Ice Steam (Loving All Wrong #3) (28 page)

“It’s after ten,” I updated him, shoveling some crushed ice in the blender.

A pause from Tex as he narrowed puffy blue eyes at me. “Ah, it’s
her
. The shady one.” Holding the sheet around his waist, he sat down next to Mark, picked up a piece of bacon, and began nibbling on it.

I chose to ignore his sick, mercurial, depressive disposition this weekend, for the sake of my and everyone’s sanity.

Leo and Xena plodded downstairs next, with sleep-swollen eyes. “What’s going on down here?”

Really, these people were strange. It was as if someone being up before nine and preparing breakfast was breaking news.

Leo covered his mouth with one hand and laughed out, “Holy shit! The kitchen is christened. The kitchen is
actually
christened!”

That got me jerking my head up. “You’re joking, right?”

Stifling a yawn, Xena shuffled to a stool beside Tex. “No one cooks here, Alina. We just order food in.” She reached for a slice of bacon from the dish in front of Tex. “Why do you think we all look forward to Sunday dinners at Eye Spy?”

Tex got up and moved to a stool at the other end of the island.

Xena’s bacon paused halfway to her mouth, hurt flashing across her face.

“Really, Tex? What are you, five?”

To me, Tex said, “Can I get a plate, please?”

I gave him a butler bow before turning to fetch a couple of mugs and plates from the cupboard, offering one to each person. I asked if they wanted coffee or orange juice. Tex, Mark and Xena wanted coffee, Leo wanted OJ.

“Where’d you even find food to cook?” Mark asked around a stuffed mouth. “Rosalind only cleans the place. Never grocery shops.”

Pouring my smoothie out into a glass, I stuck a stalk of celery in it, and then a fat, pink straw. “I stocked the pantry.”

Leo coughed into his OJ. “You
stocked
the pantry? Like, with your
own
money?”

“Or Xavi’s,” Tex murmured.

Mark elbowed him, while I shrugged him off. “Yes, with my own money. It’s just food. Shut up and eat. I was aiming to deter any Hangover Pussy visits today.”

“And I don’t have a Hangover Pussy like you guys, so, yeah, shut up and eat,” said Leo.

Tex rubbed his forehead, as though wishing away a headache. “You don’t have a Hangover Pussy because you’re
gay
.”

“Your father’s gay, jerk-face,” was Leo’s lame retort, like a wimpy kindergartner trying to play tough.

“Sure, that’s how I came about. Sperm in the anus created a famous musical genius.”

“No,” said Xena. “Sperm in the anus created a famously pathetic
Ass
Hole.”

Tex rubbed his forehead some more.

Turning to fetch a bottle of aspirins, I shook out two in my palm, filled a ball-glass with some tap water, then set the glass down in front Tex and opened my palm to him.

Without raising his head, he stared up at me through his black lashes, eyeliner all blotched and messy, making him resemble a prostitute after a long night of sucking dicks and puking up sperm. When he realized I wasn’t breaking, wasn’t intimidated, he took the aspirins and washed them down, then resumed eating without a murmur of thanks.

I picked up my smoothie and rounded the island to sit beside Xena.

“Wait, that’s all you’re having for breakfast?” she asked.

“I’m on a strict diet.” I sucked up a mouthful. “I can’t eat bacon and sausage and maintain a size two now, can I?”

Mark smirked. “Bacon, no. But sausage, I hear it’s the ultimate diet choice for women. Tons of nutrients.”

I made a face. “When I hear sausage it makes me think ‘Weiner’, and when I hear ‘Weiner’ it makes me think of a six-year-old boy’s penis.”

Xena snickered.

“And before you comment,” I continued as Mark opened his mouth. “No, Xavi doesn’t have a
penis
. He has a light-post.”

“Okay,” Xena gagged, “can we
please
not talk about my brother’s penis—”

“Light-post,” I corrected.

“...while I’m eating?” she finished, narrowing her eyes.

As if on cue, Xavier sauntered into the kitchen, scratching his bare chest. “Wha—who?”

Xena jabbed a thumb at me. “We have our own Jess now, brother. Can you get her to move in?”

