Rock chicks are more complicated than they look, especially when one is becoming her destiny, the other following a classical career, and the third wheel the steaming hot lead singer of the new big thing. Scarred hearts bleed pain when the pulse of love blurs to jealousy and rage. Between family, ex-lovers, and their own clashing issues, this complicated love triangle becomes a tangled mess, leaving the shy and the reckless reeling. The future is bleak, they’re isolated and misunderstood, and pride ruins passion.
Drunken mistakes haunt Molly and Justine; their spiral into misery riveting. Strumming emotions more than guitar strings, the dynamic Justine, Tessa, and Molly, will keep you on tenterhooks of suspense in this lady-on-lady romance.
A wooden three-seater swing sits against the wall, my guitar propped beside it. Perhaps scribbling music and lyrics for my acoustic treasure will soothe me. Melancholy and bliss, the two ends of the emotional spectrum provide the best fodder for song. One of them is on the menu this evening.
Grabbing lined music paper and a pencil I go and sit, swinging for a bit, waiting for my muse. A chord forms in my mind so I pick up my classical guitar and strum. As the tune comes to me I hum it as I write out the notes. After the second play through the words shape with the music.
I sing out the blues for the third and final time. I have written better, and of course much worse, but it heals, it helps. Goodbye to you, Alexander. I try to recall the happier times, the beginning and the memories sit far in my mind, out of reach. Retrieving the folder containing my scribbled songs from the ground beside me, I shuffle through. If I play a song I wrote back then, when Alex became my world, maybe the lost hope could be restored. Simply called ‘Alexander’, the song emanated all the passion and thrills of new love I’ve forgotten how to feel.
As I sing I visualise his cupid’s bow mouth and ruffled hair. The sexy way jeans hug his hips, the smile which produces a dimple in one cheek, and his cleft chin. Lust without love crams my empty chest. A thudding heart produces the desire I didn’t experience when his urgent hands initiated his quick release. My well-timed moans and feigned interest helped him along. How is it the thought of sex with him produced fire in my loins, when the action could not?
Putting down my guitar I place the new song into the folder before throwing it to the floor. The wind blows at the blinds surrounding me, producing a light thud.
Laying back on the swing I allow the rocking and steady lull of the wind to relax my lust filled senses. I will miss him, I know this much at least.
Alex could be thoughtful when he made the effort. His humour will be hard to forget. His teasing and quick wit will be what I shall miss most. Will he protest when I ask him to leave, or accept the inevitable? We both can’t go on denying that the fun, the fire, the love has faded.
Arguments and heated battles form the majority of our communication. Discontent over each others faults overshadow the spark of infatuation. We rarely share anything, our interests segregated. His love of sports, and mine of stillness and music, collide. Opposites no longer attract. Relief and sadness wage a war inside me.
Joanne Sexton is an Australian romance writer and mother of two. She had always dreamed of writing novels and has been an avid reader most of her life. In between being a mum and writing, she runs a small bookkeeping business. She has recently become a qualified florist.
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