The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (The Half Shell Series Book 3)

by Unknown

  “You’re not to talk to Vincent Delmo without me ever again,” he snaps unexpectedly and I jump.

  I stare at him is disbelief. Did he actually just order me?

  “I’ll talk to whoever I want,” I counter, hardly dismissive.

  He takes another long swallow. The tic in his cheek twitches. “I saw you two together, huddled up in one of your chats. And then you ran off stage and didn’t come back.”

  Oh crap, Delmo, did you babble to Neil about Alan? I can’t tell what he knows, but I don’t like his mood and I don’t like this.

  I lift my chin, a smidge haughty. “Don’t tell me what to do, Neil. And when you get things wrong, you get them wrong. I didn’t run off stage. I left because I was tired. I’ve been at every show for three months. Don’t make a big deal out of me wanting a night alone for a change.”

  His eyes sharpen on my face.

  “What did Vincent say to you, Chrissie? I thought we’d agreed. Whatever bullshit we hear on the road, we’d talk about it with each other. Not let it hurt us.”

  I school my features into a deliberate you’re being ridiculous kind of expression. The pressure of his gaze doesn’t lift, and I look away into a vacant spot in the room.

  “He didn’t say anything, Neil,” I say with gritted teeth. “He gave me his usual shit. Told me the story about Jack getting him sober. Again. Like I’m not tired of hearing about that one. And he told me he thought we had a good thing going on together. That’s all. Nothing.”

  Long minutes of silence pass and it doesn’t feel like either of us has moved, but I can feel something building in Neil.

  There’s a loud crash in the room. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up, and I stare in disbelief at the booze stain on the wall and the broken glass on the floor. Jesus Christ, did Neil just throw a bottle against the wall? Neil?

  I stare up at him with painfully wide and disbelieving eyes. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  Neil stands, his posture furious, and as close to out of control as I’ve ever seen him. “And I can’t believe you’re lying to me.”

  Fear shoots through my veins. My body freezes. I stare up at him. “I’m not lying. Why would I lie about this?”

  He shakes his head at me, then puts his hands over his face, his fingertips squeezing into his skull. “You fucking drive me crazy.”

  A flash burn covers my skin. How could he say that to me? He drops back into the chair.

  “The second things get good between us, you fuck with us,” he says, his voice nearly a ragged growl. “I should never have brought you on tour with me. It was a mistake. You don’t know how to stay out of the shit. You always fuck up everything the second it gets good.”

  I don’t know what has Neil so irrational, but I am not staying here any longer.

  “Then I’ll leave,” I hiss and scramble off the bed.

  I start grabbing my stuff and shoving it into my duffel. I can feel Neil watching me, but he doesn’t move from the chair or try to stop me. How did everything get so wrong so quickly?

  “I’m out of here,” I snap. “You won’t have to worry about me driving you crazy. Or fucking us up. Or anything about me. You have fucked us up big time all on your own, Neil.”

  I jerk angrily at the zipper and close my duffel. I spring to my feet, snatching my black bag from beside the bed, and then I go to the bathroom. With a swipe I dump my things from the counter into the bag.

  I go back into the room and stand in the middle, shaking, frantically searching for something to change into, then I realize I’ve packed all my clothes.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  The tears start to give way and I don’t want them to. I don’t want him to see me cry. I just want to get out of here with some shred of pride intact.

  I drop to my knees by my duffel, unzip it, and rummage inside for something to wear. As I dress, I catch a glimpse of Neil in the wall mirror above the desk.

  My heart contracts. Totally together, always calm Neil looks in complete emotional disarray. I don’t know why. I definitely shouldn’t care. After that you drive me crazy comment only a pathetic girl would worry about what’s happening with him.

  I collect my bags, do a fast glance around the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and turn toward the door.

  Neil looks at me. “Where are you going?”

  I bite my lip. I don’t need to answer him. “The airport,” I say stiffly.

  I hear a ragged exhale of breath.

  “It’s the middle of the fucking night, Chrissie.”

