“Horny? Got it. Go have fun,” she said, not really caring one way or the other. She pivoted and took her leave.
“Wait! I still like you. I’ll cancel the date if you want to...” he called.
“Fuck? No thanks,” she called over her shoulder, lifting her hand in the air while her nether-region screamed in protest. She hadn’t had sex beyond the battery operated toy kind since Marco. “Forget it.”
As she headed for the exit, she strode through the back hallways of the auditorium, nodding, greeting crew, ignoring groupies and other assorted backstage fodder, and accepting compliments.
Damn it, I’m lonely. Gia looked forward to Seattle where they’d be meeting up with Zander’s crew. Zander had a rock climbing competition they were attending, and it seemed like the perfect time for a backstage get-together. I’ll get to hang with Mia. Maybe I’ll do a fashion shoot of her and Kennedy. She scoffed.
“Hey, boss,” she said to the huge man guarding the exit.
“Ms. Styx,” he said, giving her a formal nod. “Great set tonight, from what I could hear.”
“Thank you. We’re all in sync. I love it when that happens.” Gia paused. “You ever want to hear it from the audience point of view, let me know. You can take the night off. I’ll hook you up, no problem. “
The guard brightened. “Would you? That would be great.”
“Sure thing,” Gia said. “I’ll put you on the guest list next time, cool?”
“Awesome!” he said.
She held out a fist for a knuckle bump, sealing the deal. “Have a good night, okay?”
“You, too,” he said, opening the door and holding it wide for her.
Outside, a small group of fans huddled together, trying to stay warm in the cool night air. When they saw her, they expressed a mixture of delight, as well as disappointment that she wasn’t Dante. Some of them thrust objects in her direction for her to autograph, thanking her for her vulnerability and words. She scribbled her name here and there, joked, and laughed, all on auto-pilot.
“Hey. Gia. Over here,” a male voice called.
Her head lifted to see the spiked-hair guy, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Her eyes narrowed. “Hey. What are you doing in the states?”
“We followed you here. We’re super fans. My girl’s in the loo. She couldn’t hold it. I told her to pee behind a car, but she’s too modest. Not like me.” He grinned like he’d confessed to some amazing stunt.
“Good for her,” Gia said, ready to make her way to the tour bus. “Modesty’s a virtue, or haven’t you heard?”
He laughed, snagging the cigarette before it dropped from his lips. “You’re a riot, you know that? Funny as hell.”
“That’s me. A laugh a minute. I’ve got to get somewhere. Can you move out of my way?” Her lips pressed together in annoyance.
“What? No,” he blurted. “We want to...you know. We’ve got some prime blow, some killer weed, and a whole lot of booze back at the hotel. We thought of everything. We want to play again.”
“Well, here’s the thing, sport. The one thing you didn’t consider is that I might not want to play. Did the thought ever cross your mind?” Gia looked at him like he was a Neanderthal who stumbled into this century.
“Hell, no. You told us to look you up again. That you thought we were the best,” Spiked-Hair said, practically pouting.
Gia let out a sharp laugh. “Look, I don’t remember much of our night together, but I can tell you, I’d never have said that. I told you. I don’t do encores. I doubt you were that good, to begin with. Didn’t I give you kissing lessons or something?”
“You really don’t remember?” Jaw dropped open, he looked shocked.
“I really don’t. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she brushed past him.
He seized her arm. “Wait, bitch.”
Her hand flew to his crotch, bearing down.
The guy doubled over, yelping in pain.
“You keep your fucking hands to yourself, capice? You ever touch me like that again or even come near me, I’ll have you thrown in jail.” Gia released her hold on his junk, wiping her palm on her pants.
“Everything okay, Miss Swain?” a guard said, pushing through the crowd to get to her.
“Fine,” she said, still glaring at spiked-hair.
“I...You fucking bitch!” he whimpered. “I’m not a fan anymore. We’re never going to see you again.”
He fished his ticket stubs from his pocket and ripped them in two like a toddler might do.
“Promise?” she said. She brushed her hands together and strode past him, her latest shit-kickers striking the asphalt parking lot with a satisfying thwack.
Behind her, she heard the protests of spiked-hair as the guard hauled him away.
Ahead, the super-sized home on wheels of Marked Love sat, lit by the overhead lights. Inside, the lights were, out save one they kept on so it wasn’t pitch dark when the first person stumbled inside. She, Keys, and Heat had discovered many a banged up shin the morning after, from literally falling into the bus in a drunken haze.
“Now I walk with awareness,” she quipped. Only when she rounded the corner, she was completely taken by surprise. There, chatting with the driver, stood the man of her dreams and her heartache—Marco Monroe.
Chapter 24
Gia’s stomach did a back flip, as well as a forward somersault, as she stared at Marco. He looked even fitter if that were possible. And far more handsome. And sexy, sexy, sexy.
Seriously. Marco must pump his sorrow into training. Gia thought. Or maybe he’s got a new girl.
