Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1)

by Bogino, Jeanne

  “It won’t affect the band,” Quinn said firmly.

  “Sure it will, but maybe it’ll be for the better. Can’t wait to hear the tunes you guys come up with now.” He grinned, lifting the final bite of steak to his lips. “It’s about time you snaked her plumbing. How was it?”

  When Quinn didn’t respond, Ty’s grin widened. “What is it, classified? Come on, dude, gimme the goods.” Quinn remained silent and Ty whooped. “It must be too personal to share!”

  Quinn speared him with a dangerous look, but Ty was still chortling. “Who woulda thought that little chicklet could ambush the wild man?” Quinn continued to glower and Ty snickered again. “I’m going to track down Dazz, chill him out some before we’re all stuck on the bus. You want to come?”

  “No. I’d better start with Shan.”

  “Yup. You keep that little woman happy.” Quinn shot him another deadly look and Ty was still laughing as he left the restaurant.

  chapter 38

  Quinn checked Shan’s room, then the bus. She wasn’t in either place, nor in the bar or any of the hotel shops, so he headed for the swimming pool, a sumptuous enclave resembling a tropical lagoon with lush gardens, fountains, and waterfalls. He didn’t see her there, so he began checking the alcoves that housed the various hot tubs and whirlpools surrounding it.

  He was dismayed when, instead of Shan, he found Denise in one of the hot tubs. She’d changed to a swimsuit and a big sun hat and she was alone, sipping an orange drink from a tall glass. When she spotted him, her mouth twisted into a moue of disgust. “What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for Shan,” he said. “Have you seen her?”

  “She’s in the sauna.” Denise said, jerking her head in the direction of a nearby cabana marked ladies bath house. “Hopefully sweating every trace of you right out of her body.”

  He scowled, relieved but annoyed to find Shan here, with Denise standing guard like some kind of hat-wearing, Mimosa-swilling Cerberus. “Is it possible for us to quietly coexist until she comes out?” he inquired. “I’ve already heard more than enough from you today.”

  “Dan always says you have the ears of a bat, but I don’t think you ever hear anything that isn’t exactly what you want to hear, Quinn.”

  “What am I supposed to be hearing? You’ve already shared what a selfish prick you think I am. Duly noted. I’d appreciate it now if you’d just shut the fuck up.”

  “I will not shut up,” she shot back, “any more than I would shut up and watch someone step in front of a bus when all it would take to save them is a word of warning. I will keep talking until Shan hears me.”

  “Shan doesn’t need to hear anything from you. She doesn’t need saving either,” he said, “but I wish someone would save me from your big fucking mouth. Where’s Dan?”

  “In the fitness center.” She gestured vaguely in another direction.

  That figured. Dan was under strict orders to work out every single day they weren’t on the road, the penance he paid for the privilege of going onstage half naked. He suppressed a sigh, but sat down on one of the lounge chairs to wait for Shan.

  Denise started right in. “You know how much she loves you, right? You know, but you don’t care. You’re going to break her heart and she might never recover. What a self-centered asshole you are, Quinn.”

  His temper flared anew. “You know, Denise, I’ve never done a goddamn thing to you, not ever, but you have behaved like a complete bitch in every single interaction I’ve ever had with you. You’re like a rabid dog.”

  She pulled off her sunglasses and he recoiled from the venom he saw in her eyes. “You’re the dog, Quinn, and you’ve done plenty to me. Plenty. You damage every woman you touch. First you fuck them, then you fuck them up, and you do it without a second thought.”

  “I’ve never fucked you up,” he insisted. “Or fucked you, either, for that matter.”

  She made a sound like she’d been punched in the gut. “Yes, you have,” she cried. “On both counts!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She stared at him mutely for a few moments, then, “You still don’t remember. Jesus Christ, Quinn!” She turned her face away. “Away from the lights of the city, we’re alone in the galaxy,” she sang. “Under the eyes of a million stars, there’s only you and me.”

