by Nora Flite
“Who'd try to make you jealous?” Colt snapped, waving a hand side to side. He hit Drez's nose in the process, ignoring the man's grunt as he kept talking over him and at Porter. “Have you even brushed your teeth yet this morning?”
“That hurts, man.” The bassist frowned as deep as he could, eyes shutting. “Right in the heart. Damn.”
The ball of fear that had been hatching in me like a rotten egg... it dissipated. They're trying to make me laugh, aren't they? These guys, these ridiculously talented guys, they wanted me to see they weren't angry at me. Whatever had happened last night, they were doing their best to show me nothing had changed between all of us.
Brenda tugged me backwards, clearly exasperated. “Could you guys not make us even more late? Get on the bus, get going. We'll meet up with you later.”
Shrugging her off, I flashed my band a smile and waved. “See you all after!”
“Make sure she buys some fruit!” Porter shouted, so close to Drez's ear that the singer grimaced.
In a smooth motion, Drez knocked the bassist back into the bus. Then he nodded at me. “Remember what I said.” His hand reached down, patting his pocket.
In answer, I tapped where my phone was tucked away. Did he think it was possible for me to forget what he'd said? As far as I was concerned, I'd never forget a single word Drezden Halifax told me.
Not now.
Not ever.
****
The wind felt wonderful as we sped down the highway. The silence in the car, however, did not. Brenda had commandeered a hatchback. I didn't ask her who she'd taken it from, and she didn't offer the info.
Now, as we tore down the asphalt with every window open and the breeze screaming in our ears, I waited for her to say... something. For someone so insistent on getting me alone to talk, she's been patiently biting her tongue.
Abruptly, the windows went up. The noise was suctioned away; I missed it dearly. It was all that had been keeping things from becoming fully awkward.
Not looking at me, she said, “So. What the hell were you thinking last night?”
“Excuse me?” I squinted at her stoic profile as she watched the road. Alright. No warm-up. She wants to jump right in.
“You know what I'm talking about, Lola.”
Of course I knew. But with such a blunt question, how could I answer? I'd been running through the steps all day. I barely understood my decision myself, how could I explain it to her?
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Licking my lips didn't make speaking any easier. “I don't know if 'thinking' is the right word.”
“Well, at least you said it first.”
I tightened my lips. “I mean; I did think about it. For a while I thought about it. I didn't... last night didn't happen because I wasn't thinking. It happened because I let out my—” My what? Urges? Desires? My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Brenda was keen to assist me. “Hormones?”
Every bit of skin welled up and became pink. “No! Would you give me a break?”
“I am giving you a break.” She changed lanes fast, pushing me deeper into my seat. “It might not seem like it, but this whole thing—Lola, I'm going easy on you.”
“This is you being easy?” Scratching my scalp, I forced a tiny smile. “Tell me why you're so pissed off.”
“I'm sorry, was it not obvious?” Brenda sped up, making me expect police sirens any second. “I thought you were smart. Did you not think for one minute about how badly this could go? About how easy it would be for you two to mess up and tear this band apart?”
My brows merged together. “That's all I've thought about since the start.” She shot me a sideways look, then eyed the road again. “Brenda, I really did consider all of that. Yeah, I'm not stupid, I know bands get ruined by members dating.”
“Dating!” Her burst of laughter was acrid. “You guys aren't even—are you serious? You and Drez had a drunken fling, that's all it was.”
Squirming in my seat, I folded my arms. No. It was more than that. He kissed me this morning in front of everyone. He wants more than a one-night stand.
And so do I.
My brooding silence stretched until Brenda cracked first. I finally caught a hint of her exhaustion. “Sorry. That came out wrong. Let me ask you this. Knowing how this could freak out the fans, how it could make crazy people crazier, would you consider letting me hide this?”
The question burned down into my belly. It made me forget I hadn't eaten that morning. In the side-mirror, I rubbed my neck where the soft bruises left by Drezden still lingered. Could this be hidden? Did I want it to be?
