by Jean Haus
His eyebrows raise and I lift a finger to brush the gleaming metal of his piercing.
“Why a communication degree?”
“Thought it would be easy, and useful for law school.”
After closing my mouth and blinking at him, I ask, “You’re going to be a lawyer?”
“Is that hard to believe?”
Thinking of his BMW and his clothes, no. But then there’s him onstage. Hot. Sexy. Magnetic. “I hope you’ll still sing and play guitar in the courtroom.”
“The whole band thing happened because Romeo and I are roommates. I never considered being in a band before I met him. He was starting one, heard me sing, and the rest is history. But in my family, you’re a doctor or a lawyer. No way in hell would I ever be a doctor. So law school here I come.”
“But do you want to be a lawyer?”
He shrugs. “I’m not the driven type. I’m more the laid-back type who wants to enjoy life.” His gaze wanders over my face. “But you make me want to be ambitious, to catch the stars on a starry night and pull them down for you.”
I turn toward him, my expression serious. “I don’t want you to be anything for me. I want you to just be you.”
Tugging at a curl brushing my shoulder, he lifts his head. “Sometimes I’m not sure who I am.” He kisses me so softly I lean forward, hoping for another touch of his lips. “Except when I’m with you, pretty Allie.” Our mouths are so close his words are a light breeze on my skin. He blows gently on my lips. “Be with me?”
My fingers dig into the skin of his ribs as I scoot closer to him. “Can’t seem to help myself.”
He chuckles deep in his chest. “Quiche for lunch?”
I lean down to give his pierced nipple a wet kiss and his pectoral jumps. “Yes, definitely—later though.” I give the ring a soft jerk with my teeth.
“Maybe not even later.” He groans. “Food can wait. Exam week too.”
Chapter 25
Justin
All four of us are crowded into a small room to the left of the stage as the stagehands finish the sound checks. Sam is bouncing up and down. Idiot likes to wind himself up before going out. Romeo is going over sheet music with Gabe one last time. He’s become Gabe’s mentor over the past couple of months, and once the stubborn prick stopped resenting being told what to do, his drumming improved immediately. Not that he sucked, but he wasn’t anywhere near our first drummer, and not even in the same galaxy as Riley.
Except for Gabe, who’s new, playing live has become almost easy for the band over the past two years. We roll through gigs onstage effortlessly. That’s why we do things like adding songs with violins, or me finally learning guitar. Shit can get boring without a challenge. Can’t say the studio stuff is easy. I’m not looking forward to our final session next weekend.
But outside of the band, life has become something to grasp with both hands and hold on to. Instead of or searching for what I can take, I want to give. Give everything to my girl. Take away her worries; erase the little crease that sometimes etches her forehead. And make her as happy as she makes me.
But Allie’s life is full. She’s got her son, her business, and school too. I don’t like it, but I accept the crumbs of time she can give. We talk over the phone late at night about art and music and Ben. We send each other dirty texts. We squeeze in visits when we can. Even though I did some studying for exams over the past week, I found time to stop by the shop to visit her twice. Between the slices of her life, we are building a relationship, something I never imagined wanting so badly, but with Allie I want everything.
That she’ll be here at our show tonight has me feeling pumped. She’s coming after work, halfway through, and I know once she shows up I won’t even notice the rest of the audience.
Some guy with stringy long hair stops by to tell us the stage is ready. Romeo reminds him to make sure the lights are turned low. Romeo has a thing for theatrics, likes to open with a boom.
Once the lights are low, we file out and take our places. A hush pervades the crowd in the sudden darkness. We wait about half a minute to let the anticipation build, then Gabe hits his sticks and Romeo cranks out a screeching riff. The lights come on. The crowd roars. Energy fills me. Romeo hits a hard synthetic-sounding riff then makes his guitar screech again. I move my head to the beat, throw out an arm at the third screech, step to the microphone, and sing into the fourth screech.
The crowd’s energy rises as I start singing.
Standing in front of the microphone, I move to the music and sing in a low, crooning voice. When we hit the chorus, I release the mic and let loose, bending and shouting the chorus.
