Hearts Collide

by Masters, Ellie

  “Don’t you want to be a part of that?” Forest’s brows drew together and the brittleness of his eyes glittered under the hot stage lights of the rented auditorium. Rows of seats extended into the darkness, but there would be no crowd. No witnesses to what would come.

  “I do, but not if it gets in the way of what the band needs. Maybe I should make myself scarce?”

  She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t think she could. Despite her concerns over the state of their relationship, she needed to look Bent in the eye before believing they were through.

  “You’re not leaving.” Forest crossed his arms over his formidable chest. “You deserve to see this.”

  “How is it possible you’re as confident as you are?” She wandered over to the bass guitar sitting on a stand. “I don’t know if this is going to work. I’m terrified it’s going to fail.”

  Chances were, it would be a complete disaster. Months ago, her little scheme had seemed like a really good idea, brilliant actually, but now? With the inevitability of it rolling towards her with the power of a tidal wave, she wasn’t sure. Doubt gnawed at her.

  “You’ve been working with him for months, and your idea with the glove was brilliant.”

  For Forest to hand out a compliment surprised her, because he didn’t give out praise lightly.

  “I know, but I don’t know if it will translate into actual playing.”

  “You’ve seen the numbers.” Forest lifted another drum and gestured for her to steady the corresponding stand. “I’ve been turning up the resistance over the past month. He’s been working against the glove and has rebuilt the strength in his hand.”

  “True.”

  In the hours before each of her noon-time sessions with Bent, in the time she’d requested as her own, she and Forest had poured over the data from the previous day’s sessions. With Forest’s help, she’d sat down with his technical team and programmers to explain her goals. They’d been the ones who had come up with the intricate movements for Bent’s werebear in the virtual world.

  Nothing had been left to chance. Each movement served a specific task and focused on individual muscle groups in Bent’s fingers, hand, and arm. Without Bent being aware of it, they’d been rehabilitating him.

  His dexterity and strength had normalized. Only, Bent continued to act as if his injury persisted. It was that infuriating mental block which kept him a prisoner. Maybe Forest’s elaborate scheme would finally push though that last barrier?

  “What do you think he’s going to do?” She glanced around at the nearly finished stage and worried her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Bent?”

  She rolled her eyes in frustration. “Yes, Bent. That is who we’re talking about.”

  “He’s going to be pissed as fuck. If he doesn’t tear this place apart, there’s a pretty good chance he’s going to rip into one, or all, of the guys.”

  “And you, too.”

  “Bent doesn’t stand a chance against me, and he knows it.” Forest barked out a laugh. “Although, honestly, I’d love to see him try. He’s been horrible to be around these past few months. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stand him.”

  “You’re paying me to work with him.”

  That had been true months ago. She’d threatened to walk out any number of times, brought back only by Forest’s indomitable will and steadfast belief in what she could accomplish with the reluctant bassist.

  “I think me paying you ceased to be a driving factor months ago.” He stared at her with brotherly love. “You two mesh. I see it in the way he looks at you, and in how you look at him. That’s not something to walk away from.”

  “I know. I really do, and I want to think everything is going to be okay. I’m not really sure what set him off. Maybe that’s what has me the most concerned.”

  “How is that?”

  “I don’t know if I did this.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible for you to have done anything, Piper.” Forest came to her and wrapped a hand across her shoulders. He tugged her close and gave her a squeeze.

  The hug comforted her, but it was nothing like Bent’s bear hugs. She could lose herself in Bent’s embrace for days.

  “Come,” he said, cutting off the hug, “we’re almost done.”

  “Have you heard from Ash?”

  Forest shook his head. “Nothing yet, but give them time. I’m sure the five of them have a few things to sort out.” He placed another drum onto a stand while she steadied it.

  “When did you learn to set everything up?”

  Forest had managed to set up the band’s instruments all by himself. She’d been recruited to help, holding things while he did all the heavy lifting.