Xavier’s brows went up as he dragged his feet over to me. “You
cooked
?”

“I can’t understand why this is such a shock to everyone.”

“She stocked the pantry, too,” Leo tossed in.

Pressing one hand flat on the counter in front of me and the other on my thigh, Xavier leaned down and kissed me softly, tenderly. “Dear, Chino, don’t make me fall in love with you.”

“Don’t do it,” Tex mumbled. “Biggest mistake of your life.”

“Dear, rock star,” I whispered back, ignoring Tex, “you don’t stand a chance.”

His hand relocated from my thigh to the back of my neck, and he kissed me deeper, longer.

“Brotherrrrrr,” Xena groaned, “I
really
don’t need to see your tongue right now.”

Chuckling, Xavier broke away from me, grabbed a dish and began piling his plate.

We all sat and ate and joked around until all the food was gone. Leo announced that he was throwing in the towel and would be moving into Guest Rest.

Mark did a fist pump and shouted, “One down, two more to go! Beach Rock is
mine
!”

Xavier laughed and told him to keep dreaming, while I just thought the whole thing was ludicrous.

The mood was broken when Tex’s new Saskia lookalike sashayed downstairs in nothing but a black thong, her double D breasts bouncing as she trotted up to the island, completely comfortable in her nakedness, and pouted at the empty dishes.

“Nothing left for me?” she asked out loud.

Fascinated by the different kinds of humans that made up this world, I tilted my head and studied her.

Xena muttered, “
Yuck
. I think I’m gonna vomit.” She stood from her stool and turned to glare at Tex, who watched her with a blank expression. “Back to this Saskia bullshit, Tex?

When all he did was stare back at her with a vindictive little gleam in his ice-blue eyes, she flipped him both middle fingers and flounced off.

I stood and began clearing the dishes.

“Get outta here.” This was from Xavier. His command was so gentle but so threatening at the same time.

That was one of the things I loved most about him. His voice. So deep and rich, he needn’t raise it for you to hear and understand him. He just spoke, lower than normal volume, and
the inflect rolled through you in waves.

“Why?” the girl whined. She then gestured to me. “How does she get to stay and I—”

“Really gonna make me say it again, cunt?”

She stiffened, looked to Tex who didn’t seem to care, then she sulked some more and stomped off.

Leo mumbled a “Thanks for the breakfast” and fled the scene.

Xavier got up and came to help me with the dishes. “You wash, I’ll rinse.”

I moved over and made space for him. “Bad boy cleaning up after his own mess?”

“Never said I was a bad boy,” he replied, getting to work. “Notice no ink’s on me? That’s ‘cause needles scare the shit outta me.”

“
Bitch, put some clothes on and get your nasty ass out!”
came Xena’s shrieking from upstairs.

Xavier sighed and shook his head, and I peeked back over my shoulder at Tex, who was still sitting at the island, head in his hands.

Mark was gone now, too.

“Been seriously thinking about renovating and reopening the Blues Bar,” Xavier told me. “Want you to come with me to check it out and see how bad a shape it’s in.”

“Today?”

“I don’t give a stinking shit what Almighty Tex told you! Get. Out!”

“Actually, if you could leave these dishes to me and start getting ready now, that’d be great.”

“Excited much?”

His grin was sheepish. “Never told anyone apart from my band members about it. Wanna know what you think.”

Stilettos click-clacked into the kitchen. “Tex, seriously, what the fu—”

One look from Xavier over his shoulder, and the Saskia lookalike balked. One look. And whatever she saw on his face, in his eyes, made her do a U-turn and click-clack right out of the house.

I wondered if Xavier knew Xena and Tex had feelings for each other. I mean, if I could be here for such a short time and pick up on that, how could he not?

He poked me with his elbow. “Go on, Chino. You take an eternity to get dressed.”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Excitable.”

I dried my hands with a kitchen-towel, tipped up on my toes for a kiss from him, and darted up to his room to get ready.

I was on my knees on the floor, zipping open my pull-along when Tex barged into the room, sheet still draped around him, long, greasy black hair hanging down the sides of his face as he towered over me. “You hooked them up, didn’t you?”