  I fumble with the chain and stupid latch thingy on the door. “What? People don’t fly at night? If there isn’t a flight home tonight I’ll sleep there until morning. I’m not staying here. Not with you.”

  No response. I look over my shoulder at him. His jaw is clenched and he’s shaking his head as if to keep himself calm. He’s just going to let me walk away and despite all the rotten things he said, I hate that he’s letting me. And doubly so, I hate that icky feeling of having lived this before.

  Why do all the men in my life let me go? I walk away and they let me. I start to hyperventilate. I’m thinking of Alan again and I don’t want to. About how different my life would be if he hadn’t let me walk out the door in Malibu.

  I struggle not to let my emotions give way as I pull back the door. The knob is ripped from my hand with a slam of wood, I’m turned around in a dizzying spin, and Neil has me trapped between him and the exit, his hands planted on either side of me. His body is shaking.

  His face hovers above me, only an inch from mine. Startled, I smell the booze on his breath. He’s been drinking tonight. Heavily. Not just the JD in the room. More.

  “Don’t go, Chrissie.”

  “I’m not staying.” I’m proud of how my voice sounds. Calm. In control. Rational.

  He leans in to kiss me and I twist away.

  “I’m not letting you go.” He eases back from me, blinking. “You’re not leaving.”

  My emotions sharply adjust. Damn him. I can’t push out my words so I stay still, not backing down, but not fighting to get away.

  “I’ve had a miserable night worrying about you, Chrissie. Worrying about us.”

  I don’t want to. I tilt my head so I can see his face. It’s almost like he’s frightened and fear pulses through him. It feels strange. Neil feels strange, and yet I suddenly don’t know what I should do, if I should leave or stay.

  “I think I should go, Neil.”

  “No. Not this way. Not how we are now,” he pleads, raking a hand through his hair. “I want to know what Vincent said to you. I want to know we’re OK.”

  I can barely breathe, and it is probably stupid, completely vain, but right now it feels like if I walk out that door he won’t be all right.

  “It doesn’t matter what Delmo said,” I whisper. “That’s not why I want to go. You scared me tonight. I’ve never seen you like this. What is happening to you?”

  His eyes widened in pain and almost tortured reluctance. “I have a lot going on. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d never hurt you. You are everything to me, Chrissie. We matter to me. More than you will ever know,” he admits after a long while.

  “Then tell me why you exploded tonight.”

  “You left without a word to me. I’ve called you fifty times this afternoon. You didn’t answer the phone. You didn’t want to talk to me and I thought…” He cuts himself off, impatient and frustrated.

  “I took a bath. I went to dinner. I slept. I didn’t answer the phone. It didn’t mean anything, Neil.”

  “I can’t do this, I can’t make my life work without you, Chrissie. If you leave, everything falls apart.”

  My scattered thoughts can’t begin to form a response to that. This is too much emotion. Too much intensity from Neil. I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to stay.

  My legs give way and I slide down, my back against the door, until I’m sitting on the floor. He sink
s down on his knees in front of me. I can see how exhausted he is. How distraught he is over everything that’s happened tonight.

  “I don’t want to argue anymore,” I whisper.

  “I don’t either.” He swallows.

  He inhales sharply and closes his eyes. The way he looks makes me want to curl into him, hold him, even after our horrible fight and his awful words.

  “I just want to be with you,” he says. “Be happy with you and love you.”

  I can’t stop myself. Slowly I put my arms around him and ease him into me, his face against my shoulder and my fingers lightly caressing the back of his neck.

  “We’re OK, Neil.”

  He looks up at me. “Are we? I can tell when something is going on with you. I felt it when I stepped into the room. You wanted to tell me we were over and that you were leaving.”

  Oh God. Is that possible? That after a stupid comment from Delmo about Alan that I wanted to end it with Neil? Is that how I’ve been feeling all afternoon? Why I have been internally messy?

  I’m not sure and that scares the hell out of me. Could I be that terrible and pathetic of a person?

