Out of Sync

by Vanessa North

  “What if I said I didn’t want to play drums anymore?”

  I close my eyes and let out my breath slowly. Drums. Another teenage rebellion to cast aside? No—music is everything to him. Or maybe it seemed that way because it was everything to me and he wanted to be perfect for me. No—the music was real.

  “I’d call you a liar. And buy you a keyboard.”

  He laughs, and the sweet familiarity of the sound sends a rush of comforting warmth through me. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear him laugh again.

  “I’m coming back. But if you’re serious about the keyboard…”

  “Would you play keys? I know piano was something your parents made you do.”

  He shrugs and butts his shoulder against mine. “I’d have to think about it. But I’m not mad at the idea. It would make our sound a little fuller too.”

  “You could sell Drea her drum kit back.”

  He laughs again. “The sisterhood of the traveling drum kit?”

  “You said it.” I laugh. God, it feels good to talk to him. “I missed this.”

  “Missed what?”

  “Talking to you. We haven’t talked like this in so long. We’ve been out of sync.”

  “I missed it too.” His arm wraps around my waist and his head rests on my shoulder. He’s still my Jacks underneath the shaved head and discarded rebellions. Still a Ritchie-seeking missile. The silence draws out slowly between us. The conversation is over, but I don’t want it to be.

  “I should get going. I don’t like leaving Britney in her crate so long.”

  We both stand, and I like to think he’s as reluctant as I am.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Jacks says softly, still holding my hand.

  “Okay.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek, even though what I really want is to haul him up against me and never let go.

  He drops my hand and touches the side of his face, smiling. Then he gives me a little wave and goes back inside.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The green room is empty when I show up at Bridgeview Thursday night, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m excited and nervous, butterflies in my stomach and twitches in my limbs. I pace the room, contemplate getting high, then pace some more. Naturally, that’s how Teri finds me.

  “Hey, buddy.” She stops me in the tracks I’m wearing into the old rug to give me a hug. “How’s your week going?”

  I squeeze her for a long moment. “What did Farrah tell you?”

  She draws back and gives me a look. “Brunette, about five two, blue eyes. Too shy for open mic and too sweet for you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that was a disaster. We’ll probably just be friends.”

  “I’m impressed you went for it. A-plus for effort.” She flops down on the couch and folds her arms behind her head. Her shirt rides up, exposing her tattooed abs. She’s got a new one, still raised and red.

  “What’s that there?” I move closer to check it out. Delicate filigree scrollwork, like an ornate frame, circles her navel. It’s pretty and different from her usual style.

  “Oh, nothing. One of my apprentices had some ideas she wanted to experiment with. It was a slow night, so Drea and I let her practice on us.”

  “It’s really pretty.”

  “Thanks. I like to think I’m teaching’ the younguns well.”

  The door opens and Drea walks in, sticks in hand. “Dude—I am so fucking beat. Oh hey, Teri.” She practically crashes on top of Teri as she sits on the couch. Teri laughs and wraps an arm around her, whispering something low in her ear. They look like lovers, which startles me.

  “Show Ritchie your new ink.”

  “Can’t. Can’t move.” Drea whines. “I just came off a twenty-four-hour shift.”

  “Jesus.” I look more closely. She has dark circles under her eyes and her hair is sneaking out of its ponytail. “I thought you didn’t work Thursdays.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to.” She sits up and scrubs at her eyes. “One of the other EMTs got hurt playing fucking basketball and I took his shift.”

  “You can’t play like this.” I look at Teri. “I don’t know if Jacks is coming tonight. What should we do?”

  “Relax, go get her a Red Bull. She’ll be fine.”

  “I’m right here.” Drea yawns. “But that will definitely help.”

  I find Farrah behind the bar. “I’m grabbing a Red Bull for Drea. She’s an exhausted mess.”

  Farrah’s eyes widen and she looks genuinely distressed. “I don’t know how she does that job. Is she okay?”

