by K. Webster
I nod and smile at him. It pains me to have to ask him my next question, but I have no other choice. “Do you think you could lend me the money to buy the phone? My money hasn’t shown up yet. When do I get paid? Like every two weeks?”
Donnie snaps his head over to me and glares. Well shit. Donnie is supposed to be the nice one.
“You don’t have money yet?” he asks in disbelief.
I shake my head. “I called the bank right after I called home and nothing.”
“Motherfucking David!” he bellows, making me jump.
“What?” I gulp. I’ve never seen Donnie so pissed before.
“As part of your contract, you’re supposed to have been paid up front for the tour. You should have had the money in there that day you signed the contract with us,” he explains.
Oh.
He stands and paces the front of the building. “Here, take my card and go get what you need. You aren’t paying me back either, so don’t even try. I’m going to call the guys and see what the fuck is going on. This shit stinks and I don’t like it one fucking bit.”
“Hold it steady while I screw it back in,” I instruct Bobby as he holds the door.
Ted hooked us up with a tool kit, and we’re attempting to fix this fucking door—the door I broke while being a huge asshole to Ryan.
I proceed to screw in each one in the appropriate hole. It won’t be a permanent fix, but until someone can replace the frame, it’ll have to do. I’m just putting in the last one when my phone rings.
Unlike Bobby, Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus doesn’t blare out when Donnie calls. Like a Virgin by Madonna plays instead. I still laugh every time he calls me.
“What’s up, Donnie Dickhead?”
“Dude. Get Bobby and put me on speaker,” he says seriously. My heart tightens in fear as I worry that something has happened to Ryan.
“You’re on speaker,” I tell him.
“We need to meet with David. Ryan still doesn’t have her money. What the fuck is going on? Have you guys checked your accounts lately? Have any of us received our advance?” he rambles out.
Just hearing that fucker’s name causes my blood to boil with rage. “I’ll call the bank. See you guys soon.”
When we hang up, Bobby is frowning.
“Bobby, call your bank and I’ll call mine. If this idiot is stealing from us, shit is about to hit the fan.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at the booth, just the four of us. Bobby dials David and puts him on speakerphone, setting the phone down in the middle of the table.
“Hello?” he answers sleepily. It’s well past noon.
“Where the fuck is our money?” I demand, slamming my fist down on the table.
“Who is this? Bobby?” he asks in confusion.
Bobby gives me a look that says ‘chill out’ before he answers David. “David, it would appear that Ryan hasn’t received her money, and once we noticed that, we discovered none of us have either. What’s going on?”
“Oh, that,” David replies.
Once again, I go from fairly calm to furious in seconds. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snarl.
He sighs into the phone, and I swear, if he were here, I’d beat his face against the table.
“It means that I took the money and invested it for you guys. You know I always look out for you all—” he starts, but I interrupt him.
“Yeah, just like you stole my fiancée. Yep, definitely looking out for me there.”
I risk a glance at Ryan and her bottom lip quivers. Fuck. She scoots out of the booth and leaves the room. It didn’t come out the way I meant it to. Now she probably thinks she’s second best or some shit.
“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring me, “it was for a new casino that’s going up. They were supposed to have your money plus more back to me before you guys even had your first show, but they’ve been having problems.”
“Problems?” Bobby asks quietly, anger lacing his voice. “And since when did you think that it was okay to invest all our fucking money without our knowledge?”
“Well, see, that’s the thing. You guys were never supposed to find out. I was supposed to get the money plus more and you all were never to notice. You’re all fucking loaded anyhow, so you weren’t meant to find out. I knew that bitch would ruin shit.”
Donnie yanks up the phone and brings it right to his mouth. “Listen here, asshole. I’m going to call my dad after we hang up and find the best goddamned lawyer who has no association with you, and we’re not only going to relieve you of your contract, but we’ll be pressing criminal charges against you. If I were you, I’d find our fucking money today. And if you don’t, well, you’ve made your bed and you’ll have to fucking lie in it.”
