Rock Me Deep (8 page)

That made me smile. “He really never told you about how he auditioned for my band two years back?”

Lola's fingers were wet from clutching her glass. “He what? I—why wouldn't he tell me that?”

It was Brenda who spoke first. “Drez, stop. You said if I thought it was fine, then it was fine. It doesn't matter what Sean did, he's not holding some grudge against you.”

My mind tickled, recalling how Sean had knocked over one of my amps after I'd told him the bad news. I knew what hatred looked like. I'd dealt with it my whole life.
Could a guy like that let a grudge go so easily?
Johnny's face swam behind my eyeballs. “Why are you so sure?” I asked.

She propped her cheek on her fist. “Because he came to me this morning, asking me to consider our friend Lola here for the open slot. Why would he send us help if he was still mad?”

My fingers slid to my jeans, seeking the shape of my cigarette pack for comfort. “He came to fucking see you this morning?” The hard ball that was my guts only got worse when I saw Lola biting her lower lip. An awful idea hit me. “Did
you
tell him to do that for you, Lola?”

She shook her head quickly, sensing the distrust wafting off of me. I was sure she had to feel it. I was boiling with a sensation of betrayal. Had this all been orchestrated without my knowledge somehow?

Lola said, “I didn't know about the audition until Sean told me. He did mention he'd talked to your manager, though.” Those lovely blue eyes fixed on Brenda.

“Drezden, calm down.” Brenda had no patience for my moods, she never had. “You're getting that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” I growled, drinking from my beer. It was empty somehow. When had I finished it? The warm buzz in my skull had no answers.

Reaching over, she slid her manicured nails onto Lola's shoulder. “The look that says you're about to say or do something stupid. Lola didn't trick you, Sean didn't do anything. Even
if
they somehow had arranged things, it was still on you to choose her for the band. How could they force your hand? What would they gain?”

She's right,
I thought sullenly.
I'm looking at this the wrong way. The kid didn't do anything, how could there be a conspiracy at all?
Staring at Lola's face, I felt a tug in my belly.
She's innocent, it isn't her fault her older brother was an asshole. Two years ago, even. I'm being paranoid.

“Listen,” the guitarist said, her voice soft and frail. “I don't know about you and Sean, or why he never told me about—well. The thing is, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't even be here.” Her shrug was pleading, her gaze more so. It took everything I had to face down her blue depths and the gentle curls at the edges of her frown.

Rubbing my neck, hating how much I was sweating, I grunted. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm probably being the real asshole here. The thing with your brother was long ago, I bet he didn't mention it to you because he forgot.” My smile wasn't really sincere, neither were my words.

There was no way Sean had forgotten about that day. But, the chances of him plotting against me were on the level of evil scheming that only happened in movies.

Lola's smile bloomed. It froze me stiff, worse than my angry shock had. She was so fucking
real
. I'd never known someone who could smile so honestly. It touched her eyes, turned them into a calm sea.

I wanted to drown in it.

“Yeah,” she said, sipping from her beer. “Besides, he's got other things to worry about. He
is
the lead guitar in Barbed Fire, you know?”

Of course I knew. “Right. Glad he's doing well for himself.” Truthfully, I didn't give a shit. But Lola did, and if my comments could make her beam like she was, what was the harm?

Plus,
I thought privately,
I'm getting a kick out of seeing her smile.
My mouth twitched to match hers. I caught Brenda peering at me. Turning away, spotting the waitresses and the food, I let relief wash over me. Dinner was an instant subject changer. “That looks great,” I said, blessing Scarlett with a wink.

She nearly dropped the tray. “Oh! Uh, thanks! It's our Paradise Chicken.” Her cheeks were glowing when she put it in front of me. “It's my favorite, like you asked for.”

Inhaling the scent of pineapples and the tang of spices, I nodded. “Glad I did. Thanks for your expertise.”

The young waitress looked lost. Her friend nudged her, reminding Scarlett that we all needed utensils. The girls set the table, and with the sounds of Porter and Colt cheering in my ears, I felt myself relaxing.

