Hard Body Rock
Page 6
That made me smile. “So he really never told you about how he auditioned two years back?”
Lola's fingers were wet from clutching her glass. “He what? I—why wouldn't he tell me that?”
It was Brenda who spoke first. “Drez, stop. You said if I thought it was fine, then it was fine. It doesn't matter what Sean did, he's not holding some grudge against you.”
My mind tickled, recalling how Sean had knocked over one of my amps after I'd told him the bad news. I knew what hatred looked like. I'd dealt with it my whole life. Could a guy like that let a grudge go so easily? Johnny's face swam behind my eyeballs. “Why are you so sure?”
She propped her cheek on her fist. “Because he came to me this morning, asking me to consider our friend Lola here for the open slot.”
My fingers slid to my jeans, seeking the shape of my cigarette pack. “He came to fucking see you this morning?” The hard ball that was my guts only got worse when I saw Lola biting her lower lip. An awful idea hit me. “Did you tell him to do that for you, Lola?”
She shook her head quickly, sensing the distrust wafting off of me. I was sure she had to feel it. I was boiling with a sensation of betrayal. Had this all been orchestrated without my knowledge somehow? “I didn't know about the audition until Sean told me. He did say he'd talked to your manager, though.” Those lovely blue eyes fixed on Brenda.
“Drezden, calm down.” Her voice was a thick, hard line. Brenda had no patience for my moods, never had. “You're getting that look in your eyes.”
“What look?” I growled, drinking from my beer. It was empty somehow. When had I finished it? The warm buzz in my skull had no answers.
Reaching over, she slid her manicured nails onto Lola's shoulder. “The look that says you're about to say or do something stupid. Lola didn't trick you, Sean didn't do anything. Even if they somehow had arranged things, it was still on you to choose her for the band. How could they force your hand? What would they gain?”
She's right, I thought sullenly. I'm looking at this the wrong way. The kid didn't do anything, and how could there be a conspiracy at all? Staring at Lola's face, I felt a tug in my belly. She's innocent, it isn't her fault her older brother was an asshole. Two years ago, even. I'm being paranoid.
“Listen,” the guitarist said, her voice soft and frail. “I don't know about you and Sean, or why he never told me about—well. The thing is, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even be here.” Her shrug was pleading, her gaze more so. It took everything I had to face down her blue depths and the gentle curls at the edges of her frown.
Rubbing my neck, hating how much I was sweating, I grunted. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm probably being the real asshole here, the thing with your brother was long ago, I bet he didn't mention it to you because he forgot.” My smile wasn't really sincere, neither were my words.
There was no way Sean had forgotten about that day. But, the chances of him plotting against me were on the level of evil scheming that only happened in movies.
Lola's smile bloomed. It froze me stiff, worse than my angry shock had. She was so fucking real. I'd never known someone who could smile so honestly. It touched her eyes, turned them into a calm sea.
I wanted to drown in it.
“Yeah,” she said, sipping from her beer. “Besides, he's got other things to worry about. He is the lead guitar in Barbed Fire, you know?”
Of course I knew. “Right. Glad he's doing good for himself.” Truthfully, I didn't give a shit. Lola did, and if my comments could make her beam like she was, what was the harm?
Plus, I thought privately, I think I'm getting a kick out of seeing her smile. My mouth twitched to match the kid's. Shit, what is happening to me?
I caught Brenda peering at me. Turning away, spotting the waitresses and the food, relief flooded me. It was an instant subject changer. “That looks great,” I said, blessing Scarlett with a wink.
She nearly dropped the tray. “Oh! Uh, thanks! It's our Paradise Chicken.” Her cheeks were glowing when she put it in front of me. “It's my favorite, like you asked for.”
Inhaling the scent of pineapples and the tang of spices, I nodded. “Glad I did. Thanks for your expertise.”
The young waitress looked lost. Her friend nudged her, reminding Scarlett that we all needed utensils. The girls set the table, and with the sounds of Porter and Colt cheering in my ears, I felt myself relaxing.