Never the competing type when it came to other women, her nether region began doing warm-ups, in time with her heartbeat, preparing for her favorite and sorely missed brand of calisthenics—sexing with Marco.
“Gia,” he said, his face void of emotion. He crossed his bulging-muscled arms over his chest like she was a new recruit in the military and him her commanding officer.
“Marco. You move to Phoenix?” she said, unsure of how to proceed since tackling him and screwing the Bejeezus out of him didn’t seem likely.
“No. I came to watch you.” He kept his arms tightly folded while his eyes drilled holes through her.
She waited for flames to lick at her skin. “Uh...to see if I’m still sober? I am.”
“Good to hear. And no, that’s not why I came.” He shut his mouth, unwilling or unable to say more.
“Not going to give me more clues, huh?” Still uncertain, she opened the door to the band’s home on wheels.
“I, uh…I heard your speech. I was in the back, but the message came through loud and clear. That took some courage. And some heart. You must be doing well with recovery.” He shifted side to side.
Gia nodded, unsure what to say next.
The driver, who’d been staring at the interaction with fascination, scrambled over to unfold the metal stair-steps.
“Up you go, miss,” he said, holding out his hand.
She paused, looking at Marco. “You want to come in or is it something quick?”
He hesitated, and then let out a deep breath, uncrossed his arms, and said, “Sure, I’d love to come in. I have something to say to you.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know. If you want to beat me up verbally, I’ve done that a lot lately, so you can save yourself the trouble.”
He shook his head.
“I, uh...I need to apologize to you,” he said.
“To me? Are you certain you have the right bus?” she said, completely taken aback.
“One hundred percent,” he said. “Don’t make a fuss, just get on the bus.”
“What?” she said, doing a double take. She smiled at his sudden grin. “Did you just reference an old Frank Zappa tune?”
“It was one of my mom’s favorites,” he said. “Crew Slut. I had to listen to it over and over as a child.”
She laughed. “Well, alrighty then,” she said, hopping into the roomy vehicle. �
�That girl has left the building, but this girl is happy to have you on-board.”
When they both stood in the luxury interior, Gia said, “Sit. Mi bussa es su bussa.” She gestured to the matching leather couches that faced one another.
A kitchenette and fully-stocked bar flanked the couches. Everything was dark—dark wood trim, black leather, even a black metal stove-top. Blue lights were placed in a long, snakelike row along the ceiling. Gia found it kind of depressing, so she claimed the one bedroom a lot, shutting the door behind her and staring out the small window while she fiddled with her camera or fussed with the downloaded photos on her computer. The bus held four sets of double-sized bunks, so Dante let-go of the bedroom despite Kennedy joining them on tour, telling her he and Kennedy didn’t mind the bunks. Gia felt certain it was all part of the “keep Gia sober” plan.
“Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got everything, in keeping with rock and roll realities,” she said.
“Water’s fine,” Marco said, perched on the sofa, his leather jacket by his side.
“Are you sure? Don’t hold back because you think I can’t stand to watch my friends drink alcohol. I can deal.” She smiled at him. “I get plenty of practice with this crew.”
“Then a beer would be great,” he said, returning the smile.
“That’s the spirit. Be yourself.” She opened the fridge and peered inside. “We’ve got ales, micro-brews of various kinds, and a few Coors. What suits?”
“Got anything with a bite?” he asked.
Well, there’s me. “Sure thing. Like I said, we’ve got everything.”
He got up and stepped behind her, practically melting her from the heat of his body. He reached across her, brushing her shoulder with his arm, and retrieved a strong Belgian ale made by Trappist monks. The gesture seemed deliberate, aimed at torturing her.
She turned, millimeters from his skin, watching as he twisted off the top and took a long swig, his eyes keeping watch of her.
When he finished, he hefted the bottle, and said, “Good beer.”
His chocolate-colored eyes appeared hooded as he regarded her.
“Super,” she said. Two can play this game. She turned and searched the shelves of the fridge for the lemonade she’d bought. When she found it, she bent forward, letting her ass brush against Marco’s hips. “Here it is,” she said, reaching for the container. She pivoted around and practically laughed at the hunger in his eyes.
He held the bottle of beer suspended in the air. His tongue flicked out and danced along his lips.
Enjoying the game of flirt, she squeezed past him and retrieved a glass from the shelf. Once she’d poured her lemonade, she turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “So?”
He stood inches away in a wide-legged stance.
She dragged her booted foot up the outside of his leg.
“So?” he said, questioningly, looking like she’d struck a match and held it to his pants leg.
“You have something to say to me?” She sipped at her lemonade.
“Right,” he said, back to his resolute, determined self. “Let’s sit. It will be easier if we’re sitting.”
“After you,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the two sofas.
They each settled on a couch, face to face.
He leaned to the side and pulled a couple pieces of folded paper from his back pocket. “I found something of yours. Actually, that’s a lie. Kennedy thought I needed to see these.”
