The pang that shot through her was a physical pain that lacerated her stomach and her nerves. It remained as an echo to remind her of that time but she was used to it and she could ignore it without too much discomfort. She didn’t look at Riku, afraid he might notice. If anybody would, he would.
“So,” she said brightly. “Can we eat? I’m starving.”
Chick took her to the buffet table, either because he was perceptive enough to spot her edginess or he wanted to discover more about her. She guessed she needed to persuade him she wasn’t a hanger-on and she did her best.
Riku entertained Maddy until she got into conversation with another man standing at the table and Riku could join them. By then she’d recovered from her pain and had a plate full of good food that she was finally enjoying. Chick proved a great conversationalist and took her to a small chair-and-table grouping that magically emptied when he glared at the occupants.
“Do you want to meet the others?” Riku meant the other members of the band, she presumed.
She shook her head. “I’m scared I’ll go all fangirl squee on them. Give me a moment.”
Chick laughed. “Good move. They really hate that.”
She saw Zazz the singer and guitarist. Every member of the band played several instruments. For instance Hunter wasn’t only a drummer, he was a percussionist, mastering a variety of instruments. She recognized his girlfriend Sabina by the headphones she wore, heavy, padded affairs. Sabina had famously undergone a pioneering operation to restore her hearing and wore the phones when sound was high. The size, she’d said in an interview, was a bit like a blind person’s white stick—it informed people she was having trouble with her hearing. That had been some time ago and Cyn wondered if Sabina used them because she could and it gave her a bit of privacy in this bustling place.
Sabina glanced up, caught Cyn’s expression and smiled, giving her a nod before returning to her boyfriend, big blond Hunter. The others sat with their partners but they seemed distracted, half there. Cyn understood that feeling. Minds on the performance ahead, not knowing whether to work on it more or leave it in the laps of the gods. Some of the best things in music came from the unexpected, the improvised or the accidental serendipitous moment.
They ate, they chatted and apart from the tension of the upcoming gig Cyn sensed optimism and excitement. Just as it should be.
Nevertheless, a sense of discomfort invaded her, creeping along her limbs to her heart. She didn’t belong here. Nobody knew her. Nobody came across to talk to her and after a short interval getting used to the atmosphere, the isolation came through. Luckily Maddy didn’t seem to notice a thing.
“I’d love some coffee. Would you like anything?” she asked, in an effort to get away.
Riku’s expression warmed as he watched her, giving her strength. No way would she let him know anything was wrong. “I’m good,” he murmured and she got to her feet, heading for the big table where carafes were set on small heating rings. Only one other person stood there, a woman she didn’t recognize.
As Cyn turned to lift the jug, the woman moved to do the same and their hands touched. No static electricity this time. Cyn withdrew and gave an apologetic smile. So did the woman. Dark haired and pretty, Cyn noted.
“Sorry. After you,” the woman said.
“I can pour for both of us.”
“Thanks. Hey you’re British.” She held out her hand. “I’m Laura Asano. I mean—” she stared at Cyn, horror etched on her face. “Can you forget I said that?”
It didn’t take much of a stretch of her knowledge to recall that Zazz’s real name was James Asano. In England he’d had a blowup with the press and they’d carried it over here, too, when they discovered his father was the hard-living jazz musician of the same name. So where did Laura fit in? Wife or sister?
She took Laura’s hand and shook it. “Congratulations.”
Laura swallowed and glanced around. “Shit. Listen, I know you people get some extra dosh selling stories but we didn’t want to say anything until after the tour. Can you wait a few nights? If you do I’ll give you an exclusive or something.”
The disjointed speech informed Cyn she hadn’t discovered Zazz’s secret sister. “So you married him, yes?”
A brief nod.
Something else struck her. “You people?” she repeated. Then, like mist lifting over the Highlands, she saw the landscape. “You think I’m—and that Maddy—ah.” She had nothing against groupies, just that she wasn’t one.
