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suzy-queued · 1 year

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A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

**This story is now complete!**

-------------------

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

---

I shove down my hesitation, because fuck Keith. If I want to crash his party, I’ll do it with a wrecking ball.

Ian and I step out of an Uber, bleary-eyed. The white chapel sits in a commercial strip, bathed in neon.

There’s two pink birds dressed in tuxedos mounted out front. I rip one from the grass. “Goddamn flamingos, man. That was supposed to be our thing.”

A man greets guests at the chapel steps. “Thank you for coming, thank you ah-very much.” Rhinestones. Bell bottoms. Sunglasses.

I can’t handle this shit. “He’s having fucking Elvis officiate his wedding?!”

---

I’m ready to find out what kinda froufrou shindig my ex is throwing. I’m gonna bust in his skull the second he vows himself to that prick Logan Covington.

Only … I haven’t moved yet.

Ian sets his hand on my neck. He touches a muscle that calms my whole goddamn body. “Hey, there’s a pizza place around the block. You up for it?”

I blink. “Bustin’ this up isn’t going to help anything, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Fuck. That voice of reason finally takes hold. “Pizza it is, then.”

The moment we turn, I hear a voice. “Mickey?”

---

Keith’s tux is perfect. His hair is perfect. “What’re you doing here? H-how are you?”

“Me? I don’t have a care in the goddamn world.”

He’s got candles in one hand and hideous flowers in the other. He pauses, like there’s no fucking sense hiding what’s going on. “I’m dying to know what you’re thinking.”

Well, fuck, I am, too. Because I didn’t plan this far. This whole trip’s been fueled by spitfire and rage. Now here we stand, face-to-face, and I’m torn between revenge and the strong freckled hands of my Uber driver.

I open my mouth to speak.

---

I can’t find the right words. My mouth works on autopilot. I turn my head and lay the biggest goddamn kiss on Ian. His body tenses, then he melts into it like we’ve been doing this shit for years.

I forget that Keith’s there. Elvis fades away. The chords of the practicing organist fade away.

I pull back slowly, staring at Ian.

“Um, hello?” Keith waves.

“Ian and I are gonna grab some grub. Maybe check out that haunted Nashville tour. Have fun with whatever bullshit you’re doing today.”

I don’t care how petty I sound.

I’m finally fuckin’ free.

---

I hear Keith stammering behind me. I don’t care what he has to say or what a clusterfuck this’ll be after the dust settles and we return home.

Ian and I shuffle down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.

The pizza ain’t Chicago style, but it tastes amazing. The hotel Ian picks for us ain’t fancy, but the sheets are clean.

We kiss against the wall. He peels off my clothes.

25 hours. 475 miles. One motherfucking Elvis. One round of drowsy sex.

I’m comfortable tangled in Ian’s gangly arms.

We do the thing I’ve been dying to do for an eternity … sleep.

---

Ian hands our key to the hotel clerk. “My friend and I enjoyed our stay.”

I nudge Ian as we walk outside. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

I pinch my eyes. I need more.

Ian slinks against me. “You’re my… lover.” Now he’s getting it. “Wanna bite you. Wanna nibble on you the whole way home.”

Better, but I still need more. “When we get back, will you be my—”

“Yes.” For Ian, it’s as simple as that.

We got no car. No plan. We only have each other.

And that’s all I fuckin’ need.

---*---*---*---*---

ONE YEAR LATER

Ian threw a receipt onto the kitchen table. “Finally paid the last toll. Got all the Camry repairs done.”

Mickey smirked. “We never got to show off our fake dating skills on that trip.”

“There’s one last souvenir I gotta deal with.” Ian got down on one knee, holding a small black box. “You’re in this house – this home – all the time. Might as well make it official.”

“You sayin’ you wanna get hitched?”

“You up for it? No flamingoes, I promise.”

Mickey pulled him into a kiss. “Pretty wise choice, hopping in your car that day.”

#galladrabbles #galladrabble #100 words #gallavich fan fiction #master post #no sleep til nashville

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nuagederose · 1 year

Text

As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Thirteen: Bones

ao3 link

“What’s that smell? Are you drunk?”

Christine had made her way out of the backstage area and back towards the bar area, where Eric, Greg, and Louie had already gathered drinks for themselves and took their spots one right after the other like a row of birds on a wire. Eric cracked a smirk at her once she emerged from the backstage area with her jacket slightly tugged down from over her shoulders and her hair disheveled.

“Are you drunk, Chris?” Louie asked her.

“No, I don’t think I am,” she replied with a slight hiccup. “If I was, I’d know.”

“You smell like wine,” Eric pointed out. “Like you just had a big glass of wine.”

“Okay, I had half a glass,” Christine corrected herself. “But I promise you fellas that I am not the least bit drunk, just a little bit buzzed is all.”

“Where did you get the wine?” Greg joined in, also with a sly smirk on his face.

“It’s a long story,” she assured him.

“Why do you look like you just walked right out of a wind tunnel?” Louie followed up.

