Diminished (Winter's Wrath Book 2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Leaning across the narrow space between the sofa and the loveseat, Malakai eased the phone from her hand. Not something Brave would have thought to do. Shiori had punched him once for crossing the line.

  The bassist seemed to have a whole different set of rules, because she didn’t let out a whisper of protest.

  Definitely some interesting dynamics between the two of them.

  Brave wasn’t sure he liked it.

  Malakai handed her phone over, his expression hard with accusation. “Nice job, asshole.”

  What the fuck did I do now?

  The message was from Sophie. A picture followed by ‘Fix this’.

  At first, he couldn’t quite make out the picture. Parts were blurred. He enlarged it and groaned. Shiori’s face was clear enough. The photo must have been taken when she was changing into his shirt during the game. Neither he or Tate had looked—things hadn’t progressed that far then—but in the corner of the picture he was visible. So was Tate. The photographer must have been in a fucking tree.

  The caption beneath the photo made it even worse.

  “Who’s the new S.L.U.T?”

  “You’re not dancing to that song.” Brave handed her phone back to her and stood. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch something. Or confront the fucker who’d put Shiori’s career at risk. “You know the routines for the others. Do Center Mass. Go with a military look.”

  “And a hat and shades?” Malakai let out an irritated sound. “This looks like it was posted on twitter. It might not have gone viral because no one knows her yet, but the second word gets out…”

  “I know.” Social media was a fucking beast. Useful when they needed it, but toxic when they wanted privacy and personal shit leaked. He paced along the front of the bus, raking his fingers through his hair. “The fight might—”

  “Distract them? Not likely. The attention it got already will be the end of it. Unless we play out the animosity. The band will love that.” Malakai’s tone was dry.

  He also wasn’t being very helpful.

  “Scratch that. On stage, you’re my best friend. Maybe more…” Brave’s lips slanted. “Actually, that’s not—”

  “Happening. Go fuck yourself, Brave.”

  “You got a better idea?”

  Malakai scowled and shook his head.

  Smoothing his hand through his hair again, Brave sighed. “I might have something else.” He went to the bathroom door and slammed his fist on the thin metal. “Time’s up, drummer boy!”

  The door swung open. Tate stepped out, butt naked, rubbing his hair with a towel. “All yours.”

  “Not now.” Brave nudged him out of the way and slipped into the foggy bathroom. He wiped a hand over the mirror, meeting his own eyes in the reflection before the white sheen of condensation built up again.

  He’d wanted to change. Then he hadn’t. Then he’d balanced on the ledge between the two. A real change would mean more than a lot of talk and ditching a couple vices.

  People would have to see the change to believe it.

  And they were about to.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Fix this.’

  Two words that could mean only one thing.

  Shiori had been stunned when she’d seen the picture. So stunned she hadn’t said a word while Brave and Malakai discussed a diversion. All she could think was Sophie must be so disappointed.

  Except…she’d only said those two words. Like she trusted Shiori could fix it.

  But how?

  Time to call in the expert. She texted Danica, figuring it would be less disruptive than knocking on the door where the woman had disappeared with her boyfriend.

  Shiori: Not an emergency. Exactly. I need your advice.

  Danica immediately came out, adjusting her pale blue, V-neck sweater. She glanced at Malakai, who’d moved to sit beside Shiori, then nodded toward the door.

  “Let’s head to the venue. I’ll introduce you to our crew.” Danica snatched both their jackets from the kitchenette bench, throwing them over one arm. She hooked her other arm to Shiori’s as she started for the door. “See you on stage, love!”

  Before Alder could answer, they were outside.

  Pausing to pull on her jacket while Shiori slipped on her own, Danica met her eyes. “What happened?”

  The explanation was embarrassing, but Shiori couldn’t expect Danica’s help if she didn’t know the facts. Of course, she glossed over a few things. Like how the game had ended.

  The other woman still looked pissed. “I knew Brave would pull something like this. Damn it.” Angry red blotched her cheeks. “And all Sophie said was ‘fix this’?”