“No offence,” Laura said hastily.
About to disabuse her Cyn decided otherwise. “No, I bet there were more than—us before the rest of the band got regular partners…anyway. Does Riku do this often? Bring two women in, I mean?”
“Yes, he likes them in bulk.” Laura clapped her hand to her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just not used to this way of life. Until recently I was a social worker in Manchester.”
Cyn smiled. “My life’s never been ordinary. I used to long for it.” Riku’s habits interested her more than somewhat. She glanced in his direction and saw him on his feet, coming toward them. When he reached her he hesitated, as if wondering if he wanted to claim her. It could be her imagination but she didn’t think so.
Cyn, already uneasy from the two-at-a-time revelation, saw red. “You need two women these days?”
Riku responded instantly with a slow smile. “Does it turn you on?”
“What do you think? Does it?”
His mouth quirked before he controlled his involuntary response. Oh, funny, was it? “I think no. It never did before. But try it, you might like it.”
Laura tried to move away but Cyn picked up her coffee. “Here, you forgot this.” The other woman hesitated, then put her hand out for the mug.
“Thanks. Sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me lately. You’d think I’d have some tact.” She glanced at Riku, sighed. “I introduced myself as Laura Asano.”
Riku’s smile broadened. “You’re just thrilled. We’re all thrilled for you.” He smiled at Cyn and with an effort she returned it.
She should leave, go to her seat, behave herself. She’d been looking forward to this concert for the last six months. Even if she hadn’t planned to introduce herself to Riku she’d still anticipated the band’s performance with a happy glow. Murder City Ravens’ music excited her.
So did their Japanese American member. She could admit it now, even if she’d tried to tamp down the growing memories that haunted her nights.
Then Riku took the wind completely out of her sails. Leaning close, so nobody else heard, except perhaps Laura, he murmured, “None of them were you.”
Cyn swallowed, wanting to take the comment as flippant. Knowing she couldn’t because she wanted him to mean it. Yearned for it. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. In a week or two he’d move on. They’d give a casual farewell and get on with their lives like proper adults. This pull to him, this sense that she’d found her right berth again, it was so wrong. Riku wasn’t a berth. He was a full-blown storm at sea. So she forced a sassy smile and discovered a response. “I’m one in a million. I thought you knew that?”
“I do.” Only his reply wasn’t in the least sassy.
Laura still hadn’t left. Riku slid his arm around Cyn’s waist, finally laying claim to what she’d given him earlier. “We’re old friends.”
Laura’s eyes widened. She had lovely eyes, deep blue and guileless. Must have helped in her job, made the people she worked with believe in that innocence. If she knew Zazz, if she’d married him, there had to be more to her than sweet purity. She was assessing her and Cyn didn’t like it. “So he went to Europe to forget you?”
Was that a sneer? “More likely to get away from me.” Cyn shrugged, desperately trying to find perspective. This was his territory and everything she tried to do or say emphasized that. “Our paths branched off in different directions that’s all. I’ve lived here for some time, came to New York to study and after I left the institute I never
returned home. I like it here. You know when you find your natural home? I think New York is it for me.”
The other woman nodded. “Zazz is my home.”
So she didn’t call him James. Zazz was Zazz in private life too. Not that she cared.
Here, with Riku encircling her, she felt trapped, stifled. Hated it. Her mind zoomed into automatic overload, yelling at her to go, get out of this place, leave. She’d hated this, always disliked the hothouse atmosphere musicians often found themselves in. It made her fidget. Riku seemed to thrive on it. Because of his position in the band he’d have to accept a certain amount of protection. Bodyguards, even.
Cyn didn’t belong. She was a nuisance, in the way, as far as everyone in this room was concerned. She hated, hated, hated being a hanger-on and Laura’s words had only emphasized the point. The women here had a purpose. They were loved. Not fucked.
