“How have you been?” I asked softly, glancing around me in both directions because she appeared to be looking past me.
“Good. You?” There was an awkwardness that had never existed between us previously, and I hated the feeling, so I decided to flirt a little just to raise a smile.
“You tell me? Do I look okay?” I asked, grinning widely as I held my hands out so she could see all of me when my jacket fell open.
“Yeah, you look good, Gray.” The reluctant way she said it made me feel embarrassed I’d asked because for a split-second I’d been caught up in the moment and forgot how she felt about me.
“Are you still mad at me, Pheebs?”
“Not at all, this is just a little—”
“There you are. Did you find any?” Harry Lockhart, the bass player from Vanderlight wandered up and shoved his hand under her coat, pulled her in, and kissed her hard. When he released his grip, Phoebe muttered, “They don’t have any. The huge, bald, roadie guy said they’d check out the hospitality tent and get back to me.”
My eyes narrowed when I realized who she was with and to say the following few minutes were even more awkward than before was an understatement. Harry stood with his arms folded, talking down to me and my band members; telling us how lucky we were to be there, and what an honor it was to be supporting them. My first thought was to tell him get the fuck over himself, that luck had nothing to do with the choice, and neither did he, but I figured he was a pretty self-important asshole, and those points would be missed on him.
Conscious because Phoebe stood by his side, I let it ride, not wanting the poor girl to feel any more embarrassed than she already was, but my focus from that was completely distracted by what he did next.
My blood turned a darker shade of red when it was fired up by the way he disrespected her when he grabbed Phoebe by one of her breasts and pulled her toward him. “Kiss me,” he ordered, his tongue hanging out before her eyes flicked to mine and she did what he told her. His hand went up the hem of her skirt and my hand shot out and held his wrist to stop him from humiliating her any further. “Later, mate,” I said, distracting him like I was joking. I wanted to crush his fucking fingers. Instead, I pulled him away from her under the pretense of needing more information about the dressing rooms.
“Fuck. Can’t you read, dude? You follow the big yellow arrows like it said on the entrance.” I nodded, trying to keep my cool when I wanted to rip the dick’s voice box clean out his throat. I watched Brody move in between Harry and Phoebe. Brody leaned in and whispered something while Harry looked at me, and although Phoebe never took her eyes off me she shook her head, and put her hand up in a gesture that said she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
Brody had always been perceptive and stepped between me and Harry as he slapped Harry’s back and did the one thing we both had read correctly about him. Harry was only interested in talking about himself, so Brody engaged him in conversation.
Being a drummer, Brody was best placed to divert Harry by talking about his skills on the bass. It was the nearest instrument to the drums and they were the rhythm of any band. “Harry, I know you’ve not got much time but I’m a huge fan, and I just wanted to ask you if you could give me a couple of tips…”
As soon as he was out of earshot I turned to Phoebe. “Pheebs? What the fuck?”
Chewing her lip, she shook her head angrily. “You don’t get the right to question me, Gray. No fucking way. This is none of your business.”
“Well, I’m making it my business. No guy is going to treat you like that while I’m around.”
“And you did better than that…how exactly? I was your whore too once, remember? Caleb’s before that.”
“You were not my whore,” I argued through gritted teeth.
“No? Fuck buddy? Friend with benefits? It all comes down to the same thing. You kept me like a pet, and fucked me when you felt like it. At least Harry doesn’t sugar coat it. I know exactly where I stand with him.”
I stood in front of her and gave her a penetrating look, understanding the depth of her hurt even after all this time, “You don’t really think that’s how I treated you, do you?” I asked, focused on that for a moment because hearing her shocking words was like a sucker punch to the chest. What she was to me was much more than that. I cared about Phoebe, still cared about her, and I’d never have treated any woman the way Harry had just manhandled her.
“Listen, Gray, it was good to see you but I better get back. Harry doesn’t like it when I talk to other guys. He’s pretty possessive.” I reached for her hand but she stepped to the side, pulling her arm up out of the way before moving away to where Harry was talking to Brody.
As she reached him, Harry pulled her roughly into his side; his swift action almost knocked her over. My jaw felt tight as my hands curled into fists. Muttering a cuss under my breath, I waited, feeling frustrated as Brody came back with a dark scowl on his face, every bit as furious as I felt.
“You’re not gonna leave her with that dick, are you?”
“Don’t think I want that. I just tried to talk to her but she threw our friendship in my face.”
“No more than you deserve, Gray. You treated her shoddily and let her go.”
“What do you mean, I let her go? We were friends. I had no right to keep her with me.”
“Know what I think? I think you have no idea what she was to you.”
Shaking my head angrily, I growled in frustration. “We were friends, Brody. Friends.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Gray. You may even believe it, but to the rest of us there was a lot more going on than you were willing to admit. Phoebe’s a great girl, you could do a lot worse. Now look…” He swept his hand over in the direction of where Harry was and by then he had Phoebe pinned against the wall and was being less than discreet at feeling her up in public.
The way Harry treated her bothered me and I had a mind to go over there and punch the fucker into the next field, but Phoebe’s comment about it being none of my business was the only thing that had stopped me. If that’s what she wanted who was I to interfere?