Chewing on the sweet chicken, my eyes flicked over to Lola. She was working on her second beer. With her lips touching the rim, she leveled her attention on me.

There was a river of fire slowly crawling through my veins. The tides were rising, I was keen to blame the alcohol. It took a lot to get me drunk, but the strong beer was doing its job.

She set the glass down slowly, fingers shaking. “What? What is it?” she asked.

Brushing fingers over my scalp, I reclined in my chair. “Just wondering how your food is.”

Lola nudged the plate towards me. “It's just fries and chicken, try it.”

Grabbing up a tender, I took a bite off the end. The batter crunched, the sound of snapping branches. The flavor spread over my tongue. “Not bad at all. A little salty, maybe.”

Her smile was muted. “I like things salty.” In spite of her words, her plate was still mostly full.

Why would she be eating so little if she
—
Oh,
I thought,
right. Her tongue. I bet the salt hurts on that wound she gave herself.
Thinking of that moment on the bus, my fingers holding her cheeks so she was trapped near me, had my pants tightening.

Nostrils flaring, I started to cut into my chicken. “Here, try some of mine.” Offering the fork to her, the bit of white meat and pineapple glinted between us. I expected her to take the utensil from me.

Lola swayed over the table, teeth plucking the food right off the end of my fork. My jaw dropped, and it was a miracle the fork didn't, too.

The fact she had taken it as she had, that she was chewing now with a tiny half-smile, it was sending tremors into my cells.
Is she fucking with me now?
She'd done something meant for lovers, not brand new band acquaintances.

Clearing my throat, I shifted on the chair. Her pink lips and pinker cheeks had made my cock swell. The inside of my zipper, even with my boxers, was becoming a cruel enemy. “Well. Do you like it?”

Lola nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “A little too sugary, but still good.”

My plate slid her way. “Here, just have mine then.”

“I—what?”

Her barely eaten food was still warming the air around it. Pulling it to me, I slapped away her hand when she reached to steal it back. “Just trade with me.” Cocking an eyebrow, I gave her a meaningful look. The corner of my eye warned me that Brenda was peering at us both. “That sugary stuff will go down
easier
, got it?”

Personally, I didn't care if Brenda found out about how she'd chewed her tongue up. She'd dealt with worse. There was a good chance she'd roll her eyes and think Lola did it accidentally, if she didn't just shake her head to signal it wasn't her problem.

But Lola cares.
One look at her pale face made that obvious.

Swallowing loudly, she started chopping at the meal with deliberate motions. “Thanks, Drezden.”

In answer, I crunched down on a fry.

Most of the evening went as expected. We ate, we drank, and there was even some laughter. Most was from Porter and Colt, but it still counted.

Scarlett kept my beer topped off, long after I stopped gulping it down. My skull was tingling with the warm tickles of alcohol. I enjoyed a good buzz, but on tour, I liked to keep it together. That plan was falling by the wayside.

The dark-haired waitress said something, bending towards me as she did so. “What was that?” I asked. Her smell was like grease and cloying lavender. No doubt she'd been on shift for hours.

“I said,” she whispered, crouching down to blow on my ear, “I get off in thirty minutes. What are you doing after this? I'd
kill
to see your tour bus. Seriously, just to get inside, I'd do anything.” Scarlett's meaning was as obvious as a kick to the face.

My smile was brittle. Across from me, I spotted Lola staring intently. Brenda was babbling at her, yet she wasn't listening. Lola was stuck on me like frost to a metal pole in the dead of winter.

Was she jealous?

Scarlett's fingers glided down, touching my knee. I clasped her thin wrist before she dared to go further. “Listen.” My voice wasn't even strained; I'd been down this road before. Fighting off hungry fans after a show was old news. “I can't.”

“You can't?” She stiffened, gaze flicking from my face, to my grip, then back.

Letting the waitress go, I leaned in just enough so only she could hear me. “Sorry. I meant I won't.” Grinding the chair back, I got to my feet. “Colt, want to shoot some pool?”