My hand fell from my throat. “I won't pretend nothing happened.”
Her huff of air was full of bitter amusement. “I suspected as much. He said something similar this morning.”
“Wait, he? Drezden?” Blinking, I watched as she pulled off the highway and down a curved exit ramp. The large, white Super Mart building rose up before us.
Gliding into a parking space, Brenda pulled two pairs of sunglasses from her fat purse. One of them was offered my way as she said, “I think you're both going to regret this. But at least you're in agreement about wanting the same thing. That's something. Put these on.”
The dark glasses hid away the puffy skin under my eyes. “Drezden really said he didn't want to hide us away?” The knowledge pushed my heart into my ribs.
“He told me he wanted the whole world to know.” She must have seen my smile, because she met it with a worried frown. “I'm not going to lie. I think this whole thing between you two is going to go badly.” Shaking her head, she slid her glasses into place. Her voice was soft as she exited the car, talking more to herself than me. “I swear, this band gives me nothing but trouble. I should never have taken them on.”
I wasn't listening. I was busy wandering in my head, relishing what Brenda had told me.
Drezden Halifax wanted the world to know about us.
My heart was racing to prove it could beat faster, harder, and longer than any other heart in existence. I wanted everyone to know about me and the singer. In the grocery store, I fought off the insane desire to run up to a counter and scream about it through the intercom. Drezden was mine, mine, mine.
And I was his.
Most of the shopping went by in a daze. Brenda, ever the organizer, had a list. We filled a cart to the brim with everything from coffee to cereal to the fruit Porter had demanded. It seemed like a lot of stuff, but thinking about the three men, it might have been too little.
With our sunglasses on and being just the two of us, Brenda was convinced no one would recognize me; I was too new to the band, she was just the manager. Without a tour bus in the parking lot or security swarming, no one batted an eye our way.
A familiar voice crackled out of a television stuck in the far wall of the store. I knew those gritty lyrics too well to ignore them. On the screen, a news channel was playing shots from Four and a Half Headstones and the tour. At first, my reaction was blushing glee. There I was—on stage!
Then the feed switched, showing police on another scene. I stopped in my tracks to stare. There, split lipped and haggard, was a man I'd managed to forget existed.
Johnny Muse.
He was being led away in cuffs, his teeth stained red as he shouted. I'd never seen him so upset, so... broken. The time between being kicked out of the band and now, a time that felt so short to me, had left a lifetime of ruin on the former guitar player's face.
He glared at the camera as he was shoved into a police car. It was a split second, his green eyes burning into me. They were seeing me, even if I knew that was impossible. I started to shiver.
“Lola?” Brenda stood next to me, sunglasses hiding her expression. I didn't need to respond, she'd seen the television. Even in my grim fog, I could feel the distress wafting from her. “Oh, son of a—is he really getting air time over this?” The phone was in her hand, long nails stabbing the buttons.
My fingers ached w
hen I squeezed them together. Something about being confronted with Johnny's sky-dive into destruction was scaring me. This is what's happened to him since Drezden kicked him out. I swallowed around the sand in my throat. I've replaced him. Does he know that, has he seen me on stage, playing with his former friends?
I was being worshiped in the media. He was being destroyed.
In my soul, I was sure Johnny Muse loathed me.
“Hey.” Brenda flicked her cellphone shut. “Hey, Lola. Snap out of it. You okay?”
My head moved neither up or down. I didn't know if I was okay or not. “It's weird to see him like that. Why did he get arrested? What happened, when was that?”
We both heard her phone buzzing in her purse; she didn't move to retrieve it. “I'd say you should check the internet for once, but honestly? I'd rather you didn't see what people were saying about you and Drezden.” My mouth twisted at her comment, but she only pressed on with a groan. “This band is going to kill me from stress. Johnny sort of... after he got kicked out so unceremoniously, he tried to get in touch with me. He called me from prison—”
“Prison?”
