by T Gephart
Jase also forgot to mention beautiful, which both of them were. “Looks like they won the wife lotto. Lucky them.” Which explained the fixed state of happy their husbands seemed to be in.
Had me wondering why he would choose his sex with no strings lifestyle when he saw what he could have. Surely, it couldn’t feel the same. It was the first time I actually felt a little sorry for him.
“Yep, lucky them.” Jase moved closer, his big body dominating the space. “Interesting song choice.” The direction of the conversation took a sharp left turn.
Avoidance, or he was just done with the other conversation? It seemed really sudden to be talking about one thing and then, boom, something else. Still I needed to remind myself that Jason Irwin was not a riddle that I needed to solve.
“Oh it’s a classic, you know. We just jazzed it up. JT is a crowd pleaser.”
I followed his lead, moving the conversation to a place that was probably safer—music, songs, my finales etc. The appropriateness of the song’s message didn’t get a mention sadly, but I secretively hoped he’d been around when Ash was making her observations. Probably not—such a shame.
“Yeah, is there a pattern to these covers? Or just random songs? You have to admit, your choices are a little left of center.”
It felt like a fishing expedition, like he knew there was something there but he hadn’t worked it out. The songs almost too random to be accidental choices. Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. Oh, no. My odes to him could be like a little treasure hunt. Eventually the penny would drop.
“We like left of center.”
Really, what was center anyway? Clearly I was the last person you should be asking because despite everything I knew, deep down, I felt like I was fighting a losing battle. The one where I told myself I was over him.
“I guess I’ll have to wait and see tomorrow’s song. Last show in New York before we hit the road.”
“Looking forward to it.”
So not looking forward to it.
“Jase, don’t you have somewhere to be? Stop crowding, Angie.” Megs had obviously freed herself from Troy, the latter having already disappeared. “Ash and I found her first.”
Oh how wrong she was, Jason had most definitely found me first, but I was thankful for the reprieve. All these warm feelings, I could feel myself softening. Just a few more minutes and I probably would have jumped into his lap. So much for my I am never going to kiss him again. My lips had happily screwed me over by spewing every single thought that had passed through my head; they would just as surely betray me when it came to kissing. The bastards would probably welcome it.
“Bye ladies. Enjoy the show.” Jason said ladies, but he was only looking at me. Totally sexy move too because we’d already established what his eyes did to me and why I hated them. The reason—in case it was unclear—being the things they did to my girlie parts.
“See ya, Jase.”
“Bye, Jase.”
Megs and Ash took their turns in saying their farewells. Their excitement bubbling as they turned to me. I had no idea what their plans were, honestly didn’t care. Whatever they were, they had to be safer than standing here with him.
“Bye.” I shoved as much confidence into my voice as I could. Bye, bye, bye. I repeated in my head as my mind floated over the lyrics I had just sung.
He smiled—something else of his that I hated—and then disappeared down one of the narrow corridors.
“Let’s go grab a place to watch the show, okay?” Ash’s head tilted toward the mostly deserted hallway.
“Sure.” I shrugged; with my band AWOL I didn’t have any other plans.
“Great.” Megs slung an arm around me. This time, I didn’t mind the touching so much. “We’re going to have an awesome night.”
“We so are.”
A nervous laugh escaped from my throat. This was a new start, a way to break away from my past—all of it. There was no going back. Goodbyes had been said, I was moving on and Jason could have as many casual hook ups as he wanted. In fact, I’d have a few of my own. This tour would not be my undoing. Finally, I felt free.
“Womanizer” by Britney Spears.
That had been the next night’s song choice. And I knew for a fact she couldn’t stand Britney. And it wasn’t a coincidence that she had just learned about my colorful dating history and, there you go—a song about a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
I’d had my suspicions about the random additions to their set list. First I thought it was the band trying to be edgy, an unpredicted tune mashed up with some distortion and heavy beats giving the crowd a we-aren’t-a-one-trick-pony.