  “That’s it.” Shiori shoved her hands in her pockets and frowned down at the icy pavement. “But this isn’t on Brave. He didn’t want to play the stupid game. Tate and I pushed him into it.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Clenching her teeth, Shiori lifted her head. “You’ve done things on the road, with the guys. Did they force you?”

  “Of course not.” Danica shook her head and sighed. “I get it. You were having some fun. Please tell me that was the end of it? Right now this is a bump in the road. Between Brave and Tate, this could easily become a crater-sized pothole.”

  “It’s the end.” She did her best not to sound disappointed. Exploring more with Brave...hell, she wouldn’t lie. It was tempting.

  His fault, with the tucking her in and giving her those sweet smiles. Having him near made her whole body hum like a tuning fork, letting off the perfect pitch. As if preparing for a beautiful song missing only the lyrics.

  A wonderful feeling, but one she couldn’t indulge in. She’d strayed from her path, then found it again. And she didn’t need any more bumps setting her off course.

  Craters were out of the question.

  “Good.” Danica stopped by the roadies’ van, putting her hands on Shiori’s arms and turning her, giving her an affectionate little squeeze. “This isn’t the end of the world. If anyone asks—and they won’t ask you alone, I’m not leaving your side—say you’ve known the guys awhile and you’re comfortable changing in front of them. I’ll say I do it too. We’ll make it such a nonissue; people will get bored.”

  “Bored works for me.” Shiori squared her shoulders. “Anything that keeps Sophie from ripping up my contract.”

  Snickering, Danica moved to her side, slipping an arm around her waist. “She won’t. She’s dealt with drama so bad she had to catch the first flight to do damage control. She sent you a text.”

  This is low on her scale of disasters. That’s good.

  “Okay.” Shiori took a deep breath. “I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Brave suggested I dance during Center Mass instead of S.L.U.T.”

  “That is a very good idea.” Danica laughed, lightening the mood. “And you’ll look hot in uniform. I’ve got the perfect outfit for you.”

  Skull drove them to the venue, leaving the roadies and security to babysit the boys. They parked in an underground parking lot a block away and quickly walked over, heads down, hoping no one would recognize Danica and stop them.

  Luck wasn’t on their side.

  “Danica! OMG, it’s really you!” A girl ran up to Danica, bursting into tears as she reached for her. Danica caught the girl by the shoulders and smiled at her, which made the girl cry harder. “I was here last time Winter’s Wrath was in town. And I loved your music video. I follow you on twitter. You wished me Happy Birthday!”

  “Don’t cry, sweetie.” Danica wiped away the girl’s tears. “What’s your name?”

  “Monica.” The girl hiccupped. Her freckled face went red. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how much I love you. I already loved the band, but you…you joining them made me less of a freak. All the girls at school use your perfume. And your makeup. They’ll die when they find out I met you!”

  The girl was adorable. Maybe fifteen, with curly hair dyed an inky shade, black lipstick
and eyeliner, and a snug Winter’s Wrath hoodie covering her curvy body. She reminded Shiori of Wendy, who got just as excited about meeting her idols. And wouldn’t hesitate to run up to one either.

  “They’ll need evidence.” Danica grinned at Monica. “How about a selfie? Post it on Twitter or Instagram and I’ll share it.”

  “Can I do both?”

  “Absolutely!” Danica took the girl’s phone and handed it to Shiori. “Could you take a couple pictures?”

  “Sure!” Shiori backed up until she had both women in view, snapping one photo of Monica gazing adoringly up at Danica. Another of Danica hugging her tight. A few more so the girl could pick her favorite.

  Skull came up behind her. “How about one with Winter’s Wrath’s new dancer? You’ll be the first to have a photo with her.”

  Monica let out a squeal. “Really? This is so awesome! You’re gorgeous! And I’m so jelly!”

  Before Shiori could say a word she was placed on Monica’s other side. She tried to remember all Sophie’s tips on how to stand. How to smile. Which side to angle her head.