“It’s an even longer story,” she assured him. Eric reached over to the table across from them for a fourth stool all for her, and she took her spot next to him. The stage had been all but set up there on the other side of the room right before them, complete with Alex’s bright blue guitar propped up on the stand next to the small drum kit. She had been promised to meet Nathan and Matt, his rhythm section, and yet she wondered as to when this would happen as she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned around and recognized Colette’s big Cheshire Cat smile almost immediately, as she styled her hair up with a slight part down one side of her head and accentuated it with a small bright red barrette. Christine dropped her gaze to her fitted white camisole underneath a black and white leather jacket and fitted black jeans with black leather Beatle boots.

“Hey!” Christine declared as she stood to her feet and put her arms around her.

“Hey!” Colette echoed her.

“I’m so glad you could make it, where are the other three?”

“Mar’s looking for a parking space, and Val and Sabrina are both outside talking to Alex,” Colette explained.

“Del Mar,” Eric chimed in.

“Har har,” Colette finished, and Greg and Louie chuckled behind her and Christine.

“Colette, right?” he asked her with a gesture to her.

“No, I’m Sabrina,” she joked, and Christine laughed out loud and clapped her hands. “‘Call Girl’ as Alex called me one time.”

Greg nearly spat out his drink at that, and Louie tilted his head back and cackled.

“At least he’s not calling you ‘Sluggo’ like with me,” Eric pointed out, and they erupted into more laughter. Sabrina and Valentina both then followed into the club together, both of them with slicked back hair and matching black and white jackets to Colette’s black and white leather. Once Marlene surfaced from right behind them, Christine found herself at a loss for words.

“You girls look like ice cream sundaes,” Louie remarked.

“The Sundaes, Lou,” Eric pointed out.

“The Sundaes!” Both Louie and Christine laughed at that; still with the smile on her face, the latter then turned her attention to the stage, where two men congregated together by the drum kit. She then realized it was Alex’s rhythm section, Nathan and Matt, and she hurried on over there to meet them before Alex himself surfaced from the backstage area.

Matt, a wiry man with curly blonde hair, nodded at her as he took his seat on the stool behind the drums, and then Nathan, the long-haired gentleman with a scraggly beard wrapped in a long black overcoat, turned towards her and nudged his round glasses up his nose. She noticed the wedding bands on both of their hands: if she didn’t know better, she swore that Alex was the bachelor of the band.

“You must be the infamous Christine Peck,” Matt said to her as part of his greeting.

“Wonder if you and I are related,” Nathan joked, and she shrugged.

“Not that I know of, but it’s a small world, though,” Christine explained, and she wondered as to just how much Alex had talked about her without her even knowing and without him even telling her as well. “I’m gonna be sitting right over there at the bar with those three boys and those four girls who look like ice cream sundaes.”

The two of them laughed at that.

“We gotta run that by Alex,” Matt suggested. “He’ll love that.”

“And that’s a nice little jam you got going on over there, too,” Nathan told her with a grin.

“We try our best,” Christine assured him.

“I think Matt’s got something for the whole gang over there to go nuts with.” He adjusted his glasses, and Matt nodded his head and held the stick in his left hand at an angle as if he played in a marching band rather than a jazz trio about to perform in a club. A few more people behind Christine filtered into the floor of the club, but she could care less, however: he tested the drums with the standard beat and then Nathan picked up his electric bass for a fledgling line, one with a bit of a groove to it: that coupled with the looks of determination on their faces made it seem as if they were to make her and the party of seven behind her dance as if it was that New Year’s Eve before the Twenty-First Century.

Before Matt could tap on the big splash cymbals to the right of his head, Alex all but stumbled out from behind the curtain off to the side as if he had had another glass of wine in the meantime. He ran his long lanky fingers through his black hair and nudged a few tendrils of the gray streak over the crown of his head.

“What’s going on out here?” he demanded, and he took off his glasses and shook his head about as if to jar himself awake.

“Just havin’ a little warm-up session,” Christine told him.

“A little warm-up before the real fun starts, eh?” He flashed her a wink, and more patrons took their spots behind her. She knew that the show was ready to start, especially since his rhythm section was already on the move. He then padded over to her and crouched down at the stage’s edge.

“Meet me backstage again afterwards,” he told her in a low voice.

“Round two?” she asked him, to which he nodded his head. Feeling warm, she then headed on back to the party at the bar right as more and more patrons flocked into the club: she took her seat between Eric and Colette once Alex picked up that blue guitar from the metal stand next to the small stack of amps there.

“Full house,” Eric remarked.

“Yeah, it is!”

The three men played light free jazz that seemed to wander and groove at the same time. Alex picked at the strings rather lightly and gracefully: he made it seem so easy and so simple without a second thought. The way that he moved about with Nathan and Matt made Christine want to get up and dance around.

Indeed, she could still feel the power of the wine within her. Only half a glass but it was enough for her to ride upon as she climbed up to her feet and took both Eric and Colette by the hands and began to dance with them right there at the bar. There was one song that they pulled forth for them, a song which Alex referred to as simply “Bollywood”, and Christine couldn’t help but close her eyes and visualize as she held Eric close to her. She had never done the tango but she could feel the dance within her.

Though she only wore her green coat over the white top, she imagined it to be a dress, complete with its long lacy black and white skirt lined with beads made of bone. She imagined Eric with a white lace shirt, even with the collar open to show off most of his chest to her: that long smooth black hair billowed back as if he had been mounted upon the back of a horse. The song may have been an homage to the world of Bollywood, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the tango as she and Eric took to the dance together in that small space.

