A/N: This is one of several in-progress fics that I have going. I decided to post what I have so far of all of them, mostly to gauge if there's even any interest in them before writing more. No promises on if or when I will continue any of them, but drop a review to let me know if you'd be interested in more.
_p_a_g_e_b_r_e_a_k_
This gig hadn't been particularly exciting, and Vince thinks about either quitting the band or finding something else to do along with it as he packs away his strat and his gear at the end of the night, making sure the envelope containing a couple hundred bucks that he's handed as he does this gets tucked securely into his wallet. The bar is one of the bigger, more popular ones up by Glendale, so the pay tonight is decent, and he'd never found the generic rock music that the band he plays for makes either interesting or difficult, but it got him playing, and was a nice little bump in his cashflow for a few hours a week worth of effort. None of the guys in it are young and trying to make it anymore. They're all a bit older than him, in their 30's, with various menial jobs, just looking for a way to use some of the skills they use to be passionate about and maybe make an extra buck or two, and get some free drinks and easy pussy out of the deal.
Vince isn't trying to make it either, but he would at least like to stretch himself a little, creatively.
Once all their gear is stored in their various vehicles, they all make their way back into the bar to enjoy the last hour or so before final call will go out. Not particularly in the mood to be social, but also not eager to go home to his empty house, Vince gets himself a double shot of whiskey and a beer to nurse, and heads for the quiet corner he'd been eyeing up most of the night. He's surprised to find the shadowed corner table already occupied, and pauses awkwardly for a moment.
Before he can turn around, the woman sitting at the table chuckles and motions to the three empty chairs. "Please, feel free to be antisocial with me." she says before taking a swig of her own beer.
Slowly sitting down, back to the wall, he sets down his drinks and examines his unexpected tablemate out of the corner of his eye. He can't tell much in the dim lighting, but her hair is some ambiguous dark color, and she's wearing it pulled back in a simple ponytail. She's pretty, he thinks, and he's also fairly certain she's the only woman in the bar not wearing half a pound of makeup trying to make herself look that way. The way the minimal light falls on her skin, it looks like her actual skin instead of all the powders and shit that the other women he'd seen tonight have covering theirs.
She surprises him again by speaking more. "You're wasted in this band." This gives him the excuse to turn his attention fully to her, and he does so. He can't see the color of her eyes at all, but he can feel her gaze.
When the woman doesn't appear to intend to elaborate, Vince replies with a shrug and a brief "Easy gig." as explanation and she nods, seeming to have already known that. After a minute, they both turn their attention back to nursing their drinks and people-watching. When last call goes up, they both drain the last of their drinks and stand. Lights get brighter, to encourage people to pay their tabs and get the fuck out, and he sees that his earlier evaluation had been accurate. Chocolate brown hair, and a pretty, heart-shaped face with what he would bet is absolutely no makeup on it. Additionally, the woman is on the tallish side of average height, maybe 5'8", and curvy, rocking simple jeans, a wife beater, and Doc Martens.
Before he can ask if she wants to get out of there, preferably with him, she is saying "See you around." and he is watching the sway of her hips as she makes her way to the nearby back door.
Some mix of amused and baffled, Vince makes his own way to the front door and out to his car, unable to stop himself from wondering, as he always does as he climbs into it, what Dom would say about the Chevelle he drives these days.
The buster had been able to do a lot, including getting all charges for the heists dropped (how the fuck he'd managed that, Vince still doesn't know, but he isn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth). One of the casualties, however, had been that the team's cars had been seized, and, before the charges were dropped, effectively destroyed in the search for evidence.
Dom and Letty, already on the run somewhere in South America, had decided to keep travelling even once they could come back safely, and Leon, unable to stick around everything that reminded him of Jesse constantly, had moved down to Long Beach and fallen in with some crew down there.
That left Mia and Vince. Mia saw him through his recovery, but he had moved out of the Toretto house as soon as he could. Besides the memories, he just couldn't look at Mia the same way anymore, couldn't be around her every day. The buster had changed how Vince saw her completely. He still looks in on her, makes sure she's alright, but he's living back in his childhood home a few blocks away, it having been previously been mostly sitting empty except for the odd night or two that he wanted to be alone.
With the family garage and deli/corner store now officially closed, Vince works a few days a week at a different, but still family-owned, garage on the other side of Echo Park. His Gran had left him the house, already paid off, when she'd passed shortly after Dom had gone to prison, so his expenses are minimal, but he picks up odd jobs as a bouncer or bartender mostly to keep himself busy. He's known the neighborhood old ladies since he was little, so he has made a routine of going round their houses to clean out gutters and see to any other basic repairs they may need taking care of. Sets each of them up with one of the local kids, who'll take 5 bucks every two weeks to mow their lawns, when there's not a drought and they have lawns to mow.
Vince goes home from that Glendale show alone, but that's not entirely unusual. He's not likely to admit it to anyone out loud, ever, but after several years of high adrenaline and tons of casual sex, he's kind of enjoying just having a low-key existence. He still hooks up with women, sure. He is a red-blooded straight man in his mid-late twenties, his balls would explode. But the drive just wasn't the same anymore. He puts it down to getting older and having less stress in his life.
It's nearly three weeks after that gig in Glendale, and one of Vince's buddies has called and asked if he can bartend tonight - someone's called in sick, and there's live music tonight, so it'll probably be decently busy. Vince agrees, as he always does, and the buddy, Manny, asks him to be there at 8.
At 9, Vince is cursing Manny under his breath. Apparently, whoever is playing tonight does so at least semi-regularly, and is popular. The bar isn't 'decently busy', it's fucking packed, and Vince and the other bartender for the evening, Joey, are already being run hard, and music isn't even slated to start for another half hour.
Sliding two mixed drinks and three draft beers across the bar for the couple of guys he's currently serving, they hand him a card and tell him to keep it open. Clocking the next person in line, Vince says '"I'll be right with you." even as he spins around to open the tab on the bar's computer under the name on the card.
A minute later, he turns back to the woman he knows is next and is surprised to find the woman from his gig in Glendale a few weeks prior. She'd been a curiosity that he'd nearly forgotten about. Smirking, she asks him for a pint of the Dogfish Head on tap and two bottles of water, laying a ten dollar bill down on the bar. After he's given her the drinks and before he can give her her change, she disappears. He doesn't have time to dwell on it. He's already put the tip in his pocket and is serving the next person when a cheer goes up. Looking towards the small stage, the woman has again appeared.
A small pile of gear has materialized there when he was busy, and she sets the beer and two bottles of water on the stool that will apparently function as a table for the evening, before getting busy setting up. Vince has to force himself to not get distracted watching her interact with various people that come up to talk to her as she sets up a single, small amp, a few pedals, an electric/acoustic hybrid guitar, and a mic.
If he'd thought it was distracting before, he had no idea what he was in for once she nodded to Joey, who cut the house music between serving customers, and she started actually playing. Vince can't hear the lyrics over the chattering of people and the dishwasher that is constantly running behind the bar, but the bluesy guitar licks and the soft and smoky tone of her voice make it hard for him to concentrate on taking orders, mixing drinks, and keeping tabs straight. Even forcing himself to not pay attention, he understands why the bar's packed. He occasionally recognizes the tune of a song and realizes it's a cover, but doesn't have time to try and identify them.
