A shy lead singer. It wasn’t unheard of. Some of the most reticent musicians came alive on stage.
“How many times have these kids performed?” I asked.
“They’ve done a handful of concerts, maybe close to a dozen,” Natalie said. “We’re always on the lookout for opportunities to show off what they can do.”
Less than a dozen times. No wonder she was nervous.
Morris appeared behind the girl’s shoulder, towering over her tiny frame. He crouched low, getting down on her level, and spoke quiet words. She listened to him with rapt attention.
Her fearful wide eyes soon transformed into a look of excitement and near glee. She gave him a thumbs up, which he returned. He patted her on the back with a large hand and disappeared behind the curtain.
Anya seemed to take a deep breath then strutted onto the stage. The rest of her bandmates followed behind her and took their places, all of them with expressions of both nerves and anticipation.
“Thank you for coming out to our fundraiser,” Anya spoke quickly into the microphone in nearly one breath. “Everyone here at The Impact Youth Center appreciates your support and we all believe the arts are important and that all kids should have an outlet for their creativity.”
It was clearly a rehearsed speech and her words were rushed, but the sentiment was there.
“Before we start our concert, we want to thank a few people,” she continued.
Her voice trembled a bit, but the expression on her face wasn’t nervous or anxious. It looked like she was struggling to keep an ear-to-ear grin from spreading across her face.
“Natalie, could you come up here?” Anya asked, looking directly at her.
Beside me, Natalie looked taken aback. I assumed this wasn’t part of the planned performance. Maybe they were going to give her some sort of thank you gift or community award.
Natalie climbed the three stairs to reach the top of the platform. She went to Anya with a questioning smile.
I should have expected it. I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together.
Morris came out from behind the curtain.
He slowly walked up behind Natalie without her noticing.
He got down on one knee and pulled a small box from his pocket.
Anya grinned and pointed to Natalie that she should turn around.
She did.
Morris lifted the box and opened the lid, displaying a gorgeous diamond engagement ring.
“Will you marry me?” he said simply.
Natalie clapped both hands over her mouth, muffling a choked squeal. Her whole body shook, shoulders heaving with heavy gasps. She looked from Morris to the ring and back again.
“That a yes?” Morris asked, chocolate brown eyes twinkling.
Natalie’s face crumpled as she burst into tears, nodding her head furiously.
The entire audience ooh'ed and aww'd, clapped and cheered.
My heart stilled in my chest.
Morris had proposed to Natalie.
My nails dug into my palms.
He was engaged.
I let out a slow, shuddering breath.
He was going to marry the love of his life.
I stood from my chair quickly, nearly toppling it over. Liam looked to me, alarmed.
We’d always planned on Morris being the best man at mine and Harper’s wedding.
We’d always planned on Harper being the best man at his.
But Harper was dead.
The crack inside me splintered open. Inky black sludge poured out, so thick and viscous it felt like I would suffocate on it.
Liam whistled. “Ballsy move, doing it in front of everyone like that. What if she said no?”
“She never would have said no,” I said numbly.
Liam eyed me, taking in my shallow breathing, noticing the half-moon indentations my nails had left in my palms. He pressed his lips together.
“You’re not happy for them,” he said in an almost accusing voice.
“No. I am. It’s just—”
Harper was never going to stand at Morris’s wedding. Morris was never going to stand at ours.
Morris was getting the chance Harper and I never got.
Because Harper was dead.
I rubbed at my nail polish with my thumb, feeling every thin, harsh chip.
“I need to take off,” I said. “I’m going to go home and change. This dress is chaffing me.”
Liam frowned at me.
“I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow.” I tried to keep my tone even, but the words came out numbly.
I didn’t wait for Liam’s response. I turned on my heel and ran out.
I ran as I always did whenever the past caught up to me.
I ran as if I could outrun my feelings.
28
I arrived late to practice the next day. I didn’t want to risk catching Liam alone if we were both early.
I knew he'd want to talk to me after what had happened the previous day. One of my oldest friends had just proposed to his girlfriend — now fiancée — and instead of sticking around I’d made a lame excuse and bolted.
It was becoming a habit. A bad one. But it was the only thing I could think of doing. If I’d stayed, I would have been able to muster up a fake smile and offer them my congratulations. Morris would have seen through it. He knew me too well.
I had to hope Liam bought my excuse. Or at least, I had to hope he wouldn’t push the issue. I didn’t want him to know the awful memories that had resurfaced the instant Morris dropped to one knee.
I texted Gael I was running late and to start setting up without me.
You okay? he’d texted back.
Slept in, I’d replied.
So you picked up some man-candy and had a late night?
No! My alarm didn’t go off.
Sure, sure, he teased.
He didn’t text again for another few minutes, but when my phone pinged again and I saw his message, my heart sank.
You disappeared yesterday, he wrote.
I could hear the unspoken question.
Girl stuff, I wrote back, knowing that would shut him down.
Liam looks worried, he wrote back anyway. Says he hasn’t heard from you. Poor guy probably thought you got into a car accident and were lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
Tell him I’m fine.