She could feel another body next to her, and one that she knew didn’t belong to Alex.

The wine and the sensual feeling of the music swirled together into a hypnotic potion of sorts, a sort of super-aphrodisiac as the woman’s body next to her guided her away from Eric. It was a feeling that she couldn’t explain as Colette kept her hand on the small of her back and her breasts brushed up against her own.

It was as if she had dug down into the dirt below her feet and struck a large nugget of gold embedded within. She opened her eyes as Alex pulled double duties on his electric blond guitar and a little cherry red acoustic. Colette flashed her a wink; the lights from over the stage washed over her cherry lips to give them a bluish violet tinge on top. Christine thought about the girl crushes she had had in school, and she wondered if she could balance both Alex and a girl like Colette.

She was already neck deep in an affair with Alex, and thus, she wondered if there could be some loopholes in there as long as he was willing to undertake it as well.

Colette spun her in a twirl and sent her back to Eric right as Greg, Louie, and Sabrina clapped along with Matt’s steady drum beats. He put his arms around her and held her close to him. She wasn’t drunk but the feeling of his soft body next to her own made her believe that the wine had more juice in it than she had originally believed.

Alex nodded his head and kept it down so his hair spread over his face: his deep eyes were completely covered by that fuzzy soft black hair. To think that she had had sex with him in that back room not even some time before the show.

By the time Matt hit the big splash cymbal, Christine took her seat once again and raised her hands up over her head for a round of applause.

A little power trio that never became too loud and yet they seemed far too big for that room, especially with the way in which Alex would bend the strings and bring in some heavy doses of distortion every now and again. Every so often, he would raise his head to shake the hair from his eyes and show off the sweet smile on his face.

Christine thought about giving him a little kiss on the side of the neck once they were done with things as he launched into a slow and low solo over Nathan’s stand-up bass. He brought in distortion and low notes, and yet the whole thing was mellow and soft, as if she was about to curl up next to her parents and fall asleep right then and there.

Some days, she still felt like a young child, and as she watched Alex there with his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side as if he was a marionette puppet suspended from a series of strings up above, she could feel herself yearning to walk back home.

“We’re all just walking each other home,” as her mother had said.

Within time, he let his guitar fade out with the soft taps on the cymbals, and the room lit up for those three men. The party at the bar stood to their feet: Christine, warm from the feeling, thought about climbing up onto the stool to give him an extra dose of applause, but she knew that if she climbed up there, she wouldn’t be able to come on down again.

Instead, she bowed past Colette and Marlene for the side of the stage to catch up with Alex in the backstage area. She kept her head down low lest she be caught and thrown outside to the dark sidewalk and the cold of the November night. She skirted past the stage for the corridor to his dressing room: he stood there in the doorway with his hands upon his head as if he had just woken up from a hearty nap.

He let out a low whistle and turned towards her, and he showed her a smile.

“Hey, there you are!”

“Oh, my gosh, you guys were amazing!” she declared with a break in her voice: it was right then she wished that she had a big glass of water in hand.

“Aw, shucks, we try our best,” he said with a shrug.

“Did you see all of us dancing?” she asked him. “Me and Eric, and then me and Colette?”

“No, I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” he said with a shake of his head. “I think Nate and Matt did, though, I heard them laughing about it a couple of times.”

“Did you want to—finish what you and I had started earlier?” she asked him with a fluttering of her eyelashes at him.

“I don’t really know, I’m pretty knackered at the moment,” he confessed to her with a shrug of his shoulders: indeed, she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. “I can meet up with you tomorrow, though. I’ll come and get you, and then you and I can hang out and have some fun together.”

“You know where I live, right?”

“Of course. About ten minutes up the spine of Long Island from me in the heart of Queens. Being a teacher does have its perks, let me tell you.”

“Cute little brick building, second door on the left on the second floor,” she told him.

“I’ll remember that.”

“And could I at least have a kiss good night, though?” she asked him, and he leaned in closer to her for a kiss on the lips without a second thought. Christine put her arms around his waist and pressed her chest against his to feel his heartbeat. His lips were as soft and smooth as ever, and it seemed as though his body had been tenderized by all that performing up on the stage given he felt much softer than from before.

“Mmm, thank you, baby,” she whispered into his lips.

“No bones about it, my dear,” he whispered back with glee. He ran his fingers through his black hair again and cleared his throat. “Run along now, my Strawberry Girl.”

Christine scurried back to the party at the bar where Colette and Eric waited for her. The three of them followed Greg, Louie, Marlene, Valentina, and Sabrina outside to the cold night and a loud whirring in their ears, and not even the feeling of thirst could erase the memory of Alex’s lips on her own.

Eric took her home, and he flashed her a wink before she climbed out to the sidewalk.

There was so much love that she had to think about, and none of which she had any idea as to how to tell either Wendy or Nelly when she saw either one again.

She woke up the next morning with her mouth dry and her body refreshed, and she realized that Alex had never said as to when he would meet with her on that day. Quickly, and after she had brushed her teeth and took a large drink of water from the fridge, Christine dressed in a blue long-sleeved shirt, faded jeans, and her long green coat, especially when she knew that the rain could come in yet again for another round.

