“I wish you would reconsider, Ms. Poet.”
“I can’t. Not under those terms.”
“Those are the terms I’m prepared to offer.”
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“Good day, Ms. Poet, and good luck.” Mary ended the call.
Tears pricked my eyes. I avoided Barbara’s gaze.
This was terrible. I didn’t even want to tell Dolly, because she would probably try to talk me into calling Mary Timmons back and accepting the changes.
It wasn’t that Dolly insisted on being out front. It was that I insisted on being in the back.
We’d had the conversation about who would go where when we formed the band. But our band wasn’t my band. It was Joey’s band.
If we succeeded—when we succeeded—it had to happen the way it would have happened for him.
• • •
“She’s been at it for hours,” Dolly said, standing in the doorway to the rear lounge beside Barbara.
I saw them, and I heard her, but I continued drumming. The couches were folded up behind and to the side of me. I’d had my kit brought out of storage. The complete set fit inside the space, but just barely.
“She needs to give it a rest,” Barbara told Dolly, but loudly so she could be heard over me. “We’re going into the truck stop to get something to eat. She can stay on the bus if she wants to, but Trip needs to shut off the engine. When he does, the A/C will go off and it’ll get stuffy pretty quickly in here.”
When Barbara turned away, I crashed my sticks against the cymbal. It resonated beautifully. The acoustics were great in the back lounge. I lifted my arms and launched into the next number, hoping that Dolly would take the hint.
She didn’t.
“What’s going on, Jo?” She snatched one of my sticks, swiping it straight from my sweaty grip, and shook her head at me in disbelief. “Fuck, your hands are bleeding.”
“Just calluses opening. I couldn’t find my gloves.”
“Then stop and look for them.” She frowned. “We sounded great last night. Why are you practicing so hard today?”
“I can’t improve if I don’t practice.” I held out my hand. “Give me my stick back, doll.”
“Take a break first.”
“I will later.”
“Hmm. Somehow I don’t believe you.” Her brows drew together.
“Can’t control what you want to believe.”
I swiveled on my stool. Reaching inside my percussion bag on the floor beside me, I found some tape and another stick. I set the replacement stick in my lap, along with the one Dolly hadn’t snatched, and started wrapping my hand in the gauzy tape.
Dolly frowned at me. “Mary Timmons’ opinion isn’t the end-all of everything. Don’t let her get to you. We keep on going the way we’re going. Fuck her.”
No, it was me. I was the one who was fucked. The worst hand wrapped, I picked up both sticks and resumed playing.
Muttering about me being stubborn, Dolly whirled around and her hair settled around her shoulders like a gold cape. She was the princess of pissed off as she marched down the aisle.
My eyes burning with remorse I didn’t have time for, I refocused on improving. I didn’t want my best friend mad at me, but her being mad at me had to be better than the gut-wrenching disappointment I felt.
Twirling my sticks, I tested the wrap on my hands. Satisfied with the bindings, I started again at the top of our set list. One song, then two.
The air warmed and became stale. Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes. I grabbed a nearby towel, closed my eyes, and blotted it away. My skin prickling again, I withdrew the towel and opened my eyes.
“You didn’t even hear me come in, did you?”
Standing in the doorway, Gale crossed his arms over the quote on his chocolate-brown T-shirt, which read books are a dream you can hold in your hand. The way the cotton clung to his sculpted chest was certainly a dream.
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t hear you.”
“It’s not safe being that unaware.” Looking as mad as Dolly had been, he tapped the toe of his brown Converse sneaker.
“How’d you get in?” I asked, trying not to be distracted by him and all his yumminess.
“The bus was unlocked.”
“Who told you where I was?”
“Dolly.”
That was unexpected. I cocked my head. “And you thought it was okay to come in here without being invited. Why?”
“Why are you back here in the dark while everyone else is inside eating lunch?”
I glanced away.
“Why did you turn Mary Timmons down?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business.” I glanced up, my gaze sharp.
“You should be out front of your band.”
“Go away.” I pointed toward the front of the bus with my towel, feeling trapped behind my kit, trapped in my life.
“Everyone says so. Tyler. Ivan.”
“You?” I asked, putting Gale on the spot like he was doing to me.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Even Dolly agrees.”
“How do you know that?”
“She and Tyler are talking about it right now, arguing in the candy aisle like an old married couple about the best way to get you to cooperate and not torpedo everything for everyone.”
“Tyler’s a know-it-all.”
“He is, but he cares about you. I think he’s a little in love with you. I know for sure Dolly is.”
“You don’t understand.” My best friend and I were complicated. Apparently, Tyler and I were complicated too.
“Tell me so I can. I’m a good listener.”
“No, I don’t need more people in my life to care about.” I stilled as soon as the telling words slipped out.
Gale did too. Every muscle under his tee tensed as even his biceps bulged.
“Back away,” I said as he stalked closer.
“No,” he said, and my heart started hammering. “You need someone to talk some sense into you.”
