“Yeah,” Gale said softly. “In my darker moments, I wish I owned a gun so I could remedy the mistake. But then I think death would be too easy for him.” His gaze was hard, diamonds again, but this time black ones, ones that absorbed and extinguished his inner light.
My throat closing, I nodded rapidly. I agreed, so completely agreed with him, but I couldn’t speak to acknowledge that truth.
He dipped his chin and gave his head a shake. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve shocked you. It’s wrong to think things like that, but you’re easy to talk to, and I know you understand. But that’s not an excuse to upset you. Not when you’re hurting too.”
He reached for me. His eyes were soft like a cloud full of a misty rain, and his fingers glided almost imperceptibly along the line of my jaw.
“You must have been very young when your brother died.”
“Sixteen, almost seventeen.” The words were wrenched from deep inside me, loosened from their deep moorings by Gale and the sweet stroking motion of his gentle touch.
“Was it a car accident caused by a drunk driver?” He brushed a snarled strand of my hair behind my shoulder.
“Yes.”
“Were you there?” He captured another strand. “Inside the car when it happened?”
“I was in the car.”
“Oh, Josephine.” He tucked a loose wisp behind my ear. “And you were injured. That’s why you get the migraines, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s terrible.” His hand sliding underneath my hair, he cradled the base of my skull.
He didn’t know how terrible. Words didn’t capture it.
I let out a ragged sigh as he drew my head to his shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around me, offering me comfort. Sweet, blessed comfort.
It was both heaven and hell, being held by him as if I were worthy of it. I never wanted to leave this moment. I wanted to burrow under his skin and live there, but goodness like he represented and gave couldn’t last, not even a little while. Not when it was founded on a lie.
“I’m okay.” I wriggled out of his arms.
“You’re not okay.” He gave me a long searching look and shook his head, reaching his verdict. “I’m not either. But we’re trying to get there.”
He wasn’t only trying, he was succeeding.
Gale was a nice guy, much like my brother had been. He was a good man before tragedy struck, and he remained a good one after it.
I wasn’t anything. Not anything at all.
I was just going through the motions.
“THE FREE GRIEF COUNSELING at AA for survivors is a good resource,” Gale said, his expression warm and full of understanding. “I’m glad you’re taking advantage of it. But I know something that helps more.”
“What?” I asked him, feeling like we’d somehow stumbled into a momentary lull within a whirlwind, somewhere far removed from the reality of a roadside pullout near one of the largest cities in the Texas panhandle.
“Riding.”
I rolled my eyes. But deep down, I marveled that he could joke at all. His emotions had to be gusting at a tropical storm level, like mine were.
“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice determined.
“Maybe for you.” I glanced at his motorcycle, then back at him. “But I don’t believe it has miraculous properties for everybody.”
“Motion. Movement. Focusing on the road. The constantly changing scenery. Being a part of something. Interacting, though mainly as an observer. It’s a first step in the right direction.” He gestured to the BMW. “But don’t just take my word for it. Let me show you.”
He turned, taking my hand and leading me back to his faithful steed.
“All right.” And once again, I found myself moving alongside him until I stumbled to a stop. “But wait.”
“What?” He glanced at me, one slanted brow inching up to an inquiring height.
“My shirt. Remember?”
His gaze dipped. “I have a hoodie in my pack. You could put it on. It might get a little warm, but it’ll do the trick.”
“Okay.”
He nodded once and we continued on, but with him moving ahead of me. Arriving at the motorcycle in a couple of long strides, he opened one of the luggage cases and withdrew a heather-gray hooded sweatshirt. Turning, he offered it to me.
As I took it, I smirked at the iconic pyramid of the Anthem logo before I put it on. “Your very own concert souvenir. Did you get it for free, or at least at a discount?”
“Hell yes, I got it for free. I’m not going to pay sixty bucks for something I know costs only a few dollars to make. Here, let me help you.”
He moved closer, reaching for and untucking my long hair from inside the collar. Individual black strands tried to cling to his fingers as he withdrew them.
“Thanks,” I said, noting how my hair liked being close to him as much as I did. But it was only a preference. I knew it couldn’t last.
Wordlessly, we repeated the procedure to mount up again. Gale got on the motorcycle first. I watched him, appreciating the view. Then I placed my foot on the peg and climbed on after him, much less gracefully than he had.
“Can you do the helmet by yourself this time?” He handed it back to me.
“I think so.”
I aligned it on top of my head and tapped it into place while he did his own. I had a little trouble with my chin strap but managed to fasten it unsupervised.
Gale cranked the engine, and I threaded my arms around his waist. It wasn’t lost on me that I had him, and yet he also had me, or his hoodie did. The fibers were softly worn and infused with his spicy scent.
He kicked in the stand and pedaled his feet a bit to get the wheels rolling, and then we were in motion again, just to the edge of the pullout at first. I hugged him tighter as he put on the blinker, anticipating the surge of speed to enter the road. At least, that was the excuse I gave myself as his black riding boots lifted off of the pavement.
As he accelerated onto the road, I relaxed into him, having already experienced his cautious and capable driving.