Eventually, the house music goes back up, and he glances at the time in the corner of the computer screen as he adds drinks to someone's tab, realizing she's been up there for an hour and a half and it's probably time for her break between sets. It's a bit of a break for him as well as people try and talk to her, requesting their favorites, but it's only a matter of 15 minutes before she's gotten refills from Joey and is back onstage and it's a madhouse again. Vince idly thinks that he can't decide if he is mad at Manny or not.
She plays until 12:45. Ten minutes after she is done, 80% of the people pay their tabs and clear out, the rest doing so steadily until last call is shouted at 1:30, at which point Vince is already sitting at a table counting down his till as Joey handles the last straggling customers.
"My name's Ash, by the way," he's slightly startled as she sits down across from him, fresh water bottle in hand.
Meeting her eyes, he says "Vince" before going back to his task. At the edge of his vision, he registers her smiling as she watches him for a moment before she shifts to pull something out of her pocket.
It's a piece of paper, and she reaches over the table, tucking it into the front breast pocket of the plain, black, long-sleeve button-up he's wearing. "I don't play many gigs, but if you ever feel like getting together to jam or something, gimme a call."
Three days later, his own boring, generic rock band is playing at some bar in Burbank, and he finds himself mindlessly strumming the chords he needs to and searching the crowd, knowing even as he looks that she isn't likely to be there. That first night, she'd been a random curiosity which he'd nearly dismissed entirely. Then, chance had thrown her into his path a second time, and, over the last few days, he'd been growing steadily more curious. He hasn't called her, but he also knows it's only a matter of time. He's known for awhile that he needs something more creatively fulfilling, and she has captured his attention in a way that he isn't sure how to interpret.
The next day is Sunday, and Mia makes him at least come over for lunch, since he has long refused to go to church with her. He complies, as he does most weeks, and considers this his obligatory checking up on her. Their conversation is awkward and stilted, with most of the things they have in common being now somewhat taboo topics, and Vince thanks her for lunch and takes the plate of leftovers she packs him before trying to be casual about making his way very quickly home.
Putting the plate in the fridge, Vince moves to the small cork board next to the phone. Most of the things pinned there are takeout menus for when he doesn't feel like employing his limited cooking abilities, along with some other numbers for neighbors, work, etc. Taking down the slip of paper from several nights earlier, he moves to the living room, picking up the phone there instead, sitting down and dialling the number before he can talk himself out of it.
The line rings out three times and he's about to hang up as she answers. "Hello?"
"Ash? It's Vince… from…" he starts, somewhat haltingly, unsure.
She laughs lightly. "I remember." There's a beat of silence, and he doesn't know what to say. Thankfully, she seems more confident. "So, I take it you're interested in jamming, then?"
"Yeah," he croaks out, before clearing his throat slightly. "I'm not really sure what I wanna do, but…." he trails off, feeling like a sentimental idiot.
"But you need something more than what you are getting from your band." she states, seeming to understand.
"Somethin' like that." Vince agrees. Before anything else can be said, there's distant yelling on her side of the line, and the sound of something crashing. "You ok?" He asks.
Ash sighs. "Yeah, it's just my roommates. Honestly, I don't even know why they're together at this point, they fight more than anything."
Vince's mind flashes back to some of Dom and Letty's bad patches, and says, "I think that's just how some people show love. They don't know any other way."
There's a contemplative noise, and Ash replies, "I hadn't thought of it that way. Anyway, you're welcome to come over, if you're free this afternoon, and I will tell them to fuck off for a few hours. Do you have a pen?"
On somewhat of a whim, he makes a counteroffer. "Or you could leave them to it and come over to my place."
There's a moment of silence before she says "I'm putting A LOT of faith in you not being a serial killer or rapist, here." She let him absorb that for only a second before asking "What's your address?" Slightly stunned, he gives it to her. "Ok, I'll be there in like half an hour." then a dial tone makes him slowly put the headset back on the receiver.
Looking around to make sure he hasn't accidentally left underwear laying around, he thinks about her serial killer comment and realizes that all his gear being in his basement den may not be ideal, but he doesn't have anywhere on the ground floor or upstairs to move it to on short notice. Getting up, he double checks his fridge and sees that he should probably make a beer run. Unsure of where she's coming from, he scribbles a quick note of 'Went for beer, back in a few' and closes it by the corner of the paper in the front door as he leaves.
He has to go all the way to the chain grocery store for beer, since it's Sunday and all the local shops are closed, and he ends up getting snacks as well, so he isn't surprised to find her and a guitar case sitting on the swinging bench on his front porch when he rolls back in, and just hopes that she hasn't been waiting too long. There's a '67 Camaro he doesn't recognize on the street in front of his house, and he assumes it's hers.
"Hey, sorry, I realized my fridge was empty," Vince greets her as he sets one handful of bags down on the porch to fish in his pocket for keys and unlocks the front door.
Ash smiles, replying "No problem, I get that this was last minute. I haven't been here long." even as she picks up the bags he'd put down along with her guitar case and he gives her a weird look before leading her inside.
As Vince stows away most of his haul, leaving out a six pack and some chips for now, he says, "I know this doesn't look good for the serial killer thing, but I keep all my gear in the basement."
The woman lets out a light laugh that he vaguely thinks sounds really nice. "I was mostly joking about that. You don't give off serial killer vibes at all. I'm not worried."
So, beer and chips in hand, he leads her downstairs. His family home is smaller than the Toretto house, with only two bedrooms upstairs, and one in the basement, along with a bathroom which also houses the laundry room, and a den. When he'd first come to live with his grandparents at age 8, he'd been upstairs with them, but, when he'd hit his teenage years, his Gramps had insisted that he needed his own space and had Vince, Dominic, and Mr. T over one weekend to clear it out and lay carpet, turning it into Vince's own partial apartment. Gran still came down to use the washer and dryer, of course, and he still went up for meals, when he was home, but he firmly believes that this act is what had kept him from completely rebelling against his grandparents through his teenage years. After also living in one of the basement rooms at the Fort, he had simply never moved into the upstairs bedrooms once coming back to his own house.
The couch in the den is worn and beat up, but comfortable, and Ash doesn't seem fazed as she settles down on one end of it, idly laying her guitar case down and beginning to open it up as she looks around. The walls are hung with a mix of car photos, music memorabilia, and personal photos. Off to one side of the couch is a matching chair, and in the spot across from the couch where you'd normally put a TV is a Mesa amp with a Peavey head. There's a couple other amps stacked neatly in the corner near the stairs, so she guesses he keeps this one set up all the time for practice. There's a couple guitars either on stands or propped carefully against things out and about, but most of them appear to be kept in cases, stacked next to the amps, rather than on display, and she can appreciate that. He doesn't want them getting dusty and being exposed to elements for the sake of showing them off.
"You're just in the one band?" Ash asks, eyeing the amount of gear he has stacked up curiously.
Seeing the direction her gaze has drifted, he says, "These days, yeah. Through high school and a few years after, I was always in two or three bands at a time. Just can't make myself get rid of all that."
She nods, knowing what he means. "Yeah, took me a long time and desperate measures to offload a lot of my old gear."
Vince pops them open a couple of beers, and grabs the nearby acoustic from where he's sitting in the chair, as she unloads her own guitar, and they both briefly check their tuning. Ash turns toward him, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing her legs under her - it takes him a moment to realize she has made herself comfortable, kicking off the flipflops she'd arrived wearing.