Wrong. While they had proved they could pull a Top 40 high-rotation song and inject it with some rock, I highly doubted that had been their motivator. I’d say the reason was more on par with what Ash had said after the N’Sync performance. A big, loud, fuck you. Womanizer. Well that was the smoking gun.
Was I offended? Not even close. I was intrigued beyond fucking measure.
I assumed Angie was leading the parade on the musical vendetta. The sly smile she wore thinking I hadn’t clued up was almost adorable. But I wasn’t that stupid. She could have left smaller breadcrumbs and I still would have found the trail. The fact that it pleased me wasn’t right. It shouldn’t please me, it should fucking horrify me. But in my twisted mind that connection was better than none. Give me a minute while I go book some therapy.
That she still hated me, or that she thought of me, was the variable. And it was a coin toss as to which of those was the one I was hoping for. She had every right to hate me; we’d already established I had been less than a gentleman. That she still thought of me; well wasn’t I the sick bastard who strangely got off on that.
With New York done and dusted we’d headed to Boston. The plane ride had shown me another side to her. She seemed different, more relaxed on the short flight. Like we’d entered into a silent truce. Except for at night on stage when I was sure to get the usual burn she planned on serving up. And wasn’t I just looking forward to it more than I should.
Ash reuniting with her family in her hometown was pretty sweet. While Lexi and Hannah we’re on the tour for the long haul, Megs and Ash were temps. They’d join us when they could, which would be for the next two weeks before they scaled it back to weekends. Both of them had clocks to punch and jobs to be at, so following around their men on tour wasn’t in the cards. Plus Megs was expecting, it was only a matter of time before her doc pulled the plug and stopped her flying altogether. That was going to be a fun day, Troy probably not going to do well with the separation.
Knowing that I was the only one who didn’t have an entourage might have made another dude sad, especially seeing how happy everyone else was. But I’d resigned myself to fate a long time ago. That part of the story wasn’t destined for me, and I was okay with that.
“Why don’t yer drink a real beer.” Ash’s dad laughed as he shoved a pint of the thick brown draft he’d just pulled in front of me. Guinness. Somehow I didn’t think anyone was going to be asking for Miller Lite.
“Thanks, Finton.” I lifted my glass. “For the beer, and the hospitality.”
“Pleasure.” His Irish accent causing the words to lilt. “Anything for my baby girl.” He shot Ash a proud grin as he mopped up the bar. His baby girl doing a fine job of proving no matter how long it had been since she’d pulled a beer, she still had what it took.
“Babe, you are turning me on right now.” Dan leaned not so subtly forward in his bar stool. “Watching you do that with your hand is giving me such a hard-on.”
“Dan.” She didn’t skip a beat as she pulled another glass. “My dad is right there.” Her eyes darted to the man who had closed up shop so we could have a private reception. He probably hadn’t heard Dan but the vibe he was throwing off was unmistakable, like a cat in fucking heat. No one needed to see it, especially not Ashlyn’s dad.
“Keep it in your pants, lover boy.” Alex ga
ve him a friendly slap across the back. “The kids don’t need to see you dry humping a bar stool.” His glance shot to Lexi, who was sitting with Hannah and the collective of rug rats. The mountain of toys, coloring shit and other crap covering the table they were seated around. It was the only time the kids were probably going to be in a bar.
“The kids love their Uncle Dan, don’t you kids?” Dan turned his attention to the little people who proved how smart they already were by ignoring him. Their heads buried in whatever activity that was dominating their little minds. “Not cool, children.” Dan shook his head. “I’ll remember this when your parents piss you off and you want to run away to Uncle Dan’s.”
“God, help us if that happens.” James laughed, throwing back what was left of his beer. “Or when there is a little version of him running around.”
“Nah, Ash has superior DNA, it will override Dan’s. Their kids are safe,” Troy chimed in, taking a sip from his glass. His drink, an iced tea; keeping his wife company with the alcohol avoid.
