“I moved it,” a new voice volunteers.
I look up from spooning grounds into the filter to see my best friend Finn amble into the kitchen. He and Bo work together flipping houses. They must be on their way to a job site.
“What’s up your ass?” Finn asks, opening the refrigerator door.
“Band shit.”
“Thought you were happy with it. Mal said you got an offer to go on tour. Want some?” he asks, pointing a carton of eggs in my direction.
I nod eagerly. I’m going to miss the bastard and his mad cooking skills when he moves out.
The whole dynamic of the house is changing. Finn’s buying a home with his girlfriend, Winter. Bo and Noah are graduating from college and moving to Chicago. It’s going to be Mal and me in this big fucking place and neither of us can make anything more than coffee.
I slap the lid of the coffeemaker down and join Bo at the table.
“Where’s AnnMarie?” I ask. AnnMarie is Bo’s girlfriend and probably his future wife. Every one of my friends is hooking up, and I’m still chasing girls at bars.
“She’s sleeping.”
“Is Noah over at Grace’s?”
Bo nods. “And Mal’s in his study. He never sleeps, does he?”
“Nah, insomnia’s a bitch.” Mal’s past has him by the balls and won’t let go. I’m hopeful that he’ll shake loose, someday.
Bo takes a deep draw from his coffee mug. “So what’s the problem with the band?”
“My new front man’s sister showed up at the bar the other night. She had a cut on her lip and a nasty bruise on her arm.”
Bo sets his mug down carefully. Finn swings away from the stove with a deep frown on his face. Neither of them like the idea of some girl getting hurt.
“Her brother is knocking her around?”
“No, she said it was an accident. That she thought she heard some intruder by her house, got startled and fell against her car.”
“You believe that?” Bo looks skeptical.
I wave for Finn to check on the eggs. He flicks me off but returns his attention to the stove. “Her brother bought it, but it sounds like she might have a stalker. Guy by the name of Marrow.” I pull a sheaf of paper from my back pocket. “Mal looked it up and there’s a Christopher Paul Marrow who was arrested for harassment, assault and battery a few years ago. He got sentenced to eighteen months and got out after serving three at a minimum-security prison.”
Bo plucks out of my hand the criminal rap sheet that Mal printed off. He scans it quickly. There’s not much information there, but what few details exist make me want to crush Marrow’s head between my hands until his eyeballs pop out.
“Shit,” Bo mutters.
A plateful of eggs lands on the table. Finn takes the paper from Bo, reads it, and says, “We should go check him out.”
“We?” I echo, pretending the fluffy eggs are the only thing I’m interested in.
Finn gives me a look of disbelief. “You never get up before noon, yet here you are, slamming cupboards and making coffee before the crack of dawn.”
I shrug. “Fine. So maybe I was going to find Marrow and see what was what.”
“We’ll all go,” Bo says.
“You are only allowed to watch.” I point my fork in his direction. Bo loves to fight, but if anyone gets to hit Marrow, it’s going to be me.
Landry’s a tiny thing. The top of her head barely reached my chin. The thought of some fucked-up bastard bruising her makes my blood boil. I barely held it together the other night, seeing her delicate mouth marred by the cut.
Shit, she’s beautiful. I stayed up all last night and the night before because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her green eyes staring at me with a healthy dose of lust in them. She wanted me and if it weren’t for her brother, I could’ve given her exactly what she wanted—to lay her back on the sofa and kiss her until we were both breathless. I wouldn’t have taken it any further than that, though.
She’s like one of Finn’s skittish colts that need a slow, gentle hand. Well, I can be slow and gentle. Even if it means my balls might turn permanently blue.
But first, I need to get rid of Marrow so that I can go on this damn tour. When I spoke to Davis yesterday, he admitted that he’s still staying with Landry at their folks’ place, and that he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving town right now. Fortunately, we have until the end of the week to give Hollister an answer, and the tour won’t kick off until the week after that, so there’s still time to change Davis’s mind. Or, rather, there’s still time to put Davis’s mind at ease, along with making sure Landry is safe.
Then I need to figure out how I’m going to stay in contact with her. Starting something with a girl before I kick off on a five-month tour through a dozen states is stupid, but there’s a connection there and I’d be a fool not to follow through. My friends are settling down and finding real happiness while I stumble in and out of beds, feeling more unfulfilled than ever.
Allowing Landry to slip through my fingers because of some fluke of timing would be stupid. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life—selfish jerk, man child, musically obsessed—but not stupid.
I gobble down my breakfast. After Bo finishes, he runs upstairs to say goodbye to AnnMarie. Finn and I wait for him outside.
“You sure you want to buy this place?” Finn asks.
I fiddle with the cigarette I’ve tucked behind my ear. “Yup. Not ready to let go of it yet.”
I don’t have someone to make a new home with like Finn, Bo, and Noah have. This is my home, and I’m not ready to give it up.
“It’s hard for me to let go, too,” he admits with a wry smile. “We put a lot of time and effort into this place.”