“Chalk Outline” by Three Days Grace is a dynamic song. It mixes low, raspy singing with a forceful shout in the chorus. The lyrics describe a man’s anger after being dumped. I’ve never really understood the meaning until now. If Allie left me, I’d be a mess. My newfound knowledge lends more emotion to my singing, and I can tell from Sam’s and Romeo’s glances that this is definitely the best I’ve ever sung this song.
During the instrumental, I sway next to Sam and give Romeo the spotlight, then go back to the edge of the stage, belting out the chorus and bending over the crowd.
Once the song is over, I shout into the microphone, “You guys ready for some rock ’n’ roll?” The crowd roars at me. “Let’s see how you like our new original, ‘Bleak Moon’!”
Gabe rolls out a drum fill, Sam gives us a baseline, and Romeo joins in with a booming riff. I open with a fast vocal. The crowd beyond the stage moves in one huge, surging wave. I’m immediately high on the adrenaline of the masses.
We roll through two originals and five more cover songs. During the last song prior to our break, I fist bump half of the people standing in front of the stage—and by the time we finish it, the crowd is in a frenzy.
I leave the stage for our break reluctantly. If it were up to me, we’d keep playing. But we don’t have a choice because for the second set we’re doing acoustic. The stage needs to be changed over. I’m not big on the acoustic crap like Romeo. Given the choice I’d take blaring guitars every time. But other than a few trips to the Detroit area, we only play at about six different clubs and bars in the area, most of them at least twice a year. Though I hate admitting it, even internally, Romeo’s right. We have to mix it up or we’ll get old.
In the tight hallway behind the stage, Romeo is again mentoring Gabe. Sam has disappeared. He’d better not be off sucking shit up his nose. Partying is one thing, doing it while we’re performing is a completely different scenario that would cross the line even with me.
The waitress who brought me a beer is trying to talk to me, asking if I want something else. A shot? Or…? I glance at her and almost laugh. There was a time, not so long ago, when her casual invitation would have had my brain running in all kinds of directions. The girl is attractive, dressed in tight shorts and a tight T-shirt with the bar’s logo. Her short hair is spiked, and the thick chain around her neck would have gained my interest in the past, but not anymore. I’ve got nothing to say to her and zero interest. And strangely, I’m even kind of shocked at who I was less than two months ago. That I would have been considering the possibility of going home with this girl now seems kind of skeevy. What was wrong with me? And why would girls let me use them like that? After being with Allie, the whole thing feels empty and heartless.
I lift my beer. “Thanks, but I’m set with this.”
Her lips push together as she obviously thinks of some other way to make an offer.
“Really, I’m good.”
“Sure you don’t want another beer at least?” she asks, trying to save face.
I shake my head. “Got to sing. Acoustic. Easy to mess up,” I add with a grin.
She grins back, then goes and asks Gabe and Romeo about a beer. Romeo declines. Gabe accepts.
Leaning against the wall, I finish my beer and reach for my new acoustic guitar. This acoustic shit does rattle my nerves. I’ve been playin
g for only about four months. Four months is not enough to feel invincible onstage. But then, the nervousness adds to my energy high, and that’s my addiction.
As I strap on the guitar, the stagehand with long hair tells us the stage is switched over and ready. Romeo goes over the lighting with him again, and Sam finally comes back—and the four of us head out to start the set.
The crowd goes wild when they see us. There’s one stool in the middle of the stage. For my lame ass. Still new to playing, I like to sit if possible. Romeo and Sam go stand at their microphones. Romeo is holding a mandolin. Sam is playing his electric bass for this one. Gabe sits in the back with a tambourine and access to the bass drum.
Even though I’ve practiced the shit out of this one since I play lead, I take a deep breath. Not only do I have to play, singing with acoustic music doesn’t allow much room for error. A second after I strum, the rest of the band yells out the first words of the Lumineers’ song “Ho Hey.” The crowd recognizes the lyrics and starts stomping, clapping, and singing along wildly. Instead of making me more nervous, their exuberance helps calm me down.
