Immaterial Defense: Once and Forever #4

by Lauren Stewart

  “Yessssir,” he answered, smiling sloppily. Probably having already forgotten my suggestion.

  But I needed to know if he’d really been talking about the Sara I wanted to see. Was she really here? Shit. What if she’d seen us play? I’d told her I was a writer—which was true—so maybe she’d think the band was just a hobby. Lots of normal guys with normal jobs play in bands on the weekend. Not at huge clubs like Tunnel Vision, but maybe that wouldn’t occur to her.

  Wait. If I actually got a chance to talk to her again, did I really want to have another lie ready? We’d moved past that. In fact, she’d made herself perfectly clear last time we saw each other. She wasn’t offering what I wanted and vice versa. So, why keep lying about something I shouldn’t have lied about to begin with?

  “Focus for one more second, buddy. Then we’ll get a cab.” I snapped my fingers in front of Trevor’s face. “What did she say besides my name?”

  “She asked about the band, but mostly she asked about you. I introduced her to Sam and Pete.”

  Great. Now they’d have more fodder to tease me with.

  “She really likes you, Dec. And you like her. That’s why I invited her to come tonight. For you.” He poked me in the chest with his finger. “Because you’re too stupid to go after her yourself, and you deserve somebody who makes you happy. You’re welcome, my friend.”

  “Thanks, Trev.” Although I wasn’t sure how thankful I felt. When had he invited her? What did he tell her about me?

  He glanced around the club for who knows what before opening his eyes and mouth widely and pointing toward the bar. “Hey! There’s the chick who was with her.” There were a dozen different women he could’ve been pointing at.

  “The one in the red dress.”

  Shockingly, there was only one in a red dress.

  As much as I’d have liked to talk to her, especially if Sara were still here somewhere, I had a drunk to take care of. Fuck it. As long as Trevor didn’t drink anything else… Speaking of which…

  I took the empty beer bottle out of his fist. “Let’s go talk to her, buddy.”

  “And then I can get another beer.”

  “No, that’s not going to happen. But I do respect your perseverance.” I grabbed both of his shoulders, spun him around, and marched him toward the woman in the red dress. “Hang out here a second, Trev. Then we’ll go.”

  “M’kay.” Trevor got distracted by something only he saw and pulled away from me to go find it. I really wanted to find out if Sara was still here and if she’d seen the set, but I couldn’t do that with two hands on my friend. So, I let him go. Right after I slipped his wallet out of his pocket just in case. Since he wasn’t female, no money meant no more drinks.

  I had to be quick. I walked up to the woman in red, knowing there was a good chance Trevor had gotten her mixed up with someone else. Or that the Sara who'd asked for me wasn’t the one I wanted it to be.

  I tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Hey, are you a friend of Sara…?” Fuck, I didn’t even know her last name. And they were probably fifty thousand women named Sara in San Francisco.

  Oh shit. The smile that had appeared when she turned around disappeared faster than it had shown up.

  “Oh, my gosh.” Her excitement was non-existent, but her sarcasm was completely on point. “If it isn’t Declan Hollis.” She downed the rest of whatever she’d been drinking. If the glossiness of her eyes was any indication, that glass hadn’t been the first she’d emptied tonight.

  “Hey, Carissa,” I said hesitantly. “Small world. Good to see you again.” I was ninety-nine percent sure Trevor had pointed me toward the wrong woman, but I had to check on that last one percent. “Do you know a woman—?

  “You guys need to figure out what the fuck is going on between you.”

  “Me and…” I said slowly, “Trevor?”

  “No,” she grumbled. “You and Sara. It’s annoying.”

  “Sorry about that.” Although, I wasn’t exactly sure what that was. Did she mean Sara was complaining about me in the same stupid, confusing way as I was with Trevor? “Maybe, if I knew where Sara was, she and I could talk and stop annoying our friends.” I looked at her with a pitiful expression until she responded.