She had ran a brush through her hair and laced up her Chuck Taylors when she heard a knock on the door.

She opened the door and there he was, donned in that green Ireland shirt under a heavy black windbreaker as well as his faded blue jeans and with a corsage of blue and white flowers in hand.

“It’s like you’re taking me to prom,” she said with a chuckle.

“In a way, I kind of am,” he insisted with a chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders: he had brushed his black hair to utmost smoothness, and his gray streak spread down from the crown like a plume of white smoke. His eyes seemed to sparkle from their deep blue depths as he showed her that sweet lopsided smile.

Christine showed him her left wrist to which he slipped the corsage on over her hand. The smooth glass beads of the bracelet fit her just right, and she clasped a hand to her wrist.

“Shall we?” he asked her. She reached for her bag and her keys, and she strode up next to him. She shut the door behind her and locked it, and then she returned to him.

“We shall,” she declared.

The apartment across the hall was silent, but she knew that she would have to introduce Alex to Wendy at some point. They walked side by side to the stairs together, and all the while, Christine kept her hand down by her waist. Once they reached the front door of the building, she tucked her hands into her coat pockets. The feeling of rain lingered in the air over them, and she wished to protect those little flowers from any torrential rain around them.

“I just got paid last night after that gig so breakfast is on me,” he told her over the noise of the street.

“That is so sweet of you,” she said as they reached his car. A few raindrops fell upon her head, but she knew that she would be warm and dry in there with him. She climbed into the front seat first, to which she could tell that Captain Howdy had sat there a fair number of times before. Nevertheless, she nestled down in the seat and buckled herself in as Alex shut the door next to him.

He fired it up right as the rain began to fall again in a fine drizzle from the cold gray overhead.

“It’s cold,” he noted as he rubbed his hands together. “Think it’ll snow here sometime today?”

“It’s possible,” she assured him with a shrug.

They rolled up to the far end of the block, past Eric, Greg, and Louie’s building, but rather than making the turn for the diner by the cemetery, Alex took the opposite way all to head on back to Brooklyn. A few more bits of drizzle on the windshield turned into bigger rounder droplets of rain, and Christine huddled closer to Alex.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“Nah, just feeling cozy,” she replied, and he chuckled at that. He reached for the heater dial and turned on the heat at a low level.

“This’ll make things so much cozier,” he promised her.

“I find it so interesting that you never got married,” she remarked.

“I actually was married at one point, but… it went nowhere.”

She gaped at him as they pulled up to a stop sign. “Really? It went nowhere with you?”

“A complete dead end,” he proclaimed with a shrug of his shoulders and a glimpse up and down the street. “I realized that I didn’t love her and we weren’t on the same wavelength, either. She wanted children whereas I wasn’t in that state of mind—I’m still not in that mindset.”

Christine adjusted the lapels of her jacket. “Me, neither,” she assured him, and they bowed ahead to the next block. They were in his neighborhood.

“It’s funny because I’ve sometimes wondered how life could have been had I found someone I loved enough to father children with, though. To have an intimate family life…” His voice trailed off for a second, and Christine glanced over at him and the blank look on his face. She wondered if there were any secrets that he had never told anyone, be they Nathan or Matt, or even Captain Howdy. She knew that she had secrets that she never told her parents before.

The second she thought this, he cleared his throat and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

“Keep this between you and me for me,” he told her in a low voice, and they turned left to the narrow driveway outside a small bakery on the corner.

She raised a hand as if she was taking an oath of allegiance. “I vow to,” she said.

“I have been in love with a woman—like really in love, I wanted to marry her—” He held up two fingers.

“Twice!” Christine declared. “Did you?”

Alex nibbled on his bottom lip.

“You didn’t,” she softly said.

“I couldn’t,” he told her as he took the spot under the tall oak tree two rows from the front door.

“You couldn’t?” He pulled the parking brake and switched off the car, and then he glanced over at her and shook his head. “What do you mean, you couldn’t?”

“I simply didn’t have the courage to ask them to be with me,” he confessed. “It’s a big problem that I have that I often feel I can’t seem to fix no matter what I do. For years, I felt like I’m just not good enough to get with someone I truly love and start a family with them. Like I said that night you hid out in my closet, I had always struck out with women, and especially with women I had fallen deeply in love with.”

Puzzled, Christine adjusted herself in the seat and moved in closer to his face.

“I don’t understand, though, like… you and I had sex with each other,” she pointed out. “Twice, actually. At your place and at the jazz club. At the jazz club, you quite literally had your dick inside of me, Alex. You pulled out but you were there.”

“See, that’s the thing is I said ‘for years’, meaning… as I’ve gotten older and realized that it’s not the be-all, end-all of life, I’m a lot more relaxed about it. It’s really funny how it works, if I’m honest.”

“Because you realize that you’re past that age,” she followed along; the rain fell harder on the roof and yet she was still warm from the heater.

“Right, right. I don’t really regret it, either, like I made peace with it a long time ago and just went ahead with my career in music. I went ahead to be the very best ‘me’ I could with the guitars rested on my back.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said.

“And you would be right,” he chuckled. “But… I do think of being married, though. I’m getting older and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to marry someone I really love. I may not want kids, but I see senior citizens getting married from time to time.”