  A thunderbolt of realization hit him. “Where did you hear that song?”

  “You sang it to me,” she said.

  He could barely remember the music festival where he’d written it. It was in D.C., a gig he’d played with the Accidental Evils and so experienced through a coke-fueled haze, but he did remember the girl who’d inspired the words.

  He’d thought of her a few times over the years, always in a sweet light, the pretty blonde with the camera. She’d been his own age, seventeen, with a sharp, saucy sense of humor that he liked. They’d hung out, gotten high, and eventually wound up making out, then making love back at the campground where she was staying, somewhere over the river in Virginia.

  Yes, he remembered her. She’d been sweet as a woman could be.

  “My god,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “Why? I’m just another chick you screwed, then ditched. When I saw you again, you didn’t know me. You’d forgotten all about me.” She pressed her lips together, squinting, and he understood, suddenly, how much he’d hurt her.

  He hesitated, thought back. “You looked different, back then. Your hair was longer. Blonde, not red, and you wore it in braids. And your name…” He frowned. “It wasn’t Denise.”

  “I went by D.J. then.” She shrugged. “I thought it was a good name for a photographer.”

  DJ from DC, he recalled, experiencing just a flash of that sweetness.

  “After I moved to New York, I saw a flyer for Quinntessence and remembered that was what you wanted to call your band someday. When I went to the show, though…nothing. Not a glimmer of recognition.” This time her eyes did fill.

  “I’m sorry, Denise. I really am.” He shook his head, dazed. “I was fucked up back then. It wasn’t about you.” He reached for her hand.

  She snatched it away before he could touch her. “Of course it wasn’t about me! It was about you! Isn’t everything?” She rose, grabbing her sunglasses and groping for her towel as she prepared to leave the hot tub.

  Christ. There were no words to make this better. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Dan doesn’t know, does he?”

  “God, no.” She shook her head, hard. “I don’t want him thinking he was sloppy seconds.”

  “He wasn’t, right? I mean, you aren’t still into me.”

  When her mouth fell open, he winced. What a stupid thing to say, because he already knew better. Denise despised him, always had, and now he knew why.

  She slammed her arm into the water, creating a mini-tsunami that doused him from head to toe. “You are a dick, Quinn. A selfish, self-obsessed dick and, no, I am not into you. I’m sure that’s hard for you to believe but, for the record, I happen to love my husband.”

  He winced again. “I know that. I’m so sorry,” he said and meant it. “I wasn’t implying…well, anything. And I never wanted to hurt you. I just…fucked up.”

  She sniffed in disbelief as she got out of the tub, pulled the towel around her hips, and shoved her feet into her flip-flops.

  “Shan…she doesn’t know, either, does she?” Quinn said. “About you and me.”

  “Why would I tell her? It would only hurt her. That’s what you do when you love somebody, Quinn. You treasure them and take care of them and you don’t hurt them. Try and remember that, dickhead.” She marched out of the alcove, hat jerking with indignation, leaving Quinn alone, soaking wet and staring into the water, and that was how Shan found him when she came out of the sauna.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he saw her. “I’m so sorry if I’ve ever done anything to hurt you, angel. I don’t want to hurt you, not ever again.”

  She s
topped short and he saw the confusion on her face. “I’m not hurt,” she told him. “I’m pissed. Did you really tell Dave that you’d fire him if he went out with me?”

  “Oh. Yes. Yes, I did.” He’d almost forgotten what had started the fracas, because his no-diddling-the-goddess rule paled to nothing beside Denise’s revelation.

  “That is so wrong, I don’t even know what to say about it,” she said.

  “Well, what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t about to take the chance that you might actually hook up with him, or Ty, either, for that matter.”

  “But it’s not for you to control what I do. I’m not some kind of trained animal.” She glared at him. “Although that’s exactly how you’ve been treating me, like a faithful puppy dog who’ll sit around forever, waiting and waiting and waiting for you.”