Ash watches him as she just starts playing, and it takes him a minute to place the bass line of the Smashing Pumpkins song and start playing along. They go on like this for while, switching from song to song without ever playing a full one or talking about it, just getting used to each other's style. If one of them doesn't recognize a song, they just riff on it for a minute and switch to something else.
Round two of beers get popped, and Ash decides it's time to really get started, picking out the opening notes to Blues With A Feeling, and is happy when he immediately picks it up. She doesn't bother singing, and they sit there, first rolling through some standards, then starting riff off of each other, for longer than either realizes. Eventually, Ash gets up to use the bathroom, and Vince looks at the clock only to realize it's nearly 8, and they'd been down there playing for nearly 6 hours.
"You hungry?" He asks as the woman emerges from the bathroom. He watches as she glances toward the small windows and realizes it's nearly sundown.
Ash shakes her head. "Not really, and I should get home. I have work tomorrow, and I still need to get some laundry done." she says as she packs her guitar away. Vince tries not to be disappointed.
"What's your day job?" he asks, gathering their empties back into the cardboard carrier the bottles had come down in.
A wry smile. "Corporate desk jockey." Seeing his grimace, she says, "Yeah, I know, but it's easy work and it pays the bills. What about you? You aren't chatty enough to be a full-time bartender."
He chuckles. "Mechanic. I just pick up shifts bartending or bouncing here and there."
Ash nods. "It suits you, I think." The pair heads upstairs, and Vince sets the bottles in the recycle by the back door before walking out front with her, unsurprised when she unlocks the Camaro he'd noted earlier and slides her guitar into the back seat. Before she gets in herself, she leans against the door frame and locks eyes with him. In the about-to-set sun, he finally realizes that they're dark blue. "I pick up shifts too, sometimes, but I'm free most evenings. If you want to do this again." There's some uncertainty lingering that he feels weird associating with her.
"Wanna make it a weekly thing? I'm always free Sunday afternoons." Vince puts out there, definitely wanting this to be an ongoing thing, and ignoring the part of him that wants to reassure her because they barely know each other and why the hell would he want to do that?
Ash smiles, "Same time next week, then?" Vince nods, and she continues "Cool, I'll bring the beer." before climbing into the car and turning it over.
Vince narrows his eyes and listens to the roar of the motor for a moment before nodding his approval. It sounds like she keeps it in good shape. She pulls out and he heads inside, locking the door behind himself and moving to get the lunch leftovers that Mia had sent home with him.
What? Just because they are barely awkward family at this point doesn't mean she isn't still a good cook, and he doesn't feel like doing more than throwing a plate in the microwave right now. Plus, he can finish them off and drop the plate back off tomorrow while she's at school - he still has a key to the house - and he doesn't have to see her until the following Sunday lunch.
In fact, it ends up being Thursday night that Vince sees Ash next, though it is not through any coordination. They must have mutual friends and just not crossed paths before now, because when Vince shows up down at Fast Eddie's to work bar security for HipHop night - basically posting up next to the waitress well at the bar and making sure people don't make off with drinks, and looking mean so people don't start shit - Ash is behind the bar, apparently working the waitress station that night.
"Hey, you," she greets as she dumps a bucket of ice in the well, and Vince nods his greeting as he takes the empty bucket from her, heading into the back to get her another one so she doesn't have to leave the bar.
Fast Eddie's is far from a high-end place, and Vince ends up breaking up three fights in his immediate vicinity, having to force two guys to pay for their booze, and carries one falling-down drunk girl over his shoulder outside and deposits her in a cab, the friends she'd come with stumbling along behind him. Through it all, he amusedly half-watched as Ash slung drinks and chatted people up while idly swaying her hips to the beats blasting from the slightly raised stage. HipHop has never been Vince's favorite, but he can appreciate the music and the skills of a good MC.
Ash keeps him topped up on Coke, since he can't drink on duty, and, at the end of the night, he sits with her to count down her till once everyone has been kicked out. He's unsurprised to see she's made a good haul in tips - cleavage and a pretty smile do that. She pays him his fee for the night, which he signs the receipt for, and then tips him out as well, which is something not all bartenders can be bothered with, and he appreciates the gesture.
They walk out together, and he realizes their cars are only a few spaces apart. He's keyed up, and wants to ask if she wants to come over and hang out - he wouldn't say no to a hookup, but genuinely just wants to hang out and maybe play some music or something - but he also knows she probably has to work tomorrow, and it's already after 2. So, instead, he stops beside her car and waits for her to unlock it, before pulling her in for a brief half-hug like he use to give Letty. Friendly, companionable, but not intimate, because that would be weird and he doesn't want to scare her off.
She smiles easily and returns the slight squeeze before stepping into her car. "Sunday?"
"Anything you don't eat?" he queries even as he slowly starts meandering toward his own Chevelle.
"Shellfish." Her tone is curious.
He only nods that he heard and waits for her to close the car door and lock it before turning his back fully on her car and striding with purpose to his own. She waits until he's in his before stepping on her clutch and turning over her engine, and their cars roar to life almost simultaneously, making them grin at each other. They pull out and head in the same direction for a few blocks until Vince turns to get on the 110 while Ash continues heading straight past the freeway, and he guesses she lives in Huntington Park.
He hears her pull up a little after 2 on Sunday, just as he's putting the last of the chopped vegetables in the crock pot. He's not a great cook, but his Gran had made sure he knew the basics plus a couple of her traditional family Irish dishes, and he'd made a special trip to her favorite butcher yesterday to stock up with a few briskets to go in the freezer. One of those is now in the slow cooker with cabbage, potatoes, carrots, and celery, to cook while he and Ash jam.
The front door has been left standing open to try and get a breeze through, so he hears Ash call out a "Knock-knock!" even as the screen door squeaks open and she comes in.
"In the kitchen!" he calls back, moving to wash the cutting board and knife. Despite what Mia might think about him, he is fully capable of being domestic. Contrary to how she has always bitched about having to do all the cooking and cleaning, she considered the Toretto kitchen HER domain, and the few times he'd ever tried to help in there, she'd just switched to bitching about how he was doing everything wrong. So, he'd left her to it, not venturing in to do more than make toast or get cereal if she was home.
After the board and knife have been quickly washed and dried, and returned to their spot between the sink and stove, Vince turns around to find Ash standing by the kitchen table, watching him and looking vaguely amused. In that moment, he realizes that she seems like a happy person, but happy in a subdued way, and he likes that about her. That she's neither cynical and misanthropic, nor in-your-face cheery. Pulling out his cell phone, Vince sets an alarm for 6 pm, before motioning to the door down to the basement behind her, and she turns, leading the way down, carrying her guitar and the pack of beer she has brought with her.
They jump straight into it, and only stop to occasionally trade a quick story about a particular song and open new beers, until Vince takes a cue from a late-80s post-punk riff she plays, and he starts in on The Gits 'Second Skin' and Ash goes, for lack of a better word, ashen, making him immediately stop.
His eyebrows draw together in concern, and he asks, "Are you ok?"
She swallows hard and takes a deep breath before answering. Her voice is a little shaky as she says, "Yeah, sorry… uh… can we just…. No Gits songs? Please?"
Vince nods, still concerned, but starts playing Master of Puppets to get them back into the groove. For the next hour before his alarm goes off indicating it's time to eat, she seems absorbed in dark minor chords and fast rock tempos. When his phone starts chirping the time, he silences it and sets his guitar down, saying "Dinner." and leading them back up to the kitchen.
