The Prince of Punk Rock (7 page)

Angel’s trained eye went to the
thick uneven chunks of cucumber on Tommy’s cutting board.
 
“Let me show you.”
 
He took the knife from Tommy’s hand.
 
“Thin, even slices, all the same size.”

“OK. Let me try.”
 
Tommy shaved off a few perfect slices.

Jessi was snickering again.
 
“I thought you had more experience with
cucumbers, Tommy.
 
I figured you knew how
to handle one.”

He threw a cucumber peel at her,
but she dodged out of its way.

“Stop.
 
You’re messing up Angel’s kitchen!”

“I’m sorry.
 
I’ll clean it up, A.”

A?
 
Was that an affectionate little nickname?
 
A charming term of endearment?
 
Perhaps a symbol of Tommy’s deeper feelings?
 
Or was it just an abbreviation of his name,
devoid of anything other than a time saving contraction?
 
Oh, what he would give to have the truth laid
out for him.
 
He questioned every
interaction with Tommy. Was it just for amusement or was their flirtation
real?
 
He wished he had the nerve to ask,
instead of playing this guessing game.
 
And then there was Jessi, with her spunky witticisms, good-natured disposition
and devotion to Tommy.
 
The two were a
riddle that he was determined to solve.

They were teasing each other about
who was doing a better job slicing vegetables.
 
Angel should have been helping, but he kept getting distracted watching
the playfulness that transpired between them.
 
“I enjoy watching you two together.
 
It’s sweet.
 
But, excuse me, I
have to do something.
 
As much as I love
your gorgeous hair Tommy, we need to tie it up.”
 
Old habits from working in the kitchen made
him fastidious about food preparation.
 
He gathered Tommy’s golden locks in his hand.
 
They were smooth as silk, much softer than he
expected.
 
He played with Tommy’s hair,
running the long blond threads through his fingers, and shaping it into a pony
tail.
 
Tommy leaned his head back, enjoying
the stroke on his hair.

Jessi watched him and he realized
that he was probably crossing the line, but he couldn’t extradite his fingers
from Tommy’s stunning mane.
 
He was
fascinated with its texture and the sweet scent that floated around it.

 
“His hair’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
 
Jessi asked, before returning her attention
back to the knife in her hand.

“Very beautiful.”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder.
The
clear blue of his eyes flashed in the glow of the
overhead lights.
“That feels nice.
 
I have a hair tie in my jacket if you want to get it.
 
I left it on the couch.”

Angel found the elastic band in
Tommy’s pocket. As he returned to the kitchen, he became aware that Tommy could
have easily retrieved the hair tie himself. He wanted Angel to play with
hair.
 
Jessi didn’t seem bothered.
 
She seemed encouraging.
 
The two were a tricky pair to figure out.
 
He needed to get a better feel of the dynamic
of Tommy and Jessi’s relationship. He needed a clearer picture.

Tommy and Jessi were whispering
when Angel returned to the kitchen.
 
They
stopped talking as soon as they saw Angel.
 
The only word he overheard was “trouble”.
 
By the smiles on their faces, he knew they
were still teasing each other.
 
But, he
wondered what kind of trouble they were referring to.

Angel held the hair tie out to
Tommy, but he didn’t take it.
 
He smiled
his sweet, mischievous little smile, tilted his head back and shook his hair
over his shoulders so it cascaded down his back.
 
Tommy was flirting with him right in front of
Jessi.
 
She wasn’t bothered by it,
instead she watched with a curious smile.

Angel put his hands through Tommy’s
blond mane again, repeatedly touching his scalp and letting his fingers glide
down the full length of Tommy’s hair.
 
He
was obsessed with the sunny color and satin texture and wasn’t making an
attempt to put it through the elastic.

Tommy peeked back over his
shoulder.
 
“I like that.

It was starting to get
uncomfortable.
 
How long could he stand
there and play with Tommy’s hair?
 
He
hastily wrapped Tommy’s ponytail in the elastic band.
 
He smoothed it down Tommy’s back and felt the
muscles flex underneath his hand with each chop of the knife.
 
Tommy reacted to his touch by purposely
putting more pressure on the knife which accentuated the ripple across his
back.

Jessi glanced up at them.
 
“Are you going to tie my hair up, too?”

Angel was unsure if she was trying
to get him away from Tommy, or making a plea for his attention.
 
Maybe they were into threesomes. Or maybe she
just liked to watch.
 
He hoped it was the
latter, because he had no interest in experimenting in a bisexual
experience.
 
He pulled her hair back,
curious about its vivid color.
 
It looked
effervescent in the sunlight that trickled in through the window.
 
“This color is gorgeous.
 
What made you dye it?”

“Tommy.”

“I did not.”
 
Tommy looked up from slicing the last of the
cucumber.

“My light brown hair wasn’t exactly
rock and roll.”

“No, but it was still beautiful. I
love this color, though.
 
It matches your
personality. It’s you.
 
Don’t ever change
it.”

The oven timer rang through the
kitchen.
 
Angel’s pork roast was
done.
 
He took a pair of pot holders with
him and opened the oven door.
 
The sweet
smell of the fresh ham, covered in Mojo sauce, brought back visions of his
family gathered around a large holiday table enjoying his father’s
cooking.
 
He placed the roasting pan on
top of the stove to let the juices set.
 