Christine thought about the incident with Captain Howdy back in the apartment, how she said Matt and Nathan couldn’t be ushers. She frowned as she thought about what he probably wasn’t telling her. They slowed to a near stop with the cars before them doing the same. Five o’clock on a Monday in the heart of New York City.

“Alex… are you and her engaged?” she asked him.

“Yes and no,” he replied with a deep sigh through his nose and a closing of his eyes.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes, because… I asked her to marry me… about five or six years ago, I don’t even remember now because the honeymoon ended around that time. And no, because neither she nor I have had the resources or the time or—in my case—the balls to even so much as go through with it.”

“The balls? Alex, you have the balls, I have felt them.” He snickered at that. “It’s not a joke! I have felt your balls.”

“You have felt them, haven’t you,” he chuckled, and then his smile faded as the traffic lurched ahead. “I also never had the chance to buy her a ring, either.”

Christine resisted the urge to laugh at that.

“I did set aside money to buy her a wedding ring,” he continued, “but then I saw this really cool book about meteorology and I had to get it, though. She’s always like ‘you never buy me things’, even though I have. Many times.”

“So, let me see if I can get this straight,” Christine began. “You asked her to marry you… years ago.”

“Yeah.”

“And yet, you failed to buy her a ring and you told me that the feelings for her have gone away.”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you still with her if she very clearly doesn’t make you happy anymore, Alex?” Christine demanded, slightly frustrated. “Why destroy yourself like that?”

He pursed his lips and merged over to the right lane for the Upper West Side and Nelly’s neighborhood.

“Because… I still love her to death,” he confessed. “I still feel something there. I still want to treat her well, even after she slapped me and threw the flowers I gave her on the floor. I still want to make it right with her.”

“Alex, she’s going to keep hitting you no matter what you do,” Christine told him. “She is going to continually use you and bury the truth between you by refusing a picture with you and letting you get fuller and rounder when you don’t intend to. She is going to constantly haunt you, climb inside your head and guide you like Pinocchio. She may seem perfect to you but I see the Mark of the Beast on her forehead from outer space without even knowing what she looks like.”

All the while, Alex remained silent, complete with a blank look on his face. Christine put her fingers up on the handle next to the top of the door and closed her eyes. She knew that she had done something wrong by saying that to him as the rain swelled for a moment before it backed down to a light shower. She opened her eyes to find him staring out the windshield, at the little rivers formed on the outside, as if the sky was bleeding for him, for the two of them.

“That was too much, I’m sorry,” she quipped with a shake of her head. “I take it all back—”

“No,” he flatly said. Christine stopped, and she looked over at him. He turned his head to her and showed her the stoic, serious look on his face. She opened her mouth as if to say something to him but he pressed a finger to those lips. The noise of the rain filled the void of silence around them for what felt like forever, until he spoke again.

“No. Don’t you dare.”

He dropped his finger down from her lips, and he stroked the round shape of her chin, followed by the interior of her neck. His blue eyes, as blue and rich as the ocean waters, gazed back at her: though the rain continued to fall, the clouds broke and the morning sun shone through to make the back of his head glow. It was as if he had a head of pure platinum, a ring of preciousness all for her just to spite the one who was bringing him pain.

He then leaned into her face: he nudged her bangs apart for a soft kiss on the forehead, and she curled her toes inside of her shoes.

“I may still love her, but she is a stone cold bitch who doesn’t care as to how she makes her nut,” he told her as he leaned back a bit. “Never mind… everything else you’ve pointed out and witnessed about her. She’s pretentious, for one thing, and I don’t know if it’s just an architect thing, either. She expects me to buy her things, too, like for her birthday or for Christmas, and I always want to treat myself instead, and she ends up making me feel bad for it, too, like I’m somehow not allowed to feel pleasure every now and again. And she’s supposedly all about… being yourself and shit like that, but it always comes out all stilted, like she’s phoning it in or something. It’s really hard to put into words.”

“It’s akin to saying ‘that’s funny’ instead of genuinely laughing,” Christine suggested.

“Yes!” He smacked the rim of the steering wheel with both hands. “Yes! Yes! Yes! That’s exactly what it is!” He rested his hands in his lap.

“And sometimes I… feel like she doesn’t actually love me back, either. You know, we’ve never had sex.”

Christine gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. In fact, she barely touches me. I’ve seen her in her underwear, but—” He snickered and snorted.

“What?”

“I’ve had sex with you—twice. You aren’t even my girlfriend, either.” He shook his head. “It’s really weird to think about because her smiles are genuine. You think I’m full of contradictions.”

“No, I don’t,” Christine said.

“You don’t?”

“No. Humans are just messy, Alex. You seem contradictory because you’re a messy human who happens to have a relationship that brings him so much pain.”

“Not just bringing me pain,” he corrected her. “You’re lucky I’m even willing to talk about it.” He fetched up a sigh as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Her smiles are genuine?” she recalled as she picked up her purse from the floor. “You know who else had a genuine smile? Ted Bundy.”

He chuckled at that. “Jeffrey Dahmer, too. And John Wayne Gacy. And Charles Manson.”

“Nelly and I have been referring to her as Captain Howdy,” Christine confessed, and he laughed out loud at that. And then he stopped when he realized what she had said.