Ash finds the downstairs half-bath to wash up, and he does the same quickly in the kitchen sink before dishing them both up a plate, and setting them on the kitchen table along with cutlery. He passes over beers, instead pulling the bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge and pouring them each a measure as well as filling glasses with water as she sits down in front of one of the plates.
There's a smile back on her face, but it's tinged with sadness. "I haven't had proper brisket since I moved away from home." Ash says as Vince sets down the water and whiskey in front of her before turning back to retrieve his own and joining her in sitting.
"Where's home?" he queries as they pick up their utensils.
That sad smile again. "Seattle."
Vince pauses in cutting into his meat. "Oh. So, you knew…?"
Ash keeps moving as she talks. "Yeah. I was 15. It was still a small music scene up there then - everyone knew everyone - and Mia was my hero. Not my bestie or anything, but we hung out, saw each other at shows all the time. She was so sweet."
There's a minute of quiet while they get through a few bites. "I heard they made an arrest finally." he says, carefully.
Ash nods. "A couple months ago. A lead popped up from out of nowhere in friggin' Miami of all the places." she takes a swig of her water, followed by a sip of whiskey. Sighing, she says, "It'll be ten years this summer."
Thinking back to the one time he's heard her sing, he says, "You sound a bit like her."
"It's one of the reasons I left. Either people wanted to see me JUST because I reminded them of her, or they hated me because they thought I was trying to be her, or take her place, or something." There's another pause for eating. "I adored Mia, just like everyone else that was up there then did, but the constant comparison…"
"You wanted to be you, not some girl who sounded like Mia Zapata." Vince says, understanding.
The smile is less sad this time, and they're quiet for another few minutes while they eat. Sounding a bit happier, she asks, "So, corned beef and cabbage, huh?"
Smiling himself, Vince uses his fork to point off to the side, where there's a hanging photo of his Gran in this same kitchen, cooking up a storm for some event or another. "Gran and Gramps were both kids of Irish immigrants. They're both gone now, but Gran made sure I knew the basics." He knows his father's side is Italian, as evidenced by his name, but he had never known them. Only his father, who he'd rather forget.
"My grandparents were the same," Ash says, smiling with him at the photo. They meet eyes and she says, "Most people assume Ash is short for Ashley, but it's actually so that I don't have to hear people butchering the pronunciation of Aisling constantly."
"I had a great-aunt Aisling."
They talk and eat, both taking seconds, comparing stories about their crazy Irish families, and Ash shares that the other side of her family is Hungarian, and just as crazy, only in another language, which, yes, she speaks. It is again dusk once dishes are washed and Ash has collected her guitar from downstairs, and Vince is walking her out.
A quick hug, and she's off, and Vince decides to enjoy the mild evening on the front porch for a bit, musing about Ash.
He doesn't quite know what to make of their relationship, or what is becoming their relationship. He knows he's attracted to her, but all of their interactions are firmly in friend territory, and he's fine with that. It's just kind of weird. He's never really been friends with a woman. There was Letty, of course, but they'd grown up together. They had been friends of proximity who were caught up in the same pseudo-family unit. Granted, on that logic, Vince could argue that he's never really been friends with anybody. Dom had been the only other boy his age in the immediate neighborhood, his other friends through high school and beyond had all been proximity friends from either school or the music scene, Leon and Jesse had been adoptees into the Fort.
Rubbing his face, Vince laughed to himself as he realized that he's just now, as a 27-year-old adult, intentionally making his first ever friend based on shared interests. Heading inside, Vince locks up behind himself, looking around at the walls and furnishings that haven't changed since Gran passed. He should really do something about that. It's not like the millions he has sitting in offshore accounts can't cover some redecorating. Heading into the basement, he also acknowledges that it's probably time to move up into the master bedroom. He'd been putting it off. Mia had helped him go through Gran's stuff and give most of it away to thrift shops or whatever years ago, insisting he needed to do it to properly grieve, but the whole upstairs still lay otherwise untouched for nearly 8 years.
Vince strips off his clothes and throws them straight into the washer in the bathroom before stepping into the shower stall and turning the water on to a scalding setting, ignoring the extra sting on the still-sensitive scar tissue spiralling down his right arm. He'd start working on redecorating first. Get everything how he likes it, including the upstairs rooms, then he'll move up there. No rush.
The following weekend, Vince is getting ready to walk out the door to go to his weekly Sunday lunch with Mia when he's startled by his house phone ringing. Usually, anyone who needs to speak with him calls him on his cell. Picking up the kitchen phone he answers, "Hello?"
"Hey," it's Ash. She must've written his home number down off her caller ID that first time he'd called her. "I'm so sorry, I have to cancel for this afternoon - I got offered a waitressing shift at this place that does really good dinner service on Sundays-"
He cuts off the slight rant. "It's ok, I understand." He's disappointed, but he does.
"Could we maybe do a different night? Tuesday or Wednesday?" She sounds hopeful, and it occurs to him for the first time that she must enjoy their jam sessions as much as he does. That's an odd thought that he can't dwell on right now.
"Tuesday should be good, I have band practice Wednesdays." he tells her.
There's a pause. Then "You guys really bother practicing?" She sounds incredulous.
He laughs. "I know it ain't anything special, but we do at least make sure we're tight on what we play."
"I guess I can't argue with that. Anyway, I get off work at 5, so I'll be there by, like, 6 Tuesday? I'll bring takeout. Chinese ok?"
"Sounds good." He says.
A few weeks roll by in much the same manner. One Sunday, Ash enters through the door that is now always left open when he's expecting her to find the living room empty except for the large steamer trunk that had previously served as a coffee table. Walking through to the kitchen, where she's sure to find him throwing something or other in the slow cooker for them to eat later, she also notices the walls are now bare.
"You moving?" she asks by way of greeting when she indeed finds him in the kitchen, dumping what looks like cans of beans into the crock pot.
He chuckles, tossing the cans in the trash and putting the lid on the cooker before turning around. "Nah, just decided it's time to admit I'm an adult and stop living in "Gran's" house."
"Let me know if you need help with anything. I'm pretty handy with a paint roller." she offers as they move down to the basement.
"Might actually take you up on that. I had a couple of the neighborhood old ladies over to tell me what furniture was antiques that might be worth selling instead of donating, and they all told me not to redecorate too much 'like a man' or I'd end up in a cave. Got me a little paranoid."
Settling into her now usual spot, Ash says, "Well, I am happy to give my womanly opinion, as well as chip in on manual labor. You certainly feed me enough in repayment." He cooks nearly every time she comes over.
Dinner that night is chili with beans, then he takes her to the now-empty upstairs. "I got a quote from a contractor to take out most of this closet, make the bathroom a little bigger, put in a jacuzzi tub," he says, indicating the oddly large hall closet.
"Makes sense. Are you having the contractor do the whole bathroom, or just the wall and the tub?" she asks.
"May as well have them do everything. Laying tile is a bitch, if I am going to have pros in anyway, I may as well have them do it all."
"Just don't pick dark colors for EVERYTHING, and you should be fine."
Vince rubs the back of his neck. "Well, the colors are mostly what I wanted to run by you. I've been told I don't have the best taste."
Ash raises an eyebrow. "Ooookaayyy…"
He brings out the paint and tile samples he's considering. "I'm leaning towards this paint with this tile." It's a light sky blue paint, with a medium smoky tile.