Chewing on the sweet chicken, my eyes flicked over to Lola. She was working on her second beer. With her lips touching the rim, she leveled her attention on me.
There was a river of fire slowly crawling through my veins. The tides were rising, I was keen to blame the alcohol. It took a lot to get me drunk, but the strong beer was doing its job.
She set the glass down slowly, fingers shaking. “What? What is it?” she asked.
Brushing my hair back, I reclined in my chair. “Just wondering how your food is.”
Lola nudged the plate towards me. “It's just fries and chicken, try it.”
Grabbing up a tender, I took a bite off the end. The batter crunched, the sound of snapping branches. The flavor spread over my tongue. “Not bad at all. A little salty, maybe.”
Her smile was muted. “I like things salty.” In spite of her words, her plate was still mostly full.
Why would she be eating so little if she—Oh, I thought, right. Her tongue. I bet the salt hurts on that wound she gave herself. Thinking of that moment on the bus, my fingers holding her cheeks so she was trapped with me...
Nostrils flaring, I started to cut into my chicken. “Here, try some of mine.” Offering the fork to her, the bit of white meat and pineapple glinted between us. I expected her to take the utensil from me.
Lola swayed over the table, teeth plucking the food right off the end of my fork. My jaw dropped, and it was a miracle the fork didn't, too.
The fact she had taken it as she had, that she was chewing now with a tiny half-smile, it was sending tremors to my bones. Is the kid fucking with me now? She'd done something meant for lovers, not new band acquaintances.
Clearing my throat, I shifted on the chair. Her pink lips and pinker cheeks had made my jeans too tight. The inside of my zipper, even with my boxers, was becoming a cruel enemy. “Is it, uh, well. Do you like it?”
Lola nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “A little too sugary, but still good.”
My plate slid her way, fingers betraying me. “Here, just have mine then.”
“I—what?”
Her barely eaten plate was still warm. Pulling it to me, I slapped away her hand when she reached for it. “Just trade with me.” Cocking a brow, I gave her a meaningful look. The corner of my eye told me Brenda was gawking at us both. “That sugary stuff will go down easier, got it?”
Personally, I didn't care if Brenda found out about how she'd chewed her tongue up. She'd dealt with worse. There was a good chance she'd roll her eyes and think Lola did it accidentally, if she didn't just shake her head to signal it wasn't her problem.
But Lola cares. One look at her pale face made that obvious.
Swallowing loudly, she started chopping at the meal with deliberate motions. “Uh. Thanks, Drezden.”
In answer, I crunched down on a fry.
Most of the evening went as expected. We ate, we drank, and there was even some laughter. Most was from Porter and Colt, but it still counted.
Scarlett kept my beer topped off, long after I stopped gulping them down. My skull was tingling with the warm tickles of alcohol. I hadn't been buzzed in a long while.
The dark-haired waitress said something, bending low as she did so. “What was that?” I asked. Her smell was grease and cloying lavender. No doubt she'd been on shift for hours.
“I said,” she whispered, crouching down to blow on my ear, “I get off in thirty minutes. What are you doing after this? I'd kill to see your tour bus.”
My smile was brittle. Across from me, I found Lola staring intently. Bren
da was babbling at her, yet she was stuck on me like fresh ice.
Was she jealous?
Scarlett's fingers glided down, touching my knee. I clasped her thin wrist before she dared to go further. “Listen.” My voice wasn't even strained; I'd been down this road before. Fighting off groupies after a show was much harder. “I can't.”
“You can't?” She stiffened, gaze flicking from my face, to my grip, then back.
Letting the waitress go, I leaned in just enough so only she could hear me. “Sorry. I meant won't.” Grinding the chair back, I got to my feet. “Colt, want to shoot some pool?”
“Fuck yes,” the drummer laughed, nearly falling from his seat. “I'll beat you this time, too.”
Though I made a beeline for the green-felt table in the room, I couldn't stop myself from looking back. Just one small, scant look.