Resolution descended on her. She couldn’t do this and she was kidding herself to try. The way some people stared at her, assessing her, waiting for her to show her true colors, maybe strip or start on the beer and spirits standing virtually untouched on the table, made her feel cheap. Not that she thought they were judging her. Merely that she was judging herself.
She didn’t appreciate the way this place made her feel. If she assessed the situation right, she was the only hanger-on allowed here, together with Maddy. Chick ran a tight ship. She guessed they’d only let her in because she was with Riku. Chick would have turned anyone else back at the door, sent them out front.
As she was thinking this Riku pressed a quick kiss to her temple and murmured, “Have to get ready. If I weren’t dressing simply tonight, I’d have been long gone. But I’ll let the eagle speak for me.”
She forced a smile. “Go. I can’t wait to see you.”
She was lying. As she half expected, after Riku left, Chick found a security guy to take them to the venue and ensure they got inside. At least she’d paid for her ticket. Everyone behaved perfectly well but the implication was clear enough not to require anything else. She didn’t belong. She didn’t need anyone to tell her.
When they got to the Garden, Maddy stopped her excited chattering when Cyn staggered as she climbed out of the taxi. The security guy grabbed her elbow and she smiled weakly at him. “Maddy, I don’t think I can go,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize this headache was building to a migraine.” She couldn’t devise a better excuse on the spur of the moment but it would do.
Maddy swallowed. “I’ll take you home.” She turned to the driver but before she could speak to him, Cyn interrupted her.
“No, please. I want peace and quiet and a dark bedroom. I’ll be fine then.” She remembered what a migraine sufferer had told her. “If I get to my medication quickly I should be okay by the morning. Do you mind going in on your own?”
Maddy dismissed the question with a wave of her hand, nearly hitting an innocent passerby, who cursed and jumped out her way. “Of course not. But I don’t have to go in.”
“You do. You’ve been excited about this for months.” By dint of putting her fingers to her forehead and moaning, she persuaded Maddy she’d prefer to sit in the taxi speeding home. The security guy remained silent, waiting with every expression of patience on his features. She guessed he’d had practice, if not with Murder City Ravens then with someone else. His job had to involve a lot of patience.
Maddy finally left and with a sigh of relief Cyn climbed back into the car, after telling the security guy she’d be okay. He shrugged and got in anyway. She cursed but he stayed where he was. “Don’t you have something else to do?” she snapped.
“I’ll come back after I’ve seen you home. Where do you live?”
“Queens.”
They drove to her place in silence, Cyn closing her eyes and leaning her head against the seat behind her. As well as a headache, burgeoning for real now, bitter disappointment filled her. With her mood plummeting, she knew she wouldn’t have enjoyed the concert and the last thing she wanted was to bring Maddy’s excitement down.
She’d always been prone to depression but not on a clinical level, except for once when she’d lived on antidepressants and coffee for six months. But that had worked out and here she was. Sitting through a Murder City Ravens gig didn’t sound like fun anymore, not when the band considered her Riku’s whore.
Not that she cared what others thought of her. Of course not. That atmosphere, the being-left-out vibe had happened so many times, she was sick of it. She avoided it these days. It hadn’t happened to her for a long time. Being an alien in New York was almost normal. Few people told her what she already knew. She was English and the people who said it were usually tourists. Besides, that wasn’t it.
Ah shit, she shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place. The problem lay there, going back to the past. It shouldn’t happen. Ever.
Chapter Four
“She did what?”
Ralph stared at him morosely. Riku hated that he couldn’t read this guy but since he was all Kabuki’d up, as Zazz so succinctly put it, he suspected the security guy couldn’t read him either. Good. Because he felt so bad right now he didn’t want anybody to see it. No press conference tonight, thank fuck, but one after the second gig tomorrow. That meant he was free now.
“She had a migraine, so she went home instead.”