“Hi, sorry we’re late.” Angie walked through the side door, her long hair floating around her shoulders as she stepped into the room. She was wearing a skirt for a change; her tanned legs getting lots of view time given the length of the hem. Wow. I didn’t know who the designer was, but I suddenly felt the need to write them a thank-you.
Ash’s mom ushered the rest of Black Addiction through. Not that I gave a shit, my attention still locked on to Angie. “The cab drivers here are freaking crazy.” She shot a look toward Ash’s dad who was smiling. “No offense.”
“Nah. None taken. The cab drivers are crazy. Take a seat.” He nodded to the collection of empty tables. “We’ll get yah fed soon enough.” The hospitality extended to dinner and chill time for all of us at Murphy’s Irish Tavern.
She gave him a smile that would no doubt melt his damn heart, her dark eyes scanning the room before taking a seat. My eyes shifted to the curve of her thighs, her hem riding up a little and exposed more skin as she sat. Got me thinking about what was in between them. Damn. I needed to focus, and probably get laid at some point.
And while the rest of her band sunk their asses into chairs as well, none of them held my attention like she had. The conversation flowed easy. And it turns out that they weren’t only a good support band, but they were polite bastards too, remembering their pleases and thank yous, charming Ash’s parents.
Max, their bass player, confessed to being a Red Sox fan, which had Ash’s dad almost blow his load. Ash stirred the pot a little more by smiling at the bass player that wasn’t her own, which earned the poor bastard some heated stares from Dan.
“Hey, Pa, you need a hand?”
A diagram of the family tree wasn’t needed to assume that the dude who wandered in was Ash’s brother. Besides the obvious of addressing his old man, the family resemblance was also pretty hard to miss.
“Liam!” Ash squealed, hugging the guy within an inch of his life. “Everyone this is my brother, Liam.”
I’m sure I’d probably met him at the wedding, but obviously the introduction hadn’t been memorable.
“Hey everyone.” He gave us all a wave, his smile getting a little wider when his eyes settled on Angie. Bastard didn’t even try and hide the fact he was scoping her out. Just stood there smiling like a douchebag with his dick in his hand.
Knowing I had no claim to her didn’t make me any less edgy. We’d been through it before—none of my business, and yet there I was, wondering which fingernail I’d rip off first if he laid a hand on her. The guy was an easy read too, his attention not shifting since he entered the room. The big ass grin plastered on his face further proved where his interests lay. And they weren’t on helping his Pa.
Angie should date. Of course she should. And she could be with anyone she wanted—just not this guy. He was probably a decent guy, truth is I knew jack about him. Except that he wanted to fuck her. That part was plainly obvious. Which of course made me instantly dislike him.
Rough introductions were made by Ash with hellos and how-you-doings being thrown at the guy as he settled in with the group; the dick taking a seat right next Angie despite his dad telling him his help wasn’t required. Not obvious at all, asshole. He immediately climbed to the top of my shit list.
“So you are musicians?” Dickhead asked. The fact I knew his name was Liam meant very little to me.
“Some of us, some not so much.” Dan grinned at Max, answering his brother-in-law.
“It’s two bands,” Ash pitched in given that Dan’s explanation hadn’t been adequate. “Angie, Rusty, Max and Joey are in Black Addiction. They are Power Station’s support for this tour.”
“And what do you play?” Loser turned his head toward Angie in what I can only assume was an attempt to flirt. Newsflash. He sucked at it.
“I sing and play guitar.”
Thankfully she didn’t seem to be swallowing his bullshit line, the information that she gave him stock standard and without any extra attention. Had to admit, that was the only part of the exchange I was actually enjoying.
Apart from the obvious train wreck that was poor Liam Murphy’s attempt at seduction, the room hummed with conversation. The others got pulled into one exchange or another, bullshit chatter filling the air. I, on the other hand, was curious to see how our resident Casanova was going to play this out. My eyes and ears trained on them both.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you headlining your own tour soon.” Liam’s fingers drummed nervously on the table.
Clueless. I almost felt sorry for the guy. He was fucking drowning in a sea of no-fucking-idea and Angie hadn’t so much as given him a second look. It made me want to laugh, my body finally relaxing in the seat as I watched him fight a losing battle.