“You’re wrong.”
I didn’t. I so didn’t. I needed to stay on the course I’d set, needed it more than anything.
Scared of him and all he made me feel, I lashed out. “I don’t want you here. I don’t need your friendship. I don’t need your advice.”
“You need something.” Reaching down, he grabbed my arms, hauling me up and toward him.
“Don’t grab me.” Between us, the cool metal of my cymbal dug into my stomach, a barrier I was grateful for.
“You need someone to be honest with you. Someone you can’t manipulate.”
“And you think that’s you?” I shrugged free from his grip, lifted my chin, and narrowed my gaze on him. “It’s not. I thought the RFC would end our friendship, but it’s just you. You’re annoying, bossy, and a bigger know-it-all than Tyler is. I’ll bet your wife was grateful when you were away on the road. Maybe she was in her car that day to get away from you. Maybe—”
His expression dark, he shook me silent. But that wasn’t what rattled me, because he really hadn’t shaken me that hard. What made me gasp was the tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Gale. Fuck me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Tears of my own burned in my eyes. “It’s typical for me, though. I’m a failure. I ruin every good thing in my life. I fail over and over again.”
“How do you fail?” he whispered, his voice raw.
“Joey was so sweet. He was the good one. The only good thing I had in my life. He was insanely talented too, everything I’m not.”
“Joey is your brother?”
“Was my brother. Yes.” Brimming tears fell. Even after I’d sliced Gale deeply, he sought to help me.
“The band. You drumming.” Understanding dawned in his gaze. “Your brother was a drummer, and your band is named for him. You’re trying to live the life he can’t anymore.”
“Only I’m not,” I said, holding back a sob. “I’m messing it up. Like I
mess up everything.” Tears spilled, one after another.
“It’s okay. Shh.” Framing my face in his hands, Gale swiped the wetness from my cheeks with his thumbs. “We can fix this. I can get Noah to help you with the drumming. And I’ll talk to Mary Timmons about the band.”
“You’d do that? For me?” Being this close to Gale, inhaling his scent, staring into those beautiful sparkling storm-cloud eyes of his, I melted.
“I would. Easily.”
“Why?” Suspicions earned from hard experiences were difficult to erase.
“Because we’re friends, Jo. Because you might be trying not to care about me, but I already care about you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, seeing the truth of his words in the pure crystalline depths of his eyes.
And then I felt it. A layer of my armor—another significant one—slipping away because of him.
“SIT HERE.” GALE GESTURED to the picnic bench behind the truck stop. “Soak up some sunshine. Your problems don’t seem so dire when you’re outdoors. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“What do they have?” I didn’t argue about the rest or not being hungry. I was starving. My stomach growled.
“They have everything you can imagine.” His eyes were locked on mine. “But not all of it is worth eating.”
He seemed to be trying to impart a deeper truth. But what?
“What are you going to have?” I asked.
“I already ate.”
“Was it good, what you had?”
“It was. Very.”
“Are you hungry again?”
“I could eat.”
“Would you get the same thing you had before, or something different?”
“I’m thinking it’s time for something different.” His gaze narrowed.
The vibes he was throwing off were intense. I felt exposed in the bright sunlight, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky above us. But it wasn’t that. It was more that he knew so many of my secrets.
“You just think you might like different,” I said, taking a chance that this wasn’t about food, but about him and me. “But your only other point of reference was something so good, anything else you try after that is probably going to be disappointing.”
“I’ve had enough little samples of your different to know that won’t be the case.”
I suddenly registered every bit of warmth from the sun, knowing now for sure the topic we were discussing was us. Keeping my tone light, I said, “I don’t recall any sampling.”
“That’s because your point of reference is faulty. You’ve only had snacks that don’t satisfy, junk food, when you could’ve had an unforgettable gourmet meal.”
“Gale, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to pay attention better.”
My eyes widened as he planted his hands on the table in front of me and leaned in. His handsome face was so close. I wanted to touch it. Feel his beard. Trace his mustache. Run my fingers through his hair.
Time seemed to stand still. In that paused moment, he was all I felt, all I desired.
“Open yourself up to the possibility of something new.” Leaning on one arm, he reached for and captured a wisp of my hair that the light breeze had been tossing about. He rubbed it softly between his fingers.
I felt a slight tugging at my scalp, but the pleasure he seemed to receive from the simple sensation stirred forbidden desires that made my chest ache and my pulse pound hard between my legs.
I glanced away from him. “I don’t do possibilities anymore.”
“That’s a shame.” He tucked the seemingly inconsequential wisp behind my ear, the pads of his roughened fingertips drifting softly around the shell. His caress was oh so light, yet undeniable.
“The known works for me.” It didn’t. But my life wasn’t about me, and now Gale knew it.
“Your choice.” He straightened and flung his strong arms wide. “The possibility remains. You’re aware it’s there. We both know it’s there, even if you choose to ignore it.”