We hear the dial tone after that. That fucker hung up on us. This is bad.
“Call your dad, Donnie. I’m sorry,” I tell him as I stand to go find Ryan.
Donnie and his dad don’t speak—like, ever—and for good reason. I hate that he has to call him, but we need his father’s influence if we have any hope of nailing David’s weasel self to the wall. Neve really went and picked a good one.
“Angel?”
She doesn’t answer me from on her bunk, but I hear her sniffling.
“Come on. We’ve got time before we have to be in the venue for the show. Let’s take a walk. I could use some air. Plus, I want to talk to you,” I say softly.
Instead of giving me a response, she climbs off the bed and walks past me to the door of the bus. At least she’s going to give me a chance to speak.
The bus is parked behind the concert hall in a gated-off area. This particular venue is attached to a casino. I grab hold of her hand and lead her to the door that goes inside. She doesn’t pull away, so I thank God that she seems to want to give me a chance. We silently walk hand in hand down the hallway and exit through a door labeled ‘casino.’ Immediately, the smell of smoke envelops us and the sound of chiming slot machines fills the air.
“Let’s go find a quiet place to sit and maybe grab a bite to eat,” I tell her over the noise.
She nods and lets me guide her until I see a steakhouse. We walk up to the host—an older man wearing a suit. His nose turns up and he frowns as we make our way to the podium. I bristle with anger when he eyes my tattoos with disgust.
“Can I help you, sir? Do you need help finding the casino bar?” he asks disdainfully.
Ryan squeezes my hand. “Chaz, we can go to the buffet. We passed one coming in.”
“Table for two,” I seethe.
“I’m sorry, sir. Would you care to look at the menu first and take a look at the prices? Our meats are all priced as MARKET, meaning they’ll vary by weight and cut, which could significantly vary in price. Our soft drinks alone are four dollars apiece,” he tells us quietly, as if letting us in on a secret to not embarrass us.
I clench my free hand into a fist. “That’s fine. We’d like a private table away from everyone else.”
His eyes widen. “Sir, those booths are reserved for celebrities and affluent guests of the casino hotel. And between you and me, neither of you is dressed properly for dinner at this restaurant.”
Now I’m furious. I’ve never been given such trouble just to fucking eat a meal. “I’d like to speak to your manager,” I tell him coolly.
“Chaz, it’s okay. We can go to the buffet,” Ryan pleads uncomfortably.
Fuck that. And fuck Poindexter here for making her feel like she’s a piece of shit.
“Angel, we’re eating here,” I assure her softly and squeeze her hand.
She nods, but the unease is still there.
“Again,” I say a little louder this time as I turn back to the dipshit host, “I’d like to speak to your manager.”
He sighs loudly. “Sir, there’s no need to cause a scene.”
I just glare at him.
“Fine,” he huffs and hustles off to get the manager.
“Chaz,” Ryan tries again. �
��It really isn’t a big deal. We’re not dressed properly and this restaurant is so nice. I could never afford to eat at a place like this. Please, let’s just go.”
I turn to her and palm her cheek with my free hand. “You only deserve the best. And I’m taking you on a date, so why are you even worried about the cost? That asshole should lose his job for the way he’s made you feel. We’re not eating at the fucking buffet.”
Dipping down, I kiss her forehead.
“Sir? Please meet the restaurant manager, Clyde Morris. I told him about the situation already,” the snooty host says as he approaches.
A huge guy pushing seven feet tall saunters over to us. “Is there a problem here?” he booms with one of the deepest voices I’ve ever heard.
“All we want is a table, man. I’d like to take my girl on a date, but this guy is really making it hard,” I grumble.
“Please call me Moose. Wait a minute—are you Chaz Montgomery?” he asks, astonished.
“That’s me. Are you a fan?” I grin.
Poindexter’s face is scrunched up in annoyance as he realizes that he’s made a mistake.