She hushed me, looking around at the milling, mostly empty store. “Jesus, not so loud. It's not as bad as it sounds. That time it wasn't, I mean. The night Drez hit him, he was wasted and going insane so the cops just put him in a cell to sober up. He called me around six in the morning the next day. Of course, I already knew about the whole situation by then.”
Everything I'd heard about Johnny and Drezden had been in regards to the fight. The aftermath had escaped my mind. “What did he say to you?”
“Just tried to talk me into overruling Drez.” Those strawberry lips quirked. “I knew better than that. Drez formed the band, keeping Johnny in would have just made it all fall apart permanently.” Her tiny smile faded. “I sent someone to bail him out after we signed your contract. There was never any clause saying we couldn't kick him—or anyone—out.”
My fingers curled, recalling how the pen had felt when it ran over those crisp white papers. “You waited to bail him out until our bus had left.”
Thin eyebrows flitted over the rims of her glasses. “I knew he was angry. Figured it was safe to get out of there. But honestly, I never thought Johnny would do anything. He's immature, not dangerous.”
“You thought he would cause some trouble, though.”
“Trouble as in causing a scene.” Brenda pushed the cart of groceries towards the front of the store. I followed behind, bending in to hear her low grumble. “Which he did last night.”
Last night. Those words didn't give me the same warm thrill they had before. No, now they sent tremors down my spine. “Tell me what he did.”
Her jaw, normally such an elegant curve, hardened. “The idiot got drunk, no surprise there, and caused a brawl trying to get into the club he knew you and Drez were at. It's lucky that you two left before he arrived or he might have punched one of you, instead.”
I covered my mouth, my eyeballs straining. “He what?”
“Got drunk. Punched a security officer.” The cart bumped into the check-out counter. Brenda turned one sharp heel, leaning in so close I could smell her minty breath. “When I told Drezden I could smooth over the gossip about you and him, I meant it. Johnny's insanity will be just as much of a headline, or even bigger. He's sitting in jail right now, he can't give his side of the story, we can cause a real fuss.”
“How do you know all this?” I gripped the cart tighter. "Fuck, did he ask you to bail him out a second time?"
Digging her phone from her purse, Brenda sighed. “Nope. He didn't bother to call me. I was trying to find out more details about the mess, if the guard is pressing charges or what.” She waved the phone at me, the screen glowing. “So far, no one can tell me what's up. I hate not knowing the details.”
The slim shot that Johnny Muse wasn't in jail, that no one could tell us where he was... it was as good as a punch to the gut. “Should we call Drezden and warn him?” I was already retrieving my cell phone.
She dropped a bag of apples onto the conveyor belt. The fruit made a heavy sound, rolling toward the bored cashier. “By now, the guys have told him everything. They were both at the club when Johnny showed up.”
I wanted to ask more, but my manager had turned towards the abruptly cheerful face of the cashier. They both wore false smiles, chattering away with pointless pleasantries as the numbers on the register stacked up.
Reaching down, I lifted a plastic container of coffee grounds from the cart. My goal was to stay busy. I had to keep myself from dwelling on this foreboding news.
It was no use. I kept picturing Drez's face when he'd told me about Johnny. He'd looked like a bushel of snakes waiting to strike. That had been days ago, what would be his reaction when he learned about the close call between us and Johnny Muse last night?
If we'd been slower... we might have spent our evening in a hospital instead of Drez's hotel room. Pushing back my hair, I inhaled until my stomach swelled. No. Drezden wouldn't have gone down. The singer was huge, fast, and I'd experienced his strength.
He'd also promised that he'd ruin Johnny if he ever saw him again.
I had no reason to doubt it.
That was the one thing that gave me enough courage to stop fretting over the fact that I might have a violent man coming after me. Even so, as we headed out towards Brenda's car with our purchases rolling in the shopping cart...
I didn't stop looking over my shoulder until I was buckled in.