  Mostly she just lost herself to the excitement. Monica wasn’t the only one completely blown away by the experience. Someone had taken a photo with her. Someone who wasn’t friends or family.

  This was different than the photos she’d taken for her portfolio. Sure, Monica was Danica’s fan, but she could have easily brushed Shiori off like she was irrelevant.

  She hadn’t.

  Which meant more than Shiori could say.

  Still, she had to try.

  Before Skull could lead them away, she hugged Monica. “Thank you. This is new to me, my first live performance with the band. You made being here even more special. And you can tell all the other girls I said so.”

  Eyes tearing, Monica shook her head. “No. Screw them. They can see you up on that stage and wonder what you’re like. Wish they were you.” She blinked and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I love how real you are. How real you both are. I’m not sharing that with anyone.”

  Monica rushed off to get back in the line which reached around the block. There was some excitement from the crowd, but metal barriers prevented anyone else from rushing them.

  Anyone except the press.

  On the other side of the venue entrance stood a small crowd of people with microphones and cameras. As Shiori and Danica approached, questions were shouted at them.

  “There are rumors of a replacement. Is it true you’re taking a break because you’re pregnant?”

  “Is there any truth to a lawsuit over a sex tape?”

  “Has Alder asked you to marry him?”

  “Are you the replacement? Have you seen this picture?”

  The last stopped Shiori in her tracks. She moved closer to the reporters and glanced at the tablet the woman held out.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t good at lying. And with Danica’s cover story, she didn’t have to be. “It’s kinda creepy that someone was spying on us. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “So you admit you stripped in front of the band?” The woman held her mic closer to Shiori. “Are you already intimate with them?”

  “Intimate?” Shiori cocked her head. “I’m not sure what you mean. We’ve been friends for a while. I’ve been getting changed in front of them forever.”

  Danica slipped to her side, snickering. “Oh my, is that a crime now? I guess we’re both guilty.”

  Shiori’s lips slanted. “So bad. On a bus all the time with the guys, we should totally hide our evil lady bits.”

  Busting out laughing, Danica hugged her. “You’re adorable. ‘Lady bits’?”

  “Evil lady bits.”

  “True dat!” Danica glanced over at the reporters. “Oh, and I’m not pregnant. I just like tacos. And you can quote me.”

  With that the left the reporters behind.

  Situation totally ‘fixed’.

  Malakai did his best not to move while Tate helped him with the mess he’d made of his black eyeliner, but he couldn’t stop looking down the hall toward the bathroom.

  Brave still hadn’t come out.

  Not since Jesse had returned to drive them to the venue, parking the bus in their reserved spot right across the street. Not even when Jesse had pounded on the door—twice—yelling for him to hurry the fuck up.

  The rest of the band was ready. The sound crew was waiting for them, along with the VIPs who’d been led in about ten minutes ago.

  “If I punch you, your eyes will be plenty dark.” Tate dug his fingers into Malakai’s jaw, forcing him to look forward. “Fuck, it’s a good thing Alder lets Danica’s makeup people prep him. Maybe they should deal with you too.”

  “Fuck no.” Malakai shuddered. Alder did magazine ads and commercials. He used some powder to make his skin look perfect. And wore fucking lips gloss.

  Lip gloss!

  Letting Tate manhandle him, coming close to stabbing him in the eye with the liner pencil thing, was worth it if he could avoid that kind of primping. Just watching Tate use three different colors to hide the bruise around his own eye freaked him out.

  To him makeup was torture. Done right it was like magic, but some of the shit people used looked like medieval devices. Like the contraption he’d seen Danica use on her eyelashes. He could total picture it being used to remove an eyeball.

  One wrong move and a simple pencil could blind him. So he tried to stay very still. But no fucking way would he do all the powder and brushes and other shit. And lip gloss felt weird when he kissed a chick wearing too much. Slick, like motor oil smeared all over his mouth.