I was still mulling over whether to get involved when someone tapped my shoulder. A skinny little guy with thick, black-rimmed glasses, greasy nondescript colored hair, who was wearing headphones and a washed-out band T-shirt told me we had to get prepped for our set.
Caleb grabbed me by the sleeve of my jacket and tugged me in the direction of the dressing room. Glancing back over my shoulder at Phoebe, I couldn’t help feel like I was letting her down, especially after the way she’d stood by me. Surge nudged me. “Gray, you need to step away, this is no longer your business,” he warned. It wasn’t, but knowing that wasn’t stopping Harry from treating Phoebe in such a degrading way.
Reluctantly, I walked away. It didn’t sit well with me, but poking my nose in where it wasn’t welcome wasn’t going to improve Harry’s treatment of Phoebe. I decided that I’d find her when Harry was on stage with his band and try to talk some sense into her. It was strange. I had been crazy excited before I’d seen her and from that moment on, all I wanted was to talk to her again and for our set to be over so that I could have the opportunity to get her away from that sleazebag.
Chapter 16
My business ~ Gray
My anger about Phoebe’s situation came through in my performance. Frustration laced my voice, and although the fans lapped it up, it only fueled my aggression even more about how Harry had treated her. We were living the dream, having once been one of the crowd, to now being one of the performers at one of the most iconic festivals in the world, and my mind wasn’t fully on the job.
Instead of trying to give the performance of my life I was getting through the numbers and counting down each song, thinking it was one less until I could go and find her.
Watching, thousands of people were packed around the stage and as far back as the eye could see, swaying and bobbing like a sea of h
eads, in response to what we were doing; that part felt incredible. I was thankful for my opportunity, but if I was honest, I was more thankful to have fate bring Phoebe and I together again, even if she wasn’t with me. My conscience had been struggling with how I’d treated her.
When our last number finished and the sound of our music died, a swell of appreciative cheers rose up from the crowd. We, as a band, took a bow, and headed off the stage. Glancing to my left, I saw Harry and the rest of the guys from Vanderlight standing watching us, but before we could speak the emcee was already announcing their spot.
Harry scowled, looking down his nose at me like I was the shit on his shoe and shoved past me. I could have punched the fucker but chose to ignore it and gave him a slow smile. I figured that would piss him off a lot more than allowing his arrogant behavior to affect me.
When I turned and looked at Phoebe, she was standing there hugging her arms around her waist. She wore a cropped halter-neck top in gold spandex, tight, black, figure hugging jeans, and had a small gold scarf tied around her waist. In place of the gumboots were golden six-inch stiletto shoes—stripper heels came to mind. I half wondered how the fuck she was going to move around the muddy environment in them. She looked like every man’s wet dream, but she was freezing her ass off.
“Can we talk?”
“I don’t think I’ve got anything to say to you,” she snapped.
“No? Well I’ve got plenty to say. What the fuck are you doing with this guy?”
Phoebe glanced to me with narrowed eyes then over at Harry who was jumping around on stage like a lunatic with his bass, his head bobbing around in time to the song they were playing. My eyes followed hers and back to her face again.
“Please go away. I’m not to talk to you.”
“You’re not to what?” I asked, my voice rising in disbelief.
“Please, just leave me alone, you’re not helping.”
“What the fuck do you mean, I’m not helping? I’m only talking to you. We’re friends.”
“Harry doesn’t want me talking to other men, male friends or otherwise.”
“He needs to be taken down a peg, he’s a fucking asshole.”
“So what? You think you can poke your nose in my business and interfere to make yourself feel better?”
“No, that’s not it at all. He can’t treat you this way and expect to get away with it.”
“Isn’t that my decision? Don’t you think it’s for me to say what I find acceptable?”
I was aware she was glancing nervously toward the stage all the time, and she was reluctant to give me eye contact.
“It isn’t your decision if you can’t talk to me. Does he hit you?”
“You think I’d stay with someone that did that?”
“I don’t know. You seem like someone I don’t really know right now, Phoebe, you tell me.”
No sooner were the words out of my mouth when Harry, suddenly appearing off stage, rushed at Phoebe from behind, pulled her away from me, and shoved her hard. “Dressing room now. And don’t move until I’m done,” he screamed in a voice filled with venom. “I’ll deal with you when I’m done here,” he shouted, pointing his finger in my face. Vanderlight’s lead guitarist was playing a long solo instrumental and Harry had taken the opportunity to interject in our discussion.
Grabbing his wrist, I held him firmly. “Ever lay a hand on Phoebe or point your fucking finger at me again and you’ll need occupational therapy to teach you how to play that bass with three digits. If you ever so much as touch a hair on Phoebe’s head, I’ll be back for you. I don’t give a fuck who you think you are.”
Harry ran back onto the stage and his timing was perfect when he rejoined the song, but his demeanor was much less cocky than it had been before our little talk. Spinning on my heel, I went to find Phoebe because after what Harry had done to her I was fucked if I was leaving her with him. If he hadn’t have gone back on stage when he did he’d more than likely have gotten a visit to the wonderful medical facility they had at the festival, courtesy of me.