  “I didn’t think of it that way.” He shrugged. “This thing between us…it’s big for me. Huge, and I’m all in, one hundred percent.”

  “So am I! I’ve been all in, all along.”

  “But I had to be ready, like I kept telling you. I had to learn how to do this, had to…grow into it. In the meantime, I wasn’t about to let somebody else scoop you up. Dazz is a good guy. The best, in fact, and you two hit it off right from the start. I wouldn’t blame you if you fell for him, so I sure as fuck wasn’t going to stand by and watch it happen.”

  Shan stared at him for a moment, then dropped her eyes. “You’re such a dick, Q,” she said, so softly that it sounded like an endearment.

  “I know I am,” he said and pulled her into his arms. “A dick who couldn’t see what was right in front of him for all this time. But I see it now and I promise you something, angel. I will never hurt you. Never. You can believe in me.”

  “But I do,” she said, still confused. “I always have, Q.”

  He didn’t reply, just pulled her closer, vowing to himself to take care of her, this treasure that he’d been given.

  chapter 39

  After the first shock passed, the band adjusted to the new state of affairs. Dave smoldered, but not everyone was so negative. Ty and Dan found the situation uproarious and razzed Quinn at every opportunity. After a while, Dave’s inherently sunny nature kicked in and even he joined his bandmates in speculating on the intimate aspects of the relationship when Shan was out of earshot.

  “Wonder what the dirty stuff is like?” Ty mused. They were in Salt Lake, waiting for the roadies to finish setting up the stage monitors at the Delta Center.

  “She’s a sweet thing,” Dave said, clearly delighted to have an opportunity to share his own knowledge of the lady in question, “but a little conservative, you know, from a booty standpoint.” He grinned evilly at Quinn, whose color was rising.

  “Only with the lights out, you mean?” Dan smirked. “Wonder how the Q-man likes that?”

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t,” Ty said. “Not after the freaky slam hounds he’s used to.”

  Quinn ignored the crude and horny bastards. “Extra monitors in front of the keyboard,” he called to Stan, the head roadie. “How many times do I have to tell you this?”

  “Won’t even give us the details.” Ty shook his head. “What happened to the old studhammer we all know and love?”

  “He’s still a studhammer,” Dan said. “He’s just banging on the same nail.”

  Quinn scowled at Ty and Dan. “You’re pathetic, both of you,” he said, not acknowledging Dave, whom he wanted to hit. “Take your nosy fucking questions and shove them up your asses.”

  “Hey, we’re entitled to ask. Usually, you brag about your women,” Dan said. “Or rather, you brag about what your women do to you. Or what you do to them.”

  “Or, sometimes,” Ty added, “what they do to each other.”

  “Obviously this one is different,” Quinn said icily.

  “Because you’re whipped,” Ty clarified.

  Dan nodded. “That’s all we’re saying.”

  Shan was spared this exchange, as she was making her monthly methadone pickup. Because she’d tested clean for so long, she only had to visit a clinic once a month, when she would receive twenty-seven take homes at a time. Obtaining them on the road was difficult, though.

  Finding the clinics and scheduling the visits was something Jeff, their road manager, took care of. She was embarrassed, despite Lorraine’s assurance that this was not an unusual practice for a touring rock band. “It would be easier to get it off the street,” Shan complained to Quinn.

  “I know,” he said, because another of Jeff’s duties was procuring the recreational drugs for their bandmates. “Don’t you even think about it,” Quinn added, frowning at her.

  She hated the fact that, once again, the band had to make special accommodations for her. She wished she could just get off the stuff, but try as she might, she couldn’t kick that last dose. She couldn’t take the withdrawal. A methadone turkey was worse than coming off heroin.

  One of the security guards drove her to the clinic, which was just outside Salt Lake City, in Midvale. She got in line with the rest of the nod squad and waited her turn. This clinic was more thorough than some, requiring a physical exam as well as the standard drug screen. Not even rock stars were exempt from the piss test, apparently.