Sitting back on my haunches, I pretended to be confused. “I don’t follow.”

“That faggy piece of shit she’s with,” he gritted out. “You put him on her.”

Faggy?
Really? “I don’t k—”

“Don’t pussy around with me!” he hissed in a hushed voice. “He works with you. You pop up out of nowhere and suddenly she has a man? Get
rid
of him.”

I folded my arms. “If I get rid of him, will you be with her?”

“Of course not.”

Genuinely confused now, my eyebrows kissed. “I don’t understa—”

“I don’t want to
be
with her,” he said, voice a little less hostile. “But I don’t want her to be with anyone else.”

This.
This
made my blood boil. Because in that moment, it wasn’t Tex standing in front of me, but Davian, telling me straight-up he didn’t want to be with me, but also didn’t want me to be with Xavier.

How presumptuous of men, to assume women were so frail and desperate.

There was being in love, and there was being flat-out stupid. Being in love didn’t mean a woman had to be a man’s doormat, it didn’t mean she had to settle, it didn’t mean she had to let the man hold all the cards.

As long as she knew who she was, and was totally and completely confident in herself, in her strength, in her worth, the stupidity affiliated with love couldn’t undermine her.

Clutch tight to the Queen of Hearts and flip the Joker card at the asshole.

I wasn’t a fool, and Xena sure as hell wasn’t one. We were strong and firm in the war against selfish, egotistical douchebags.

“If that’s your stance, then I’m not getting rid of him.” I held up a finger as he started to retort. “And even if
you
manage to get rid of him, I’m gonna continue setting her up, one ‘faggy piece of shit’ after another, until someone either marries her, or knocks her up. Until she
falls in love
. And you lose her.
Then
what will you do? First Saskia and then her. You’ll be a
loser
. A
failure
. A
waste of space
. Having nothing but the title of a rock star. Screwing groupies who love your name, your fame, not
you
. And Xena will be happy in love, just like Saskia is now. You’ll be nothing but a fond memory to them. You’ll be a loser, Tex.
A loser
. Because without love, we’re nothing. None of us. Love is the only reason worth living. You let it slip again, then shame on you.
Fool
. ”

He glowered at me for a long moment, before turning and stalking out of the room.

Five seconds later, he reappeared at the doorway. “You’re just like her, you know? The black-hearted bitch with the accent. You’re everything like her. I see in you what I should’ve seen in her when we were together. What I should’ve paid attention to. What would’ve stopped me from falling so desperately deep into her. I was too high on her, too blind to see it back then. But I see it in
you
now…” He laughed, cold and bitter, humor lost on both of us. “You’re in love. But it’s not with
him
. And just like she did to me, you’re gonna bring that six-foot-five inches of man to his knees, and then, you’re gonna
break
him.”

Blues Bar—yes, Xavier’s bar was tritely called Blues Bar—had a fantastic location on Sunset Boulevard.

As we bailed out of his jeep, I asked him if he got a lot of offers for the bar just for the location alone, and he replied “tons.” But he couldn’t bring himself to sell it, no matter how staggering the offers were, because he knew how much it meant to his great grandfather.

Three stories, with grimy weathered bricks, frosty antiquated windows, and an unlit neon sign with a guitar, a saxophone, and ‘Blues Bar’ in calligraphic font.

Xavier keyed a rusty metal door open, and I was expecting an attack of cobwebs, dust and rodents when we entered, but was instead met with spotless epoxy floors and the acrid scent of bleach on the air. Not at all like a place that had been locked up for decades.

Laughing at my confused expression, Xavier explained he had the place serviced every few months and cleaned spotless every few weeks so it wouldn’t deteriorate into rusty pipes, chewed wirings, termites and rodents.

It was definitely outdated, with thirsty walls begging for the caressing stroke of a paintbrush, but was a lot roomier than the exterior assumed. Chipped-up wooden bar, beer drums for tables, rickety barstools, and up at the front was an elevated wooden stage with
Ole
Boy Xander
written
on the back wall. Just like in the picture with his granddad.