  “Teri thinks she’ll be fine.” I look at Farrah carefully, weighing whether to tell her about the weird lover-vibe I’ve gotten from them. “Do you think she and Drea have something going on?”

  Farrah glances away. “I’m sure I couldn’t say anything about that.”

  “Bullshit. You know everything.”

  She shrugs and smiles secretively. “I didn’t say I didn’t know anything. I said I couldn’t say anything.”

  “I’m so getting you drunk later.” I grab the Red Bull and point a finger at her. “You’re going to divulge your secrets. All of them.”

  Her grin widens and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t count on it.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you’re smiling about it instead of scowling.”

  “Go give Drea her caffeine.”

  Back in the green room, Teri and Drea are curled up together on the couch. Yeah, there’s definitely a vibe there. I hand over the energy drink.

  “What’s going on with you two?”

  Teri raises an eyebrow at me. “Nothing.” She nudges Drea. “Show him your ink.”

  Drea pulls up her t-shirt, showing off washboard abs and a similar filigree piece under her bust. I let out a low whistle. “Holy shit, that’s beautiful. An apprentice did this?”

  She drops her shirt again. “Yeah. Amazing right? Thanks for this.” She raises the can. “It’ll help.”

  The door swings open and Nat walks in wearing leather pants and a ratty tank top. Jacks follows at her heels.

  My breath catches and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Like Nat, he’s wearing leather pants, and apparently, he’s decided “fuck shirts” is a regular thing. He looks like he spent the last three weeks lying in the sun, his skin practically glows gold. And he’s wearing eyeliner. Something about Jacks and his hungry eyes in eyeliner has always ruined me. He’s fucking beautiful.

  “Hey, guys—” Nat pauses at the sight of Drea and Teri cuddled on the couch. “Okay, that’s new.”

  “Right?” I say, thankful to not be the only one seeing it.

  Teri rolls her eyes, then raises her chin at Jacks.

  “Hey, kiddo. Welcome back.”

  He raises his chin back at her, then smiles shyly at me. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  I follow him out to the hallway, where he leans back against the wall and puts a hand on my waist. The familiar position sends a shockwave of memories through my body. I swallow hard and run a hand over his shorn scalp. The hair is soft under my fingertips. No perfectly pomaded pompadour to mess up, but I find I don’t actually miss it. Roughing up his pompadour was always an excuse to touch Jacks anyway.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  “How are you doing?” he asks, looking up at me. “After our talk yesterday?”

  “I’m okay. You?”

  “I’m good. I was worried the depression talk would have upset you.”

  I’m not surprised that would have worried him, but it was the most honest he’d ever been with me about the pain that dogged him, and I couldn’t be upset about that. “I’m glad you told me what it’s really like. It helps me to understand why you didn’t before.”

  He smiles and glances away, his hand toying with the hem of my shirt. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it, though the effect on me is growing more obvious by the moment. He drops the hand away and straightens up. “I’m glad I told you, too. It feels like t
here’s a weight off my chest now.”

  “A burden made lighter by sharing?”

  His face tightens. “I don’t want to weigh you down.”

  “You don’t.” I lean forward and press my forehead to his. “I love you.”

  He scrunches his eyes shut and puts a hand on the side of my neck, and for a moment we simply stand there, with those words and his pain between us. He drops his hand and pushes me back.

  “I love you too.”

  We go back to the green room, where Drea is perking up, but still looks beat. Jacks takes one look at her and shakes his head.

  “I’m playing tonight. You should go home and get some sleep. Do you have a shift tomorrow?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I have the next two days off. But I just drank a shit ton of caffeine, I’ll be wired for a couple hours. Might as well stick around and see who gets their hair pulled.”

  Teri groans. “You, later.”

  I actually feel my eyes widen. Nat hides a smile behind her fist. Drea laughs. “Go on, you guys. Have a good show.”

  His kick drum is my heartbeat.