- Chapter Seventeen -
Drezden
Coffee dripped on my shoes. It stained my jeans, burned where it had soaked through to my skin. Everything screamed for me to find cold water, a towel, anything.
I didn't fucking care.
“Whoa, Drez!” Porter stammered, hands rising while he stood nervously in the middle of the aisle. “Holy shit! Calm down man, let me get you a rag or—or something.”
“Tell me again.” There was a quiet threat on my tongue. Porter and Colt had heard it before; the wary look in both their faces said enough.
The drummer remained in his seat. I could tell from the tightness around his eyes that he was doing his best to control the adrenaline flooding his veins. “I said you missed the action last night. Yeah, you fucking heard me. Johnny came around looking for you.”
Johnny. Johnny Johnny Johnny. The crushed Styrofoam cup fell from my fist. The noise it made when it landed was hollow. “That's what I thought you said.” That piece of shit actually dared to show his face. Did he want to fight, to get back at me for kicking him out?
Wiping my palms on my shirt, I debated reaching for my cigarettes. It wouldn't have done any good if I had. After last night with Lola I hadn't bothered to replace my empty pack.
Lola.
Imagining her face was enough to turn my rage into something just as heated, yet different. Johnny thinks he can waltz in after a show as good as last night and—what? Try and change my mind? Get me to take him back?
The idea was laughable.
Lola is the best replacement I could have dreamed of. I dug my nails into my opposite shoulder. I wanted to pretend they were hers, that she was clawing at me desperately like she had this morning. Knowing the girl wasn't here, on my bus, made my skull pound.
And Johnny would dare fucking show up and interrupt— A sudden wave of paranoia dropped my jaw.
“Drez?” Porter risked coming closer, approaching like I was some rabid animal. “Hey, you alright? Don't worry about anything. They arrested Johnny, he's probably sitting drunk in some cell, his usual motif. You know that.”
I'd heard him, but I was too busy working through my nugget of worry. Johnny might not have been there to talk to me. Cramps wormed into my guts. There's a chance he was looking...
Looking for Lola.
“Drez, man, snap out of it!” My bassist squeezed my shoulder. The touch sent me reeling, eyes focusing on his furrowed brow. If it weren't for the familiar worr
y in Porter's eyes, I would have pushed him off of me.
My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. “I'm fine. Just pissed that Johnny would have the balls to show up like that.”
“It's not about balls,” Colt snorted. “He's always been a little nuts. I figured that was why you picked him years ago.”
The reminder that I'd chosen Johnny to be in my band didn't make me feel any better. I'd been sure he'd work out, he'd played better than anyone else who'd auditioned. That day, listening to the people who'd shown up in Colt's garage, it had been eye opening.
We'd had so few people. Especially compared to the line fighting for a chance at the gas station on this tour.
If only Lola had shown up back then.
Instead, her brother had. Pursing my lips, I brushed Porter off of me. Gripping a handful of napkins from a cupboard, I mopped at the coffee on my skin and clothes. “I was too optimistic back then," I mumbled.
That had both of the boys laughing. “You think you were in a better mood then?” Porter asked, sharing a meaningful look with Colt. “Man, your memory is broken or something.”
“Yeah?” Throwing the wet paper ball at the bassist, I crossed my arms. “You think I'd bring on Johnny today with how he is?”
“I'm talking less about Johnny, and more about a certain someone bringing out a side of you I've never seen you show before,” Porter said.
With careful patience, I lowered my hands to my hips. “You want to try and fucking lecture me like Brenda did?”
“You could use a lecture.” Colt rose up with a grunt. In a smooth motion, he swayed my way without a hint of fear in his eyes. If anything, he looked like he was judging me. “Maybe a few, now that I think about it.”
In that small corner of the bus, I felt the scrutinizing stares of my band mates. We'd spent so much time together, even before forming Four and a Half Headstones. Rarely did they become so intense with me.
I owed them my ear. “Say what's on your mind,” I grunted. “Both of you. Just get it all off your fucking chests.”
