Blame it on the Tequila

by Fiona Cole

  Sliding her down, I groaned when she made a point to press her hips to mine. “Tease.”

  She winked and backed away, going to help the guys pack up their equipment. They’d been so engrossed in their own post-show high that they hadn’t even noticed Nova in my arms. Not that I cared.

  By the time we got packed up, we were ready to join the crowd and enjoy the concert.

  “I’m going to run to the restroom first,” Nova let me know, her eyes taking on that wary edge again.

  “Meet us out there,” Ash said.

  “Wait,” she shouted, her hand reaching out to stop them. “Can you wait for me?”

  “Uhhh…why?” he asked.

  I hit his shoulder and gave him a hard stare, silently reminding him of the letters she got that put her more on edge each time. Each show, she looked around more and more like the guy writing the notes would pop out and announce it was him to make it easy on us. Each note grew a little more detailed, never failing to be handed to us before the end of the night.

  “Nova,” he began with a confident smile. “You need to stop letting this admirer get in your head. We told you, he’s probably harmless.”

  Her jaw ticked when he said admirer when she firmly planted this person in the category of stalker. “It’s just that, a letter came to the house last week.”

  Alarm jolted through my veins. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I didn’t have time. You were at practice, or Mom was around, and I wanted to ignore it…later.”

  Later, as in at night when we went to each other to relax.

  “It’s not like it’s hard to get an address. I mean, hello internet,” Oren added with a laugh. “Seriously, Nova. It’s probably a prank. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Instead,” Brogan cut in, “focus on how epic we’re going to be. Think about our bad-ass rock star future when we make it big.”

  She forced a laugh. “Yeah.”

  “So, we’ll see you out there after you take care of girly stuff?” Ash asked.

  She looked to me, and I smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you,” I promised. The bathrooms were a few feet away, close to backstage.

  “Thank you.”

  The guys bolted as soon as I offered to stay back, but before she could turn away, I snagged her wrist and tugged her back for one more kiss. God, I loved kissing her. She backed away with a seductive smile, worries gone, and part of me wanted to skip the concert and find a place for just the two of us.

  She’d been gone less than five minutes when the guys came hurtling back with the bar manager, Joe.

  “Dude, we got to go,” Ash declared, bouncing on his toes.

  “Uhh, why?” I asked.

  Oren slapped his hands on Ash’s shoulders, joining in on the excited bounce. “The music exec from Hinge Records wants to talk to us before he leaves.”

  My eyes bulged, that statement sinking in. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Nope,” Ash answered.

  “But we got to go now. He has some red-eye flight to L.A,” Brogan explained.

  “He asked to meet you in the back office,” Joe explained. “I let him know I’d make it happen.”

  “Holy shit. Holy shit.” I joined in their bouncing, unable to stand still. I thought I’d explode. Nova was going to be so fucking pumped. “Let me just wait for Nova.”

  “She’s still not back?” Oren asked.

  “Dude, did you see that line? We don’t have time to wait that long,” Ash explained.

  “He said he didn’t have much time and needed it now,” the manager explained.

  “I told her I would wait.” The adrenaline flooded my brain, and I struggled to piece together a well-thought-out plan. I tried to look to the bathroom to see if I could find her in line. “We can’t have the meeting without her.”

  “She might have already made it in, but the line inside is always long, too,” Joe piped in.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. I looked to the bathrooms again, searching for her red mass of hair, and turned back to face three eager sets of eyes about to club me over the head and drag me off.

  “Come on, man. We can’t miss this.” Ash rested his hand on my shoulder and pulled me close. “This is our fucking chance, Parker. Our chance.”

  “Listen,” Joe said. “I’ll hang out here and keep an eye out for her and bring her back to the office when she’s done.”

  “Yeah?” I asked. It seemed like the perfect solution.

  I couldn’t wait to see Nova’s face when she walked in to us meeting with an executive from freaking Hinge Records. She’d fucking die.

  “Okay,” I said when he nodded. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, kid. This doesn’t happen often, so I’m glad it happened here. Just remember where you got signed.”

  “Signed?” Oren crowed. “How fucking cool would that be?”

  We walked in with barely any composure, our anticipation bursting at the seams. The executive, Beck, greeted us, and we hit it off like we were old friends. Everything in that office moved in a blur of jokes, a couple of beers, and finally an offer.

  While I was making my dreams come true, I had no idea Nova’s were being stolen from her.

  Not until it was all said and done, and I walked out to find Joe behind the bar. I looked at the time and realized over thirty minutes had gone by, and I knew the line in the bathroom wasn’t that long.

  Maybe she decided to watch the concert instead of coming back to the office. She did always claim the band was more our thing than hers, but I still wanted her there.

  “Hey, man, where’s Nova?” I asked Joe.

  “Not sure,” he answered, not even looking up from pouring drinks. “I got called to the bar, so I asked Niall to keep an eye out for her.”

  “Niall?” The busty blonde next to Joe raised a dubious brow. “The one currently making out with some guy in the corner? That Niall?”