  Being on stage with Jacks is always intense, but tonight, after these weeks apart, even more so. The way Jacks and I work together as a rhythm section has always meant being completely absorbed in the sounds the other is making. Checking in with each other constantly, watching each other, sharing nonverbal cues.

  The crowd is raucous and rowdy tonight, pushing up to the stage, each ripple of movement sending waves outward—an ocean of color crashing against our tiny island. When Teri steps close to Nat and clutches Nat’s waist while she goes in for a sweaty kiss, it’s like a storm surge sweeps the crowd. I watch Jacks to see if he’s going to join them—a cue for me to trigger a recorded drum part to play my solo over. He nods at me, playing along with the recording for a moment before setting his sticks aside.

  But it’s not Nat he approaches—it’s me. When his hands come around my waist from behind, I nearly falter, but thankfully I can play this solo in my sleep.

  Because surely this is a dream. Jacks’s teeth on my ear, his tongue along the side of my neck, his hands running up and down my sides. My head falls back, my eyes closed, as pleasure sweeps through me. Jacks pinches my nipples and bites my shoulder, pressing his erection against my ass. I’m so turned on, I hold my breath. Then his hand squeezes my waist and he gives my ear one last bite.

  “Hot, Ritchie,” he teases. Then he’s gone. Back behind his drum kit, he takes up his sticks. My heart and breath begin again.

  Sticky with sweat, I make my way to the bar to check on Drea. I stop a few feet away when I find her on a bar stool with Farrah leaning close and talking in her ear. When they pull apart and smile at each other, the vibe hits me again. Farrah’s hand is on Drea’s face, and they look like they’re about to kiss. Drea and Teri. Drea and Farrah. Farrah and…Oh.

  “Figure it out yet?” Teri’s voice is in my ear and her hand on my shoulder before I even realize she’s walked up behind me.

  “How did that happen?”

  She shakes her head and squeezes my shoulder. “A story for another day.”

  I watch as she walks right up to Drea, wraps Drea’s ponytail in her fist, and then kisses her, deeply and passionately right there in front of God and witnesses. Farrah rolls her eyes at them, then smiles at me.

  “Come on, I’ve got a bottle of Chardonnay with your name on it.”

  I find an empty barstool and sit while she pours the wine and sets it in front of me. She crosses her arms over her chest and grins.

  “Tell me everything,” I demand. “How? When? What about—?” She stops me with a hand on my arm.

  “It’s complicated.” She wrinkles up her face as she says it. “Cliché but true.”

  “Are you together? The three of you? How does that work? I thought monogamy was your bag?”

  She looks down at the bar then back at me. “I’m not into casual hookups, but I have no problem with polyamory. As for when—it’s too much to explain tonight.”

  “Ritchie?” A voice at my side draws my attention away. Soft brown hair glinting red in the light, blue eyes, and a shy smile.

  “Sarah, hi.” My voice cracks on the greeting.

  “Hi.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?” At her nod, I glance apologetically to Farrah. Our conversation will keep. “Manhattan.”

  “You remembered,” Sarah says as the drink appears in front of her. “Thank you.”

  I turn to face her with my whole body. “Would you like to sit?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ll be staying long. I just wanted to say—”

  “Hey, Ritchie, can I—oh, hi.” Jacks comes up beside her and glances at her curiously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Jacks, this is Sarah. She writes electronic beats and plays the harp over them.”

  “That’s so dope; I have to hear you play.” He grins at her and holds out a hand for a shake. “I’m Jacks.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her face flushes as she takes his hand, and he leans in and kisses her cheek.“I was telling Ritchie how great you guys sounded tonight. Or I was about to. You were great; welcome back.”

  “Thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you to say. I’m happy to be back. Ritchie, can I borrow that tank top you left in the green room? Now that the show’s over…”

  “Yeah, put your tits away,” I laugh at him, and for a moment we feel so perfectly normal, I want to tug him to me and kiss him. But I don’t, and the moment slides away, leaving a prickly dissonance between us.