“Nelly? The lunch lady?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you this but,” she started, to which she cleared her throat. “—I’ve been talking about you with her, simply because I wanted to not feel as alone.”

“Man, you should have told me that sooner, I would have figured it out,” he confessed to her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Figured what out?”

“She’s been acting almost avoidant towards me, like she’s hiding something,” he explained. “That’s probably why, too.” He then turned to her and took off his glasses. “I assume she knows that you told me about her knowing about all of this, too.”

“Yeah, I ran it by her and she very reluctantly agreed to it,” Christine assured him.

“At least it’s her and not one of those four girls who sit behind you in Mr. Hansen’s class,” he pointed out. “By the way, Matt and Nate were telling me that you and those three guys all called them—” He chuckled, a nice hearty deep one that came from deep within him. “—the Sundaes.”

“Because they literally looked like hot fudge ice cream sundaes,” she explained. “With their black and white leather jackets and red lips. They all loved it, though.”

“This bakery here has hot fudge donuts, I should probably tell you this now. They are ridiculously good, too.”

“You got your tummy from those, didn’t you,” she teased him.

“Nah, I got my tummy from a multitude of things,” he promised her with a gentle pat of his little belly. “One of those things is cannoli. Oh, god, get me away from cannoli!” He threw his hands up onto the ceiling and tilted his head back. “Help! I have a cannoli addiction! I have the problem with eating too many cannoli and getting too full in the belly I can’t seem to stop!”

Christine giggled at him, and he smoothed back his hair once more.

“Anyway, less talk more breakfast,” he declared, and the two of them climbed out together. The rain fell down over their heads in fine form, but it was enough for her to pull her hood over her head as they made their way inside for a pair of those donuts plus a pair of ham and cheese croissants fresh out of the oven. No bones about it, indeed.

She trusted him in that he could spoil her for the day, but she still thought about helping him again somewhere along the way, especially when he became so emotional on that morning back at the school. She thought about things he could worry about like his rent and of course, a potential wedding between him and Captain Howdy. She inwardly snickered at the thought of paying for a wedding all out of her pocket as a means of getting inside of Captain Howdy’s mind and fooling her that way, but she knew that she would have to save most of her money to even so much as pay for the catering.

After breakfast, Alex took her to a cute little bookstore up the street which also had a rack of movies for about a buck-fifty. He picked up one box from the rack and raised his eyebrows at the sight of it as Christine walked on over with a book about art glass tucked under her arm.

“What you got there?” she asked him.

“American Hot Wax—one of the movies that got me into music next to The Blues Brothers.” He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s mainly out of print, but sometimes, if it comes up in conversation, I’m there.”

“I’ve never even heard of it,” Christine confessed with a shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders. He turned to her and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Here, I’ll get it for you,” he said without a second thought.

“No, no, Alex, I can’t,” she quipped. “I mean, you barely have any money on you right now.”

“No, I want you to have it. Don’t worry about the money, I’ll take care of it. Besides, it’s only a buck-fifty. It’s like a cup of coffee.”

Something caught her eye and she turned her head for a look at another picture disk there on the rack, right on full frontal display, and one with a photograph of a long row of people up on a stage dressed in formal clothes. At the center of it all was a tall man with a mop of curly black hair. Even at a small level, she recognized that plume of silver at the crown of the head.

“Is this you?” she asked him as she picked it off the shelf for a better look.

“That’s me. I was in Trans-Siberian Orchestra for a whole decade. You ever go to a show with a big band that almost sounds like an orchestra and the production is surprisingly vast?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Christine said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Oh my god! I have to take you to a show now. They tour every December into New Year’s.”

“Could I bring my parents?”

“You sure can! We’ve been on TV and performed in front of huge crowds like you wouldn’t believe. I’m glad you found that because it got me thinking about classical music, now. I really wanted to dance with you in that room, but I never could because we had no music on hand.”

Christine held the disk to her chest along with the book, both of which he was happy to buy for her.

When they climbed back into the car, the rain had stopped, but the cold only left her wanting to snuggle closer to him. She brought her lips up to his ear as if she was about to kiss him there.

“Come away with me,” she whispered right into his ear. “Come to the coast with me and Eric.”

He raised his eyebrows and put on his glasses once again.

“When are you guys leaving?”

“June third,” she said.

“Really! That far away.”

“Yup, we’re going to be out there for a full week.”

He swallowed, and she could see a glimmer of fear in his eyes from behind those lenses.

“If I get the full-time position and I start making some money, I’ll see if I can pitch in with you guys.”

“That is so sweet,” she told him with a hand to her chest. He fired up the car again and peered over his glasses at the clock on the dashboard.

“Ten-thirty…” He lifted his head and fixed his glasses.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

“Let me take you down to Coney Island,” he decreed.

“Right now? Alex, it’s November.”

“It’s open,” he pointed out with a shrug. “It’s Saturday so it’s open, plus there’s no one there.”

Christine sighed through her nose and showed him a smile.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

It wasn’t that much of a drive but the way down to Coney Island always felt like some kind of adventure for her, especially after her parents divorced and her father moved near there. Indeed, she pictured him there at the front gate as they took that sweet parking spot there at the very front.

Just as Alex had said, they were alone aside from a few vendors and the person who tended to the Teacups.

“Some churros, my Strawberry Girl?” he suggested to her.