  She shrugged. “Worth a shot. Although, you know how she is.”

  No, I didn’t. Not really. But I wanted to. “Can you tell me where she is?”

  “She tried to find you, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “How long ago?”

  “She tried to get close to you right after your set was done, but she couldn’t get past those girls who swarmed you.” She took a step closer to me and tilted her head. “That’s gotta be freaky. Women just coming up, thinking they can have a piece of you.”

  “It’s pretty freaky alright.”

  “Seriously, Declan...”

  Almost as freaky as hearing my name slurred like that.

  “You look so fucking hot when you sing. If things don’t work out between you and Sara, I’d be happy to take your mind of it.”

  “Thanks, Carissa,” I said. “That’s…nice of you.”

  If she could actually remember this moment in the morning, she would probably regret coming on to the guy her friend kept annoying her about.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “Can you believe she didn't know who you were? Not a clue. I’m mean, not that you’re world-famous...yet. But you’re California-famous. And West Coast-famous. And a lot of other places-famous.”

  So Sara knew. She must have found out before Trevor had invited her to see us play. But when? Before or after she’d listened to my idiotic attempt to keep her from finding out?

  “Seriously, Declan, you should’ve seen her face when I told her…” She turned back to the bar and waved at the bartender’s back. “Hey, Micky!”

  “When did you tell her? Carissa?” Damn, I was losing her. “Hey.” I patted her shoulder, knowing my time to find out anything else was almost up. “When did you tell Sara about me?”

  “Micky!” When the bartender turned our way, she looked down to get her glass.

  Luckily, I was a head taller than her, so he could see me, too. I shook my head and signaled that he should cut her off.

  “Bastard,” she yelled when he pretended he hadn’t heard her and went to get someone else’s order. “I was with her at the karaoke bar that night, you know that? It was my idea to go there to begin with. If I hadn’t begged her to come with me it could’ve been you and me that night.”

  I thought about repeating my question a third time, but it wasn’t worth it. “I’m gonna find you a ride home, okay? Right after you tell me where Sara went.”

  She looked up, trying to access a memory that couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes old. Then she shrugged. “To your guy’s house, I guess.”

  My breath stopped. “What guy?”

  “Your drum guy.” She pantomimed playing. “Um...Sam!”

  “Wait a sec. She went home with Sam?” I felt my body tighten, my hand curl into a fist. Sam knew I was interested in her. He’d had just as much fun teasing me about it as Trevor had. Almost as much, anyway.

  If she’d been asking about me, how the fuck did both of them decide it was a good idea to go home together?

  Carissa leaned toward me to whisper, but it came out just as loud as every other word she’d said. “Every girl should sleep with someone in a band at least once in her life. I told her that.” The more she said, the more I wished this noise would drown her out. “Not a shitty nothing band, a good one. Like yours.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe she didn’t know who you even were. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “Yep. Pretty crazy.” It was impossible to laugh with all my brainpower being used up by the idea that Sam had taken Sara home. Was everyone going crazy? Including me?

  “She thought you were just a regular guy.”

  “I am just a regular guy,” I mumbled.

  I grew up with an alco
holic as a best friend, and my office consisted of whichever nightclub or special event venue we booked that week. So, I’d had more than my fair share of conversations with drunks. That’s why, when Carissa’s lips turned into a pout, I knew she had already derailed from her previous thought and was about to switch to a completely different topic.

  “Declan,” she whined, leaning on me. “Will you take me to the Grammys? Your drummer guy said he’d take Sara, but I want to go, too.”

  What came out of my mouth didn’t qualify as a laugh. “First off, the drummer guy isn’t going to the Grammys. Second—” Why bother explaining anything to someone who didn’t care? Fuck it. I was beginning to wonder if anyone cared about anything anymore. “Carissa, are you here with someone?”

  When she bit her lower lip, I added, “Someone who can make sure you get home.”

  “Sara, but she left,” she said, shaking her head. “Didn’t I just tell you that?”