  “I learned in Afghanistan. The guys wanted to do something different and decided to visit smaller bases. We did a combination of full concerts and smaller unplugged venues. Smiley taught me how to set up an unplugged venue.”

  “Who’s Smiley?”

  “He’s the crew boss for the roadies. We couldn’t bring a whole crew to the smaller sites, so Smiley put me to work.”

  “I can’t see anyone putting you to work.”

  “You’d be surprised, but honestly, how could I say no? I don’t have a musical bone in my body, so it was kind of cool that I could help out. Now, I’m an expert.”

  “Where is this Smiley guy? Why isn’t he here?”

  “He’s with another band. With Angel Fire not touring right now, his skills were going to waste. Bash convinced him to head out with an up and coming band who needed his expertise. When Angel Fire is back on the road, you’ll have a chance to meet him.”

  In theory that sounded fun, but she didn’t think she’d have a place with the band in a few months. Her time was probably measured in hours.

  Forest’s cell phone buzzed and he fished it out of his back pocket to check the screen.

  “Lover Boy is in tow with the guys.”

  “Why do you call him that? You know he hates it.”

  “Smiley hates his nickname too, but that’s the thing with nicknames.”

  “What is?”

  “They’re earned and fit best when the recipient hates it.”

  “Lover Boy? Somehow that doesn’t seem to fit Bent.”

  “Well, at least I don’t call him Mr. Growly Bear.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I bet that wouldn’t go over well, but maybe you could hold off of irritating him with Lover Boy.”

  Forest snorted. “Yeah, right! Don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” He glanced out into the empty seating of the auditorium. “Where do you want to sit?”

  “Nowhere.” She turned to gaze out among the rows of seats. She could see all the way to the back. If she could see from here, then Bent would too. “I think I’m going to leave.”

  As much as it killed her to say it, leaving was the better choice.

  “Oh hell no you won’t.” He glanced at the area just off-stage, but twisted his lips.

  She understood why. There really was nowhere to hide, but then Forest’s eyes lit up. He jumped off the edge of the stage and turned around, lifting his arms as if to catch her.

  “Come.”

  “I’m not sitting out there.”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re not.” Turning he pointed to the back wall. “We’re going to watch from the audio booth.”

  “I thought you wanted to be here when they arrived.”

  “I did, but I agree with you.”

  “You do? What part?”

  “Well, I don’t want to be a distraction. I may be the band’s manager, but I’m still very much an outsider. I think the boys need to sort this out between them. Outside interference from me would throw a wrench in what they have going on.”

  “Ah.”

  She didn’t fully agree, but she understood what he meant. She had no idea what it must be like to play in a band, except the few times when Bent had described playing she’d gotten chills. Part of that was in t
he way he described his love for music and for the role of the bass guitar in holding up the backbone of the songs, but the other bit of it had to do with a surreal connection formed between the guys.

  Angel Fire had been through the ringer as a band. Drugs, alcohol, and sex defined them in their early days. Ash had spent time in rehab and his addiction had nearly broken up the band. They’d been hitting the top of the charts when nearly everything had come crashing down. As a testament to their close bonds of friendship, they’d somehow managed to pull Angel Fire out of the ashes, becoming an even greater force on the music scene afterwards.

  Alcohol and sex remained pervasive, at least for everyone but Ash. He alone had sworn off drugs, alcohol, and sex. Or at least sex with anyone but the wife he adored. All the others had taken a no drug pact in solidarity with Ash, but they still enjoyed the other two vices which came hand in hand with rock and roll.

  Hadn’t she seen that with Bent? She had, but not in the months since they’d embarked on a path of discovery as Dom and sub. What had happened to all of that? She should be furious with Bent for abandoning her, but she found little to be angry about. Instead, she ached for Bent. All she wanted was for him to be whole. Until he had his guitar back in his hands, and music streaming out of his soul, he would never feel complete. He may enjoy her company. There might even be a little bit more between them, but she would never be enough for Bent.