“Ooh, yes, please!”

It was right then that she didn’t care how much she was eating or how much he was spending on her. And it was when the crispy fresh churro straight out of the fryer hit her tongue when she realized that she could do this forever.

They walked along the heavy, aged wooden boards of the Boardwalk, right along the rim of the cold Atlantic waters that seemed to stretch on for infinity right before her eyes.

“When things are better, we’ll ride the Teacups and the roller coasters,” he promised her.

“Together?” she asked him with her mouth full of churro.

“Together, of course.” He stopped at the one carnival game with the balloons on the board, and he handed the guy inside a dollar for four darts.

He held one by the fins and chucked it at the balloon closest to him, and it instead popped the neighboring one. The next one popped another one, followed by the third: he only missed one, but he still won her a bright purple teddy bear.

“So soft and sweet,” she said as she held it close to her chest.

“It was a cinch,” he assured her with a little gyration to his head; he thanked the guy behind the corner and they kept on walking towards the other end of the Boardwalk.

“My dad lives about a block from here,” she told him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mom lives right across the hall from me.”

“So cool that you’re close to your parents. She—you know—she—was always so turbulent with her parents, especially her father. Kind of explains everything to be honest…” His voice trailed off, and a gust of cold wind swept over them. The sky overhead swirled with the darkness of more rain and probably snow as well.

“The temperature dropped,” he declared, and he turned to her. “Did you feel it?”

“I did!”

“We better get our asses home,” he proclaimed.

“Good idea,” she replied as she tugged her hood over her head and tucked her teddy bear closer to her chest. She tossed the empty churro container into a nearby trash can and the two of them hurried back to the front gate. They passed the shuttered churro stand when the rain fell in sheets once again over their heads. They bowed out of there right as the rain turned into sleet. Alex nearly dropped the keys but he caught them with his thigh, and he unlocked the car as fast as he could.

Christine ducked inside of the front seat and shut the door before anything could get wet. Alex let out a low whistle and smoothed down his wet hair.

“Jesus—” he muttered. He started up the car and fired up the windshield wipers.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen my dad, too,” she added.

“Wanna go over there real quick and say hi?” he suggested.

“I don’t see why not. I usually call him for his birthday and for Father’s Day, but he works long hours and I’m also in school, so it’s not like I’ve had too many opportunities to see him. I pretty much grew up as a daddy’s girl, too.”

He smiled at that and, very carefully, and by her direction, he drove her to his apartment complex, exactly one block away from Coney Island.

“This is where all the rich people live,” he noted. “And yes, I would totally know this, too.”

She chuckled as he brought her up to the front door, twin glass doors under a protective awning that looked to be made of paper over the walkway.

“Want me to just ring the buzzer and see if he’s there?” she suggested.

“Yeah, and if he’s home, I’ll find a place to park,” he told her. Christine rested her teddy bear on the center console between them and, with her hood over her head, she ducked out to the downpour, which had returned to straight rain; but she knew it would be snow soon enough. She strode along the walkway to the doors as well as the buzzer on the side.

She was about to reach up for his buzzer when a loud crack caught her off guard. A hole had opened in the awning right over her head and rain water fell through onto her head. At least she had her hood on.

“Holy shit!”

Shaking her hands about, she turned around back to the street, and Alex sprinted over to her, around the awning as most of it collapsed right then and there.

He put his arms around her and held her close, even though she was completely drenched.

“Are you okay?”

She breathed hard as though she had just ran a mile, but she was fixated on the warmth of his body despite the cold rain. His warmth in spite of the cold.

“Christine, are you okay?”

She lifted her head up to him as the raindrops fell in sheets over their heads and shoulders. His black hair spread over the sides of his face as if he had just been submerged in the ocean waters nearby there. The rims of his glasses were dotted with little droplets: his head protected her from any extra water that could come down through the hole in the awning over them.

She reached up and put her arms around his neck, and she stood up on her tiptoes to reach his face for the kiss in the rain. She held back for a look into his eyes.

“I take that as a ‘yes,’” he said in a soft enough voice for her to hear over the rain. “Come on, let’s go back to my place, get you dried off…”

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developerwith1 · 12 minutes

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Why Solar1000's Photovoltaic Kits Are Perfect for Casa Verde 2024 Home Installations

Are you thinking about switching to solar energy but unsure where to start? The Casa Verde 2024 program has made it easier than ever to install photovoltaic systems in your home, and Solar1000 offers the perfect kits to help you take advantage of this opportunity. These photovoltaic kits are affordable, efficient, and designed for seamless installation, making the transition to solar energy smoother than ever.

1. What is Casa Verde 2024?

Casa Verde 2024 is a government program designed to encourage homeowners to switch to renewable energy by offering substantial funding for solar installations. With grants covering up to 90% of the installation costs, Casa Verde 2024 makes it affordable for more people to install photovoltaic systems and reduce their reliance on traditional electricity grids.

The program aims to help households save on energy costs while contributing to the global push toward more sustainable energy solutions.

2. Why Choose Solar Energy for Your Home?

Why switch to solar energy? It’s a bit like investing in a fruit tree—once planted, it keeps giving you “free” fruit every season. Solar panels work in a similar way. Once installed, they harness the sun’s energy to generate electricity, slashing your monthly utility bills. Plus, with Casa Verde 2024, the initial cost of “planting” your solar energy system is significantly reduced.