“What route are we taking to Santa Fe?” I asked, watching an old farm truck pass us on the left with its bed weighted down by a huge round bale of hay.
“I-40 all the way. As soon as I make the turn onto it.”
“Easy.”
“It’s a straight shot with rolling hills and pastureland. The snowcapped mountains of Colorado will be in the distance. Red rocks up close.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It’s a nice drive, but there are nicer things.” He let go of the right grip to give my clasped hands a meaningful squeeze.
A pang of if only longing seized my heart. It took me a moment to breathe through it, and then another one to try to make a joke of it.
“Imagine that. That there could be anything better than riding.”
“Riding with someone you like.”
“Quit trying to soften me up with your sweet talk.” My lips framed a wistful smile, his compliment having the same effect on me as the one before it. “No matter how nice you are to me, I’m not going to sleep with you.”
When I felt him stiffen, I replayed what I’d said in my mind and realized what it revealed.
“Not that I would, or that I was even thinking about sex with you,” I said quickly, and Gale chuckled. “It . . . it was just a figure of speech. You were being too nice.”
“We’re just friends. Right, okay, I get it. The lines are drawn.” His voice was teasing, and I knew without seeing his face that his lips were curved. “Friends is a great starting place.”
I relaxed, enjoying the feel of my cheek against his back until I noticed another vehicle moving up alongside us.
A colorful van. A very familiar colorful van with music blaring out the windows, a blonde driving, and a redhead sitting in the passenger seat beside her.
“Fuck,” I said, cursing my luck and tensing all over again.
LARK TURNED HER HEAD and
slid her sunglasses down her nose to get a better look. Not at me. No, she was checking out Gale. She let out a wolf whistle at him, and his head turned toward the van.
“Hey, baby,” she said out her open window.
He lifted his left hand to acknowledge her before returning his attention to the road.
With the helmet on and his visor down, all Lark could see was the bottom half of his angular jaw and the dark tendrils of brown hair that escaped at his nape. The rest of him—his kissable lips framed by his nicely trimmed mustache and beard, his wide shoulders, his narrow waist, and his long legs in his foreplay jeans, all on a kickass beast of a bike—was enough to have her asking Dolly to slow down so the van could pace alongside the motorcycle and prolong her opportunity for ogling him a little longer.
As soon as Dolly turned to check us out, I could tell she knew. Her eyes went wide.
“Jo?” Her lips outlined by her favorite mauve-berry liner mouthed my name, but I couldn’t actually hear her voice over the wind and road noise, especially with her on the far side of the van.
“Pull over,” she mouthed, hooking her thumb to our side of the road.
“No, Dolly,” I said into the headset, shaking my head. I placed my helmeted cheek to Gale’s back and hugged him tighter. I wanted the idyllic lull to last a little longer. I liked where I was just fine.
“You know those women?”
Gale’s voice startled me. I was deep in thought—denial—and I’d forgotten for a moment that the headset was wired for two-way communication.
“Yes. They’re my friends,” I said with a sigh. “And my bandmates.”
“Jo,” Lark called out the window, loud enough for me to hear her. “Dolly wants you to pull in at the truck stop ahead.”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to enjoy my time with Gale a little longer. But I knew what I wanted and what I should do were separate things, soon to connect and likely to clash.
“Could you . . .” I tried to find the right words, embarrassed to ask Gale to stop again, especially so soon. “I mean, do you mind stopping? I’d better talk to them.”
“Sure. I’m just going to press ahead of them to take the lead.”
Did he know any other way? The stray thought surfaced, floating on the lyrical currents of his perfectly pitched front-man voice.
“Hold tight,” he said.
“Okay.” I complied without hesitation. Holding tight was what I wanted to do, and I wasn’t sure when I would get another opportunity.
He accelerated, and the grassy plains of scenery with large wind turbines in the distance rushed by faster. The wind ripped strands of my hair behind me, and it fluttered the fabric of my borrowed hoodie. Within a too-short moment, the clearly marked exit ramp arrived. A glance in the motorcycle’s side mirror revealed we’d left the van far behind.
Gale reduced our speed gradually, making a brief pause at the stop sign before turning into the parking lot of the truck stop. Seconds later, he pulled the bike into an open slot by the entrance to the convenience store.
“Here good?” he asked, cutting the engine.
“This is fine.” It was as good a place as any.
He kicked the stand down and removed his helmet.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as my fingers fumbled with the strap on my own helmet and my thoughts raced. I needed a quick explanation to prepare Gale for my friends’ arrival.
But what would I say?
It didn’t really matter, and all higher-brain functioning ceased anyway when he shrugged his wide shoulders and shook his head. His thick, almost shoulder-length brown hair shimmered and gleamed like some kind of exotic hardwood. In the bright sunlight, the contrasts between the layers revealed some had an almost coppery patina. My fingertips tingled, and I wondered yet again if his hair was as satiny-soft as it appeared to be.
“Climb off.” His voice sounded muffled without his headset speakers to carry it straight to my ears. “So I can get off too and help you with your helmet.”
“Okay.”