“Am I? I bought tickets to the show tonight for my girlfriend and me. She’s a fan of Donnie,” he laughs. “I waited by that computer until tickets went on sale and bought tickets immediately and still only got the forty-eighth row. This show is going to be epic, especially with a new bass player who can sing. Those YouTube videos of the two of you were amazing!”
Grinning at him, I reach out to shake his hand. When he extends his hand to meet mine, his rolled-up dress shirt reveals a tattoo underneath. I can’t help but feel smug satisfaction.
“She is pretty amazing.” I smile and put my arm around her. “So do you think you’ll let us eat in your restaurant?”
He glares at Poindexter before yanking two menus from the podium. “Come with me. I’ll personally wait on you at one of our exclusive VIP tables. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I’ll be having a talk with my staff on the proper way to treat guests.”
I nod and follow him through the restaurant. He ushers us into a small semicircle booth with high backs. Very private indeed.
“Please take your time ordering. I’ll bring you a bottle of our house wine. Tonight’s dinner will be my treat. It’s the least I can do for the unfair treatment you received out there,” Moose tells us.
“We’ll take the wine, but I’m buying dinner—otherwise we can’t count this as a first date,” I laugh.
He slaps my shoulder as he bellows with laughter and leaves to fetch our wine. I scoot closer to Ryan and pull her to me.
“I’m sorry. All I ever do is apologize to you. I hate that I can’t be the kind of man I want to be for you—someone who doesn’t fuck things up all the time. But dammit, angel, I’ll keep trying if you’ll keep letting me. I want to be that man. As far as earlier goes, my bitterness toward David has nothing to do with you. My relationship with Neve was over long ago, but neither of us had thrown in the towel yet. I said those words to him, not because I wished he hadn’t taken her away, but more of a jab at him. Please forgive me for making you feel second rate.”
She looks up with glistening eyes. Her lip quivers, but she bites down on it to keep from crying. I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose.
“Do you forgive me?” I ask quietly.
“I do. I’m normally not so sensitive, Chaz. It’s just that I’m struggling being on tour. I miss home. Whatever it is we’re doing though, it makes me happy. ” She smiles.
I take hold of her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles. I’m startled when a flash blinds me. What the fuck?
“I’m Jack Graves with the Cincinnati Enquirer. Would you care to answer some questions, Mr. Montgomery?” Fucking paparazzi.
“No, I’m on a date. Now please fuck off,” I growl.
Undeterred, he blabs on. “A date with whom? Is this the new bassist for The Aces? How long have you been dating? Did you just propose? If not, will you be doing so in the future? Is she pregnant with your child?”
I try to shield Ryan when he snaps another picture. I’m about to pummel his face when Moose comes up behind him and yanks him back by the collar of his shirt.
“Out of my restaurant,” he snarls as he drags the annoying fucker away. Moose tosses me an apologetic look as he escorts the man away.
I look over at Ryan, and she’s panic-stricken.
“Wow,” she gasps. “How do you get used to that?”
Shaking my head, I grumble, “You don’t.”
We try to focus on our menus until Moose comes back. “Mr. Montgomery, my sincerest apologies. This is horrendous what you’ve had to deal with at my restaurant. Are you sure there isn’t a way to compensate you?” he asks, embarrassed.
“No, man. Don’t worry about it. Just cook us the best stuff you have here and let us have some alone time. I promise we’re cool.”
He nods and disappears. When he returns, he quietly fills our wineglasses and leaves without another word.
“So, angel, how about we get to know each other a little better? Is that what they do on dates? I haven’t been on real date in a long time,” I chuckle.
She giggles and sips her wine. I pull her leg into my lap and softly rub her thigh. It only seems right if I’m touching her at all times.
“I’m not experienced in this department either. In fact, I lost my virginity to the only other man I’ve dated and it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.” She smiles, her eyes looking far off as memories take over.
I blink at her in surprise. Not exactly the best thing to say on a date with another man, but I guess we’re both learning here. I can’t help but feel overly jealous of the man who took that piece of her. When my thoughts drift to her moaning out someone else’s name, my blood boils. Instead of popping off like an asshole, I chug down my wine.