You’ll not only save money but also reduce your carbon footprint, making it a win-win for you and the environment.

3. What Are Photovoltaic Kits?

Photovoltaic kits are complete solar energy systems packaged for ease of installation. These kits typically include:

Solar panels that convert sunlight into electricity.

Inverters to transform solar energy into usable power for your home.

Mounting hardware to install the system on your roof.

Wiring and accessories to connect everything safely and efficiently.

Solar1000 offers high-quality, reliable photovoltaic kits that are perfect for homeowners looking to make the switch under the Casa Verde 2024 program.

4. Why Solar1000 Kits Are Ideal for Casa Verde 2024

Choosing the right solar system for your home can be overwhelming, but Solar1000's photovoltaic kits are tailored for the Casa Verde 2024 program, making them an ideal choice. Why? Because they are:

Cost-effective: Designed to maximize the Casa Verde 2024 grant benefits.

High quality: Built with durable materials and technology to ensure long-term efficiency.

Customizable: Solar1000 offers different kits depending on your home’s size and energy needs.

Easy to install: Solar1000 provides professional installation services, ensuring your system is set up correctly and quickly.

5. Easy Installation with Solar1000 Kits

Worried that installing solar panels will be complicated? With Solar1000, installation is as simple as possible. Their kits come with everything you need, and their team of professionals will handle the entire setup process. Think of it like having a furniture delivery service that not only brings the sofa but also assembles it for you—quick, easy, and hassle-free.

Once installed, you can start benefiting from solar energy almost immediately.

6. How Much Will Solar1000 Kits Cost?

You’re probably wondering about the cost. The price of a Solar1000 kit can vary depending on the size of your home and energy needs. Typically, a photovoltaic system can cost between $5,000 and $15,000. However, with the Casa Verde 2024 program covering up to 90% of the cost, your final price could be as low as $500 to $1,500.

That’s a small price to pay for an energy solution that can last for decades and save you thousands on electricity bills.

7. How Casa Verde 2024 Lowers Your Solar Costs

Casa Verde 2024 drastically reduces the upfront cost of going solar. By offering 90% government funding, the program helps homeowners install photovoltaic systems at a fraction of the cost. This makes solar energy affordable for more people than ever before, allowing families to benefit from clean energy without a huge financial burden.

Essentially, Casa Verde 2024 turns solar energy into an investment that pays for itself much faster.

8. How Do Photovoltaic Systems Work?

It might sound complex, but photovoltaic systems are actually pretty simple. Here’s how they work:

Solar panels absorb sunlight and convert it into direct current (DC) electricity.

An inverter transforms the DC electricity into alternating current (AC), which is what powers your home.

If you generate more electricity than you need, the excess can either be stored in a battery or fed back into the grid.

In essence, photovoltaic systems allow you to turn sunlight into free, usable power for your home.

9. The Environmental Impact of Solar Energy

Switching to solar energy doesn’t just benefit your wallet—it also benefits the planet. By installing photovoltaic systems, you reduce your reliance on fossil fuels, which are a major source of greenhouse gases. Solar energy is clean, renewable, and sustainable, making it a key part of the solution to climate change.

Imagine it this way: each solar panel on your roof is like a tree, absorbing energy and contributing to a healthier environment.

10. Maintenance of Solar1000 Photovoltaic Kits

One of the biggest advantages of Solar1000's kits is that they require minimal maintenance. Once installed, these systems can last for over 20 years with very little upkeep. Here’s what you need to do:

Keep the panels clean: Occasional cleaning to remove dirt and debris will ensure your system runs at peak efficiency.

Monitor performance: Use Solar1000’s tools to track how much energy your system is generating.

Schedule periodic inspections: A yearly check-up ensures that everything is working as it should.

With just a little care, your solar energy system will continue to save you money for years to come.

11. Solar Energy: The Long-Term Financial Benefits

Switching to solar energy is not just about the immediate cost savings. Over the long term, you’ll save thousands of dollars on electricity bills, making solar a sound investment for any homeowner. With Casa Verde 2024, the upfront costs are minimal, and within a few years, your savings will have more than covered your initial investment.

Additionally, solar panels can increase the value of your home. Homes with solar systems tend to sell faster and at a higher price than those without.

12. How to Apply for Casa Verde 2024

Applying for Casa Verde 2024 is a straightforward process. Here’s a quick guide:

Consultation: Contact Solar1000 to assess your home’s solar needs.

Eligibility Check: Make sure your property meets the requirements for Casa Verde 2024.

Application Submission: Solar1000 will help you fill out and submit the necessary paperwork.

Approval and Installation: Once approved, Solar1000 will handle the installation process from start to finish.

Start Saving: Begin enjoying reduced electricity bills and the environmental benefits of solar energy!

13. Conclusion: Why Solar1000 and Casa Verde 2024 Are the Perfect Match

The combination of Solar1000's photovoltaic kits and the Casa Verde 2024 program offers the ideal solution for anyone looking to switch to solar energy. With government funding covering up to 90% of the cost, and Solar1000’s expertise in installation and maintenance, this is the perfect time to make the move to a cleaner, more affordable energy source.

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