  Every time Tate did his eyeliner, he tried to convince Malakai to use at least some ‘balm’.

  Not happening.

  Why is Brave taking so long?

  “Last warning. You love this bus, Brave.” Jesse slammed his fist into the door. “Come out or I’m tearing this damn thing off the hinges!”

  The lock on the door clicked. Brave stepped out, scowling at Jesse. “I’m done. Happy?”

  Oh fuck.

  Tate dropped the pencil.

  Jesse backed into the wall.

  Malakai slammed his fist on the sofa. “Are you mental? The fans are going to lose their minds!”

  Moving into the narrow space of the lounge area, Brave glared at him. “That’s the fucking point.”

  Latching his fingers behind his head, Malakai stared at the hack job Brave had made of his hair. Waist length strands chopped to just above his collar. And when he brushes his fingers through the chopped up bits he’d left, Malakai caught a glimpse of the closely—way too fucking closely—shaved part at his nape.

  “You can’t go on stage like that.” Jesse pulled out his phone. “Hey, babe. We have an emergency.”

  Yelling came across the line.

  “No. No one’s hurt. I—”

  Alder came out, spared Brave a brief glance, and snatched the phone from Jesse. “Hey, beautiful. Yes, Jesse is an idiot. I know.” He punched Jesse in the arm. “Done. Now, seriously, Brave cut his hair.” A high pitched shout had Alder holding the phone away from his ear. “I’ll put him in a hoodie and send him over. I love you.”

  Stashing the phone, Alder looked at Brave. Then brought a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t even want to know. Cover that shit up and let’s get inside. Hopefully, Danica’s people can fix it.”

  Hanging his head—the shorn hair falling forward and revealing where he’d cut himself with the razor—Brave turned to the bunk area, out of sight.

  Stomach twisting with sympathy, Malakai lunged to his feet and followed. He moved behind Brave, gently brushing his fingers over the patchy, shaved hair at the base of Brave’s scalp.

  “I would have helped if you’d asked.” Malakai pressed his teeth hard into his bottom lip as he took in the raw spots. That had to fucking hurt. And Brave already had a cut over his eye from Shiori and a gash on his face from Malakai.

  Starting a damn painful collection.

 
Brave shrugged. “You know I don’t ask for help.”

  “But…” Malakai pressed his lips shut. He’d never made Brave comfortable coming to him about anything. Never had a reason.

  He wished he had.

  He cleared his throat. “If it’s any consolation, this should work. No matter how Danica’s people manage to repair the damage, you’re the face of the band and a drastic change to your appearance is a story. People will be talking about this for weeks.”

  Brave pulled on a hoodie, drawing the hood completely over his head to hide his hair. His dark eyes met Malakai’s. “What if drastic isn’t enough?”

  “You have another plan.”

  “Yeah. It was stupid.”

  “It wasn’t.” Malakai slid his hand into the hood, curved his fingers around the side of Brave’s neck. “One performance. I’ve done them with your brother. Not so much with you, but it doesn’t have to be different.”

  “Stop.” Brave reached up and grabbed his wrist. He glared at Malakai. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I did this for her. She’s worth it.”

  The way the man bit out the words… Malakai didn’t believe Brave was using Shiori anymore. Maybe he’d finally woken the fuck up and seen what Malakai already knew.

  Their lovers were faceless. Sex a shallow act in the closest dark space, with few words exchanged. Rarely any names.

  Relationships involved two people with something to offer. And what did Malakai have? All his damage? His rage? There was nothing soft about him. And love was soft.

  Shiori deserved love. A love neither he or Brave could give her.

  Thankfully, she was strong enough to keep going on her own. Their support might be a bonus, but she didn’t need them.

  With or without them, she’d do just fine.

  He wasn’t sure what had happened that night between her, Brave, and Tate. Tate hadn’t changed. Wasn’t any closer to Brave than he’d been before. A fucking relief, because Malakai knew when Tate finally chose someone, nothing would hold him back. He was curious. Passionate. A little wild and young still, but that would pass.