The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (7 page)

The worst thing about being so laid-back was that when it came to the more professional, business aspect of things, I sucked ass.

“Are you sure I didn’t pay?” I asked, tucking my cell phone between my ear and shoulder as I knelt in front of the garage door of the storage unit to unlock the padlock.

“I’m looking on the computer screen of your account history right in front of me, Mr. Hart. And there’s been no receipt of payment yet.”

Scowling because I was so sure I’d already given them my credit card information, I rolled up the metal door and entered the cramped space.

“Okay, then. Just send me another invoice or whatever, I guess. I’ll make sure to take care of it this time, I swear.”

After the woman assured me she would, we hung up and I set my guitar on a box that had
Christmas Decorations
scribbled on the side. The unit belonged to Heath’s family. But they only used half the space, so they didn’t mind if we shoved all their things against the walls to make room in the middle for the drum set and sound system. We’d practiced here a couple times each week for almost two years now.

Today was the first chance we had to practice with our new band member. It was also the last opportunity before our first gig to really mesh with him, so I was a bit edgy, hoping he stayed as good as he’d been during his audition. I was almost grateful that Shelly from the studio had called me to distract my nerves.

When I spotted a box that belonged to me, I sat on an old scarred nightstand, settled the box onto my lap, and began to riffle through the scattered pages inside. I’d only glanced at half a dozen when someone knocked on the opening.

I looked up to find the new drummer hesitating in the entrance and gazing around the inside of the unit in half horror, half wonder.

“Hey, you made it. Come on in.” I waved him forward and went back to scanning the documents in the box. “The other two should be here any minute.”

He stepped cautiously forward as if he feared a piano would fall on him as soon as he entered. “So this is really where we practice, huh? I had to reread the address you gave me about ten times, sure there was a mistake when I pulled in the lot of a freaking storage unit.”

“Yeah, it’s not much. But it gets the job done.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered under his breath.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him wander to the drum set and run his hand over one of the mounted toms. Then he gingerly seated himself on the stool in front of the five-piece set and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs as he took in the sight before him.

Wondering if he was nervous, I glanced up and lifted one of the pages from the box. “Oh, by the way, the sheet music for all our original songs is in here if you need go through them to learn any.”

Sticks zipped his gaze my way as if I’d surprised him. Then he shrugged. “I’m good. I pretty much learned them by ear when I listened to your records.”

I nodded, admiring his ability to do that. “Right on.”

I tried to refocus my attention on my task of finding the receipt I was sure I had when Heath and Gally arrived together, Gally being just as loud and rambunctious as Heath was quiet and subdued.

“What up, losers? You ready to rock this garage?”

Sticks didn’t respond and I barely gave a distracted “Hey,” because I was busy tugging up the sheet I’d been looking for and crying, “Aha! I
did
pay already.”

“Pay what?” Gally asked as he and Heath went about plugging their guitars into the amplifier.

“Hmm?” I glanced up from my triumphant grin. “Oh. Someone from the music studio just called, saying I hadn’t paid for the three days we rented the room for our auditions. And I
knew
I’d paid.” I waved the receipt that had a big red Paid stamp on it as I slid my phone out of my pocket.

Gally’s mouth hung half open as he stared at me. “We actually had to pay for that?”

I wrinkled my brow, hoping he wasn’t serious, but I was pretty sure he was. “Uh... Don’t you think we’d practice there daily if it were free?”

“Oh. Huh, yeah, I guess. I never really thought about it.” Then he scratched his head. “I don’t remember paying shit for any studio rental.”

“That’s because you didn’t. I took care of the cost.”

Instead of thanking me for handling it, he mumbled, “Oh,” again and then slipped his guitar strap over his shoulder. “Well, are you ready to play or not?”

I held up a finger. “Not yet. I need to call these people back.” As I dialed, Gally sighed, rolling his eyes, so I assured him, “It’ll only take a second.”

I called the lady I’d just talked to, and once I read her the number on the receipt and the date, she paused a moment before telling me,
Oh yeah, there was my payment
. Huh, go figure.

By the time I finished the call, everyone was already set up and raring to go, just watching me. “Sorry about that.” I stuffed my phone back into my pocket as Gally demanded to know if I was
finally
ready yet.

Both Sticks and Heath were silent, but by their expressions, they didn’t appear to be as annoyed by the delay. It seemed the new drummer was going to be as quiet as our lead guitarist.

Until I said, “What do you guys want to play first?” as I got my guitar ready.

Sticks was the first to answer, “‘Ceilings.’”

I zipped a surprised glance his way, not expecting him to speak up, but glad he had. “All right.” Rolling a finger his way, I told him to count us down since the drumbeat led with this song.

He instantly started in and I was blown away all over again by how good he was. I almost missed my cue when I needed to start singing. But once I got with the program, it was easy to immerse myself in the music. We sounded good together, better than we’d ever sounded when Rock had been the drummer. Sticks had a way of keeping us in sync with the beat he set.

We went through most of our original songs as well as the more popular cover records we usually played, and each one sounded better than the last. I called song title after song title, one right after the other, so into jamming that I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until Gally demanded a break.

I checked the time on my phone and nearly pissed myself. “Shit.” We’d practiced over three hours. “I need to get to work.”