"I actually really like that. Are you changing all the fixtures and the vanity as well?" He nods. "With this combination, I'd go with dark colors, black or wrought iron, for all of that. It'll look nice, but not super girly."
She steers him away from the dark wood flooring he prefers with a simple explanation of "It's LA, you'll be re-staining the damn things every two years for all the sun-bleaching." but says that all of his other choices so far seem fine to her, and to let her know when reflooring/painting day is and that she's happy to help him pick out curtains, furniture, etc when he's ready if he wants her help.
He ends up hiring another contractor to tear out the carpet upstairs, on the stairs, and in the living room, as well as the vinyl in the kitchen, replacing it all with new, light wood flooring and a coat of clear varnish. It's mid-June when that and the bathrooms both upstairs and on the main floor are done. The half bath off the living room now matches the upstairs one in colors, tile, and fixtures, also getting a new toilet and sink.
Vince has coordinated with Ash so they both have this weekend free, and she's going to crash there, so they can paint and hopefully get the baseboards installed.
He has dinner ready when she gets there around 7 Friday night, bearing a backpack with her stuff, a boombox, and what looks like a massive CD book. They scarf down the simple meal of baked chicken and veggies before getting to work. Upstairs, they put drop-cloths down in the smaller bedroom, and set up the boombox in the middle, with the beer and bottle of rum, but not too close to the paint cans and trays. The first CD is a mixtape, and the first track is Counting Crows, which he teases her good naturedly about even as they make their way around the room with blue masking tape to protect edges from stray paint and they both sing along.
By 1 am, they are putting the final brush-strokes of the toffee-colored paint into upper corners and the inside of the window frame extra-carefully, since they are both tipsy, but they still sing along enthusiastically as they go through her mixtapes. Once they check each others work and declare the room complete, they switch off the boombox, pour the paint carefully back into cans, which get sealed, then open the window and set a box fan in the doorway that is currently sans door to try and get some airflow to help the paint dry. Double checking that all of the upstairs windows are open, they make their way slowly downstairs, because they are just drunk enough to know they are drunk and neither cares for a trip to the ER.
A lap around the ground floor to check doors and windows are locked, and the pair retreat to the basement. Vince flops himself down at one end of the couch, and Ash flops herself down along it, propping the calves of her legs up on the arm on his side, effectively leaving her thighs in his lap while her torso and head wrap around a pillow that has migrated out from his bedroom at some point.
His attraction to his friend has not gone away (though she hasn't made any indication that she may be attracted to him, so he has kept that to himself), and, as the weather gets hotter as summer rolls in properly, her clothes had covered less and less. Not wanting to either be awkward or deny himself touching her when he has the opportunity, Vince shifts to get more comfortable, resting one arm sideways over her bare thighs, hand near her knees, while the other arm stretches back behind his head.
Ash lets out a content sigh as his thumb traces idly over the skin just above her knee. They end up falling asleep like that.
The next morning, Ash insists it's her turn to cook and makes a massive breakfast. One of the many things Vince appreciates about Ash is that she's isn't afraid to eat in front of him, and she puts away nearly as much as he does.
They start the day taping off the master bedroom. It's a scorcher, and the room is sweltering by midday. Deciding he's too damn hot to be self-conscious about his scars, and he shouldn't be in front of a friend anyway, Vince strips out of his shirt, leaving him in basketball shorts. Not wanting to make a thing of it, he specifically doesn't look across the room to Ash until a few minutes later when she stops and puts down her own roller and strips off her own shirt, so she's now working in her cutoff jean shorts that he's already been trying not to think about, and a sports bra.
The master bedroom is done in a lovely shade of emerald green around 1 pm, so they break for lunch of sandwiches and cold beer before going back upstairs, touching up spots that need it in the smaller bedroom before moving on the prep and begin painting the hallway.
In the narrow hall, they keep bumping into each other as they work and end up in their first small paint fight, laughing and smudging each other with the off-white paint for a few minutes before they keep working, making their slightly clumsy way from the end of the hall to, and then down, the stairs. The living room is getting painted the same color, but they haven't taped it off, and, by mutual agreement, they order a pizza. Low on beer at this point, Vince calls it in for pickup and decides to make a beer run at the same time, and she tells him to pick up more rum and some juice while he's out, and she'll start taping the living room.
Her trusty boombox had been following them, and, over the music, she doesn't hear someone come in the back door not ten minutes after Vince has left.
A feminine voice saying "What the hell? Who the fuck are you?" is the first indication someone else is in the house, and Ash spins away from the fireplace, dropping the masking tape in her hands, one going up to cover her chest where it feels like her heart is about to beat right out of her chest.
"Oh good lord! Have you heard of knocking?!" Ash exclaims even as she recognizes the other woman from Vince pointing out people in pictures as he has told stories of his childhood. "You're Mia, right?"
The other woman looks taken aback. "Yeah. And you are….?"
Reaching out her right hand, she says, "Vince's friend, Ash."
Mia looks at her disbelievingly, not shaking the proffered hand. "Vince doesn't have female friends."
At a loss, Ash motions to her chest and says, "Well, these are real, and I'm pretty sure only a friend would voluntarily give up their weekend to help someone paint two-thirds of their house, so…" she shrugs before bending over to pick up the tape she'd dropped, straightening up and turning back to continue what she'd been doing.
Not knowing what to say to that, Mia instead asks, "Where's Vince?"
"Beer and pizza run." Ash answers shortly. She watches from the corner of her eye and in the slight reflection in the window beside her as the other woman slowly looks around, seeming as if she wants to check upstairs, but stops herself, then, without another word to Ash, turns and makes her way back to the kitchen. Ash isn't sure what she expects - maybe for her to sit at the table and wait, or leave out the back door, the same way she'd come in? - but it certainly wasn't for Mia to start opening up cupboards and the fridge, rifling through them. At least, that's what it sounded like she was doing over the music that was still playing.
It's nearly 15 more minutes before Vince gets back, and Ash can't actually tell if Mia has settled at the kitchen table or left. She gets her answer as Vinces voice comes through the door between the living room and kitchen. "Mia? What are you doing here? What's wrong?" followed by the slight clank of beer bottles against each other as he sets down his haul in the kitchen.
Ash can't hear what Mia says to Vince, but she hears Vince's reply, and the offended tone it is said in. "I AM capable of having FRIENDS, Amelia. Now, did you actually need something, or can we get to our dinner?"
Mia's voice is clearly audible this time. The woman lets out a loud scoff before saying "Leave it to you to have a woman over helping you, and you feed her pizza and beer."
At this, Ash, leaves her work and steps quickly into the kitchen. "Actually, he almost always cooks for me when I come over. I had to talk him out of cooking tonight because we've both been busting ass all day painting." she keeps her tone light, but she can't stop from glaring at this woman who Vince had described as a sort-of-sister-figure. Brushing past her, Ash opens the pizza box on the counter and grabs two plates from the cabinet, piling a few slices on each before handing one to Vince and closing the box.
Mia purses her lips and glares back. She bites out, "Dom and Letty will be back in a few days." before snatching up her purse and moving towards the door.
As she goes, Vince shoots back, "They know where to find me."
Ash opens them beers and they sit down at the table, eating in silence for awhile.
"Thanks." their silence is eventually broken by Vince. "For defending me. She can be…."
"A raging cunt?" Ash offers when he doesn't come up with a word, making him laugh briefly.