When I reached the dressing room, Pheebs was stuffing a gray woolen sweater into her black, oversized, designer bag. She glanced up, shook her head, and scoffed. “Thanks for nothing. I’m out of here,” she said in a hurt tone as she tried to push past me. I stuck my arm out in the doorway and effectively blocked her exit.
“No thanks necessary,” I countered, sarcastically. “That guy is a nutcase. Where will you go?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time to stand here and chew this over. I just want to get out of here. No one shoves me around, Gray. No one.”
Pushing past me, she hurried along the corridor, her stiletto heels echoing against the concrete and I figured as I had created her situation it was my duty to take care of her. “Pheebs, wait.”
Brody hadn’t stuck around with the rest of us after our set, heading back to the dressing room to see Dana, but he’d obviously heard me shout out from the corridor. Suddenly the door opened and he poked his head out. Assessing the situation as he watched Phoebe strut away, he nodded in her direction. “Go after her. Call me later,” he urged.
His sanction was all the encouragement I needed to know I was doing the right thing by interjecting, so I ran to catch up with her. Grabbing her by her hand, I pulled her into a hug. “Stop. Just stop and take a breath, Pheebs. I don’t care what you think of me, please just let me help you.” At first I saw a glimmer of hesitation as her eyes narrowed like she didn’t trust me then she huffed heavily, looking worn down by the whole episode. “Fine. Can you get me a ride out of here?”
We, as a band, had been offered accommodation if we had wanted to stay and party, but I knew if I stayed I would definitely confront Harry. There was no doubt in my mind he’d been spoiling for a fight. I would have liked the opportunity to beat his ass, but I figured it was more important to get Phoebe away from him.
“Well, can you?”
“Sure. I was just thinking for a minute. I do that sometimes,” I answered, giving her a small smile in the hope of taking the edge off her situation. “We can see if one of the helicopters can ferry us back to London if you want.”
“I want,” she confirmed and hugged herself against the cold. Peeling myself out of my shirt I slipped it over her shoulders and pulled it tight around her. I had no jacket, no wallet and no phone. I’d just come off stage.
“Got your phone in your bag?”
Digging deep, she rummaged and pulled out her cell, slid the screen across and entered her password.
“Still got Caleb’s number in there?”
Phoebe twisted her mouth. “Of course I don’t, but I do have some texts from Brody.”
“Perfect, let me call him and ask him to send a roadie to the helipads with my wallet, jacket and leather carry-on. You may want to get that sweater out and put it on as well, you’ll freeze hanging around here.”
After a quick call, I took Pheebs to the transport security office and told them we needed to get back to London urgently. While they figured out how quickly they could make that happen, Malcolm, one of the roadies I had spoken to earlier in the day, arrived with all my gear. His timing was great because just as he had arrived, one of the pilots said he’d been cleared to take us back to City Airport in London and he had a slot to fly fifteen minutes later.
During the flight back to the city, Phoebe sat close to me, headphones on, with her hands clasped in her lap. Her frame was stiff and I had an urge to put my arm around her, to hold her close and offer comfort. I knew I couldn’t because it would have blurred the lines between us. I figured she was already suspicious of my motives to help her.
Once we’d landed at the London City Airport, for those of us who lived in London and the home counties, there was a line of limos on stand-by waiting to transport us home. My loft apartment in the Docklands area of the city was less than a ten-minute car ride. “I’m not going home with you,” Phoebe offered before I even asked.
“I could behave like Harry and tell you otherwise, but I respect you, Phoebe. Tell me this, does Harry know where you live?” She nodded.
“Then you are safer at mine. If he thinks there’s a chance you may have gone home it’s the first place he’d look, if he wants to find you.”
Phoebe’s face registered her understanding and she inhaled deeply. Her reluctance to be near me rolled off her when she adopted an attitude of resistance, but she exhaled and shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever, I’m tired. I’ll go to my sister’s place first thing in the morning. If I turned up now I’d wake her kids.”
I was relieved she had decided not to go home alone, and I was pleased for the chance to talk about what had happened in Miami. I liked Phoebe a lot and I wanted to clear the air between us. Things had happened during the previous year that I had wanted to share with someone, and it made me realize what a good friend she had been when it was her I had thought of in those circumstances.
I led her to the car and as soon as I sat next to her I found my eyes roaming toward her, constantly checking to make sure she was okay.
“I’ve missed you, Pheebs.”
Her head snapped around and she gave me a hurt look. I deserved it.
“Maybe I should go to my sister’s place. I think that would be best,” she mumbled.
It dawned on me that she may have thought I had sexual expectations of her, so I quickly quashed that idea. “I don’t want to fuck you, Pheebs, you can relax. Tonight, I’m being a good friend. Take this for what it is.”
Her chest heaved as she drew a deep breath. I waited, holding mine, to see what she’d say. The sigh of relief she gave made me feel lower than how Harry had treated her. I knew I didn’t deserve her friendship since I’d treated her so badly.
Notes On Love Page 16