“Um, I was hoping for something else, angel. How about what’s your favorite meal? Like, if you had one meal left before the world ended, what would you eat?” I ask, trying for a more lighthearted topic of conversation.
She grins at me, another memory dancing just behind her eyes. I can tell that it’s a happy one.
“McDonalds for sure. I used to say anything Italian, but a few years ago, circumstances changed. Now, I enjoy weekly visits to the one near my house. They know us there by name.”
“Who? You and your mom?” I try, knowing that she didn’t mean to give up that piece of information.
Her face blanches and she sucks down more wine. “Uh…”
“Okay, you two lovebirds. I brought a sampler of everything that’s a favorite,” Moose booms as he begins sitting plates in front of us. “Two small filets, a loaded, salt-crusted baked potato for each, some slow-simmered bacon green beans, two lobster tails fresh from Maine, two small cups of crab-and-cheddar bisque, and few of our freshly cooked yeast rolls. Can I get you anything else?”
Ryan laughs. “Yes, about ten to-go boxes. Wow. We’ll never get through all this food.”
He grins at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
We start eating and find that the food really is amazing. The gang will be happy when we bring back all these leftovers.
“So, did you enjoy your job at the daycare?” I ask, sipping on the bisque.
She swallows and beams at me. “Well, yes and no. Like, I prefer what I’m doing now obviously since playing bass is my passion, but I do miss it. I miss the kids I took care of.” Her smile falls and she looks truly saddened.
“Angel, everything is going to be okay,” I vow. Even though I have no fucking clue what goes on in her head, I will do my best to make good on that promise.
“Thank you, Chaz. You’re a good guy. I really am glad we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing.”
I take her hand once again and, this time, turn her palm up to me, kissing her wrist. “I’ve made you my woman whether you like it or not,” I tease with an arched eyebrow.
She giggles and tries t
o pull her hand away, but I tighten my grip. Exhaling the rest of her laughter, she grows thoughtful. “No, seriously. Are we just sleeping together? Are we dating?”
I kiss her wrist again, now tasting her with my tongue there. “Remember what I said?” I ask, looking into her bright, blue eyes.
She bites her lip and shrugs her shoulders.
“We’re more, angel. More than lovers. More than two people merely dating. More than girlfriend and boyfriend. We’re something special—something more.”
I lean in and kiss her softly on the lips. She sighs against them, and I grin. My girl is a sucker for romance. Duly noted.
We continue our meal with a lot more laughter as we stick to lighter subjects.
“You have to be kidding me, Chaz.” She’s laughing so hard that tears roll down her cheeks.
“What? Cake Boss isn’t your favorite show?” I ask seriously.
She continues giggling. “Oh my God, my mother is going to love you.”
“I hope she’s not the only one,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
Her eyes widen. Shit. I can see panic in her eyes. Leaning in, I capture her mouth with mine and kiss her deeply. I slide my palm up her neck and place my thumb on her pulse. It is thumping hard. Is she nervous? Happy? Did I completely weird her out?
When I pull away, she darts her eyes to her lap. Fuck.
“I hate to bother you, but I’d like to offer you some dessert,” Moose says.
Ryan emphatically shakes her head. “Moose, we are stuffed. Thank you though for such a delicious meal.”
He smiles at her and begins boxing up all the food. “I’ll go fetch a bag for you to carry this in.”
I open the black book to settle the check. That fucker charged us for a single steak—no drinks, no sides. I roll my eyes and pull out my shiny black credit card. Eighty-six dollars is hardly enough. We should have easily spent four or five hundred dollars with tip. Not eighty-six. When he wordlessly retrieves the book, I shake my head at him. He just grins. I’ll get the last laugh.
Once he returns, I scribble my name and leave him a nine-hundred-and-fourteen-dollar tip. I also tuck in two VIP backstage tickets I keep on hand just for this sort of thing. Before the show, he’ll get to bring his girlfriend back for pictures and merchandise signed.