“We’d need to be signed and have recorded an album before that can happen. It’s a long way off. But thanks.” The brush off was gentle—who knew she had it in her—as Angie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She really wasn’t into him. A celebratory drink was definitely in the cards, my glass raised toward my smirk as I took another drink.
“Liam, Riley’s here.” Ash’s dad gave the poor douche an out, the sound of footsteps coming toward the bar from the direction of the kitchen.
“Shit, I forgot we were supposed to hang.” The disappointment on his face was real, as was my utter freaking delight.
“Hey, you ready to go?” A dude who was around the same height as Alex, strolled through the door. “Hell, man, didn’t realize you had company.” The new guy peeled the ball cap off of his head, and shoved it into the back of his jeans.
“Hi, Riley,” Ash and Megs sung out at the same time. Seemed like the new guy had a fan club.
“Hey, Ash, didn’t realize you were home, doll. Let me get your loser brother out of your hair.” He shot Ash a wink, Dan stiffened beside me at the mention of the word doll. I guess it wasn’t a good night for either of us.
“Ry, you wanna stick around? Pull up a chair and chill for a while.” Liam gave his buddy the subtle head tip toward Angie, in what I can only assume was some fucked up bro-signal that he was trying to put the moves on. I’d seen Tibetan Monks with more game.
The new guy—Riley, another name I gave zero fucks in knowing—rolled his eyes before he took a few steps closer to where his buddy was situated.
“I’m Riley.” He offered Angie a handshake, not waiting for an introduction. “You want me to get rid of him for you?”
Angie laughed, a real one this time, not of the lame variety she’d been giving Liam. I didn’t like it.
“It’s fine. I’m Angie, by the way.”
All that interest she hadn’t shown the first guy was directed at the feet of this one. Me wanting Liam to disappear had been premature. He wasn’t the enemy; no he was the harmless decoy. Riley—I really hated saying the asshole’s name—not only had Angie’s attention but didn’t suffer from the same deer-in-headlights his friend had been struck down with.
“Nice to meet
you, Angie.” Douchebag number two flashed her a grin like he was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. “I’d love to stay and chat but we have a hot date with … exactly what could we be pretending to do tonight that might sound cool?” He looked to his clueless friend who answered with a shrug.
She laughed.
And it really, really pissed me off.
Not because her head was thrown back as she enjoyed whatever bullshit was spilling from his mouth, but that I was rationally trying to justify punching the asshole in the face.
The reasons didn’t even make fucking sense. We’d established that we were barely even friends. Yet, here I was, my fist ready to get busy on the asshole’s face as I watched him put the moves on my girl.
Wow. Dangerous territory. She wasn’t my girl. I didn’t have a girl, and if I did I’m pretty sure the shit I’d pulled years ago guaranteed Angie wouldn’t be in a hurry to fill the role. I couldn’t just flip the script now. I’d made my choices. And it was better for both of us, both then and now. Remember the reasons, asshole. Remember why you don’t do relationships.
The noise of the room resumed as conversations picked up from where they’d left off. Power Station and Black Addiction settled into what seemed like a relaxed night of not much happening, which is exactly what had been the plan. It also became clear that douche one and douche two would also not be leaving. No one else seemed to have a problem except for me, if the motherfucking easy vibe was anything to go by.
“Hey, you cool?” Troy had ninja’d himself onto the bar stool beside me. It could have been a circus of monkeys and I’d probably still been surprised, my attention too locked onto Angie to notice. The feeling made me uncomfortable, as did the heat prickling at my neck. Animosity I had no business feeling was setting up and taking residence.
“Yeah, I was actually just thinking the about time we all got together. Back in Montreal.”
Well not so much the city but more as to why I ended up in the Great White North. It was the same reason why I wouldn’t tangle with that whole love game bullshit, and the same reason why I’d known I’d screwed up after Angie. No matter how much distance and time passes, there are some things you just can’t outrun.