  Neil’s gaze is raging and intense. “Tell me the truth, Chrissie. If we don’t talk, if we’re not honest, the bullshit on the road will tear us apart. What did Vincent say to you that made you think about ending us?”

  I lower my gaze. “He told me that Alan called him and wanted to know if I was OK.”

  Heavy silence fills the room. I stare up at him. A visible shudder rolls down his arms.

  “Are you telling me the truth, Chrissie?”

  I can’t find my words, so I nod.

  We stare at each other, exhausted and emotionally drained. Slowly, the tension melts out of Neil, and it is strange, very strange, but he looks almost relieved.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I push Neil off me and give him a playful kick with my leg. “Would you stop already? If this is you being contrite, you suck at it. It’s irritating.”

  Neil gives me a sweet, half-pouting smile. “I’m not sure that I’m forgiven.”

  I catch out of the corner of my eye Josh giving me the God, what a bitch look. I shudder internally. It’s awful how the guys know everything that happens in our life. Six hours on a bus with no privacy, and Neil being overly attentive, carrying an expression like a wounded puppy, still unsure and still worried. Josh blames me for the crap that went down last night at the hotel. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. I can see it in how he looks at me.

  Crap, I wish Neil would go and sit at the table with Josh and ignore me like he usually does when Josh wants to work.

  I lean into Neil, my lips close to his ear. “You were forgiven this morning,” I whisper with heavy meaning.

  His fingers play at the buttons of my shirt. “I want to be forgiven again.”

  Color rises to my cheeks because I can tell he’s thinking about how we were in bed. We should fight more often, though I don’t really want to, but Neil is very good at makeup sex.

  I push at him. “Go away. It’s not happening. Not here. Haven’t you figured that one out by now?”

  Neil slowly lowers his face to mine. His lips move gently at first, then the kiss deepens and deepens as his thumb teases my nipple through my shirt.

  I’m breathless when he pulls back.

  “No?” he cajoles.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  He lies back on his pillow and makes an aggravated sigh. He look at me. “Are you sure?”

  I roll my eyes, but I feel laughter bubbling inside me. “Positive. Stop asking. I’m not doing it.”

  He rolls off the bed, ambles down the bus, and sinks into a chair beside Josh.

  Minutes later they are focused on trying to create lyrics for Josh’s new song. Neil is leaning forward in his chair, his head bobbing, his eyes closed, and there is no music except for whatever he is hearing in his head.

  From horny to working in the blink of an eye. Jeez, why are musicians so weird? One minute I am everything and the next forgotten.

  God, he’s impossible to live with.

  I watch them for a few minutes. I grab my journal and sink lower onto the bed. I chew on the tip of my pen and stare at the blank page. Do I write about our fight? Some parts of it are still bothering me. I frown. Everything is good between us again. That ugly scene in the room shouldn’t be nipping at my subconscious still.

  Maybe I’m not completely over the fight. Maybe Neil senses it and that’s why he keeps trying to make love to me. Guys think everything can be fixed by sex.

  Do we have something that needs fixing? Stupid, Chrissie, stupid. You are being hyper-analytical again. Let it go. It was a fight. Nothing more. Things are good with Neil today.

  The mattress moves and I lift my nose out of my journal to watch Nate Kassel stretch out on Neil’s pillow beside me.

  I arch a brow. “Excuse me? Did I invite you here? Front of the bus: Markem’s. Back of the bus: Chrissie’s. Middle of the bus: dipshits’.”

  Nate laughs and grabs off the blanket the journal I finally completely filled yesterday. He starts thumbing through pages.

  “You write fucking incredible lyrics.”

  I roll my eyes. Why does every guy think I write song lyrics in my journal?

  I hold out my hand. “Did I say you could read that?” I ask.

  He turns a page. “No. But I always do when you and Neil sneak off the bus to do whatever you two do. I like reading your journals. They’re kind of interesting. Sometimes a little twisted. But the words are good. And I don’t want to watch porno flicks with Les and Pat. I’d rather hang with you.”