Unplugging my guitar, I glanced at the newest member of the band, who’d not only kept up with us without a problem but had basically led us. I’d been a bit worried he might need more practice, but no...he was ready for stage action now.

Still making sure, I asked, “You sure you’re okay with playing live tomorrow?”

Excitement lit his eyes, which made me grin. I remembered the day before my first gig, how it’d felt as the eager anticipation thrummed through me. He was rocking some serious happy endorphins.

But he managed to keep it cool by nodding and merely saying, “Sure. Just tell me where.”

“Ever heard of the Forbidden Nightclub? We play there pretty much every Friday, though I’m trying to get us booked at other places as well.”

“Sure, I’ve heard of it. I’ve even been there once and sang on karaoke night. I saw on your website that you’d been there before, but I guess I didn’t realize that’s where you guys played regularly. Cool.”

“Yep.” I eyed him hard because I’d worked every karaoke night we’d ever had, and I didn’t remember his face.

I was about to say something, but Gally snorted. “You sang karaoke? How lame is that? Wait...was it ‘All About That Bass’?”

Sticks pulled back in surprise, gaping at Gally. “Excuse me?”

Pissed off because he’d only asked Sticks that to dig at me, I spotted an old basketball sitting in the top of one of the packed boxes and grabbed it so I could heave it at him. “Shut it, fucker.”

He laughed and ducked out the way so the ball merely bounced off his shoulder. Hooting even louder as he dodged most of my attack, he bent at the waist and slapped his knee.

Sticks darted a curious glance between the two of us while a silent Heath merely shook his head.

“Okay, there’s some kind of inside joke in there, right?” Sticks asked.

I sighed. “It’s nothing. Just ignore him.”

“Can do. Easily.”

He said it so cheerfully that Gally stopped laughing to pierce him with a scowl. “Hey, know your place, newbie.”

“Oh? And where’s that? Sitting over here, snickering at
you
?”

I grinned and tucked my guitar into its case as the two bickered back and forth. Ripping my shirt over my head, I traded it for the black Forbidden Nightclub shirt I had to wear to work that I’d tucked away in my case. I wadded up the old top and crammed it into a side pocket before slipping the case’s strap over my neck so I could settle my guitar against my back. Meanwhile, Gally was trying to prove to Sticks that he was the better man by swearing he’d scored with more women than Sticks ever had.

“Come on,” he challenged. “Just give me a rough estimate. How many bitches you ever fucked?”

I sighed, ready to take off and leave this quickly declining conversation when Heath finally decided to speak up, telling Gally, “You’re wasting your time on him with that line of questioning.”

“Oh?” Gally arched him a curious glance. “Why’s that?”

“Because he obviously plays for the other team. Dude just checked out Hart’s chest when he pulled off his shirt.”

“Say what?” Gally shrieked as he physically leapt a foot away from Sticks.

I whirled to gape at the drummer, shocked to be shoved into the conversation this way.

Sticks shrank lower into his stool, his eyes darting with fear like a cornered animal before he cried, “The hell if I did.”

I lifted my eyebrows. He was acting way too guilty to be telling the truth. “Are you really gay?” I couldn’t help but ask, “Because that would actually be great.”

“Say what?” Gally repeated, spinning toward me as if I’d lost my mind.

“What?” I glanced between him and Heath, confused by their shock. “It would give us more diversity since we’ve been accused of being such a
cliché
lately.”

And yes, that accusation from the girl
still
bothered me.

“Diversity?” Gally yelped “Shit, if we wanted diversity, we could’ve just hired that punk rocker chick who wanted to play with us.”

I scowled at him for bringing her up.

“What chick?” Sticks asked, suddenly too curious for my comfort.

Ignoring him, I scowled at Gally. “
You’re
the one who refused to even listen to her play.”

“Like you wanted a girl in the band either.” Gally glared back.

I gave a dismissive shrug. “Never know. She might’ve been good. But yeah, one of us—meaning
you
—probably would’ve nailed her, and she would’ve taken off within the week. Then we’d be back at square one, looking for another drummer.”

Sticks opened his mouth to say something, but I lifted a hand to stop him. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. We’ve got Sticks now.” Smiling congenially at the new guy, I added, “Problem solved.”

Sticks didn’t seem so flattered, though. He lifted a censorious brow. “So...you didn’t even let someone try out just because she was a girl?”

I heaved a sigh, and pointed meaningfully at Gally to pin the blame on him. “He didn’t. Not me.”

Gally scowled at Sticks. “Oh, shut up, queer. No one asked you.”

I was about to snap at him for being so offensive, but Sticks frowned right back. “I never said I was gay.”

Gally lifted his hands. “Well, do you prefer cock over pussy or not?”

Sticks winced. Then he ducked his chin and mumbled into his chest, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Hating how Gally was making the newest member to our group feel ashamed, I slapped the bass guitarist hard in the chest with the back of my hand and told the drummer, “Ignore him; the rest of us do. He never did find the wizard to grant him a brain.”

As Sticks sent me a small, grateful smile, Gally frowned in confusion, mumbling, “Huh?”

“Never mind.” I didn’t have time to explain the
Wizard of Oz
to him. “I gotta go. See you guys tomorrow at Forbidden.” When I glanced meaningfully Sticks’s way to make sure Gally hadn’t scared him off yet, he nodded, and relief bloomed in my chest.