He thought he had figured me out. He knew some things, but he didn’t know all of it. If he did, he would never give me an open-ended offer like that.
I swallowed to moisten the dryness in my throat. There was nothing to be done. Gale might see me as an oasis, but the truth was that there was nothing but sand and desert inside me. No choice by me or sweet possibilities from him could redeem forsaken ground.
“I’ll take whatever they have that resembles Mexican food,” I said, my voice tight. “But I can get it. You don’t need to wait on me. I’m sure you have lots of other things to do. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you’re capable.” His expression turned hard again. “I do have shit I could do, but I don’t want to do it. I’d rather spend time with you.”
He turned and strode toward the building, lifting a finger into the air and shaking it over his shoulder when I shouted at him that I had my own cash to pay for food. I stared at the glass door with the truck stop name etched on it long after he’d disappeared inside.
While Gale was gone, I told myself a lot of things.
That I could handle being just friends with him. That I could resist him. That these conversations didn’t change anything.
But none of those things were true.
When Gale reemerged, I had my cell out on the table, rearranging sentences on my notepad. His lips curved up slowly within the compelling frame of his mustache and beard. “Writing, huh?”
“Yeah.” I clicked the button on my cell, closing the file from view. “Smells good.”
“Don’t know about good. But it’s sustenance.”
“It’ll keep me going to get the things done that I need to. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When he set the paper sack on the table, I opened it while he sat back and watched me. I pulled out two burritos wrapped in wax paper and started to slide one toward him, but he stopped me, his hand over mine. Heat and hunger hit me, originating from the point where we were connected. Heat that had nothing to do with food.
“Don’t you want one?” I asked but didn’t look up. He would certainly know it was him I desired if I did.
“Nah, you go ahead. I’ll just read my book on my phone and keep you company. If that’s okay?”
“Of course it is.” I unwrapped a burrito and took a big bite. “Delicious,” I said after chewing and swallowing.
“I’ll take your word for it.” His right brow lifted.
Both slashed toward the middle of his forehead when he was deep in serious thought, but I was beginning to pick up on other nuances. One brow inching up like now meant he was slightly amused by something.
“You think my palate is unrefined.”
“Oh yeah.” He snorted. “I’ll eat stuff like that if I have to, but not if given a choice.”
“So you like fancy food, while I’ll take whatever I can get.” I summarized, not wanting to get pulled back into the deeper currents of our earlier conversation if I could avoid it.
“Have you ever been to a nice restaurant?”
“Yeah.”
Many times when I was younger, and my father had been around. My mother liked those kinds of places, his expensive gifts, being on his arm, the fuss people made over him.
I set my half-eaten burrito down on my wax-paper plate. “I’m not a big fan.”
“Fair enough.” Gale studied me for a long noticeable beat. “I think I’m making headway, but it seems each layer I pull back reveals another mystery to solve.”
“I’m not complicated.”
“You can’t write the kind of poetry you do and claim to be a superficial person, Jo.”
“All right.” I maintained his gaze, but inside, I squirmed. He was drawing conclusions, insightful ones. This was going beyond him knowing me only by what I chose to share. But he wasn’t the only one who could do detective work. “What are you reading right now on your phone?”
“A sci-f
i book.”
“Are those your favorite?” I lifted my burrito and took another bite while watching him.
“Yeah, but I like history too. Studying the background of places I’ve traveled before and after I’ve been there.”
“Makes sense.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Anyone who listens to your lyrics gets that you’re a deep thinker. You’re interested in philosophy. What inspires and motivates people. What makes people tick.” What makes me tick, I added silently.
“Political themes are a big player in the made-up worlds in science-fiction books,” I said, and when both his brows rose in surprise, I explained. “I studied multiple genres when I got my English degree online.”
“And you believe I’m a deep thinker?” His eyes twinkled like the stars did within galaxies that didn’t exist outside those sci-fi authors’ imaginations.
I nodded. “What’s the theme in your current read, beyond all the intrigue?”
“The relationship between the male protagonist and his bodyguard. A female bodyguard.”
“Nice. Go, girl power.” I smiled in response to his. “Straightforward love story? Or one that’s more complex?”
“Complex.”
“I knew it. Tell me about it.”
His eyes twinkling brighter, he did.
I listened and finished my second burrito and my soda while he explained about the male protagonist, who was an outsider living within a society that didn’t believe in love, but revered honor and loyalty instead.
“You like all that,” I said, nodding.
“All what?”
“Relationships are simpler if you take love out of the equation. Plus, there’s much less chance of you getting hurt again.”
He went still for a long moment, his gaze steady on mine. “Is that what you do, Jo?”
Whoa. I’d meant to put the focus on him, but he’d turned the tables to make it about me. I’d thought I could go toe-to-toe with him, but I was wrong. I was totally out of my league with him.
“Yes.” I met his gaze without flinching. “Definitely, that’s what I do.”
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars Book 5) Page 13