Strumming and singing, I relax into the performance. Gabe pounds on his bass drum and bangs his tambourine. Then Romeo adds the mandolin. I scan the crowd for Allie even while singing and playing an instrument I’ve only recently conquered.
We’re in the chorus for the second time when I spot her shiny auburn hair at the back of the crowd. Smiling and clapping, she looks so happy and into the music, my newly awakened crazy-ass heart swells.
With my eyes mostly still on Allie, we finish the song.
We play three of our originals next, which are fast, folk, and bluesy. Romeo and Sam do most of the guitar work. I only have to strum a few cords. The crowd is still into us, and I’m still flying high from the energy, but my attention continues to wander toward the back of the room. To Allie.
We end the night on a song we have been practicing forever. I don’t play this one, only sing. If Romeo could have his way, I’d have learned the keyboards for this song, but I told him to back off. I can only conquer one thing at a time. My first priority is singing, then the guitar. Piano is a long way off. He wanted to hire a keyboardist for this song, but the rest of us put a stop to that. “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd has enough power to carry it with just vocals and guitars. When the drums come in halfway through, they kick the intensity up a notch.
After the first few guitar notes, the crowd goes crazy, and I sense a bit of surprise.
Yes, you happy fuckers, we are singing Pink Floyd.
Still sitting on the stool, I watch Allie through most of the long beginning instrumental. Musically clueless, she doesn’t join the the crowd in humming along and swaying with lifted arms. I concentrate on doing the classic song justice and sing the shit out of the lyrics, high for this awesome crowd.
I glance at Allie only a few times.
Then we’re bowing as the rowdy fans scream for more, and exiting the stage with our instruments.
Lucky for us, there’s a stage crew that hauls our equipment out back. Usually, I take my sweet-ass time helping out, but tonight I’m all business and efficiency. So much so that Romeo’s raising his brows. “Who slapped your ass?”
Before I can tell Romeo to eff off, Sam says, “His new lady friend is here.”
Romeo’s brows rise even higher. “You’re serious about this girl?”
For one stupid moment, I’m embarrassed, like I’m whipped or something, but then I proudly say, “Very.”
Romeo gives me a curt nod and we finish loading the van.
Afterward, I rush inside the bar and start making my way over to Allie, ignoring the people who try to get my attention or stop me. She’s leaning against the bar, talking to the guy next to her. A twinge of jealousy erupts in me, but then I remember her caveman comment from a few weeks ago and push aside the possessiveness. It’s an initial reaction but one I can ignore. Allie’s not that type of girl. Shit, I was the first guy she’d been with since her divorce.
“Well hello,” she says as I step in front of her and put my hands on her waist.
“Hello, pretty lady. I couldn’t help noticing you back here all by yourself.” She’s hot in her standard tank, jeans, and boots, but tonight her hair is in two braids. The ends lie right above the soft expanse of her cleavage. Very nice.
She smiles seductively and that’s all the encouragement I need. I kiss her long and slow, showing her mouth all the things I want to do to her body.
When we part, the guy who was talking to her closes his mouth and turns toward the bar.
Allie lets out a rare giggle as her hands tighten around my waist. “The show was great. I didn’t know you played acoustic so well.”
“I really don’t. I only know a few songs.” I reach for her hand at my back. “Come on. Everyone’s in the back room.”
“Holly’s coming,” she says. “I should wait for her.”
“Just text her to go to the back room.”
“Oh, okay,” Allie says, pulling out her phone.
I walk behind her as she texts, touching her waist but wanting to touch even more.
When we get to the back room, it’s full. Even Romeo and Riley are here tonight. I introduce Allie to Riley’s best friends, Marcus and Chloe, who ooh and aah over her sleeve tattoo. Riley gives Allie a wave, but of course doesn’t leave Romeo’s side. At the end of the table, Gabe sits as usual with his girlfriend in his lap.