“Fuck yes,” the drummer laughed, nearly falling from his seat. “I'll beat you this time, too!”

"One of these days, maybe." Strolling towards the green-felt table in the room, I couldn't stop myself from looking back. Just one small, scant look.

There were two pairs of eyes watching me; the dark pits of a girl who'd been scorned. And the other...

Lola's deep sapphires were starkly relieved. It sent a thrill to my core, one that was all too soon replaced by tense muscles. I wanted so much to believe she was happy that I'd denied the girl.

No,
I told myself, yanking a pool stick off the wall. I could have broken it in my ripple of confused emotions.
Stop getting excited over the prospect. You're making up signs that she likes you, when you should be spending your energy resisting the very concept.

Crushing too much chalk onto the tip of the stick, I stared at the back of Lola's head. Sometimes, even if it was the right decision, choosing music over other things made me feel hollow.

I couldn't risk the band over a fucking pair of pretty blue eyes that turned my blood to liquid silver. It was too reckless.

For them.

And for her.

Lola

––––––––

T
here was too much alcohol in my blood. But even worse... there was starting to be too much of something else. I didn't have a name for it. I only knew that it flared up when
he
was close.

When Drezden Halifax got near me, something clawed up from my very center and clutched around my middle. It turned everything into pressure and heat. It made me long for
release
.

Brenda was giggling, tangled up on my arm and saying something about me looking like my older brother. Nearby, Porter and Colt were having an argument over who had actually won at pool.

With four—or was it five—beers in me, I'd lost track of Drez in the fading hours of the evening. He'd been playing with the other guys, ignoring the wistful stares from the two waitresses each time they entered the room.

At some point, he'd vanished. I was too swept up in my conflicting desires to think about searching for him. Hell, if I found him, who knew what I'd do?

After such a long day, I just wanted to sleep.

“Excuse me,” I said, pulling away from Brenda. The red of her lips reminded me too much of fake, Halloween wax candy.

She let me go, her hand hovering in the air. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Just to get some air.” The migraine that pulsed behind my eyeballs needed more than fresh air, but I'd take that over the stifling backroom of the restaurant.

Brenda frowned, not moving to stop me. “If you need to go out, use that door there.” Pointing, she drew my eyes to an exit in the far corner. It was meant for escaping fires, but it was hot enough in here that it seemed appropriate.

I wondered why we hadn't entered that way. If we'd wanted to avoid the insanity of the fans swarming the place, it would have been logical.
Unless everyone wanted that attention. Was that it?
It hurt too much to think about. Instead, I gave a brief nod and stumbled out of the heavy door.

The sky was purple and black. It reminded me of Drezden, of the centers of his eyes when he got angry...

Or passionate.

Stop, stop thinking about him like that.

There were no clouds. Overhead, the stars guided me—called to me. Inhaling till my ribs threatened to break, I held my breath. Could I just float up, vanish forever into that void and not have to deal with the insanity growing in my heart?

Closing my eyelids, I endured a memory; Drez, offering me a forkful of food. And me, as I imagined myself from the outside, leaning in to take it like some pathetic dog.

What made me do that?

I couldn't make sense of anything anymore.

My lungs burned, I breathed out quickly. There was a gentle buzzing of people just around the edges of the building. I could see some of them, and the closer I got, the more their shadowy bodies stood out on the horizon.

On shaking legs, I walked until I was among the throngs of groupies and roadies, everyone that couldn't fit inside the restaurant. Would the recognize me and rush at me, like I was Drez or Porter or Colt?
They won't,
I realized.
No one knows me as a member of Four and a Half Headstones. Not yet.

To these people, in the dark of evening lit only by some lamps and small tin-can fires, I would be a blank face in the crowd.

Maybe, after they see me on stage...

Did I want that kind of attention? Part of me was thrilled by the idea.
If—when—I get on stage, if I fuck up like I was doing earlier, these people will remember me for all the wrong reasons.

My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw.

Tonight was so weird. Drez was cold, then he was a magnet, then he was off of me again. Flirting with that girl, talking about Sean like they had some awful history or something.