He’d waited for her afterward, sent the guard to find her when she didn’t show up backstage. Everybody had gone. He knew something was wrong, suspected when he saw her at the table talking to Laura. He’d seen her droop, then the way she’d straightened her shoulders so determinedly. Years ago he’d never have noticed that kind of body language. He’d learned to watch and observe since.
Ralph shifted his massive shoulders in what Riku assumed would have been a shrug if his muscle hadn’t gotten in the way. “I made sure she got to her place safely. Sorry, pal.”
“Yeah. Thanks for doing that.” He swiveled on one heel then turned back again. “Tell me where you took her. Not to the store?” Apart from any other consideration, the lease probably didn’t allow her to live on the premises.
“Nope, to a place in Queens.” Being the good security guy, Ralph knew the address and not sworn to confidentiality, he didn’t have a problem telling Riku.
“Get me a car.”
“You want someone to come with you?”
“Fuck, no.”
Still buzzing from the gig, Riku climbed into the vehicle and only then remembered he was still in full rig. Shit, he should have cleaned off his makeup and changed. Too late now. He had to hope nobody would spot him when he exited the other end but if they did, tough. So fucking what. If she had a migraine he’d take care of her. If she didn’t he’d discover why she’d backed out of the gig.
Murder City Ravens tickets were like gold dust these days and she had a couple. That spoke of keen effort made to obtain them. Yet she’d blown off the concert. What was more, she hadn’t informed him she was starting a migraine and he couldn’t remember any in her past. True, his single-mindedness had bordered on selfish but at one time so did hers.
He leaned back, closing his eyes and recalling her amazing voice. She sang, less like an angel, more like Brünnhilde in full body armor. A particularly beautiful one. She’d shot for the top level and failed. No shame in that.
Except he’d done the same thing and nearly killed himself doing it. When he heard pianists at classical concerts, so at one with their world, he knew what went on behind the performance. Days of conditioning, concentration and eight hours practice a day. He’d loved every minute. He loved what he did now except for the inevitable comedowns after a great gig.
The car came to a smooth halt. Limousines had their place and transporting hyped-up rock musicians where they wanted to go certainly ranked high in his opinion. He got out, momentarily confused to find himself alone. He was still full of post-gig adrenaline and the itchy, fidgety feeling that went with it.
“You want me to wait?” t
he driver asked him.
Riku stared around, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the look of this area one bit. Most of Queens was respectable these days, it even had its upmarket spots but this wasn’t one of them. It looked like something from the ’hood as depicted by a Hollywood director. Stores had the requisite steel shutters. So did places in town but these were battered, as if people slammed missiles against them on a regular basis. Or each other.
A few kids, some African American, some mixed race, some white, hung around on the nearest street corner. People owned corners here. This was so not the area for a freakily dressed Japanese American to hang around. “Too fucking right you wait,” he said. “No, better still, drive around or find somewhere decent to park. I’ll call you.” He took the card the guy handed him and tucked it in his phone case. Cyn might refuse to open her door or tell him to fuck off after five minutes. He just wanted to know she was okay.
His driver left, probably a bit too fast, because somebody spotted Riku and whistled. He rang the bell, rang all the bells tacked onto the rotting doorframe. Then he rapped on the door, his finger-rings making a sharp hit on the dented wood. Normally that sound might have interested him but right now all he wanted was in and away from these bastards watching him. Oh yeah, a great end to the evening.
She opened the door. She wore no makeup and had a thick toweling robe wrapped around her small frame. He pushed his way inside, slammed the door behind them. Cyn blinked at him. “What the fuck…?” She shook her head. “Come in.”
“Thanks.”
She took him to a room on the second floor. This was a house, not a custom-built apartment block and he didn’t like the smell in the hallway. Inside her place it was better. She shut out the aroma when she closed her door and shot the bolts before engaging the double locks. Three of them. He watched her in silence, waiting for her to turn around.
She paused, her hand on the last lock. “You should have rung me.”
BorntobeWild Page 4