  “Come with me.” I offered her my arm, which she happily took, and went outside. I put her in the first cab I saw, handing the driver forty bucks and repeating the address Carissa had given me. Hopefully not because she assumed I was going with her.

  “Good night, Carissa. Make sure you take an aspirin and drink some water as soon as you get home.” I slammed the door on her confused expression, wanting to scream, break something, throw a huge temper tantrum in the middle of the road.

  And the most fucked-up part is that no one would be surprised. Because guys in bands get loaded and fuck whoever’s the closest. Right? Guys in bands didn't want to get to know a woman because he thought there was something special about her, something he wanted to figure out. Guys in bands shared the spoils of being guys in bands and didn’t care when one of them took home a woman his friend was confused about.

  I stormed back into the club to find Trevor, cursing him, everyone else in this hellhole, and the two people I’d thought I knew who had left earlier…together.

  Fuck it. Sam hadn’t forced her. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the joke was on me for thinking she was different. Different than anybody else who wanted nothing from me but a good fuck and to say she’d screwed a musician. I’d met enough of them—you’d think I’d be able to recognize the signs.

  But no. I’d thought Sara was real. I’d thought she actually liked me. I’d even considered the possibility that we could last—because she hadn’t known who I was. Didn’t see me as that guy in the band. Actually saw me as a man. As me.

  But she’d already known who I was, probably from the very first night we were together. Carissa must have recognized me at the karaoke bar and filled Sara in when they’d gone to the bathroom or something. So, while I’d thought everything was real, it had been just as phony as everything else. And the fact that she was the most amazing woman I’d ever been with made me feel even worse.

  More used.

  More used up.

  “I want out of this life!” Even though I screamed it, the music was too loud for anyone to hear me.

  Or maybe they had, and they just didn’t care. Because it didn’t matter what that guy in the band wanted anyway, did it?

  17

  Sara

  I swear, if Declan saves me from this man within the next two minutes I’ll give up chocolate and start going to church every Sunday with my mom.

  I took it back as soon as I thought it. Nothing was worth that sacrifice. And I didn’t really need saving from Sam. He was a million times nicer than Cal and couldn’t hurt a fly. But damn, could he talk.

  I’d been standing there, nodding and agreeing with him for over—I glanced at my phone—twenty minutes, and I hadn’t even tried to end the one-sided conversation. Probably because the music was so loud, I could only make out half of what he was saying.

  When the band’s drummer had told me he knew where Declan was I’d thought he would take me right to him. But Sam had somehow decided that by choosing to following him, I’d also agreed to listen to him complain about how hard his life was. I mean, yeah, it wasn’t all Nobel Peace prizes and parades, but what did he expect? He had great rhythm and got paid to hit some drums with two sticks of wood in front of shockingly impressed fans. It wasn’t as if he were flipping burgers for minimum wage.

  At least he recognized the irony—slipping in occasional comments about how this had been his dream for as long as he could remember and that, despite his complaints, he knew how lucky he was.

  Made me wonder if anyone thought about all the potential downsides of their dream before they were actually living it.

  Thankfully, Sam hadn’t said anything I’d consider a come-on. No bad pickup lines or hints he was interested in doing anything other than talk my ear off.

  “Declan will be back soon, right?” I shouted to make sure he could hear me above the music.

  My interruption didn’t even faze him. “Yep. He promised. Dec always keeps his promises.”

  Oh, how I hoped that were true. For countless reasons. Of course, I had to fault Declan a little on his truthfulness. Or lack thereof. Granted, we hadn’t spent that much time together…talking, but why did he tell me he was a writer and leave out everything else?

  Now I knew he was the lead singer of a really popular band. Oddly, the lie that might’ve angered someone else actually made me more interested in him. I knew my reasons for hiding parts of my life, but I didn’t know his. And that created a sad little bond I didn’t have with anyone else.