"Yeah, actually. Sometimes."
Ash offers a sympathetics shrug. "Even when they aren't blood, family can be a fucking bitch to deal with sometimes."
The music throughout the day had been mostly lighthearted and upbeat, good music for them to work and sing along or chat over, but, as they get back to work on the living room, Ash switches it to hard rock and cranks the volume a little. The neighbors won't be complaining or anything, but it's loud enough that they can't really talk over it, and he's glad that she gets that he isn't ready to talk yet. The pair make short work of finishing off taping and moving drop cloths from now-dry areas upstairs to the living room, then they're off and painting. Vince takes his frustration out with his roller, and is done with the larger areas of the front-facing wall in no time, leaving Ash to go behind him with the smaller roller and a brush to get the detail areas as he moves on to the other outside wall, which houses one side window and the fireplace.
Thinking about it as she paints around it, Ash doesn't understand LA people, sometimes. Fireplaces in LA? What the actual fuck? She's lived here for like 8 years and it's never gotten below 70 degrees. She's only just getting acclimated enough to wear jeans in the winter without being uncomfortably warm. This house was built in, what, probably the '50's? Electricity had all heating and cooking needs covered by then. Were they just going for the aesthetic?
Her thoughts are interrupted as Vince sets down the big roller, already done with the main portions of the other two walls and the ceiling. His shirt has come back off at some point - he'd put it back on to go pick up the pizza - and she tries not to stare as he stretches, rolling his shoulders and twisting for a minute before stooping (don't stare at his ass, don't stare at his ass) to pick up the bottle of rum and take a long swig before retrieving the other small roller and brush to join her in detail work.
Finishing around the fireplace, she stops to drain her own rum and cranberry juice before moving to work on the area around the window, where she can at least be more discreet in checking out her friend by way of the reflection in the window as he stretches his arms up to paint around the smoke detector and light fixture opening, then moving to get the corners where the ceiling and walls meet.
They push through exhaustion to finish the room, and are cleaning up for the night just before midnight. It's far from late for a Saturday for either of them, but they'd been working nearly non-stop since about 8 that morning. The pair splits up to shower, Ash in the upstairs bathroom while Vince takes the basement shower. When she gets back down to the basement, since that's the only place in the house that currently has furniture suitable for sleeping, she finds Vince nearly asleep on the couch.
"Come on, big guy, let's get you to bed," she says, pulling on his arm to try and make him stand up.
He sleepily rolls his eyes at her. "You're my guest, I'm not making you sleep on the couch."
Ash rolls her eyes back. "We're two grown-ass adults who managed to sleep on the couch together last night just fine without accidentally molesting each other, I'm sure we can manage on a different piece of furniture tonight."
Vince groans internally, but doesn't fight her on it. He's exhausted, and he can't remember the last time he'd actually just shared a bed with a woman. It sounds nice. He doesn't bother turning on the light in his bedroom, simply grabbing her hand to lead her to the bed before he climbs in and crawls under the blanket on the side up against the wall. She follows him without comment, crawling under the blanket as well and draping herself across his chest without ceremony, relaxing against him and saying "You're comfy."
He's pretty sure she falls asleep near-instantly, and he is surprised at how fast he follows her.
Ash wakes the next morning to the sensation of Vince alternately playing with her hair, which is down for what she thinks might be the first time he's ever seen, and him lightly tracing his fingers over the tattoo of a butterfly among some flowers on the back of her left shoulder. She stays relaxed and keeps her breathing even, not sure where this is going, and gets rewarded as he eventually turns his head slightly and nuzzles his face in her hair.
Who would've thought that scruffy, gruff Vince is a snuggler?
She stirs slightly, and his hand drops down to her waist as his face goes back up towards the ceiling. Ash squeezes the arm she has slung over his belly and cuddles further into him for a moment before pulling back and croaking out a sleepy "Morning."
"Morning." his answer is almost growled, and Ash can't tell if that's intentional or because he hasn't fully woken up yet.
She slowly crawls out of bed, almost immediately pulling her hair back with the hair tie that had ended up around her wrist that night before, and makes her way into the bathroom for her morning trip before heading upstairs and turning out another massive breakfast for the two of them.
Once dishes are done and they are both back in 'work' clothes, they go back and examine all of yesterday's work, touching up places here and there before peeling off all the masking tape and setting up the angle-saw that had been rented for the weekend on the back porch and hauling the lengths of baseboard from the garage to the back deck.
The first few cuts to length are simple, and, soon Vince is nailing the narrow boards to the bottom of the walls while Ash works on measuring and marking a length, then carefully cutting a few at a time and nailing them into place on the stairs. Once she's sure she' has the angle and length correct, she cuts more at a time, which Vince then comes to grab and follows how she has put in the first few steps worth.
This takes up a decent portion of the morning, and they round it off by putting in the new light switch and outlet covers Vince has bought - the standard white plastic, just new - and then starting on installing the new ceiling-mounted light fixtures. Gone are the old painted-plastic with frosted dome covers, in their place will be more modern medium-tone wood-bases with protruding, adjustable lights. Except in the upstairs hall, which is getting a strip of similar colored wood with inlaid spotlights.
Ash, great with measurements and angles, but not-so-much with electrical things, leaves Vince to the lights and instead begins assembling and installing curtain rods - because she'd convinced him that it would look better than just the blinds, which are also getting replaced with the thin wood option instead of the standard cheap plastic, which is next on her list, since there are not yet actual curtains to go on the rods she's putting up.
Lunch is the rest of the pizza from the night before, and they have accomplished everything that was on the list for the weekend, so they get comfy on the couch and celebrate with their normal Sunday afternoon jam session.
Midday the following Friday, Vince is putting together the entertainment center that he'd just brought home in anticipation of buying a new tv and sound system next week along with starting to get new furniture. A muscle car pulls up that is far too souped to be Ash's Camaro, and she wouldn't be off work yet anyway, and he knows instantly that Dom's back in town.
Sure enough, it's less than a minute before the front screen door squeaks open - the actual door already standing open because it's hot as balls out and any breeze helps - and Dom is ushering Letty in before him.
"Man, I haven't been in this house since I was a teenager. Like what you've done with the place V - looks a little empty though." Letty teases.
"I'm workin' on it," Vince grumbles at her as he finishes tightening the screw he's currently on and takes a moment to make sure the thing is stable enough for him to step away for a minute. Setting down his tools, he moves to gather her up in a short but firm hug, and she returns it before moving to the side for Dom to pull him into a massive hug. "Beer?" He asks them, already moving toward the kitchen.
He gets them all a brew and they settle around the four-seater table. Dom lightly says "This don't look like Corona."
Rolling his eyes, Vince replies, "Well, some of us like to change things up occasionally." In truth, he had actually stuck with Corona until he'd started hanging out with Ash, who changes the beer she drinks frequently, and Vince had realized that he'd just never really tried much beer other than Corona because that's what Dom had liked. So, now, he switches it up.
Letty chuckles as if she's tried having this conversation with Dom before, and Vince doesn't ask.
"So what's this I hear about some bitch that's all over my sister's ass over you?"
At this, both of Vince's eyebrows shoot up and he shakes his head as he takes a swig. "Man, I know there's two sides to every story, but if Mia really got it THAT twisted, girl has some issues." Dom's look drops to decidedly unamused, and Vince continues. "It wasn't anything, bro. I had a friend over last weekend helping me paint. Mia showed up while I was out grabbing pizza for dinner. Mia jumped on MY ass about something when I got back, Ash just set the record straight."