The two of us grab the seats at the middle of the table, and then share the beer that’s there waiting for me. I order two more. It’s different and nice to just talk instead of trying to lay the moves on someone I hardly know with the expectation of whoever it is taking me home. Allie and I laugh at Sam’s story about going out for a smoke, then getting locked out of his apartment for four hours while the girl he’d brought home slept off the body shots they did. Chloe, Riley, and Allie talk school and classes while Romeo drones on to Sam and me about next Saturday’s recording session.
I’m arguing that I’d rather break it into two more sessions instead of an unbearably long one when I notice Allie is gone. Chloe picks up on my confusion and tells me Allie went to get Holly. After a thankful nod in Chloe’s direction, I continue arguing, but after more than ten minutes pass without Allie’s returning, I get up and go to inspect the busy bar. I finally spot her across the room. With Trevor. Even from this distance, I can see the grip of his hands on her arms. He’s leaning over her. She’s leaning back as her face turns fearful.
Pushing people out of my way, I’m across the room in seconds.
Chapter 26
Allie
As I walk through the crowded club to meet Holly at the bar, the giddiness that has pervaded my mood since watching Justin onstage doesn’t dissipate. As he performed, all I could think was, That wonderful, sexy rocker up there is mine. I’m not sure how it happened, when exactly I opened up to it, but there’s no denying that I’m out-of-control into him now. I feel exactly like I should, a twenty-two-year-old out at the bar with her boyfriend. m.ob.i.lism I feel young and mcarefree.
And I like it.
Holly and Jake are waiting for a round of shots at the bar, so I hit the restroom. On the way out, I’m still on my Justin cloud nine when someone steps in front of me. Startled to see Trevor, I stumble backward. He appears a bit menacing in all black: jeans, T-shirt, boots.
“Thought you weren’t into this guy. Thought it wasn’t serious,” he says, sneering so much the tats on his neck stretch. He’s also yelling in my face because of the loud music blasting through the speakers. “Making out in the middle a bar screams serious, Allie.”
For a moment I’m too stunned to reply, but I slowly put two and two together. I’d been talking to Mark Beech, a Dragonfly customer who’d known Trevor forever, when Justin came up to me at the bar. Obviously, the jerk had called or texted Trevor after we left for the back room.
I stand with my fists clenched but calmly say, “It’s
really none of your business who I date, kiss—or how serious it is. We’re divorced, Trevor.”
His blue eyes blaze and he reaches for my arm. “We have a kid and a business together.” He pauses and leans low. “You’ll always be connected to me. Always. No douche bag singer is going to change that.” He starts dragging me toward the door.
For one quick second, I remember the past, the constant aching over Trevor. Then I imagine a long, sad future of constantly pining for Trevor. Of never feeling loved. Of sick jealousy over Jazz. Oh, hell no. That won’t be my future. I jerk back from his hold and brace myself.
“We are divorced,” I repeat, trying to pull away from him. “Let me go. Now.”
His grip grows tighter. “What’s going on with you and this guy?”
“Let me go,” I say under my breath, noticing people watching us.
“Are you fucking him?”
“Now,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Are you?” he says, shaking me.
His shaking me hits a major nerve. “Screw you! I’ll fuck whoever I want! Let me go!”
Fury fills his face, and he lets me go with a shove that sends me colliding with a nearby table. Unfortunately, it isn’t empty. Drinks fly and crash onto the floor when the table nearly tips. The people at the table jump up, yelling, “What the hell?”
I’m finding my footing as Justin gently helps me upright and searches my gaze. “You okay?”
Before I can answer, Trevor whips him around. “Don’t touch her!”
“Why? So you can push her again?” Justin’s expression is furious as he shoves Trevor.
Trevor’s mouth twists as he stumbles backward. “Fuck that,” he snarls. He lunges forward and punches Justin in the jaw.
Justin’s head snaps back, but his feet stay planted. He whips his head around, his gaze livid, as Trevor raises both fists in an aggressive stance. Justin takes a quick step back, and punches Trevor in the middle of his face before he can lift a fist. Jaw slack and eyes wide, Trevor staggers against the wall and slides to the floor.