  Why would anyone hide that? The crowd adored him. And damn, he was a fantastic singer. I loved the gritty, sex-oozing quality of his speaking voice, and his singing voice was even better. I could still hear it when I closed my eyes. Something I’d been doing a lot while Sam explained in great detail how drummers never get the girls.

  I could still picture Declan gripping the microphone during the only slow song they’d played, closing his eyes and holding the mic to his mouth. There was actually something incredibly sexual about it—a gorgeous man brushing his lips across something shaped an awful lot like my vibrator. I’d never imagined that would be hot, but it was. So very, very hot.

  I’d never been into popular music much. I was someone who loved to groove out to whatever was on the radio, but I didn’t care about the names or personalities of the musicians, let alone who they were dating. Until now, anyway.

  Now, I cared very deeply about who one particular musician was dating. And even though I had absolutely no right to feel that way, I really hoped he wasn’t dating or sleeping with anyone. Anyone…else. How ironic that I’d been the one to tell him he wasn’t allowed to care about me and then, once I’d effectively pushed him away, I prayed he did care.

  I didn’t believe in fate. Declan rescuing me from Cal in that alley a week after we’d spent the night together was totally random. So was my office being in the same building as Trevor’s shrink, and that I happened to be on that elevator at the exact moment Trevor stepped onto it. And that he’d handed me a flyer to a club where unbeknownst to me, he and Declan’s band was playing.

  Totally circumstantial. Not that I’d want to have to prove it to a jury of my peers or anything.

  “Maybe we should go to the entrance,” I said, mostly to stop thinking. “Then we’ll see him come in.”

  Sam shrugged. “Okay.” He led me through the crowd with his arm over my shoulder to shield me from the occasional flailing appendage of a few overexcited clubgoers.

  “You really don’t have to wait with me, Sam.” I felt a little guilty, as if I were using this perfectly nice guy to get to Declan. But that’s not how it had started and certainly wasn’t my intent. Sam didn’t seem to mind or be surprised, though. I guess it happened a lot.

  “I want to. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Girls tend to notice the guy in front more than the guy in back hiding behind the drum set.”

  My guilt disappeared, and my insecurity flooded in as I imagined countless women throwing themselves at Declan. He was the lead singer of
a band, gorgeous, and sexy as hell.

  Since the end of my awkward teen years, I’d never doubted my attractiveness, never had any problems getting whomever I wanted, but then again, I’d never competed with an entire city of other women before.

  No, this wasn’t a competition. And even if it were, I was fairly sure I’d be among the top contenders. I mean, how many other women did Declan have time to actively pursue? How many other women did he admit to caring about…right before he walked away?

  So, tonight wasn’t about proving anything. Tonight was just about congratulating him on a great performance and wishing him the best for the future. Right?

  It took my brain a minute to snap out of my insecurity and focus on the message my eyes were sending. Maybe it was because a single person was standing still in this flood of people pouring through the entrance.

  “Declan.” I smiled at him and lifted my hand to wave.

  He stared at me, his eyes tight and intense, occasionally glancing at Sam before shooting back to me.

  I never got around to actually waving, my hand just hanging in the air. Again, there was a short delay between what I was seeing and what my mind actually took in, but it got there eventually.

  He looked pissed. Even more so when he shoved his way through the crowd toward us. If I’d been able to, I would’ve backed up, but the space had already been filled, and I had nowhere left to go.

  “Hey, Dec!” Sam yelled. “I was—”

  “I know what you were doing, Sam. And we’ll discuss it tomorrow.” He didn’t even look at his friend, his glare solely for me. For a reason I didn’t understand. “But I’d like to have a quick chat with your date, if that’s okay with you.”

  When Sam’s arm flew off my shoulder and he stepped back, I understood what Declan might have misunderstood.

  “Sam’s not my date.”

  “Right,” he snapped. “Because you don’t date. Can’t believe I forgot that. Well, then I’d like to have a quick word before you go fuck my friend. That better?”