I placed my palms on his shoulders, gliding them a bit to savor and pay homage to the muscles that had flexed a moment before so enticingly. If I thought he wouldn’t notice, I would have drifted them a little higher so I could sneak my fingers through his hair.
Dismounting, I remained silent, my heart hammering while he helped me.
“Circumstances keep conspiring to keep us from having a real ride,” he said in a low voice as he undid the chin strap.
I tried to catch his eye, willing my rapid heartbeats to slow. My nerves fluttered like the fabric of my borrowed hoodie had only a moment before. “They sure seem to be.”
Once he removed the helmet, I reached up to try to smooth my tangled hair.
“Technically, we already had a ride.” I peered up at him, but his expression was closed off and unreadable. “Couldn’t you just go ahead and consider the terms of our agreement satisfied?”
“No.” He gave me that look again, as hard as diamonds and sharp enough to cut glass.
“Okay, then.” My stomach sank. The approach of loud music and the sudden screech of worn-out tires made it sink further. “I’m going to apologize. Right now. In advance.”
“In advance of what?” One of his dark brows inched upward.
“My friends. They’re here.”
“Yo, Jo.” A door slam punctuated Lark’s greeting, and she gave Gale another lingering glance. “Who’s the hottie?”
Before I could answer, one of the side doors to the van flew open.
“Don’t really care what his name is.” Linnet stepped out onto the pavement, her grin encompassing both me and the man beside me. “I only wanna know if you’ll share.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. As if that or anything else would stop this embarrassing scene from continuing.
“What the hell, Jo?” Dolly asked.
I opened my eyes to see her exit her side of the van. Slamming the door, the petite blond marched straight to me.
“Hey, doll.” I noted her color was high, and the forest green of her eyes seemed to be on fire.
Hands on her hips, Dolly glanced back and forth between Gale and me. “You told me last night you were on the bus.” She lifted one arm and waved the van keys in my face. “This . . .” She shook her hand at the motorcycle. “Is not a bus.”
The keys on the chain rattled with her vehemence, and so did my nerves.
“I can explain—”
“You’d better.”
“I will,” I said, “but can I introduce you to Gale first?”
“I know who he is,” she said with a frown. “The beard and mustache don’t make me an idiot incapable of recognizing one of the hottest front men in the business. What I want to know is what you’re doing with him?”
“Are you Dolly?”
The hot lead singer stretched out his hand to the incensed blonde and gave her his disarming lopsided smile. If he thought that would keep her from biting one of his fingers off when she was this mad, he was mistaken. But I appreciated his obvious effort to defuse the tension.
“Yes. I’m Dolly Byron.” She glared at his fingers for a long moment before eventually placing her hand in his.
“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. The dulcet tones of his honeyed voice had the usual effect on me, but when Dolly bumped up her gaze, the fire in it continued to burn at the same intensity.
“You’re nice looking,” she said after studying him.
“He’s totally hot. And as you probably noticed,” Lark gestured to herself, running a hand down one side to outline her curves, “I’m hot too. My name is Lark Tennyson.”
“Hey, Mr. Smoking Hot,” Linnet said. “I’m the hotter twin. Name’s Linnet, but you can call me whatever you want when we get naked.”
“He’s huge. And hairy.” Dolly returned her hand with the keys to her hip, giving Gale a head-to-toe scan that didn’t render a positive verdict. Her gaze returned to me. “I’m not really getting it, Jo. Only
that you seem to gravitate to a certain type.”
“It’s not like that,” I lied, but it was so like that. I gravitated toward Gale like I was a moon, and he was my planet. “You don’t understand.”
“So, explain already.”
As her eyes continued to spew flames, Gale moved closer to me. But I didn’t need protecting from my best friend. He might, though. She never liked any of the guys I was with.
Not that I was with Gale.
“If you would let me, I would.” I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Proceed.” Dolly spread out her hands. “This oughta be good.”
“If you’ll excuse Dolly and me for a minute.” I glanced around at the group. “I need to have a word with my best friend alone.”
“Sure,” Lark said, nodding her head.
“We’ll keep him busy.” Linnet looked as eager as her sister to be alone with Gale. “I mean, we’ll get better acquainted, so no hurry or anything.”
Gale’s gaze narrowed on me as I reached for and took one of my best friend’s hands.
“You’re being a bitch,” I hissed low as I dragged her to the edge of the building and turned the corner, just out of earshot of the others.
“And you’re being . . .” She huffed out a frustrated breath. Pulling her hand free, she cocked her head and studied me with undisguised hurt in her eyes. “I don’t know what exactly, but I don’t like it. Why didn’t you tell me you were having a fling with the lead singer of Anthem?”
“I’m not having anything. I ran into him yesterday as I left my session with the grief counselor. Then I denied knowing him in front of Tyler after our gig. Gale wanted a ride from me in exchange for keeping silent about the other.”
“I’ll bet he did.” Her eyes narrowed.
“A ride on his motorcycle. Nothing more. He picked me up at the bus early this morning. We got on his BMW, and here we are.”
“Why, though? Why agree to anything?”
I slowly blinked at her. “You know how Tyler is.”
“Won’t let it rest? Asks too many questions you don’t want to answer?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars Book 5) Page 6
