It was nearly 1:30 in the morning by the time I finally found myself walking out of the Rainbow Room, Bea's arm hooked through mine, body tantalizingly close to my side. All I wanted was to curve an arm around her waist, pull her against me, and plant a kiss on those perfect rosebud lips of hers, letting her silver dress run off her body until it puddled on the floor so I could see just what she was hiding underneath the fabric.
But at the same time she had an air about her that told me to be cautious with my actions. She had class, dignity, refinement and elegance. She wasn't someone I could whisk back to my flat, strip down, and have my way with on the first date.
"Did you enjoy the meal?" I asked, and she smiled.
"I did. I enjoyed the company very much as well. You're a wonderful conversationalist Mr. Simmons, did you know that?"
"Well, I've been told I love the sound of my own voice, so I'm sure I've picked up some tricks somewhere along the way," I said, and she tossed her head back with a laugh, curls cascading down her back, and I longed to run my fingers through them.
"You certainly have. And I'm sure you've picked up all kinds of tricks during your career. Perhaps we'll have to meet up another time and you can show me," she said, putting a hand on my arm, running it up my jacket until she halted, resting her hand lightly on my shoulder.
"It would be unspeakably foolish of me to say no to that," I said, picking her hand up off my shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze before bringing it to my mouth, kissing it softly. "How might I reach you to arrange a second meeting?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon enough," she said, extracting her hand from mine and, to my surprise, stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
A cab pulled over to the curb and she gave me a sheepish smile as she saw me staring.
"A trick I picked up as a kid," she said, and I chuckled.
"An impressive one," I said, walking over and opening the door to the backseat for her.
"I'll let you know where we'll be meeting next," she said, kissing me on the cheek before slipping into the cab.
Reluctantly, I shut the door, watching the bright yellow taxi pull away from the curb and drive off, quickly vanishing into the endless stream of traffic. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I stood there beneath the glow of the streetlamp, staring after her as if I could somehow see her through the back windshield of the taxi she was in.
After a pause, I snapped out of it, hailing a taxi of my own and heading home. I drifted up to my flat, practically walking on air. Each footstep was light as I walked up the steps, unlocking my door and slipping inside. I got out of my suit, folding it up and setting it on a chair by my bed, letting out a sigh as I flopped onto the mattress. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment before reaching over, switching off the light. I closed my eyes, still able to picture her face, the way she smiled, how every movement was calculated and graceful and flawless, how she was impeccably put together, how everything about her was perfect.
I wrapped myself deeper in the blankets, wishing she was the thing keeping me warm, dropping off to sleep with my mind brimming with thoughts of her.
The next morning, I walked into the studio still with a spring in my step, almost imagining that Dottie would have a message from Bea waiting for me, telling me she'd meet me in the studio bathroom in ten minutes. But Dottie only gave me the same greeting we exchanged yesterday, and I couldn't deny that a large part of me wouldn't have minded meeting Dottie in the studio bathroom in ten minutes either.
I pushed open the door to the recording studio, stifling a yawn. Paul looked up, giving me a smile.
"How was the date?" he asked, and I chuckled.
"You were wrong, turns out all she was looking for was a night of hopefully witty conversation," I said, and he winced.
"Ah, sorry. Maybe she only wanted to go further than talking with me," he teased, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that to make you feel better. You missed out though, she's...quite the catch," I said.
"Damn, is that seriously Gene Simmons I hear not complaining about how his date didn't end in sex?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm allowed to like spending time talking with a woman," I said, and Ace giggled.
"Well you are, but you usually don't!"
I rolled my eyes again, picking up my bass and starting to tune it. "None of you know anything about my dating life, and it's going to stay that way," I said, and Peter grinned.
"Well, you sure yak about it a lot in interviews, so I think we've all got a decent enough idea."
Rolling my eyes for a third time, I lifted a middle finger in his general direction. "How about we just start practicing, alright? We've got a tour in less than a month, we need to get these songs ironed out for when we're playing them live."
We ran through the setlist that Bill had said was best for the tour, adding in a few other songs for good measure just in case the encores ran long. Despite the air conditioning, the room grew hot as the sun rose higher outside. A sheen of sweat was covering my forehead and I wiped it away with the back of my hand, shifting the strap of my bass in an attempt to unstick my shirt from my skin.
"Can we just call it for the day?" Ace whined. "We're close enough to having it perfect, we've got three more weeks! I'm wasting my summer days sitting in this stupid room rather than having fun."
"You're acting like a teenager," Peter muttered, equally as cross due to the heat.
"Well I'm only four years older than one," Ace shot back, and I bit back a sigh.
"I think we're all pretty fed up with practicing. Let's just call it, we're close enough to six hours," I said, gratefully pulling off my bass and setting it down, running a hand through my hair. "And someone tell this place to crank the A.C. up more."
Ace and Peter didn't hesitate to immediately bail, not even bothering to put away their instruments, and I rolled my eyes once again. If this kept up, they'd make me roll my eyes so hard they fell out of my head. As Paul packed up his guitar as neat and secure as always, I carefully set Ace's in its designated case, making sure the expensive piece of equipment was not just left out in the open for anyone to take.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I straightened, turning to find Paul staring at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked, and he blinked.
"Huh? Oh, no, nothing is. How was last night, really? Did you have a nice time? She actually left me a message, I guess you didn't exchange numbers then? Actually I'm pretty hungry, want to stop by my place for a quick lunch and then we can talk? I live closer than you and I don't want to eat out," he said, and I chuckled.
"That works just fine," I said, walking out of the room with him and trying to hide just how eager I was to find out exactly what message Bea had left him.