  Niall was a drummer from another band that played before us, and I looked over, seeing the guy who was supposed to watch Nova otherwise occupied. The first drop of dread hit me, and like a rock to water, the ripples quickly spread.

  “Did you happen to see a redhead come out of the bathroom?”

  “Nova?” the blonde asked. “Nah. I haven’t seen her since she came off stage. Good show, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I responded offhand, my mind already scrambling for an answer to where Nova was.

  Maybe she left? Maybe she was pissed I didn’t wait and went home?

  God, please let her be at home.

  I hit her number and called only for it to ring.

  God, why hadn’t I sent a message to her letting her know we were in the back? Why hadn’t I called first? Why hadn’t I taken the time to let her know? They guys could have started the meeting without me.

  All these thoughts hit me now with a clarity I hadn’t had before. I’d been on a single track, and everything faded away. When the guys looked at me like I had all the answers—like they couldn’t go back without me, I ignored everything else.

  “Fuck,” I hissed when it reached her voicemail. I sent off a quick text and then another.

  “What’s up, bro?” Brogan asked.

  “I can’t find Nova.”

  He looked side-to-side like she’d pop out. “I’m sure she’s around.”

  “I told her I would wait for her, and I didn’t. Fuck.”

  “Dude, chill,” Ash said.

  “What if something happened? What if—”

  “Stop overthinking. You’re letting those notes get to you.”

  “Of course, I am,” I shouted.

  “Parker,” Ash put both hands on my shoulders. “It will be fine.”

  Famous last words.

  “Are you guys looking for the redhead from your band?” a girl beside us asked.

  “Yeah, did you see her?”

  “Think so. She was being carried out by some guy—didn’t get a loo
k at his face, but he had your build,” she gestured toward Oren’s lean body. “She looked trashed. I wasn’t even sure it was her, but then I saw those sweet blue suede boots she had on.”

  My whole world crashed in on me like a black hole, everything—all at once, like an anvil from a mile above. I wasn’t even sure how I was still standing, as my legs shook like jello.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Her voice sounded like it came from the end of a tunnel.

  Someone shook me.

  My stomach roiled.

  She was carried out.

  She looked drunk.

  Nova hadn’t had anything but water all night.

  I promised her I’d wait.

  I promised her I’d protect her.

  I promised her I’d keep her safe.

  I promised her she’d be fine.

  “Parker!” Ash shouted an inch from my face. “Parker! Look at me.”

  “I promised…” I breathed.

  “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” he said, but his eyes held anything but surety. His eyes brimmed with the same panic consuming me. “Let’s start looking for her. Brogan and Oren are already outside.”

  “Call 911,” I ordered someone—anyone.

  I snapped into action, but we all knew.

  We were too late.

  Any hope that maybe I was wrong was dashed to nothing but dust when the cops questioned us later that night.

  “Do you have the notes?”

  “No. She tossed them.”

  “But there are comments on YouTube,” Oren offered.

  “We already looked at those. It’s being sent to our department, but it’s not much to go on.”

  “Why didn’t you come to the police?” a female officer asked.

  “I guess we didn’t think it was that big a deal. That he was just an admirer,” Ash explained, looking the least confident I’d ever seen him.

  “An admirer?” she repeated, her face scrunched in disgust. “More like a stalker.”

  “More like a serial killer,” another officer said, walking up and passing a file to the two questioning us.

  “A what?” I asked, speaking for the first time.

  The female officer scanned the pages before meeting each of our eyes. She looked like someone who shows up at your door to let you know a loved one has passed, and everything in my body started breaking down before she even started. One word reverberated through me like an earthquake.

  No.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  Twenty-Eight

  Nova

  P A S T

  Intense throbbing pounded against my temples. I squinted against the bright sunlight pouring in, only adding to the pain. My tongue scraped across my dry lips, and I struggled to swallow—my mouth like the Sahara.

  Trying to massage my temples to ease any of the pressure came to a halt when metal scraped metal, and I couldn’t move more than a couple inches. Like an electric shock to my heart, I jolted, opening my eyes to find my left wrist cuffed to a metal headboard. My stomach churned, and bile burned up my throat. I barely held back the vomit, probably because panic squeezed my throat too tight to even breathe.

  Oh god. Oh god, oh godohgodohgod.

  Flashes of how I got here bombarded my already frantic mind.

  I was at the show. I was in Parker’s arms. I was kissing Parker.

  I had to go to the bathroom, and he promised to wait. He promised. But once I finally made it through the line, no one was there. I asked one of the members from the other bands, and they turned to me with glassy eyes, slurring something about how he went to go talk to some music executive.

  When I asked him where, he shrugged and walked away. I’d been a ball of excitement, already riding a high from the show, but then to know that the guys had a music company interested in the band had me practically floating. I’d just needed to find them.

  I’d been so gone in my excitement, I’d forgotten to keep looking over my shoulder at every turn. I’d forgotten why I’d asked Parker to wait for me in the first place. At least, until I’d turned a corner down a barren hall, looking for the offices, and felt a prick in my arm. I thought maybe I’d scraped myself and looked over my shoulder to find a large, dark shadow looming. The same dark shadow that haunted my nightmares. The one I dreamed about each time we played a show, and I got another letter waiting for me at the end.