  “Thanks.” He turns back to Sarah, bouncing on the tips of his toes. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, but if I don’t, tell Ritchie when your next gig is. He’ll make sure I come.”

  “I—okay. Bye.” She stares after him, then a surprised laugh escapes her. “Is he always like that?”

  I sigh. “He’s like that when he’s happy. Which is not so often in my company these days.”

  “Oh. So you guys are…?”

  “Still complicated,” I answer. “But we love each other. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. You’re really pretty, and I think you’re a very interesting person. But I’m—”

  “Completely in love with Jacks.” She finishes for me. “It’s okay. I could tell your mind was somewhere else—with someone else—yesterday.”

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  She takes a sip of her drink and studies me, then sighs. “You’re welcome.”

  “Sarah, I don’t have many friends outside of my bandmates. If you’re up to it, I’d still like to hang out. And listen to you play. I know you’re scared to get up on stage, but you deserve to feel that rush too.”

  “Then I’ll bring my harp on Tuesday night. And you can bring your boyfriend.” She holds up her drink. “Thank you for this.”

  She disappears into what’s left of the crowd. Jacks and Nat appear from the hallway leading backstage, arm in arm. Jacks is wearing my tank top, and I watch as he lifts the front of it over his nose and takes a deep breath. His eyes drift closed and for a moment he looks stricken with pleasure. He drops the shirt, and from across the room, his gaze meets mine. Awareness sizzles through me as he lets go of Nat’s arm and stalks forward, all dark-lined eyes and sex.

  Jesus. He could do anything to me, and I would beg for more. I want him to grab me by the throat and fuck me through a wall and then lay me down on his bed and let me worship him.

  He stops in front of me and places a hand behind me on the bar, bringing our bodies close together. “Was that her?”

  I swallow and nod. My dick is hard as a rock. I wish he would touch me, but I’m terrified of what comes next if he does.

  He glances around the bar, then nuzzles his face close to my neck and takes in a ragged breath. When he speaks, his lips brush my ear. “I’m so fucking jealous right now.”

  Vindication rushes through my veins like a high. He still wants me. I widen m
y legs and he steps between them, placing his hands on my thighs. He stares at me through half-lidded eyes, biting his full lower lip. I squirm under his gaze, eager to touch him, but spellbound by the expression on his face.

  His hand moves from my thigh, and for a moment I think he’s going to touch my face, but then he reaches behind me and picks up my wine glass. He takes a long sip, still staring at me. Then he shakes his head as if clearing it.

  He steps back and puts the glass into my shaking hand, curling my fingers around it. “Damn.”

  I take a drink. “Yeah. Damn.”

  “It doesn’t change anything,” he warns me, cupping my jaw. “I’m not ready to come home.”

  I close my eyes, which are suddenly wet with tears, not trusting myself to look at him. “The music got under your skin. That’s all.”

  His huff is half a laugh as his fingers trace the edge of my hairline and his thumb slides over my cheekbone. “Right. It was the music.”

  I swallow down the rest of the wine and put the empty glass on the bar behind me. “Jacks, so help me god, if you don’t stop touching me, I am going to come in my pants.”

  He drops his hand and smiles ruefully. “Sorry.”

  “When you touch me like that, it still means something to me.”

  He lets out a rough sigh and drops his gaze to our feet. “It never stopped meaning something to me.”

  That’s the last straw. “Farrah, close out my tab,” I call over my shoulder. The iPad appears at my elbow. I leave a generous tip, stand, and take Jacks’s hand. I drag him through the club to the back door.

  “Your place or mine?” I ask him as we step outside, and I pull out my phone.

  “For what?”

  I look up from the rideshare app and raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Mine,” he says.

  We’re silent in the Lyft, and even though I’m still holding his hand, we don’t kiss or touch each other beyond that. But that’s enough. I’m hard as a rock, hornier than I can ever remember being. When we reach Nat’s apartment, he lets us in with his key, then leads me past the teal sofa and down the short hallway to the guest room—to his room.