Crazy For You. A. C. Meyer

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      Even with all her allegations that I'm getting old —at twenty-seven, for God's sake—I’m still not looking for a serious relationship. After Dark is my life and I'm not willing to share my time with anyone in pursuit of success.

      I'd rather leave this grandchildren and wedding chat to my sisters, Jo and Julie.

      Yes, I know, Ju's not really my sister, but she grew up with me and was raised by my parents since hers passed away. Ever since, she became as much my responsibility as my own sister. I must confess that when we were younger, I had a special feeling for her, until John, my best friend from high school, caught me looking at her like a dog that looks at a roasted chicken, and told me it was disgusting what I was doing, that I should protect her from guys like me, and stop drooling over her. After all, she was my sister. He was very persuasive. In the end, I felt like a pervert as I was attracted to the girl who lived under the protection of my parents. I had to choke my wish and did what any older brother would do: I protected Julie as much as I could.

      So far, it's been working.

      I turn on the computer while I take off my shirt and shoe. I really need a good bath. I go through the suitcase looking for underwear when I hear the e-mail sound letting me know I have unread messages. I get a fright when I see the amount of notifications from the bar's Facebook page. Oh, boy! Did some sort of a bomb go off in there?

      I open Facebook, already anticipating a headache. I'm rolling the screen as I go into a state of shock. The amount of check-ins made at the bar is infinitely higher than any other night.

      I keep scrolling the screen and read the comments:

      Lucy Smith: Wonderful night with the gals! After Dark rocked with the handsome Alan.

      Michael Lewis: Today's show was excellent! Congratulations, AD gang!

      Anne McCarty: Best night ever!

      Luc Robs: What's with the voice of this hot chick who's singing in AD?

      Hold on. Hot? There's something wrong. Snash and The Band don't have any hot chicks on the front line. Would they have invited anyone to play with them tonight?

      I go down the page a little more and find a publication of the vocalist:

      Snash: Friends, I’m saying goodbye to AD. On my way to India to find my inner balance and peace.

      Oh, fuck! We lost the band’s lead singer and Rafe didn't even call me? And who's the hot chick who was singing instead? I immediately take the phone to call Rafe and see five unread text messages:

      Rafe: Dude, call me. Problems.

       Rafe : Danny, I'm going to have to take extreme action. Snash pulled out of the show at the last minute. Call me!

       Rafe : Call me, DAMN IT!!

       Rafe : Fuck it. When you guys come back we level it up. You’re going to lose it but I had no other option. I found a replacement for that SOB, Snash.

       Rafe : I’m the man. Full house. What an achievement. You guys should stay there because I manage this place better if you keep away. :D

      Now I’m curious. I wonder who he booked.

      There’s a link in the bar timeline that draws my attention. “Juliette & The Band singing Fever at After Dark.” Excellent, someone recorded the new band’s show.

      The video is not that good, it seems to have been done with a smartphone. The person that made the footage was very close to the stage. It zooms on that idiot Alan who’s the first to sing. He is unfortunately an idiot I have to bear with, despite acting like an asshole, constantly throwing charm at the fans and always taking one of them to the dressing room. How can someone believe that an asshole with such hair has fans?

      The video carries on until a female, hoarse and sensual voice begins to sing. The camera turns towards her and... Holy shit! A beautiful, hot and sensual blond is (with) her eyes closed, swaying her body to the rhythm of the song as she sings.

      I feel a shiver go through my spine and the excitement taking over. I haven't felt this way in a long time. I don't even know if I've ever felt this way. Actually, yes, but I had to smother it. It would never work. Of course I've had many liaisons, I go out with a lot of beautiful women, but this kind of lust, one that leaves a knot in the stomach and seems to have knocked me right in the chest, is rarer. The feeling I have is that she's singing just for me. I'm sure every man at the bar tonight felt the same way. The song carries on and while the blond sings the sensual song in a duet with that jerk Alan, I can't help myself and imagine the things that mouth should be able to do.

      I keep staring at the screen and frown. She seems vaguely familiar to me. Would she have been at the bar before? I don't think so. I would never forget seeing a woman like her. The blond continues to sing, with her eyes closed and a little smirk on her face, pouring her sensuality in a subtle way, almost as if unaware of what she can arouse in men.

      The music comes to a close and so does the video. Now, besides being tired, I'm excited and bothered. I get up from the chair, take off my pants and go to the bathroom. Now, more than ever, I need a bath. Cold, preferably.

      Chapter six

      Julie

      Sunday arrives and I wake up feeling happy in a way I haven’t been in a long time. There’s a mix of excitement for the epic show and the feeling of a real good night sleep, in spite of missing the naughty boy from the house next door.

      I sit on the bed, stretch my body, and hear the message tone on my mobile.

       Daniel : Good morning, Ju. Did things go well last night at AD?

      Oh, damn it! And now? I’ll have to act silly so that he doesn’t suspect anything.

      I: Hi, Danny. All good and you? The venue was pretty full. When are you coming back? Kiss

      Daniel: Saturday. Kiss

      Men are so thrifty with words... Phew! Fortunately! I got away with this one!

      Just in tandem another message comes through. Oh, God!

      George: Little girl, I’ll be there in 15 to take you shopping. Be ready. You’re not allowed to wear leggings. XXXX (Kisses) from your personal stylist, best friend and producer.

      All men are thrifty with words, not George. I stand up and run to the bathroom as I type the answer.

      I: Okay. Can I put on the yoga pants? ;D

       George: Nooooooooooooooooooo :@ :@

      I: What are those :@?

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