Love Lies

"Davey, if you don't water these things soon, they'll go and die on you."

That was Kevin Morrice, telling me what I already knew. Everything my sister planted this last spring was wilting from neglect. I just didn't seem to care enough to water them. She probably spent a small fortune on those roses under the windows, not to mention the time she spent planting them in the flower boxes my ex-wife and I built. My sister Jane thought the roses might cheer me up and get me out of my funk. Not going to happen. Let the damn things die just like my wife's love for me.

Dead, just like my good friend Stewart Olson. We just buried Stewart today. Kevin and I gave the eulogies. There wasn't a dry eye in the chapel after Kevin finished his ten-minute spiel. Then it was my turn; we planned it this way. Kevin had them crying, then I did my best to lighten the mood by telling a couple tales from our time in the band. Kevin, Stewart and I made up "The Yonder Blues Road". We did fairly well regionally; busy most every weekend and enough weekdays to draw a nice following. That's where I met Sandy, the gorgeous blond knock-out that became my wife.

It hit me at that moment. It was one year ago today that I saw that awful look on her face and heard her version of, "We have to talk."

Could it really have been today? The one-year anniversary of my marriage collapsing and the same day as my best friend's funeral?

All this was going through my head in a matter of seconds as I twisted the tops off two beers; Kevin pulled the Jack Daniels off the shelf and poured two shots. Kevin lifted his glass, "Salute."

"Skol" I returned his toast in honor of our friend who was half Swedish and half Italian and long suffering Vikings fan. We downed the shots of Jack and started on the beer.

"Hey Davey, your hand's bleeding."

I looked down and sure enough, I must have cut my finger when I twisted the tops off the beers. I grabbed the bar towel and wrapped the wound before walking into the bath where we (I) keep the first aid kit. When I unwrapped the towel I noticed the embroidery. "Davey and Sandy August 3, 2005. May you always love each other as much as you do on your wedding day." Her grandmother made and gave us a set of these for our wedding present. I guess Sandy didn't care enough to take them with the rest of what she pulled out of here last year.

Kevin noticed the look on my face when I returned from the bath. "I was going to head home, but would you like me to stick around? Have another round?"

"No buddy. Get home to your wife. These are always tough days for the spouses. Give Patti a hug for me and give her my love."

With that Kevin left, leaving me to reflect how everything in my life turned to shit.

The Yonder Blues Road was playing a small tavern in Madison. We had the crowd going that night. Lots of cover stuff mixed in nicely with some of our original tunes, good old blues and rock. Stewart on drums, Kevin on bass and keyboards, I sang and played guitar - a beautiful Les Paul signed by the man himself. It should have been hanging on a wall in my den, but Mr. Paul himself told me it would be a shame not to play such a beautiful instrument, so I did.

Speaking of beautiful, there in the crowd was the same blond that was here six weeks ago when we last played this bar. You couldn't, at least I couldn't, miss her. She was about 5'7" with long blond hair, a sweet smile and a dynamite body wrapped in a tight tank top and slender jeans. And when she danced it practically made me hard. Which isn't a bad thing for a rocker, so many girls just eat it up when the singer is up there with a woody showing in his pants.

Anyway, that night I did something we only did on very rare occasions and only when a lady with the right build and dance moves was in the audience. Remember Bruce Springsteen's video "Dancing in the Dark" where Bruce asks a 'random' girl (who just happens to be Courteney Cox before she became 'Friends' famous) up to the stage to dance? Well, that's what I did with the blond while we covered the Springsteen tune.

And she nailed it! She danced, we played, and the crowd went wild.

She was still at the bar when the band finished its second, and last, encore. You don't have to hit me over the head with a brick to understand this lady was waiting for me. Kevin and Stewart gave me a break from taking down the gear (no roadies in the small time rock scene) while I headed to the bar to introduce myself. We chatted for a few minutes before she handed me her phone number telling me to call; then walked out as I stared at her perfect ass in those jeans.

Weeks later the band had another date to play at the club in Madison. I called and asked Sandy if she was available for a real date on Friday since we were playing Saturday. She said yes and I made reservations at one of the better restaurants and bought tickets for the University Symphony.

