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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Asher
We found a small café in town. Small was an understatement. It only had four, square, wooden tables inside. I went to the counter to buy the food while Mel sat at the only available table. I ordered a cheeseburger smothered with grilled onions, mushrooms, and a side mountain of French fries at her request, and a turkey club and a Caesar salad for me. She only ate half of her burger and a just few of the fries. I ended up eating the other half as well as the rest of her fries. I sort of knew that would happen.
I was feeling anxious about talking to Brodie and Jackson and wanted to get it over with. I should have just told them who I was when we’d first met, but it hadn’t seemed like the best time.
By the time we finished eating, it was dark. We drove back to the bar to see if Brodie and Jackson were there. Playing some tunes might be a great way to break the ice.
We could hear music as we opened the truck doors. Mel and I grabbed our guitars from the back seat and went inside. Jackson waved us over the minute he saw us. He seemed excited about playing with us. It was a good feeling.
“What kind of guitar do you have?” Brodie asked as I pulled it out of the case
“D-28 Dreadnought.”
“Jack’s got a Dreadnought. Are you as picky about who touches yours as he is?”
“Probably.” I chuckled. “What do you have?”
“I own a Fender Squier P Bass.”
“That’s right. You’re the bass.”
“Somebody’s gotta do it.”
I was nervous at first and missed a few beats, which pissed me off. I never screwed up like that. Even Mel gasped and commented on it.
“Asher! What the hell?”
I shrugged. Then Jackson skipped a few noticeable chords, but he only looked up and smiled. I suddenly didn’t feel so awkward. We played several tunes together. Everyone falling right into the groove without another missed beat, none that I noticed anyway.
“You two been playing together long?” Brodie asked me.
“No, well, we’ve messed around some, but just really started playing together this past week.” I had to grin as I glanced up to see Mel’s smile. I knew she’d caught on to the “messed around” innuendo.
“Well, it sounds like music is in your blood.”
“No doubt,” I said.
It had been an awesome experience playing songs with my brothers. But the secret looming over our visit needled my brain constantly. I had to figure out a way to tell them who I was. Once again, I thought that I should have told them when I’d first met them. Now it might be too late, and they might get pissed that I’d waited.
The next couple of days flew by. Every minute had been packed full and there was never a dull moment. We jammed with Jackson and Brodie each night, and Mel and I made love every time we were alone. But I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to confess the real reason why Mel and I were there to the guys. I was enjoying the time with her, and though I knew I had to tell them, I didn’t want to spoil the special and new time Mel and I were spending together, getting to know each other more as lovers rather than just friends.
By the third day, Mel and I had just had our tenth orgasm together—by Mel’s count. She was the one keeping score and it made me laugh. She stood in the shower. I stepped in and began sudsing down her front.
“Let’s just knock on the door and see what happens,” Mel suggested. “The sooner you tell them, the sooner you’ll be able to relax and stop worrying about it.”
“I know, you’re right. It’s just difficult.”
“What’s so hard? ‘Hey, Jackson and Brodie, guess what? I’m your brother?’”
I laughed. “Yeah. That should work.”
“In my experience with difficult situations, it’s best to be as direct as possible.”
“Inyourexperience? What experience have you ever had with telling two people that you were related?”
“Well, none, but if I had twomorebrothers…” She lowered her eyes and I felt horrible for what she must be feeling. Here we were, talking about the fact that I had two brothers and couldn’t find the courage to tell them who I was, when her own brother, whom she’d probably give anything to talk to one more time, had just died. But then she surprised me when she finished with, “…you can bet your pretty, twenty-inch cock that I wouldn’t be hemming and hawing about letting them know about me.”