Finn and I bought this huge house several years ago when the real estate market crashed. Finn’s dad was the builder, and when the market took a header, the buyer walked away. Finn talked his dad into letting us buy the five-bedroom glass-and-timber home, and Finn and I finished the interior by ourselves.
“I’ll grant you visiting rights, but I’m taking full custody.”
“Fair enough.” He holds out his palm, which I slap.
“What’re we making a deal about?” Bo asks, coming out of the house.
“I’m granting Finn visiting rights to the house.”
“Shit, man, some of my best memories happened here in the house. I better get some visiting rights, too.”
“Because you lost your virginity here?” I tease. Bo, a reformed player, likes to maintain that he never had another woman before AnnMarie.
“Damn straight.” He throws open the door of his truck. “Climb in. Let’s go do some reconnoitering.”
The address on the printout leads us to a new development on the south end of town.
“You sure we have the right place?” Finn says.
The homes here are nice. Real nice. For some reason, I thought Marrow would be a dipshit hiding in a rundown apartment. Instead, his digs are as swank as mine.
“What’s Marrow do for a living?” Bo asks.
“The asshole just got out of prison. I’m guessing nothing.” A memory pops into my head.
“What revs your engine?”
“Code. I write code.”
“Maybe he’s into computers,” I suggest.
“That might explain this.”
This is a low-slung modern ranch. Like our house, this one has a lot of windows. In the driveway sits an orange Porsche Targa with a white racing stripe.
“I know that’s a six-figure car, but how much do you think the crib set him back?” Bo wonders.
“Half a million, easy,” Finn offers.
“So she has a stalker with a lot of money and more than a few brain cells. I’d be scared of shadows at my house, too,” Bo says. He glances at me. “What do you want to do?”
“Go inside, drag the guy out by his hair, and hot glue his balls to his car’s exhaust pipe?”
Bo grins wide
ly. “I’m in for that.”
“Mal probably has a better idea,” Finn interjects. “Why don’t we go home and see what else Mal can find out about him?”
“Party pooper,” Bo grumps.
“I agree with both of you. That Finn sucks, but we should go home and check in with Mal.” He can find out anything about anyone. People tell him shit. He’s like a bartender, only he doesn’t need booze to loosen tongues. You sit down with him and find yourself spilling secrets you wouldn’t tell a priest. Don’t know how it happens. It just does.
Finn pulls out into the street. Halfway down, I tap on his shoulder.
“Wait a sec. Pull over. I recognize that car.”
Finn does as I ask, sliding to a stop. Across the street is a familiar silver Passat. The driver has his eyes glued straight ahead and doesn’t even notice Finn’s truck.
I hop out and knock on the Passat’s window.
In the driver’s seat, Davis jumps and curses. His hand fumbles for a button on the door, then the window rolls open. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.
“Probably the same thing as you.” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder. “This Marrow’s place?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“One of my roommates is an information junkie. He did some googling and figured it out. What do you know about Marrow?”
Davis scrapes a hand through his hair. For the first time I realize he’s got red highlights. His sister’s hair is darker and richer than his, but I’m starting to see the resemblance. “He was in college with her, a computer science major. They had some courses together, but they weren’t friends. Landry swears she never said more than a couple words to him the entire time she was in college. And I believe her. Landry spends most of her time with her nose glued to her computer. She’s oblivious to how guys see her.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Girl is a total smoke show. How can she not notice the stares she gets? “How is that possible?”
“She was a late bloomer. No one paid attention to her in high school. She had some acne problems. Braces. She went to college, lived in the computer lab for four years, and graduated looking like she does now.” He gives me a wry half smile. “It was a hell of a lot easier when she was this awkward teenager who guys mostly left alone.”
And now she looks like a wet dream. Oval face, with that red hair and green-gold eyes. A tiny waist and a sweet set of tits that would rest perfectly in my palms. I don’t envy Davis’s position.
“So this guy asked her out and she turned him down?”
“No. He made up this whole fucking relationship in his head.” He does the hand and hair thing again. “Landry and her friend, May, worked on this project all through college. A few months after they graduated, they finished it up and sold the code. I encouraged both of them to get a life. Landry started going out and…I guess it triggered him. She began dating and he felt like she was betraying him. He attacked her in her apartment one night.” Davis drags a finger along the side of his cheek. “The mug broke and cut her. She still has a scar.”
All my humor’s gone, replaced by a boatload of guilt.
“It’s not your fault, man,” I try to reassure him.
He shakes his head. “I know that, but I still can’t stop thinking about how I was the one who told her that she was wasting away in our parents’ basement. That she should get out and have some fun.” He turns a sad face in my direction. “I can’t leave her behind.”
My heart sinks, but I think I knew this was coming.
“Fuck. I get it.” I stuff my hands in my pockets. If it were my sister, I couldn’t leave her behind, either.
“Sorry, Adam. I wanted this. I really did.”
“I know.”
With a bleak look, he rolls up his window and drives away.
Chapter Five
Adam
“You think he’ll go for it?” Finn asks.
I check my messages again. Nothing. I shove my phone into my back pocket.