Should I mention the man-candy?
No!!
I turned my phone on silent, ignoring any further texts as I drove to the rehearsal studio.
I was only a few minutes late, but the guys were already practicing without me. I was glad they were taking things seriously.
All music stopped when I walked in as the guys stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Late night?” Nathan drawled.
“Why does everyone assume I hooked up last night?” I asked. “Can’t a girl sleep in and not have her sex life questioned?”
“You do look a little worn out,” Seth piped up. “Bags under your bloodshot eyes, messy hair…”
I hadn’t realized it was so obvious I’d tossed and turned all night while fighting back tears.
“I had some trouble falling asleep,” I said. Liam’s gaze burned into me. I steadfastly avoided looking in his direction. “Let’s get started.”
Our rehearsal went well, sounding almost as good as we did in concert. You couldn’t replicate the kind of energy you felt on stage, but damn, we sure did try. There were no missed cues or off pitch notes.
We played for most of the day, but stopped before fatigue crept in. We’d learned to pace ourselves.
“Good job guys,” I nodded as the day drew to a close. “We’re getting better and better each time. More polished, more in sync.”
“We haven’t gone out in a while,” Nathan said. “I say we celebrate.” He made a drinking motion with his hand.
I hesitated. “I don’t really want to deal with a loud, crowded club full of potential fans.”
“I know a place where a rock star can get a quiet drink,” Gael said, faking an innocent look.
“You just want to see your girlfriend in a leather mini-skirt,” Nathan snorted.
“Can you blame me?” Gael grinned.
The rest of us agreed as Seth insisted we call a taxi.
“I don’t want to be the DD tonight,” he said.
“I’ll drive,” Liam offered.
We all piled into Liam’s car. It was a tight fit, but we made it work. I grabbed a seat in the back. Unfortunately, I choose the exact spot where Liam had tilted his rearview mirror. Every time his gaze flicked to the back window, he lingered on me, expression inscrutable.
Gael gave directions, leading us into a shady part of town. Not as shady as where we grew up, but the graffiti, trash on the sidewalk and tough looking groups of young men lingering in storefronts clearly made Liam nervous.
“I didn’t even know there were parts of the city like this,” I heard him mutter. “You sure this is the right way?” he spoke up louder.
Gael nodded. “This place is awesome,” he said. “You’re going to love it.”
Knowing how Liam had been brought up, and knowing exactly what kind of bar we were going to, I very much doubted that.
Still, Liam followed the directions and pulled into a parking lot at the back of a dark building. Gael hopped out and headed to the dented metal back door. He knocked in a rapid pattern and the door soon opened with Jessie in the doorframe.
Gael wolf-whistled and looked her up and down. She wore heavy eye makeup to rival mine and a tight black dress with a hemline several inches above her knee. I could see the fresh-faced young woman behind all that makeup, if I squinted and tilted my head.
“Come on in,” she gestured. “You’re in luck, tonight’s karaoke night.”
I tried not to wince. Karaoke nights could be hit and miss, depending on who got up there to sing.
We walked down a short hallway and turned a corner, finding ourselves in a small little pub with rickety seating and dirty beer mugs left sitting on empty tables.
Liam’s face scrunched up in distaste. “This is where we’re drinking?”
“Of course not,” I said, holding back a smirk. “This is the public bar. We’re going to the special hidden one out back where nobody will bother us.”
“It’s like the VIP section,” Seth said, eavesdropping in on our conversation.
“Thank god,” Liam said, no doubt thinking the VIP section would be a little — or a lot — more upscale.
When Jessie pushed open a door that had a “Washroom Out Of Order” sign on it, his face screwed up with uncertainty again.
When we walked into the “VIP section” he made a choked sound in the back of his throat.
This bar was even sketchier than the one we’d just come from. It was the very definition of a dive bar. Sticky floor, tabletops with suspicious stains, dim lighting, and rough-faced biker types playing pool.
“You’re fucking with me,” he said flatly.
“Nope!” Seth cheered as he bounced over to the bar.
A tall, barrel chested man with a small scar over one eyebrow nodded to Seth as he washed and put away beer mugs.
“What’ll it be this time?” the man said in a gruff voice.
Seth clapped his hands together. “I’ve got a good one tonight,” he said.
“This is your VIP bar?” Liam asked in a hushed voice.
“Yup,” I said with a self-satisfied smile. “Jessie introduced Gael to the place. Not many people know about it. The owner, Walt, keeps it on the down low. Some of our other musician friends come here a lot, too. No fans or paparazzi allowed.”
“It’s so…” Liam scanned the room. His eyes landed on the beefy, leather-clad bikers. His eyes went wide, not finishing his sentence. He took a step back. “You sure this place is safe?”
“Define safe?” I held back a snicker.
Liam was going to get eaten alive.
“Hey shitface!” someone called out.
Every member in my band turned his head toward the voice.