  Many women might be insulted by such a thing. They might demand an all or nothing clause in their relationships. Not Piper. She understood a complicated world, and she wasn’t threatened by Bent’s love of music.

  “We should probably get up there,” she said. “Do you know how?”

  Forest gave a nod. “There’s a set of stairs off the hallway behind the manager’s office. Come, I’ll show you.”

  “Everything is ready for them?”

  Forest glanced at his handiwork. “Mostly. They always fiddle with their stuff. They’re perfectionists.” He snorted a laugh. “It really pisses Smiley off, like they don’t trust him to set up their gear, but it’s just how they are.”

  He gripped her arm lightly and led her up the aisle to the front entrance of the theater. Through the glass doors, two Hummers and a Porsche pulled into the parking lot.

  “Come on.” Forest yanked her out of sight. “Let’s make ourselves scarce.”

  Moving behind the counters, he guided her through a small doorway and past what looked to be a business office. Another door sat at the end of the small hallway. Behind that, dark stairs ascended into pitch black. Behind them, the doors opened and the voices of the band spilled into the lobby.

  She wanted to stay and listen. See if Bent had come with them, but Forest pushed her ahead of him and guided her up the dark stairs using the flashlight feature of his phone to light the way.

  She went to flip a light switch she saw on the wall, but Forest gripped her wrist.

  “No. They’ll see it. Let’s let them have the stage.”

  “But doesn’t Ash know you’re here?”

  “He knows I set everything up, but I sent a text telling him we left the building.”

  “Isn’t he going to be pissed when he finds out you lied?”

  “Honestly, I’m not that worried about what they think.”

  She gave him a puzzled look, but he ignored her, digging around inside the booth with an amazing degree of stealth. He seemed to know what he was doing, and she left him to his task. In the near darkness, she picked a path to one of the two small windows overlooking the auditorium.

  Ash, Bash, Spike and Noodles, all bracketed Bent’s much larger frame. Ash and Bash walked in front of him, while Spike and Noodles took the rear. It was like they had caged him in, and Bent looked very much the caged beast as they shepherded him to the stage.

  “This shouldn’t take long.” Bent’s deep rumble rolled across the auditorium, easily heard from her vantage point. “Five minutes and we’re done.”

  “We’re not fucking done until we say so.” Bash reached the stage and turned on Bent. “You leave when we’re done, and not a goddamn moment before that.”

  “Fuck you.” Bent’s anger filled the air with the potency of his destructive powers, but none of the guys seemed phased by it.

  Bash vaulted up on the stage, and was followed by Ash. They both glared at Bent, stepping back barely far enough to allow Bent to climb up behind them. Once Bent made the stage, Noodles gave Spike a shrug and the two of them followed.

  “Now what?” Her whisper seemed to carry in the small booth.

  “Now, we wait.” Forest returned. “And I might just have a surprise for them all.”

  Uh-oh. Forest’s surprises could mean almost anything.

  Bass Guitar

  Bent

  Bent’s foul mood had only deepened during the drive. Choosing Spike should have kept the conversation to a minimum, but the man of few words couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’d done nothing but ask Bent about Piper. Spike said nothing about Bent’s decision to quit the band. Nothing about the fact his arm was still a twisted mess. He’d expected some degree of sympathy from Spike, but the outright accusations that had spewed forth knocked him off kilter.

  Who the hell did Spike think he was? And why was he so damn interested in Piper?

  Standing in the middle of a stage, albeit a small community venue, should have his mind on the music, but Spike’s words rolled around in his head in a non-stop barrage of recrimination.

  What are you going to do about Piper?

  You’re a fucking dick leaving her like that.

  I thought you had more class.

  I expected something like that from Bash, but you?

  You kicked that girl to the curb.

  She’s a fucking saint, putting up with you.

  You owe her big time.

