it up, enjoying the peace that strumming a familiar tune brings me.
Music has always been my one emotional release. It wasn’t always easy talking about my feelings or how things were going in my life, and my mother understood that about me. She reached out to the broken little twelve-year-old the state dumped on her doorstep and encouraged my love of music.
While I would love to say that music instantly straightened me out and made me the reasonable man I am today, that’s not exactly how it happened. It took a long time for me to mellow out. When I was younger, I had a lot of anger built up inside toward my biological mother, who left me stranded in a hotel room when I was just six so that she could run off with her pimp boyfriend. I used that aggression to lash out physically every chance I got to help ease the pain from the loss of the only existence I had ever known. Even though life with my biological mother kept me frightened most of the time, I was scared to be without her. She was the only constant in my ever-changing surroundings as we moved from place to place with whoever would take my mother and me in.
I didn’t know it at the time, but my real mother leaving me in that room was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Sure, it was rough bouncing from home to home until Sarah took me in, but at least I got fed and finally got the chance to go to school.
My fingers pluck at the strings as I close my eyes and allow my thoughts to drift, and I’ll be damned if the very first thing that pops into my head isn’t a vision of Iris. Her soft, smooth skin and flowing, thick brown hair only heighten her exquisite face. The green of her eyes and the natural pink pout of her plump lips draw me in every time, along with her long, toned legs. That body of hers is simply banging, and I’d give anything to be able to touch her the way I want.
She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about finding in my perfect woman, because coupled with her unbelievable beauty, she actually acts like she gives a shit about me—not my stardom¸ but about me as a person.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to whisk her into my world anyway.
Just as I begin to hum a melody that’s flowing through my brain as I’m picturing Iris, I hear the unmistakable crank of an engine that’s struggling to turn over. The racket is coming from outside, next to my trailer, which strikes me as odd because I didn’t think Iris owned a vehicle that actually ran. Every time I’ve ever seen her leave, Birdie has been driving them somewhere in her little white Corolla.
Curiosity wins out and I set my guitar down and push up off the couch. Through the small window over the kitchen sink I spot Iris’s sexy little ass as she leans over, checking the engine under the hood of what looks like a late-nineties Cavalier.
Without hesitation I take my opportunity to rescue her yet again in my lame-ass attempt to apologize for being a major asshole the last time we spoke. I’ve wanted to apologize but haven’t been able to work up an excuse to talk to her again.
I have to stop turning into a complete fucking nutcase every time the girl starts asking questions. If I were her, I’d be curious as hell about me too. After all, I did come into this small little town, where everyone seems to know everyone, as a complete stranger. I guess I’m lucky that no one other than Iris has taken an interest in getting to know me better.
The gravel crunches under the soles of my black boots as I approach her. “You need a hand?”
She turns toward me. While I expect her to point a nasty scowl that I rightly deserve in my direction, I’m surprised by a sweet smile instead. “Do you know anything about cars?”
The tension I’m carrying in my shoulders releases and they instantly relax as I take another few steps to stand beside her in front of the car. “I do. For instance, to me it sounds like you’ve got a dead battery.”
Iris rests her hip against the car as she stares up at me. “You could tell that