“He was downing celebration shots faster than Rudd when I told them about the tour invite. He wants to go, but he can’t leave his sister behind. I’m hoping that he’ll look at the tour bus and be shocked and awed.” I pick up the sledgehammer and whale it across the eighteen-year-old cabinets. They come down with a crash that’s not as satisfying as I thought it’d be. What I’d really like to do is take the hammer to the side of the head of the asshole who hurt Landry Olsen.
“Can’t they just report this yahoo to the police?” The sink goes out the door, followed by the fixtures and the basin of the old shower. “You sure it’s not about his job?”
My initial fear about asking Davis to be part of FMK was that he was too much of a desk jockey to put in the practice time, but he surprised me by showing up every night we asked of him and offering every spare minute on the weekends. He’s been as committed as Rudd and Ian. Maybe even more than Ian, since the drummer has the new baby in his house.
“No, it’s the family drama.” I wouldn’t leave sweet Landry alone, either. This idea of mine is inspired. For a few months I’ll get Landry in close proximity to me, where I can wear down any resistance she might have, and I’ll play with my band all over the country. It’s the definition of a win-win.
“Maybe get a different singer? One without so much baggage.” Finn staples a bunch of cords to the ceiling. We’re renovating the entire bus, from the electrical and plumbing to the new leather seating areas and mahogany paneling.
“Nah, Davis is it.”
“Oh, the old Adam Rees intuition.” Finn points the side of the staple gun against his temple.
“I did tell you to ask your old man to buy this house,” I remind him.
Finn cocks his head. “Fair,” he concludes.
“And I suggested we invite Noah and Bo to be our roommates.”
“True.”
“And that you should break up with your psycho girlfriend, Ivy.”
He raises his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay. You’ve got good gut instincts.”
“My gut knows things.” Like when a song I write is going to be a hit, when a singer has enough charisma to carry a band to the next level, or when you see the girl you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with. It also knows you don’t sit on your ass and let those opportunities flow to someone else. “Besides, you’ve watched him. He’s the real deal.”
“Yeah, he’s good, but the band will only go as far as you take it.”
“And I’m taking this one all the way.” I’ll drag everyone else with me if I have to.
I’m hauling the last of the garbage out to the rented dumpster when Davis drives up in his Passat. Bought with his data-farming money, no doubt.
“What’s all this?” the singer asks as he steps out of his car. He gestures toward the black bus.
“My dad’s old bus. We’re renoing it for the tour.” I pull off my gloves and shove them in my back pocket. “Finn’s probably got an extra pair of work gloves if you want to lend a hand.”
Finn waves from inside the bus.
Davis’s jaw drops a fraction, and I feel a surge of hope. Most small bands, particularly ones that play on the local level, use touring vans because a bus is a six-figure behemoth. The band members sleep on couches and floors belonging to wait staff, local bands, friends, friends of friends, or even in the van itself. That’s what Davis thought he’d signed up for.
But most band members don’t have world-famous rock musician fathers who happened to keep their old tour buses for sentimental purposes.
I do, and I’m willing to use every bit of leverage I can to achieve my goals, including bribing a singer with a luxe ride.
“We’re touring on a bus?” He brushes by me to run up the stairs.
“Yeah. This is Bessie. Dad used it on his last tour in the States. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.” I rub a hand across the new counter we’re installing.
Davis does a sweep of the interi
or. There’s a nook over the cab that the bus driver uses, a small galley kitchen and seating area, four bunks, and a bathroom. Beyond the bathroom is a U-shaped sectional that forms a king-sized bed. It’s where my dad slept on the last tour because he and the other members of Death to Dusk weren’t speaking to each other at that point. The bunks were used by Dad’s manager, their merch guy, and a few groupies.
I lost my virginity to a groupie on a bus like this when I was fourteen. She fucked me to impress my dad. I probably participated for the same reason. I wanted to show my old man I was a grownup.
“Four bunks.” Davis notes, dismay in his voice.
I hide a grin behind my hand. There’s only one reason he’d be upset that the bus only holds four bunks, given that we only have four band members. “And a main bedroom in the back.”
“Yeah?” He perks up. “For you?”
I shrug casually. This needs to be his idea. “Or anyone. I figured we’d rock, paper, scissors it.”
“Hmmm.” He nods. “This can work, I think.”
“What can work?”
“My sister needs to come with.”
“Yeah?” Again, I strive for a noncommittal tone.
“My parents are on the verge of divorce, and to save their marriage my dad retired this year and booked a three-month excursion around the world. Landry’s best friend is riding ponies in China.” He turns around, a fierce expression on his face. “I can’t leave her behind. I swear, she’s not making it up.”
“Hey, never thought she was.”
Davis sighs heavily. “We went to see the detective who put Marrow in jail the first time around, but she says that without any evidence, we can’t charge him with squat. Detective Pressley sent out his parole officer to check up on him, and a couple junkie friends swore up and down that Marrow and them were playing video games all night.”
“So the cops aren’t going to do anything,” I conclude.
He gives a grim shake of his head.
“Okay.” I pause as if I’m mulling over the idea, when it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I woke up this morning. “Then Landry should come with us.”
Unwritten Page 4