  She peed in the cup, endured the exam, and answered the questions without much interest until the counselor asked when her last period had been. She thought back. They’d been in Little Rock which was—

  Nine weeks ago?

  She collected her doses, pills now, much easier to manage on the road. On the way back to the Delta Center she had the driver stop at a drugstore, where she purchased a pregnancy test.

  She tried to stay calm, reminding herself that opiates screwed up a menstrual cycle. Back when she was using she’d hardly ever had a period. She still skipped them sometimes, but never thought much about it since prior to the last couple of months she’d never had much sex.

  They got caught in traffic and she’d worked herself into a near panic by the time she arrived at the amphitheater. The show began at seven, so she had barely enough time to change her clothes and gobble an energy bar before they were due onstage.

  Her performance was a little stilted and afterward Quinn raised his eyebrows at her. “Not your best,” he said. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Anyone can have an off night,” she huffed, collecting her backpack containing the pregnancy test.

  “Sure they can, but you’re shaking like a leaf.” He draped his leather jacket over her shoulders. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  She caught a whiff of his lime aftershave as she slid her arms into the jacket. It didn’t soothe her like it usually did and she escaped to the bathroom, where she pulled the test out of her bag, unwrapped the plastic stick, then followed the directions.

  She was waiting for the result, which seemed torturously slow in coming, when the bathroom door opened. She snatched up the stick and shoved it in her pocket.

  It was Quinn. “Don’t you ever knock?” she snarled.

  He glared back at her. “You’re in a charming mood,” he remarked. “There’s a crew here from Spin.” He stood aside to let her pass. “You’re definitely coming down with something,” he added. “You’re white as a sheet.”

  She suffered through an interview for the rock magazine, posed for a few photos, and hurried back to the bathroom as soon as she could escape. This time she leaned against the door before rooting through her backpack for the white stick.

  It wasn’t there. Then, she remembered. It was in the jacket pocket, where she’d shoved it. She’d taken it off for the photo shoot and left it on a chair in the greenroom.

  She hastened back there. Quinn was just pulling on the jacket as he gave Stan a few last-minute instructions. “Those Sennheisers have a special case,” he was saying. “I don’t care who packed them. If I find them in that condition again, somebody’s getting fired.” Helplessly she watched Quinn put his hands in his pockets, still lec
turing Stan, then glance down.

  She saw that he had the white plastic stick in his hand. He held it up, perplexed, examined it, then stared at it. Stared hard, for a long time. A very long time.

  When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were like saucers.

  “I can’t fucking believe this is happening,” Quinn said later, when they were in their room. They were sitting side by side on the bed, both staring straight ahead at the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” Shan said woodenly. She didn’t know what else to say, because she couldn’t believe it either. They went through more condoms than a brothel, but they had slipped just a few times. They should have known better, both of them, because they both knew that one little slip could change everything. And now it had.

  “Nobody to blame but ourselves. We’ve been irresponsible,” he said, his gaze not moving from the wall. “I’m usually Jimmy on the spot, too. How could I have been so careless?”

  “I’m sorry,” Shan said again, more softly.

  He shifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Can’t it ever just be easy?” he inquired, seemingly addressing some higher power. “Why does everything we do have to get so fucking complicated?”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, nearly whimpering this time.

  He swung around to face her. “Stop telling me you’re sorry!” he shouted.

  Shan snatched up a pillow and flung it at him, then dashed into the bathroom and threw up. She flushed the toilet, then sank onto the floor. She heard the door open. “Go away,” she choked.

  Instead she heard water running. Then he knelt to press a cool cloth against her forehead. “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just—shocked, I guess. Confused.”

  “Freaked. Me, too.”

  “I know,” he said and wiped her face with the washcloth.

  She felt her stomach beginning to roil again. “Get out, Q.” He shook his head, but she gave him a push. “Please? I don’t want you to see me this way.”

  “I’m the one who made you that way,” he pointed out and stayed put even when she threw up, gathering her hair into a tail to hold it away from her face.