There were two pairs of eyes watching me. One, the dark pits of a girl who'd been scorned.
And two...
Lola's deep sapphires were perfectly relieved. It sent a thrill to my core. One that was all too soon replaced by tense muscles.
I wanted too much to believe she was happy I'd denied the girl. No, I told myself, yanking a pool stick off the wall. I could have broken it in my ripple of confused emotions. Stop getting excited over the prospect. You're making up signs that she likes you, when you should be spending your energy resisting the very concept.
Crushing too much chalk on the tip of the cue, I stared at the back of Lola's head. Sometimes, even if it was the right decision, choosing music over other things made me feel hollow.
I couldn't risk the band over a fucking pair of pretty blue eyes that turned my blood to liquid silver.
It was too reckless.
For them...
And for her.
Chapter Five.
Lola
There was too much alcohol in my blood. But even worse... there was starting to be too much of something else. I didn't have a name for it. I only knew that it flared up when he was too close.
When Drezden Halifax got near me, something clawed up from my very center.
Brenda was giggling, tangled up on my arm and saying something about me looking like my older brother. Porter and Colt were having an argument over who had actually won at pool.
With four (or was it five?) beers in me, I'd lost track of Drez in the fading hours of the evening.
I just wanted to get away.
“Excuse me,” I said, pulling away from Brenda and her twisting mouth. The red of her lips reminded me too much of fake, Halloween wax candy.
She let me go, her hand hovering in the air. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Just to get some air.” The migraine that pulsed needed more than fresh air, but I'd take it over the stifling back room of the restaurant.
Brenda frowned, not moving to stop me. “If you need to go out, use that door there.” Pointing, she drew my eyes to an exit in the far corner. It was meant more for escaping fires. It was hot enough in here that it seemed appropriate.
I wondered why we hadn't entered that way. If we'd wanted to avoid the insanity of the fans swarming the place, it would have been logical. It hurt too much to think. Instead, I gave a brief nod and stumbled towards the metal door.
The sky was purple and black. It reminded me of Drezden, of the centers of his eyes when he got angry...
Or passionate.
Stop, stop thinking about him like that. It's weird and perverse.
There were no clouds, the stars pulling at me. Inhaling till my ribs threatened to break, I held my breath. Could I just float up, vanish forever into that void and not have to deal with the insanity growing in my heart?
Closing my lids, I saw a flicker of memory. Drez, offering me a fork of food. And me, as I imagined myself from the outside, leaning in to take it like some pathetic dog.
What made me do that?
I couldn't make sense of anything anymore.
My lungs burned, I breathed out quickly. I could hear the gentle buzzing of people just around the edges of the building.
On shaking legs, I walked until I spotted the throngs of groupies and roadies, all that couldn't fit inside the restaurant. I danced on my decision to move into view, expecting them to rush at me. But they won't, I realized. No one knows me as a member of Four and a Half Headstones. Not yet. Not really yet.
To these people, in the dark of evening lit only by some lamps and small tin-can fires, I would be a blank face in the crowd.
Maybe, after they see me on stage...
Did I want that kind of attention? Part of me was thrilled by the idea. The rest of me was busy with the turmoil of confusion about how I was acting around Drezden.
Even then, if—when—I get on stage, if I fuck up like I was doing earlier, these people will remember me for all the wrong reasons.
My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw.
Tonight was so weird. Drez was cold, then a magnet, then off of me again. Flirting with that girl, talking about Sean like there was something going on under the surface.
Reaching for my pocket, I felt for my phone. Sean had told me to talk to him after everything. I was sure he was somewhere around, possibly even in the restaurant, hoping to run into me.
Clutching the cold device wasn't comforting. I was tired, a bit drunk, and not sure what to even tell him. Yes Sean, I fucked up today at my first practice. Why? Because I turned into a sloppy mess around Drezden. I really fucked up. Oh don't worry, I got better. How? I just chewed up my own tongue.