I picked up Sandy at her apartment and she looked absolutely gorgeous in her little black dress and heels. Nothing slutty, just classy. I was glad I was wearing a nice sport coat and had shaved the usual stubble off my face.

Our dinner conversation was light; just getting to know each other, our likes and dislikes. Sandy held my hand during the concert; she said I picked right, Beethoven happened to be her favorite composer and the Third Symphony was one of the two of his that she liked the best. She said she was surprised that a blues/rock guitarist would choose the symphony. I had to confess to eight years of violin lessons in my youth and four years in our high school chamber orchestra. I also confessed to picking up the guitar because as a horny teenager, chicks dug guitarists more than concert violinists. That got a great laugh out of Sandy.

After the concert I took Sandy to a quiet lounge for a drink, then back to her apartment. As we stood at the door I told her how much I enjoyed her company and wondered if she would be at the tavern on Saturday. "Will you be at the club tomorrow night or can we grab a cup of coffee after I'm finished?"

"Sorry Davey, I won't lie to you; I have plans tomorrow night and it wouldn't be fair to him to cancel at this late date. I just had a great evening with you, but fair is fair. I hope we can do this again some time soon."

I was disappointed, this was one of the best evenings I had in a long time; I thought the two of us really clicked. But I held my tongue, not wanting to spoil a nice evening with coming off too strong. I gave her a quick kiss and left.

The next night I tried my best not to let the disappointment affect our show, but I know it lacked energy because no one really cared when the last set ended without an encore and we were off the stage by eleven. With the gear stowed in the truck I took off to walk off my funk.

This turned out to be a bad idea because as I was leaving a local coffeehouse with a late night cup of joe I saw Sandy and some guy walking out of a jazz club across the street. The guy looked very familiar, maybe an athlete considering his height and build. They seemed very intimate; enough that Sandy didn't notice me. I sat at one of the sidewalk tables and watched them walk down the block, no way would I stoop to following them, but that proved unnecessary since they only walked half a block before going into a nice apartment building.

I sat there finishing my coffee and feeling sorry for myself before walking down to that building and looking at the list of names next to the callbox buttons. The name jumped out at me, B. Johnstone. That's why he looked familiar. Benjamin, or more widely known as Bennie, Johnstone was an All-American running back who had been drafted by the New York Jets after just completing his senior year at Wisconsin. It was a pretty high class building in a downtown neighborhood for a college student, either some wealthy alumni was keeping Bennie in comfort or he had already started to spend his multi-million dollar signing bonus.

I didn't stick around to see if Sandy was spending the night, I did what any self-respecting guy would do; I found a bar with late hours, ordered a double Wild Turkey, picked up a girl that recognized the 'rock star' and took her to my hotel room for a night of animalistic fucking.

The next morning I got in my car and headed home with the intention of forgetting all about Sandy.

I half expected a call from Sandy over the next week and was somewhat surprised when I didn't get it. What I didn't know was Sandy's baby sister Alice, a sixteen year old wild child, was found dead in a New York subway that Sunday, the apparent victim of an overdose whose 'friends' freaked and just left her there. I much later learned about this family tragedy.

While Sandy was dealing with her sad family issues I was oblivious, assuming Sandy got a better deal with a rich pro athlete, I buried myself in work and the band. We were starting to get more bookings around the greater Chicagoland area, so we didn't make any more trips to Madison or Western Wisconsin. Sandy became a distant memory.

The memory was reawakened one night when our band was playing a club on Belmont Avenue. I looked over the crowd and there was Sandy; since she wasn't looking at me at that moment I quickly looked away. At the next opportunity I told Kevin and Stewart I was changing the play list and we started in on "Dancing in the Dark", but instead of asking Sandy to come up on stage I spotted a blonde beauty in the audience and had her come up. I did my best to flirt with the blonde while she did her best to act sexy. She wasn't bad, but she was no Sandy.

When the song ended I looked through the crowd again; there was no sign of Sandy. My petty act of retribution must have hit its mark, but for some reason I didn't get the pleasure I was hoping for. I decided to take a chance; her number was still in my phone's contact list; Monday morning I sent a text, "Kevin said he spotted you Saturday, any reason why you didn't say hello?"

