”

He checked his wristwatch, show time was in 15 minutes. He put Echo down in front of him as he crouched down, pulling the backpack in front of himself to put her noise-canceling headphones on. He had placed her on his shoulders, giving his arms a break and also because her knee would occasionally dig into his sore ribs. Soon the house lights went out completely. The crowd hushed. Everyone was in position; the doors were closed, and security was now blocking them. People's faces could be seen pressed against the gaps of the poster-covered windows to get a peek from outside.

Those same fuzzy, loud guitars could be heard behind the curtains, only for one anticipatory moment until Matt and Darby pulled them back and Gregory hit the stage lights on, revealing the band and the place exploded. Cheers roared, and the people were off their feet, hands in the air. The band fed off the energy and amped up for their homecoming show.

…

Nearing the end of the show, Bill found himself in the office with Echo on his lap as he sat on the edge of the desk and watched the show through a sparsely sticker-covered window. She needed a change, and her headphones had begun to make her head sweat. He was next to Darby and his fiancee before he’d left their side. Darby just handed off the key to the office rather than miss any second of the concert.

Brushing out her damp hair by her ears with his fingers, he was glad it was much cooler in the office. With all the bodies in the place, it was quite stuffy. It was then that he saw Alma being lifted on top of Zeph’s shoulders, and she reflexively gripped his face, trying to steady herself, earning a bit of an annoyed glance from him. She was taking photos above the crowd. Bill’s chest tightened with concern as she was near the wall of bodies corralling those who were moshing. This was probably the hardest part of this whole night—that he couldn’t be by her side.

Alma was swaying a bit because Zeph was holding the wall of people back with one arm, and Bill sighed in relief when she began climbing off him. He hadn’t realized he was standing up now as if he had better sight doing so, but he was just up with worry.

Alma grabbed his large bicep, and he led her right up to the stage, splitting through people in front of him effortlessly. The lead singer switched from his electric guitar to his acoustic, which was almost as famous as him, and began crooning one of their popular ballads, Declared, about undying love. The crowd settled some, and even a few teen girls in the crowd shed tears as they sang along. As Bill listened, he noticed that he was singing an extended version because these newly added lyrics he couldn’t recall from the album version. In these lyrics, he sang about the disillusionment of love, a complete flip from the hopelessly romantic lyrics prior. It sounded very personal to the singer's life currently. It seemed a bit melodramatic, Bill thought, even for a band such as themselves.

If it was any worse that he had been flirting with his girlfriend, the lead singer had spotted her taking photos right in front of the stage. His gaze seemed to look past the camera and directly at her. The last chords he strummed on the guitar lingered in space when he leaned down and kissed the back of her hand, which made other girls at the show squeal in excitement at the display. Bill couldn’t help but roll his eyes and groan.

“Ugh. Dickhead,” he said under his breath.

Bill decided to leave the office not long after. He stood in his old spot with Darby and Jennifer. Just before the last two songs, Lewis waved at them and left for the night, not wanting to deal with the after-show crowd. The show ended with a bang, and the band was quickly swept away by their own personal security. The house lights went up, and the Wayward Sons were quick to usher the concertgoers out then too.

Echo was in Bill’s arms, her head resting on his shoulder as she fell asleep. Her hand fit between the space of the buttons of his dark-colored shirt jacket and was gripped around the strap of the white tank he wore. While it was late for her, he was surprised that she slept through the noise. Alma was able to cut through the crowd with Zeph’s assistance, and then he broke away once she got to the thinner part of the crowd. Bill noticed her getting stopped and surrounded by two groups of young girls, one including Chrissy. Who were gushing to her about the kiss she received most likely. Then it was apparent to Bill when one of them took her hand and caressed the back of it with her cheek. Alma looked at her strangely, and Darby laughed when he also noticed the interaction.

“The hell,” she said, snatching her hand back and quickly walked away from them.

She pushed her bangs out of her face and blew raspberries with relief that it was all over.

#my bill writings #bill skarsgard #aos neon #avenue of sins #aos

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