“That shitface,” the guy clarified, pointing to Gael. His group was playing pool in a dark corner, but from the brilliant, fire-engine red hair, I knew it was Cameron Thorne, bassist for the rock band Darkest Days.
My brother’s face fell before he forced a cocky grin. “Still don’t remember my name, hm? Getting senile in your old age?”
“Fuck you,” Cameron said with a good-natured laugh.
Both being bassists, my brother had a sort of love-hate thing for Cameron Thorne. Gael looked up to the man, but Cameron, being Cameron, loved to stir up shit. He knew exactly who my brother was. Cherry Lips had opened for Darkest Days on tour, after all, and they both had mutual friends.
“What are you assholes doing here?” Gael asked him.
“Settling a bet.” Cameron held up his pool stick. “You want in? Or are you scared of me kicking your ass in front of your girlfriend?”
Gael tilted his chin up, looking defensive.
“Boys really don’t change, do they?” Jessie appeared beside me with a tray of beer carefully balanced in one hand.
“And yet we love them anyway,” I replied. “What does that say about us?”
“You can’t play pool,” Seth called out. He lifted a glass in his hand, a dangerous looking yellow concoction. “We’re drinking! Loser has to sing karaoke.”
“I thought loser had to drink that godawful poison you come up with?” Gael shot back.
“Knew you were chicken,” Cameron tossed out with a shit-eating grin as Gael headed over to Seth.
My brother threw him the middle finger.
We all gathered around a large table with ring stains. Liam followed behind quietly, eyes darting every which way.
But as we played, he slowly began to relax. It couldn’t have been the alcohol, since he was sticking to the non-alcoholic version of Seth's godawful mixture. It was probably because we’d been there for an hour and nothing bad had happened yet.
After each of us took several turns we were all pretty buzzed. Three rounds later we’d run out of shots. Nathan was the worst out of all of us, listing sideways in his chair and slurring. We declared him the loser and forced him to get up on stage. Nate was a pretty good singer with great taste in music, so it wasn’t like we had to sit through a torturous rendition of a ten minute eighties power ballad.
We were setting up another round when the door to the bar opened and two people walked in, hand in hand.
My blood froze in my veins.
It was Natalie and Morris.
29
Natalie had walked through the door, a bright smile on her face and a gigantic rock on her finger. As for Morris, his normally stoic face radiated satisfaction with a hint of smugness.
Liam stiffened beside me.
“Natalie! Let me see it again!” Jessie threw her tray onto a table and rushed over. “It’s so beautiful,” she sighed as she examined the ring. “The diamond is so clear and sparkling, and the setting is just gorgeous. Take notes,” Jessie called over her shoulder to Gael.
I thought my brother might flinch at the thought of rings and marriage, but he blew her a kiss. Maybe I should have been worried about alien body-snatchers after all.
“Hey, Cerise,” Morris said quietly.
A wave of nausea came over me. I couldn’t face Morris. He’d take one look at me and know I was upset, angry, heartbroken — I was consumed with a dozen different emotions and he’d be able to sense them all.
But I couldn’t ignore him, not with everyone else there.
“Hey.” I plastered a smile on my face, the corners of my mouth only twitching down slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say congratulations yesterday.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Bile rose to my throat. I wasn’t ready for this conversation.
“I’m sort of in the middle of a drinking game,” I said.
“Please?”
Shit.
I took in a heavy breath and nodded. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”
I didn’t need the entire bar to hear this.
We went to the back room full of extra chairs and stacks of boxes. There was barely enough room for two people to maneuver around. I turned to face Morris, dreading what was coming.
“I have something to ask you,” he said.
I braced myself.
“Will you write a song with me?”
My whirling thoughts halted. I stared at Morris, confused.
“A song?”
“It’s the anniversary of…” he trailed off, his brown eyes wounded.
He didn’t need to say it. I’d been counting down the days in my head for the last few weeks.
“We should write a song,” he continued. “Together. In his memory.”
I could feel the mass of darkness roiling inside me, waiting to be released.
“No,” I said.
Morris’s brow furrowed. “No?”
“I don’t— I haven’t—” My breath caught in my throat. “I only ever wrote songs with him.”
“I know,” he said gently. “I was the same. Never joined another band. Not until Kell,” he said, referring to his lead singer, the one who’d recruited him to Feral Silence. “But this will be good. For both of us.”
“Like… closure?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever you want to call it.”
I went silent, thinking it over. Most of the songs I’d ever written had been about Harper. Before his death it was all passion and love and desire. After his death, heartbreak and turmoil and loss.
When comparing the songs between my first band and Cherry Lips, it was like they’d been composed by two completely different people.
And they had been. The current me was nothing like the old Cerise.
Or, at least, I hadn’t been until recently.
Something inside me changed as soon as Liam walked back into my life.
I felt… whole.
“Think about it?” Morris said to fill the silence. “I want to write that song with you.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Even as I said the words, my chest ached. That small, miserable part of me kept remembering awful things. I wished I could banish it forever, but it felt like it had been with me for so long. I didn’t know how to make it go away.
Hard Rock Crush Page 15