Ten minutes later came the reply. "You seemed busy, didn't want to interfere."

"Are you in town? Can we have coffee?"

"I work in Administration at Northwestern Memorial, I have a flexible schedule so name when."

"Then how about lunch? Geno's on Superior at noon?"

"Yes!"

This was the start of our relationship. We met at lunch and Sandy told me why she had disappeared that week due to her sister's death. When she asked why I hadn't called, I made a lame excuse about being slammed at work that week and that since she hadn't called me, I figured she had more important things to do. She never brought up Bennie Johnstone and neither did I; probably because it would reflect poorly on me. Had I been stalking her? I knew I hadn't, but what would she think? It wasn't the best way to start a relationship, a few white lies and evasions on my part, a few things left unsaid by her.

Since lunch seemed to be a success, I asked her to the symphony on Thursday. Midori would be playing Dvorak's Concerto for Violin with the CSO and I had access to some great seats. Sandy said she would love to go and from that night on we were a couple.

Our physical relationship took a few weeks to consummate. It was after a Sunday afternoon shopping on Michigan Avenue. Sandy asked me if she could have a half hour to herself and walked into Victoria's Secret. We ate a light dinner at her apartment and afterwards she disappeared into her bedroom. Sandy came out wearing a see-through camisole and a pair of thong panties, then led me by the hand back into her bedroom. The lights were low and there were a couple candles lit. Sandy began to undress me until I was naked.

She sat on the bed with me standing between her legs, she kissed my nipples and continued down until her lips touched my rock hard cock, her mouth took my cock deep down into her throat and she started to move back and forth with her hands on my ass. For a brief moment I wondered if she was able to take my entire seven inches because she was used to something larger, but I did my best to remove those worrisome thoughts from my mind and concentrated on the view of her lips around my cock while her eyes looked up at me.

Before I came I removed my cock and pressed her shoulders down on the bed.

"I wasn't through yet. I wanted to taste your cum."

"Another time, OK? I need to taste you now."

And I did, I kissed and lightly bit her nipples, I did the same to her clit. I pressed two fingers into her vagina and massaged her g-spot. I used every trick learned over the past five years picking up groupies. The tricks seemed to work because she had a skull crushing orgasm; her thighs squeezing my head.

I didn't waste any time moving up into position with my cock at the entrance of her very wet vagina. It only took a couple of strokes before I was all the way inside. Sandy moaned appreciatively and I started to saw in and out.

Ten minutes later I was ready to cum. "Where do I cum, are we safe if I cum inside you?"

"Don't pull out, let me feel you." was her reply. As she gripped my shoulders I gripped her ass and felt my cock release. I'm sorry to say we didn't cum together that first time, but I was hoping we'd get another chance to make that happen soon.

We did have more chances, both that weekend and other days and nights to follow. Sandy and I found we had quite a bit in common in addition to great sex and music. We did have a few issues, the big one being my time spent with the band. Between my work as a systems analyst and band practice, the weekends playing at clubs just added to the time away from each other. Plus, although Sandy said she trusted me, the whole groupie thing was an issue.

Despite these issues we still managed to get engaged a few months after becoming exclusive. I proposed one summer night just after a great Siegel-Schwall reunion concert at Grant Park. Sandy said 'yes' between kisses.

I had booked a nice room downtown for this occasion. We celebrated our engagement in a suite overlooking the lake with the shades open. We made love and afterwards sat in bed with her head on my chest.

She looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes, "I love your touch."

"That's good, because I have every intention of playing with this body for the rest of our lives."

I was in heaven.

At least until six weeks later when the Jets came to Chicago to play the Bears in a pre-season game. The Thursday before the game Sandy was very quiet while we ate dinner. Even worse, she made some excuse of meeting up for drinks with her co-workers Friday night after work. Warning bells and lights went off in my head. Sandy came in around ten that evening and was still very quiet. After she fell asleep I found her panties and gave them the sniff test. I was happy that there was not a whiff of either male ejaculation nor of any female arousal. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about after all, but I kept my senses tuned throughout the rest of the weekend.