"Wait," Letty says "YOU have a friend? That's a chick?"
To Dom's credit, he doesn't agree with Letty's surprise, but Vince is now cruising towards pissed. "Why is that so surprising? We're friends, aren't we?" he asks, motioning between them.
Letty doesn't seem to know what to say to that, which still gives Vince an answer. He drains the rest of his beer and gets up, tossing the bottle in the recycle bin by the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have an entertainment center to put together, and I have plans to get to tonight." Much later tonight, but they don't need to know that.
As he walks back into the living room, he hears Dom ask Letty what the hell is wrong with her before telling her he'll meet her at home, and the back screen door slamming a moment later.
Dom leans against the empty frame between the kitchen and living room casually, beer in one hand. "Sorry about that man. I have no idea why she'd say some shit like that."
Vince shrugs as he consults the diagram and picks up the next piece of the unit and a few screws. "I guess I get it man. I mean, it's hard not to wonder if someone really considers you their friend when they leave you laid up in the hospital, completely alone, to take all the heat while they fuck off to who knows where."
He sees Dom suddenly inspecting his feet, and knows he's scored the hit he intended. "I deserve that." is the response.
Vince starts screwing the piece in with a sigh. "At least you get that. No one else seems to."
Dom rubs a hand over his shaved head and heaves a sigh. "Yeah, I can see that." Vince knows this is the closest thing he's going to get to an apology anytime soon. "These plans of yours tonight, wouldn't include races, would they?"
Shaking his head, Vince says, "Nah. I haven't been back. Not really any point in me going. Hector's still your guy for that, though. He throws me some work occasionally."
"Work?" Dom's question is incredulous, as he is well aware that Vince has just as much as he does in safety deposit boxes and offshore accounts.
Picking up the next piece, Vince locks eyes with the guy he used to think was his best friend. His brother. "I know I was the team meathead, but even I get bored, man." He watches as Dom process that, realizing that Vince is saying that he knows the whole team, Dom included, had basically considered him dumb muscle, and Vince sees the exact moment that Dom hits his limit of shit he can deal with right now.
The other man drains his beer before saying flatly, "Guess I should go call Hector, then." and turns to head out the back door, dropping his bottle in the bin. A moment later, his car is roaring to life in the driveway next to the house and he's backing out, tires squealing slightly as he takes off for his own house.
Hours later, the entertainment center is long put together and the detritus cleaned up, and Vince is finishing up trimming his beard in the bathroom when his phone beeps in the next room to let him know he has a text message. Leaving it for the moment, he cleans out his electric trimmer and the sink thoroughly. When he finally checks it, he's not sure if he should be happy or annoyed.
'Manny says you were asking about when I play next. If you're coming tonight, bring gear.'
Because of course he and Ash had finally gotten around to trading cell phone numbers. He isn't annoyed about that. He'd wanted to just watch her, preferably without her knowing he was there to watch her. To see her in her element. And Manny had ruined it.
'What if I just want to watch you play?' he taps out and sends back to her.
Her reply is quick. 'Interesting. Had you pegged as more of an active participant than eager voyeur. Suit yourself.'
With the jig now up, he looks at the time and decides he may as well get there early enough to get a good seat, since he knows it is likely to be just as packed as last time she'd played there, and moves to pull on his now-standard attire of jeans and a long-sleeve tee, before rethinking it and pulling on one of the handful of nicer shirts he owns instead, and his Docs instead of his work boots.
He rolls up a little after 8 to grab one of the last available parking spots in the lot, and is glad he'd come early, because the bar is already busy. He's brought two hoodies in from the car with him, and he uses then to immediately claim an open table against the wall with a good view of the stage, draping each over a different chair. People are less likely to try and steal the table while he's up getting drinks if they think there's more than one person there.
Though Vince only fills in shifts there occasionally, Joey the bartender recognizes him and gives him the employee discount, and doesn't question it when he asks for five beers, unopened. Joey knows how slammed it's going to be very soon, and if some unopened beers to a trusted person means one less person jockeying at the bar for his attention later, he's all for it.
Ash appears at 9, just like last time, depositing her gear on the stage and somehow wrangling a stool literally out from under someone at the bar before winding her way to the front of the queue and emerging a minute later with her drinks. She finds him as she sets the drinks down, smiling at him before her attention is drawn away by people talking to her while she begins to set up. She doesn't look any different than the last several times he's seen her, and he idly wonders why he had expected her to.
At 9:30, the house music goes down and she starts strumming her guitar, opening up with a Stevie Nicks cover to warm the crowd up, before moving on through bluesy covers of The Goo Goo Dolls, Alice in Chains, Barenaked Ladies, and a bunch of other bands along the lines of what they regularly jam out to in his basement. He recognizes about 2 out of every 3 songs she plays, but doesn't know if the ones he doesn't recognize are originals or just songs he doesn't know. He gets up once to duck into the men's room and is back at his table before the song is over, otherwise not leaving his seat at all. He watches her, enthralled without really knowing why, through the whole hour and a half first set, and tracks her movement through the thick crowd as she chats people up even as she is always moving, ducking into the ladies' before working her way up to the bar for refills before making her way back to the stage in only 15 minutes.
It's halfway through her second set that he notices something off. She'd looked over at him several times throughout the evening, but she seems to have a habit of making eye contact with the crowd while she sings, so it had been in her normal sweeps of making sure she got every direction. Whatever has changed has her fidgeting. Not obviously, because she still has to play, but her body movements aren't as fluid, like she's stiffening up, and he gets concerned as her range of eye contact narrows to mostly right in front of her for several songs, with periodic quick glances in his general direction. Near the end of her set, Vince is bordering on worried.
"Hey guys, you know I like to close with a few up tempo songs, so I'm gonna indulge myself in one more slow one, then get to it. Big thanks to our wonderful bartenders, Joey and Michael, please don't forget to be generous on those tips for the excellent service they provide. Everyone please make sure you're getting home safely - no shame in taking a cab if you need to. Thanks for coming out this lovely evening, have a great night." It's the standard I-just-played-for-3-hours-and-can't-wait-to-get-off-this-stage speech that most barfly musicians give at the end of the night, and her tone probably sounds cheerful to everyone in that bar who isn't Vince.
He watches as she closes her eyes and starts picking out a haunting melody. It's one of those song that he isn't sure if it's a cover or not, but he stops caring as her eyes open and she turns enough to look over at him as she starts to sing. She holds her gaze on him and he reminds himself to breathe as she starts singing.
"Electricity, eye to eye
Hey don't I know you
I can't speak
Stripped my senses
On the spot
I've never been defenseless
I can't even make sense of this
You speak and I don't hear a word
What would happen if we kissed
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust
The room is spinning out of control
Act like you didn't notice
Brushed my hand…"
She keeps singing, but her voice and the guitar are drowned out by a rushing sound in Vince's ears.
He had admitted to himself weeks, even months at this point, ago that he has a crush on her, and had more recently realized that the crush might be turning into real feelings that he'd thought he was going to have to ignore, because she'd never shown the slightest interest in him as anything more than a friend and fellow musician.
If this didn't turn that assumption on it's ear, he didn't know what else would. His old friends might consider him dumb, but he sure as hell isn't dumb enough to miss her singing a song like that TO HIM. It may as well be the goddamn Bat Signal over the city.