Sean would be pissed, or worse, disappointed if he found out I'd given into something like self-injury. After everything I'd worked to get over as a teenager, I couldn't handle seeing his face scrunch up in shame.
Tomorrow. I'll talk to him tomorrow.
Weaving through the laughing, drunken crowd, I headed towards the tour bus. There were a few men standing near the front door, men I hadn't seen before. They took one look at me, arms folded to transform them into standing walls of muscle. “What is it, little lady?” one of them asked.
I almost told him to eat a dick. The edges of my lips felt dry, licking them did little. My near-to-drunk state made my brain muddled. “I need to get inside.”
Their laughter cut deep. “Yeah? Sure you do. Get lost before I help you find your way,” a particularly fat guard said.
Shaking my head, I fought down a wave of frustration. “Let me the fuck inside,” I growled, pushing forward. “I just want to go to sleep—”
Wind fled me, my back hitting the hard cement. Above me, I was blessed by the spray of starlight. Everything felt underwater. Did someone just push me down?
Sitting up on my elbows, ignoring the dull burning on my raw skin, I stared at the guards. They'd actually knocked me over!
“What the hell?” I coughed, forcing in delicious air. Rocking on my side, I stumbled to my feet. “What was that for?”
No sympathy existed in the eyes of those men. Behind me, the sea of people was a background of emotionless ignorance. No one cared about what was happening to me, no one gave a single shit.
Swaying forward, I went to shove one of the men. I didn't have a plan; I was just bursting with rage that had no where to go.
Easily, the guard dodged me. Another pair of hands grabbed me and shoved me sideways. All around me the men roared with laughter. It felt too much like I was being spun on a roller coaster.
Landing hard, palms splaying on the ground, I wasn't proud when I threw up. On hands and knees, shivering in shame, I stared down at my puke and coughed.
My brain itched, recalling a time when I was in middle school. How I'd started a fight with some kids, then ended up just like this. Broken, a weak mess.
Back then, the only person who cared was... was Sean. Lifting my eyes, I fought through my daze and expected to see the face of my older brother.
A hand came down, curling in my scalp. Ripped to my feet, I jabbed an elbow at one of them and shouted. “Let me go!”
/> In response, my head was yanked back. I couldn't see the sky that time. It didn't matter. Behind my eyes, stars of color bloomed.
No, no one cared about me.
I fell again, crumbling in a heap on the asphalt. Bile slid down my chin; I was relieved it wasn't blood. Over me, the voices were loud, men laughing at me where I was crouched.
They're going to throw me aside, now. And no one will do a thing about it.
The metallic sound of the bus doors opening cut through, even in my confused state. Looking up, the guards and I gazed at the silhouette of a broad man. A man who, in just a tanktop and jeans, was more intimidating than the group of guards surrounding me.
Drezden's eyes scalded like acid. “What the fuck is going on out here?”
My stomach tightened, I nearly wretched again. Good, now he's here to see me like this. It was just what I needed. My shame was complete.
“Sorry, sir,” a gravelly voice said. Hard fingers gripped my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. In spite of myself, I gave a pained cry. “Just another drunken bitch starting trouble, trying to break in. We'll take her out of the way for you.”
My chin swung, I caught a glimpse of the black clouds above. Walk away and you won't bleed, walk away and I am freed. No more stars, I thought bitterly.
Someone was grabbing me around the middle, hoisting me against their chest. Musk and tobacco filled my world. “You god damn idiots,” Drez said over me, “are you blind? This is Lola Cooper, our new guitarist. Jesus Christ, what did you do to her?”
Soft cloth pressed on my cheek. I'm leaning against Drezden. It was a stunning realization. No, he's holding me to him. Looking up, I saw the slightly rough stubble on his lower jaw. I couldn't see his face, though the raw disgust in his voice said enough.
The guards stammered, speaking over each other. “But she—”
“Shut up, just stop,” Drez snapped. Gently, he guided me to follow him. “I'll have Brenda talk to your boss. I should have guessed some for-hire goons wouldn't have a clue who to keep out and who to let inside.”