  The one I asked Parker to protect me from.

  The one he promised he’d keep me safe from.

  The one the guys laughed at and said it was probably some teenybopper.

  This nightmare was anything but a teenybopper.

  And I was anything but safe.

  I’d opened my mouth to scream, only to have a beefy hand slap over my lips and catch me as I fell, the drugs he injected me with working too quickly to fight.

  I jerked my wrist, cringing from the screech of metal on metal. With a quick glance around the room, I saw I was alone, and the last thing I wanted to do was alert whoever had taken me to the fact I was awake.

  Taking stock of my surroundings, I stalled over the picturesque room. Simple grays and whites, clean lines. Hell, even a flower arrangement sat on the nightstand. I wasn’t sure if the normality of the room caused more panic or less. Maybe because I expected a mattress on a floor or some dingy trailer that reeked of desperation and evil. Instead, my mind had to wrap around the nightmare I was in with the warm scent of vanilla floating around me. It felt like some kind of mind game to lure me into comfort before the worst—the calm before the storm.

  Creaking reached through the closed door opposite the bed, sounds like footsteps coming up wooden stairs. The sun shining through the mostly-shut blinds let me know I wasn’t in a basement, so that meant I had to be on the second floor. As the steps got closer, my mind swirled with options. I could pretend I was asleep, but that would leave me lying vulnerable. But I was already vulnerable cuffed to the bed. And who knew if he’d even care if I was conscious or not.

  I looked side to side and made a quick decision to roll off the side of the bed, wedging myself in the space against the wall. It was a false sense of protection, but I’d take what I could get.

  The door creaked open, and I held my breath.

  Footsteps faltered as if frozen before a soft chuckle squeezed my lungs even tighter than I thought possible.

  “There’s no need to hide,” his deep voice said, almost amused. “But I’m glad you’re awake. I hated drugging you.” He rounded the corner, giving me the first real look at his face. Like the room, he was normal—almost handsome. If this was a movie, I’d expect him to be the good guy coming to rescue me with his warm brown eyes and tousled brown hair. He looked attractive in a non-discrepant way. Muscular, but not bulky. Dressed nice, but casual, in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Not at all the balding man with a beer belly and stained tank top.

  Just like the normality of the room, it only served to add to my panic.

  He leaned against the wall, arms flexing as they crossed over his broad chest, taking me in crouched in the corner.

  “You’re just as beautiful as I imagined. I’ve watched you online, I don’t know how many times, and come to all your shows, but I never allowed myself to get too close. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself until I had a plan in place.”

  He stepped sideways to edge between the bed and wall, coming into my space, but thankfully, stopped to sit on the bed. I lifted my chin and forced the most stubborn don’t-fuck-with-me look I could muster. His legs almost reached where mine balled up to my chest, and I considered lashing out and kicking him with all I had but decided to save my energy and wait him out. If he wanted to keep space for now, then I would take it.

  “The first time I saw you, you were singing in the YouTube video. Then to find out you were in New York, I just knew. I had to have you.”

  Don’t poke the bear. Don’t provoke him. Bide your time.

  I repeated it over and over, clamping my jaw tight against the acidic retorts
I wanted to give about people not being owned. The more I watched him, the more his simple look appeared as a veneer, and I was in no rush to find out what it covered.

  “Nova, Nova. You were impossible to miss, and I didn’t want to take you randomly. I wanted to prepare you. You got my notes, right?”

  I refused to give even the slightest head nod.

  “I never thought those boys would leave your side,” he sneered.

  His words sent a sharp reminder through my already fragile heart, planting the first seed of blame.

  If they hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t be here.

  If they hadn’t pushed me to join the band, I wouldn’t be here.

  If they hadn’t joked about my fan mail, then I wouldn’t be here.

  If Parker had kept his promise to keep me safe, I wouldn’t be here.

  If I had been more important than talking to a producer, then I wouldn’t be here.

  Not having enough room for the weight of those doubts and resentment, I shoved them aside.

  “But then, there you were, walking all by yourself, like you were looking for me. Were you looking for me?

  Realizing I wouldn’t answer, he shook his head and laughed. He took his time to look me over, not missing an inch. He looked at me like I was sprawled out for his perusal rather than huddled into a ball. His eyes finished raking me over and flashed back to meet my hard gaze. The first crack in my strong act fissured under the glimpse of the real monster beneath the mask.

  His lip curled up slowly, and he shifted, reaching toward me. With my fight or flight in full effect and flight not an option, I snapped my teeth, forcing him to back up.

  He jerked back, just barely escaping my bite. He looked to his hand and back to me. I braced myself for the force of his wrath—my muscles coiling, ready to fight. Instead, he laughed.

  “So, feisty,” he hissed, his eyes sparking with something I didn’t want to dwell on. “I knew you would be with all that red hair. Don’t worry. We’ll become real close soon enough.”

  His eyes drooped with a look I knew all too well. I saw it from Parker all the time—desire, heat, want, need. Except with this man, bile churned up my throat, and I almost hoped I had a chance to spew it all over him.