He vaguely registers the loud cheering of the crowd, and realizes she must've played out her set while he was processing. Had that been what had her on edge through half the set? Was she worried how he'd take it?
Vince thinks it's possible and can't really blame her for it. After all, he'd been all set on simply ignoring his own feelings for her for fear of chasing her away completely. Which means she officially has bigger proverbial balls than he does. He is on his last beer, and he keeps nursing it as he watches her mingle and chat, then move to break down her gear, which she piles neatly next to his table with a slightly shaky smile before she moves off to the bar to collect her fee for the night before she heads out. He drains his bottle as she gets back to the table and stands, picking up her amp as she slings the guitar case with extra storage for her mic, stand, and cables over her shoulder, and his free hand snatches up his hoodies before they both make their way through the thinning crowd to the door.
Ash pops the trunk of her car and motions for him to put the amp in first, pointing to one side. Once he has moved back, she shifts the amp slightly, pulling out two lengths of rope he hadn't noticed previously, fastening the hooks on the end to the handles on either side of the amp to keep it from shifting too much in transit, then sliding her guitar in beside it and firmly closing the trunk.
With no distractions left, Ash's arms wrap around her middle as she turns toward Vince, who is still right next to her, and she looks up at him nervously. He notices her chewing on her lower lip and reaches a hand up to cup her face, using his thumb to pull down on the flesh until she lets go of it.
Feeling his self-control slipping, he pulls back from her slightly, and she frowns a little, which he thinks looks bizzare on her face considering she's usually smiling. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"
Now it's a frown and confusion. "I don't have any plans, unless someone calls about a shift."
"Well, now you have plans." he states and she stares at him uncomprehendingly. "Text me your address. I'll pick you up at 7." he says before ushering her to the driver's side door of her car.
Still not getting it and now fed up, she keeps her arms firmly crossed instead of unlocking her door, knowing he won't leave her until she is safely locked in her car. "Vince?!"
He sighs and rubs the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. Admittedly, probably not the best way to ask a woman out, but, in his defense, he hasn't done this in nearly a decade. "Gran didn't raise no heathen. Gunna at least take you out on a date before we find out what would happen if we kiss."
Her face drops into shock and she mouths a silent 'oh'. Then, the smile is back, one of the bright ones that makes him smile with her. Finally unwrapping her arms from her midriff, she pulls him in for their now-customary hug, though it feels different than usual and lasts a little longer, before she turns to unlock her door. Vince opens it for her, waiting until she is settled on the seat before closing it, and standing there until she locks it again. She waits, watching in her mirrors as he walks to his own car, this time partway across the lot, and waits for him to disappear into his Chevelle and the lights to come on before she turns over the Camaro. They stay together to the 10, then as far as the 110, at which point they split to go their separate ways.
Vince is laying in bed, thinking about what he needs to do tomorrow for the date he wants to take her on when his phone beeps and he picks it up to find her address, making him smile as he taps out a reply of 'See you tomorrow, beautiful.'
He'd been right when he guessed Huntington Park weeks ago. Vince hears her roommates fighting as soon as he steps out of the Chevelle from where he'd parked right behind her Camaro, and he has barely closed the door before Ash is hurrying out the door of the little house she rents a room in. She meets him on the sidewalk and greets him with a hug as they both less than discreetly check the other out more dressed up than they're use to. Vince has pulled out his slacks and good shoes, tucking his shirt in, and Ash is in a pretty, dark red dress held up by thick straps over each shoulder, that hugs over her bust and waist before flowing out gently over her hips and thighs, stopping just shy of her knees, with some black heels on her feet and her hair is mostly down and curled, just some of the front bits twisted back off her face.
"I hope this is ok, you didn't say where we are going…"
Vince smiles the shorter than usual distance down at her and says "It's perfect. You look gorgeous." before settling a hand in the small of her back and leading her gently around to the passenger side of his car, opening the door for her.
Awhile later, they're parked in the lot of a closed-for-the-day strip mall somewhere between Huntington and Inglewood. For a closed strip mall, the lot is full, but she doesn't see other people, and only gives him funny looks as he leads her around the back. There, they are met with a short line of people and a guys who is clearly security in front of a stairwell that leads down to a door. Vince leads her straight to the front of the line, ignoring the indignant complaints from the other people, and the security guy obviously recognizes him, as he moves to the side enough for Vince to usher her through the opening that is created and down the stairs.
Inside the door, there's a loud, bustly restaurant that she knows probably isn't Mexican, but she doesn't know the difference to say what South American country it is actually based off of. Ash looks around as Vince gives his name at the hosts' desk, seeing that the tables are all clearly set around a dancefloor, which is currently empty, and there there is probably a house band, since the instruments on the stage are left there completely unattended.
They are lead to a table and left with menus. Looking at hers, Ash tells Vince, "I hope you can read this, because Spanish is not my other language."
Vince laughs. "I gotcha. What do you want to drink?"
"Margarita sounds good."
Vince orders for the both of them, and they sit and talk for the next hour or so, not unlike how they do normally over dinner at his house. Eventually, Ash's attention is captured by the band moving onto the stage and tuning their instruments.
"Do you dance?" The question throws her.
"Uh… no?"
Vince grins in reply. "Guess I'll have to teach you a couple moves, then." he gently teases even as he sends a silent prayer of thanks up to Mr T for insisting that it is only proper that young men know how to dance and forcing him and Dom into lessons. He gives her a couple songs to get used to the idea, then picks a mid-tempo one before pulling her up and onto the dancefloor to join the mass of other people there.
Cupping one hand up to the side and the other around her hip, he pulls her into him and looks down into her eyes. She looks nervous. "Just follow me. You'll be fine." He doesn't take his eyes off hers as he leads her through some basic salsa steps. She looks embarrassed as her shoes collide with his a few times before she gets the hang of a step, but he just keeps smiling, and she eventually relaxes.
Ash is visibly relieved after a few songs when a fast one comes on that is clearly beyond what she can handle right now, and he gives in, letting her lead them back to their table for a break.
"Is it really that bad?" he asks as she sucks down the remains of her margarita.
Ash blushes and says, "No, I was just caught off guard. Gimme another one of these and I'll happily step all over your toes." Vince laughs and waves down their waitress before ordering them another round.
Two more drinks and many more dances later they leave, and Ash is somewhat disappointed when they pull back up in front of her house.
They stand chest-to-chest on the sidewalk, and she gives him a half-smile as she asks, "You aren't gonna come in, are you?"
Vince wraps an arm around her waist, the other hand coming up to brush some stray hairs off her face before cupping her head in his large hand. He shakes his head slightly. "Wanna do this right. Not jump in all at once."
She can't be mad at that. She can be frustrated, though. "You at least going to kiss me goodnight?"
His reply is to lean down and press his lips to hers. Too softly for her taste, so she rocks up on her toes, leaning into him, kissing him back much harder. He responds in kind, pulling her tight against his chest for a few moments before he pulls back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers.
After they've caught their breath for a minute, he growls out, "You're not making it very easy to do this the right way."
"Since when is the right way ever easy?" Ash replies with a naughty smirk before she pulls back from him. "Jam sesh tomorrow?" she asks as she walks slowly backwards up the path to her front door.
Vince runs a hand through his hair and says "Same Bat time, same Bat place." making her giggle. He waits until she's inside before getting back in his car.