  You’re a fucking douche.

  Bent’s fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel. It was either that or he would’ve punched Spike. He’d only made that mistake once. The metal in Spike’s lips and brows bit back, and hard. Bent had the scars on his knuckles to prove it from the one and only fist fight they’d ever had.

  Spike gave him a hard glare as he went to the stand holding his guitar. Someone had set the whole stage up; Forest, no doubt. Smiley was in Europe on another tour while Angel Fire was on hiatus.

  “Where is Forest?” He spun toward Ash, demanding an answer.

  “Not here.” Ash retrieved his guitar from a waiting stand and slung the neck strap over his head.

  As their lead singer, Ash seldom played guitar, but he sometimes joined Spike with the melody line, merging the unique sound of his guitar to Spike’s lead. Bash disappeared behind his drum kit. His bald head and muscular arms were all Bent could see. Noodles went to his keyboard and knelt on the ground to check the connections. Bent was the only one who wasn’t double checking the setup of his instrument.

  He didn’t really care, because it didn’t matter. In minutes, he would prove his point, and they would come face-to-face with a truth he’d known for months.

  “You going to just stand there and stare?” Bash rang a symbol, catching his attention.

  “It crossed my mind.” His surly attitude worsened, and wasn’t going to get better any time soon; at least not until they were done with this charade.

  “Well…” Bash ripped across the drums with his drumsticks. “The longer you stand around with your thumb up your ass, the longer this is going to take.”

  A glance at the bass brought a searing pain to Bent’s chest. He had smashed all his guitars, and already regretted it. He shouldn’t be surprised to see a shiny new bass waiting for him. Forest had definitely had a hand in this.

  He didn’t want to break in a new guitar, but he was ready. It was time to get this over with.

  Stomping over, he took the guitar by the neck and ripped it out of the stand. A quick check revealed it was ready to go. He ran his fingers across the strings. It had been months since he’d pla
yed and he’d lost the callouses on his fingers. He plucked one string and allowed his eyes to close. He loved the deep tone brought forth from his guitar and took in the rich vibration which made the very air pulse.

  A stool had been set beside his guitar and he took a seat while he fingered a string. He cocked his head down, listening to his instrument, then twisted the corresponding tuner to adjust the pitch. Testing again, he gave a nod, satisfied with the tone. He ran through the next three strings, testing the sound and adjusting the pitch as he went. The entire instrument was in tune, which meant there was nothing standing in his way from actually playing the damn thing.

  The door to the auditorium banged open, drawing Bent’s gaze. A smile curved his lips when the solid form of Ryker Lyons sauntered down the aisle.

  Given a choice, Bent wanted Ryker to stay with the band, but Ryker had been pulled for other things. One of Forest’s side projects, Ryker and his fiancée, Tia Myers, had been tasked with forming a special ops surgical insertion team. Forest kept the two of them busy, and Bent hadn’t spoken to his friend in a very long time.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of Ryker’s presence now. It felt a little like a betrayal, but if the guys had staged this shit-show as an intervention, it made perfect sense for Ryker to be here as well. He’d become an honorary member of the band and welcomed into the fold.

  “Awesome!” Ryker gave a pump of his arm. “Looks like I made it.”

  “Perfect timing.” Ash called out from the other side of the stage. “We were just checking our gear.”

  “Great.” Ryker cast over his shoulder, then scanned the empty auditorium. “Tia’s here. I hope that’s okay…I can ask her to wait in the parking lot if not.”

  “Nah, that’s okay,” Ash replied. “This is pretty informal.”

  Ryker cocked his head and focused on Bent. “I’m really looking forward to playing with you bro’. It’s been too long.”

  It had been a whole lot of something, but not too long. Bent didn’t want to play, because he didn’t want to know the truth of what he’d become. However, this was the only way to get the guys off his back. It would free them to search for a permanent replacement and give Bent the freedom he needed to sort out his life.