When he rejoined Tommy and Jessi, they had moved on to chopping carrots
and onions.

Tommy was slicing an onion.
 
It was the least favorite job among new cooks
in the kitchen at Garcia’s.
 
Seasoned
chefs became immune to the eye irritation from the aromatic root vegetable, but
inexperienced cooks would rather gut a fish than chop an onion.
 
It was silly how the trivial task of slicing
an onion was so endearing to Angel.

Tommy started to sniffle and blink
as the pungent gasses from the Bermuda onion hit him.
 
Tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes
and he wiped them on his shoulder, and then blotted them with the back of his
wrist.
 
He didn’t know that the enzyme
residue on his fingers brought the burning scent of the onion closer to his
eyes.

Angel grabbed a napkin. “Let me do
it.”

Tommy gave him a helpless and
appreciative smile.

He dabbed away Tommy’s tears with a
delicate touch.
 
His watery blue irises
were magnified and the reddish tint around them amplified their color.
 
With his hair pulled back, the exquisite
features of Tommy’s face were accentuated and Angel couldn’t look away.
 
There were no more tears to wipe, but his
hand was poised in the air, frozen in place by Tommy’s gaze.
 
Tommy’s throat moved and his eyes fed Angel a
deep sense of longing.
 
If Tommy wasn’t
married, Angel would have kissed him.
 
He
would have cleared the counter of salad prep with one swipe of his hand and
lifted Tommy onto it.
 
He would have
brought his mouth down, hard, and covered Tommy’s lips.

The clicking of Jessi’s heels on
the tile floor broke his gaze.
 
She was
looking back at them over her shoulder, as she left the kitchen.
 
Angel expected a harsh, jealous glare, but
her face was bright and a provocative smile hid in the corner of her mouth.

Now that Jessi left the kitchen, he
was alone with Tommy and still within the confines of his personal space.
 
He wondered if he should dare to offer more
physical contact in the form of an embrace, or maybe a gentle caress of his
hand across Tommy’s beautiful cheek.
 
No.
 
Physical contact wasn’t a
good idea.
 
He was still unsure about the
boundaries of Tommy and Jessi’s marriage and he didn’t want to cross them.
 
He looked away first and cleared the board of
the sliced onion and slid it into the salad bowl.
 
“I think it’s time for dinner.”

Tommy’s voice was husky and
even.
 
“I’m starving.”

Angel froze and slowly turned back
to Tommy.
 
His face was full with
intensity and desire.
 
Angel nodded.
 
“I’m starving, too.”

Jessi raised her wine glass.
 
“Gracias, Chef Garcia.
 
This is the most exquisite meal I’ve ever
tasted.
 
You can cook for me every day of
the year.”

Angel absorbed the compliment.
 
And he loved being called Chef Garcia.
 
It was his father’s title.
 
He was Chef Angel, but he didn’t bother to
correct her.
 
He bumped her glass in
thanks, and took a long sip of wine.
 
“You know, Tommy, I looked into making that music video we talked
about.”

“I wasn’t serious, A.
 
That’s big money.”

“I know, but I thought it couldn’t
hurt to look into.
 
I would have fronted
the money if I thought it would help the band book larger, higher paying
venues.
 
I just can’t justify spending that
kind of money right now.”

“I wouldn’t let you.
 
I’d rather use whatever money the band has to
make another CD.”

Angel never thought about recording
another CD.
 
The band already had two
full-length CDs, but they weren’t with Tommy on guitar.
 
The songs didn’t contain the signature Tommy
Blade guitar solos.
 
The old CDs were
outdated.
 
Tommy’s name wasn’t on the
sleeve.
 
No wonder he was suggesting a
new CD.
 
Plus the band had two new songs
to include in the mix.
 
“Tommy Blade, you
are an absolute genius.
 
I’m going to
book some recording time as soon as we finish dinner.”

“That’s still a lot of money.
 
Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

The finance major, always
levelheaded about the ledger.
 
“I’ll make
it work.
 
Our
band needs a current
CD out there.
 
The songs are ready to
go.
 
We just need to record the tracks.”

Tommy sat back in his chair,
obviously pleased.
 
“I wish I could
afford to make a small studio in my house.
  
It would save the band so much money.
 
I thought about it when we first bought the place.
 
I have a decent sized finished basement, but
it was too expensive.”

“When we make it big, the first
thing I’m going to do is buy a big house and construct a full recording studio
that we can utilize.
 
For convenience,
not necessity.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it.”

Jessi refilled everyone’s wine
glass and held hers up again. “Let’s drink.
 
To the success of Immortal Angel.”

“To your new future recording
studio.”

“To
our
future recording
studio.”

As Angel tipped back his glass, and
the fruity taste of the wine filled his mouth, he reflected on the growing
attraction between himself and Tommy and his friendship with Jessi.
 
He still couldn’t figure out where she fit in
all this.
 
She saw the flirtation that
transpired.
 
Neither he nor Tommy tried
to hide it.
 
She was aware.
 
The last thing Angel wanted to do was
interfere in their marriage.
 
If Jessi
showed the slightest bit of jealousy or irritation, he would back off right
away, but she didn’t.
 
She always had
that knowing smile on her face and, sometimes, he swore she was pushing them
together, like earlier, when she left the kitchen when he was wiping Tommy’s
eyes.