Page 26 of Unexpected Love

Chapter Eight

Joe

I grab two pairs of jeans, a couple of t-shirts, and socks and underwear, stuffing them in my overnight bag. I shove my shaving kit that also has my shampoo and body wash in there on top of my clothes. The box of condoms on my bed taunts me. Is this really what I want? To go out and have random sex with women I don’t know? Before Chloe, I’d have no problem, but now—shit, now I don’t know what I want. I’m only making this trip because Chris, one of my good buddies from back in the day, begged me to come, and my dad thought it would be good for me to get out.

We’re going up to Atlanta to hit some bars and see some bands play. Chris has made it his mission to get me laid and out of this perpetual funk I’ve been in. I never told him about Chloe or the baby, which means he has no clue why I’m in the funk.

My mom has been hovering like crazy, and I know she means well, but I’m fine, or at least that’s what I tell everyone. She’s tried to encourage me to date or at least meet new people, but it hasn’t interested me. Not when a raven-haired beauty seems to monopolize all my thoughts. Truth is, I’ve been torturing myself every day for the past month listening to every single voicemail that Chloe’s left me.

I could hear the regret and the sincerity of her apologies in each message, but I just wasn’t sure about what I was going to say. Then more and more time went by, and I just assumed it was too late. Especially since last week, her calls stopped coming. I can’t say I blame her for not calling anymore. I wouldn’t if I were her.

The roar of motorcycles outside lets me know that Chris and the boys are here. I throw the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and on the way out I grab my helmet, riding glasses, and leather jacket just in case.

I greet everybody and walk over to my Dyna Glide. First, I shove my leather coat into my saddle bag and bungie my bag to the back of my bike. The sun is shining down on me as I strap my low-profile dot helmet on and my aviators. As soon as my bike starts, the familiar rumble makes my stress just disappear.

As soon as we hit I-75, I’m able to hit the throttle, and then it’s smooth sailing. The wind in my face and the sun shining down on me are the perfect cures for the case of the blues I seem to have.

We hit Atlanta shortly after three, so we head over to our hotel. We splurged and got a couple of suites with two rooms just in case we brought anyone back. Plus it’s not often that I can get away like this for the weekend.

We decide to get ready and then go grab dinner before heading over to the Tabernacle Theater for the concert. It’s all local bands that were voted on by their fans. It’ll either be amazing or it’ll suck. Obviously, I hope it’s the former, because that would really suck to get that kind of opportunity and then to fucking blow it.

I check myself out in the mirror. My black hair is shaved close to my scalp on the sides and a little longer on top. My face is covered in a light five o’clock shadow so I just trimmed it up a bit. I’m wearing a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up on my forearms. It’s tucked into some boot-cut jeans. I slip on my black motorcycle boots. I dab a little cologne on and then head out into the living room.

***

Leaning against the bar, I scope out the women. There’s a lot here tonight. I take a swig of my beer while hoping that one of these women piques my interest enough for me to take her back to the hotel. With a sigh, I head back over to where my group is seated. A few women have been circling them, hoping to get invited over.

I see, as I walk up, that Chris already has a cute little redhead in his lap, their heads real close as they talk. Leaning against the tall table, I wait for the next band to come out.

“Hi.” I turn my head and spot a really cute blonde standing next to me. I feel no interest whatsoever, but maybe if I fake it, it’ll naturally kick in.

“Hey. I’m Joe.” I hold out my hand to her.

“Hailey.” She places her soft hand in mine. “Are you from around here?”

I shake my head. “South Carolina. Just up here for a guy’s weekend. You?”

“Born and raised in Athens. What have you thought about the bands so far?” She leans against the table and smiles up at me.

“They’ve been great.”

“The next band you’re really going to like. They’re called Beautiful Rage. They do a lot of covers but put their twists on the songs.” She turns to look at the stage and then back to me. “Oh…here they come now.”

The stage is dark, but I can see people moving around. The lights in the whole place go down, and everyone stops talking. All eyes are on the stage, waiting to see what’s happening.

A lone female voice starts carrying through the speakers, and I’m mesmerized. Her voice is raspy yet melodic. I recognize the lyrics. The song is from that vampire movie that Abby used to make me watch with her.

Her voice fades, and the crowd starts cheering and clapping. The energy is explosive, and just as the lights kick on, the instruments start to play. When the spotlight shines on the singer, I’m struck speechless. I’ve heard Chloe sing before, but right now I’m in serious awe. She’s mesmerizing, and as I look around, it’s easy to see I’m not the only one.

The song ends, and she grabs the microphone out of the stand. “How y’all doing tonight? For those of you who don’t know us, we’re Beautiful Rage.” People scream and clap. “Let’s say we cut the chitchat. Are you ready to rock?” she shouts into the microphone.

She’s wearing an old and faded Mötley Crüe t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the creamy expanse of her skin and the elegant line of her neck. The shirt is tied, showing off her small waist. The jeans she’s wearing are old, worn, and faded. They mold perfectly to her ass and make my dick hard.

Hailey tugs on my arm and leans toward me. “I work with the singer. Her name’s Chloe. She’s so talented, but she’s pathetic.” She doesn’t notice my body stiffening. “She was pregnant but lost it. She’s in my sister’s support group, and she just goes on and on about hurting the dad or some shit. My sister says she’s a fucking bummer. I told her about the group because I was trying to be nice, but God, pathetic much?”

I swear it’s taking all my self-control not to lose it on this bitch. It would kill Chloe, no doubt, because I’m sure she’s going to the support group to heal. “That’s not very nice.”

She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed or remorseful. “You don’t know this girl. Our boss loves her…counts on her more even though I’ve been there longer. Then she’s pregnant and again everyone is up her ass, but then she loses it. I figure I feel bad, bad enough that I’m nice to her. I share that my sister has a group that could help her. Ugh…fucking loser.”

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