  I crinkle my nose and make a you’re disgusting face. “Thanks a lot. I really don’t need to know when they’re watch their fuck films.”

  He looks at me, amused. “It’s not exactly a mystery, Chrissie. When the VCR’s running, it’s fuck film time.”

  “Why are guys such pigs?”

  Nate shrugs and starts rummaging through Neil’s bag. “Boredom. We’re only pigs when we’re bored.”

  “Then Josh is bored 24/7.”

  “Josh is not that bad. Stop giving him shit. He doesn’t hate you. He just gets easily pissed off by the wrong things because he’s so tight with Neil. Besides, who cares about Josh? The rest of us like you, Chrissie. You’re a pretty OK girl. If we had to have a band chick this tour, we’re glad it’s you.”

  “Yuck. Band chick? I’m not a band chick. Don’t call me that.”

  “Suit yourself. Band chick is not a pejorative.”

  I relax against my pillow and watch him as he continues violating Neil’s privacy by taking the shit out of his bag. I should tell him to stop, I don’t even go through Neil’s stuff, but I don’t say anything.

  It’s better to roll with this and it’s nice that Nate told me that the guys like me. They’re pretty cool guys. They give me crap, but I bet if someone disrespected me they’d defend me before I could say Hardy Boys.

  It’s like having three big brothers, though Josh is more like the oppressive, disapproving uncle always in my face about something.

  Nate pulls a bottle of JD out of the case. He holds it up in Neil’s direction. “Hey, man, can I drink this or do you plan to throw it at the side of the bus later?”

  Nate starts to laugh, and I give him a hard smack in his chest. How the hell do they always know everything? And why do they have to be so rude and let me know it?

  “Asshole,” I exclaim.

  “Don’t worry. Neil didn’t even hear me.”

  He unscrews the top. He takes a long swallow, offers me the bottle, and when I shake my head, he takes another gulp. He sits there for a while, staring at me, searching my face.

  “What was all that shit about last night?” he asks.

  I flush. “Nothing. It’s private. No big deal.” Then frustration forces me to ask. “How do you guys know everything that happens with us the second it happens?”

  He takes another drink.
“Nicole. She was in her room last night. Heard every word. Said Neil was throwing things. Came to my room, pounded on my door. And trust me, I didn’t want to be interrupted last night. But she ordered me to go break it up before someone sent for the cops and if Neil put so much as a finger on you, that I had better kick his ass or Vincent would. And that I should be smart and not leave it to Delmo to take care of.”

  I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Fuck. It’s so humiliating on the road. As if Neil would hit me. As if he’d hit anyone.”

  He reclines on his side and arches a brow. “You mean other than Andy? That one still doesn’t make sense to me. Neil is a total pacifist and he fucked up Andy good. Anyway, you guys were quiet when I got to your room, so I didn’t knock—you’re welcome, by the way—and I figured Nicole got it wrong and everything was cool.”

  I stare at him, hard. “Everything is cool. Nicole definitely got it wrong.”

  “I didn’t think he would step out of line with you, but my boy was acting weird last night. Edgy. Going off on everyone.”

  I don’t want to think about the events of last night, so I ignore that comment and resolve to focus on my journal. Nate watches me expectantly, takes a sip from the bottle and then starts reading my most personal thoughts again.

  We lie together quietly for a while. Nate has been in an unusually talkative mood. I debate with myself whether to ask.

  I look over at him. “Why does Josh dislike me so much? Is it just that guy loyalty thing because I broke up with Neil for a while? Or is it something else?”

  “Something else.” He turns a page.

  I stare at him, impatiently. “Well?”

  “I don’t want to get in the middle of it.”

  “Too late. You already put yourself in the middle of it with the he doesn’t really hate you comment. You shouldn’t have told me that if you didn’t want me to ask you to explain.”

  “Shit. That’s totally fucked-up logic. I’m not in the middle of anything.”

  I ease over to lie on my side and stare. Nate breathes in, he breathes out, and then he finally turns to face me.