I was even more pleased when I checked her Blackberry Sunday while she was sleeping. There was a text from Bennie begging her to see him again before he had to leave town with the team. Her reply read: it was over between them, she was engaged, loved her fiancée and she only agreed to meet him Friday to tell him to his face. She asked him never to contact her again.

Three weeks later a life changing event took place. Yonder Blues Road was playing at a great dive bar down in Kankakee when five or six members of a Joliet based motorcycle gang showed up. The band just finished its second set when there was a ruckus in the back of the bar. Most of the bar patrons were trying to figure out what was happening, but I was in a hurry to grab a beer so my back was to the fight. Suddenly I heard a distinctive click behind me; before I could react I heard another sound that I couldn't place and felt a sharp pain in my arm.

It turns out the click noise was the sound of a switchblade opening, one of the bikers intended to stab me in the back, for what reason I couldn't imagine. The second sound I heard was Kevin's bass guitar smashing the biker in the back when he saw him go for me with the knife. Kevin had hit him hard enough that the knife missed its mark; the cut on my arm wasn't serious, but it was deep enough that I needed twelve stitches in the emergency room.

Needless to say that was the last straw for Sandy. I had to quit the band or there would be no wedding. The biker never did confess to why he targeted me. He ended up getting five years in prison for a variety of charges related to the incident. The whole thing was strange, something was not right, it seemed the entire episode was staged specifically to get to me, or was I being paranoid? Years later I learned the truth.

The band had a few dates that couldn't be cancelled without significant monetary penalties, so we re-named those last six dates the Goodbye Yonder Blues Road Tour and then I split, looking forward to a life with Sandy.

Marriage, buying a house, fixing it up and making it our home; we enjoyed over two years of marital bliss when things took a turn for the worse. Sandy was feeling stuck at her work with very little hope of advancement for the next few years. She was in her late twenties and wanted to wait a few more years before beginning our family. In the meantime she was hoping to have a decent career. Sandy applied to every hospital in the area without success. A headhunter called her with a great prospect. St. Jude Children's Hospital in Memphis was interested in talking to her.

We discussed it at length. I could probably start looking for a job in the Memphis area, but it could take a while before anything in my field would open up. Would our marriage stay strong if we lived apart for a few months or so? Other couples have done it, so why not us? Sandy ended up interviewing, getting a great offer and we sadly made plans to live in separate cities for a while.

It might have worked but for one wrinkle. Two weeks after Sandy moved to Memphis Bennie Johnstone was traded from the Jets to the Titans. Nashville and Memphis are two hundred miles apart, otherwise I might have been more proactive; hell, I might have just quit my job and moved down there. But I let the events take place that eventually led to the end of my marriage because although I thought two hundred miles would be an impediment to Bennie's pursuit of Sandy, he did not think it was too far to travel.

One more thing happened during our time apart. I received an email from a college friend of Sandy's.

Davey

I found out about this website through an old friend. At first I thought the girl in the video was a young Sandy, but then realized it must be her sister. I didn't know how to approach Sandy so I'm asking for your help getting this removed from the website.

Jason

The email contained a link to a porn site. I hesitated before finally taking a look. I never met Alice but had seen photos. The young woman in the video was definitely Alice and the first part of the video showed Alice with a woman in a sexual situation, I didn't watch the rest. I didn't want to, but I needed a family member with access to her birth certificate to contact the website to remove the video of the underage Alice. Sandy was shocked when I told her; she had the video removed which spared her parents one more bad reminder of what their young daughter had become.

Things degenerated soon thereafter; I assumed we'd reconnect after we moved back together. I sent out more resumes to Memphis companies hoping to catch a break.

When Bennie found out through mutual friends that Sandy was living alone in Memphis he started his campaign. I don't know all the particulars, only the end result. I flew down to Memphis the third month of our separation to interview with a company. Sandy met me at the airport and it was apparent that something was wrong. My interview went well and I was offered the job. I took a cab to Sandy's apartment and when I walked in I heard those sad words, "Davey, I'm sorry honey - we have to talk."