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“Sorry,” he told me. “I meant to pull out.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
It may have been the hormones talking, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
He gently pulled out, stroking my pussy as he did so.
Taking me in his arms, we held each other until sleep came.
I knew it would be a good idea to rest up. I had plans to meet Becca soon.
I hadn’t seen her in about a month and was eager to pass on the good news about Loki’s Laugh.
But now I would have something else to share with her as well: the news that I was no longer a virgin.
And that I was madly in love with Varg.
Chapter Thirteen – Varg
Angels sang, giving meaning to both love and hate. Sweet, celestial songs rose above the mire, to a better place. The phone rang. I answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Varg, man, where are you?”
It was Ragnar
“At home, next to a beautiful girl, you?”
“Same.”
“How is Stephanie?”
“Lovely as ever.”
“Of course, and the little one?”
“Karin, healthy as an ox. Never seems to stop eating. We were just wondering if you were planning to have practice today.”
He waited a beat.
“Because you need me to drive the van and it’s already half an hour after the starting time for our practice?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
Another pause.
“I’ll be right there, leaving in five.”
He hung up.
I sprang into action, Varg the Superhero. I Ubered to Ragnar’s house to get the van— he never drove when hungover— and then drove everywhere I was needed, delivering loyal citizens to their destination.
“How much did we lose?” I asked, after I had pulled up to Ragnar’s place yet again.
He was already standing outside, with some kit. Stephanie and Karin waved at me from the door.
I waved back.
“Just an hour. We can still do it,” Ragnar said, getting into the rear seat. “Stig’s already ready to go. He’s been waiting on us, and he’s a bit pissed.”
Great.
We drove off to fetch Stig.
We knew better than to argue with him. He had trouble ordering sandwiches without assistance, but the guy knew his numbers. We just focused on getting the gear up to the second-floor practice space.
Technically, it was Seth’s money, but it was still from the profits of our album. We might as well get our money’s worth.
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“Stig, he’s always like that.”
“I meant you, smart ass.”
“Another nickname; you’re spoiling me, Ragnar.”
“I thought you were kidding about the girl.”
“Not a bit of it.”
“We’ll have to meet her sometime,” Stig said.
“She’d probably like that, as she’s a bit of a fan.”
“See? Groupies, limos and Lear jets.”
Ragnar shook his head in disappointment.
“Hey, now, she’s not a groupie.”
“Whoa, calm down, man, I was kidding. You must really like this girl.”
I hadn’t planned on it going like that, but there was no time like present.
“I do, we’re living together now.”
“Does this bundle of wonderful have a name?”
“Ashley, but I call her Ashe.”
“Like the tree?” Stig asked.
“Yeah, actually.”
I hadn’t noticed before, but Stig seemed to be more Norwegian than we were.
‘Ashe’ was the Norwegian word for ash trees.
He spoke English almost perfectly too. Only the slightest accent on a few letters like ‘g’ and ‘s.’
He had a wonderful sort of brain in that shaggy head of his. Even if it was a bit perplexing at times.
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Are you sure about this? I don’t mean to be a dick but–” Ragnar began.
“Hey, I get it, no offense taken, or I assume given. Things are cool.”
“You sure?
“Yes, I know I had a dark period there, but I’m feeling much better now,” I said, defensively.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am, as much as I’ve been about anything.”
“Right. Good. Ok, ‘Immortal Territory,’ from the top,” Ragnar said, getting us back on track.
Not only our drummer, he was also the band leader, like Stewart Copeland, but without the massive ego. We fell into line, like clockwork soldiers, going through our motions like so many times before.
Muscle memory kicked in— what we once enjoyed and what was once partly just keeping us employed.
It was nothing some new songs couldn’t fix. Also, that wasn’t true for all of us. Music was my only marketable skill. Both a freedom and a prison, I tried to make the best of it, always knowing it could be worse.
I knew that better than anyone.
Suddenly, I knew that Ashe was near.
The scent preceded her, sweet on the air. Call it good faith, but I wanted her to know where I was. Mid-song she came in, sitting down awkwardly on the floor, the vibration running though the building as we jammed.
“Time?” Ragnar asked at the end of the song.
“Ten,” Stig said.
“Call it.”
He meant practice was over.
We only had ten minutes left. Enough to run through a couple songs, but only once, and his inner perfectionist wouldn’t allow him to do that. It hadn’t been a total loss: five songs were at an instinctive level. Right where we liked them.