Gia snatched the paper from his fingers. “What is this?” She quickly unfolded the paper to see her two letters. She waved them at him. “How did you get these? They were private.”
“Yeah, I get it. I understand.” He held his palms out to her. “But Kennedy thought them important. She texted Keys and Heat and asked them to retrieve them from your trash can when she took you out to lunch. She said she followed you into your room when you forgot something and noticed them in there. She told the boys to clean up your space or something...be useful and take out the trash and sweep the kitchen or some such.” He appeared sheepish.
“They were private,” she said again, feeling somewhat betrayed. “I knew those dip-shits were up to something. Like they suddenly had a domestic urge. I’m going to kick their asses.”
“Gia, don’t be mad. I’ve been a mess since we parted in California. A complete train wreck. Kennedy kept tabs on me to make sure I didn’t do anything foolish.”
Gia scoffed. “Try being babysat by the goon squad. Keys and Heat drive me crazy.”
Marco nodded, smiling slightly. “I thought I blew it with you.” His eyes took on the appearance of the sincere and faithful Marine.
“Wait, what? You thought you blew it with me? I’m the one who fucked up, big time. I didn’t tell you my sister’s name or tell you why I ran. And I killed the love of your life.” Gia scrubbed her hair with her fingertips. “You’re confusing the hell out of me, Brutus.”
“Yeah, you ran. But I got scared, too. We got way close. I’ve never felt that way with anyone, ever.”
Gia squinted at him, certain she wasn’t hearing him properly. She wanted to shake her head and make a gaggle, gaggle, gaggle sound like a cartoon.
“I didn’t let you explain,” he continued. “And I might have run had you not done it first. So Kennedy gave these to me out of mercy.” He gestured toward the paper she clutched. “She knew you’d be pissed, but she thought you’d understand. Her heart broke for both of us.”
“Huh.” Gia leaned back and stretched her arms across the back of the couch. “I guess it depends on the outcome whether I’m mad or not. So far, so good in a bewildering sort of way.”
“Love your hair, by the way. I was so stunned seeing you I forgot to tell you,” Marco said.
“What, this?” She indicated her bright red hair.
“And is that a real ruby in your nose stud?” he asked, appearing genuinely fascinated.
“I like to match. I decided to go festive. I’ve been in a pretty dark mood lately. The only time I come alive is when I’m at my drum kit. Or taking photos. I’ve got some crazy cool ones. I’ll show you if you’d like.”
“I’d love to see. But not yet. There’s more,” Marco said, looking extremely serious.
“Wait, there’s more,” Gia said, smiling.
“There is. I’ve had a lot of time to think, obviously. About the way I reacted, the things I accused you of. In my defense, I’ve worked with quite a few recovering addicts and lying comes as easily as breathing to most.”
Gia’s chin bobbed up and down in agreement. “Makes sense. I get it. I’ve heard stories in meetings. And, I’m sure it looked suspicious. I was playing a game of Russian roulette, hoping I’d win.”
He nodded. “But, somewhere in the back of my heart, I knew you were telling the truth about not touching the bourbon and only recently finding out who Susy…I mean, Shauna was to me. It’s not like either of us spilled our guts to one another.” Marco leaned back, matching Gia’s posture, his arms spread wide across the couch. “Not details, anyway.”
Gia nodded, waiting for more, thinking, God, I love his arms. I wish he was holding me.
“And I accused you of driving the car in the accident. I painted the worst scenario. You weren’t the one behind the wheel. Shauna drove. And the truck driver was drunk. He lost control. May he rot in hell. Kennedy told me the whole story. I can’t imagine what you felt to have been the one who survived. Survivor’s guilt can be the worst. And, to have lost your sister...” His eyes grew moist.
A storm of emotion began to beat at Gia’s insides.
“Marco, stop.” She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from losing it
“You have to hear me out. I started to piece together conversations I had with Shauna before she died. She used to talk about her sister, a lot. Like all the time. It seemed like every conversation took a turn in the sibling direction. She said the two of you had a miserable childhood, but she refused to elaborate. I think she
was even more stubborn than you. Her face would grow stony, and she’d shake her head and say, ‘No! I am not going back into the past. It’s too painful.’ But she told me about her amazing sister and how you were her hero. She never dropped your name, though. Not once. She said she’d lost touch with you but hoped she’d find you so we could all meet.”
Gia’s mouth dropped open. Her hands fell by her sides. “She what?”
Marco leaned forward. “She said you were her hero. She looked up to you. She never forgot the way you protected her or took a beating meant for her.”
“Oh, God, here we go again,” Gia said, as tears spilled from her eyes. “I tell you what, I am sick of crying. I’ve turned into a blubber-baby. Pass me the tissues, will you?”
Marco grabbed the box of tissues sitting on the table near him and handed it to her. “You’re beautiful when you cry, Gia.”
“Stop. I’m a mess, and you know it.” She pulled a handful of the soft, absorbent paper and dabbed at her face. “That can’t be true—what you said about me being my sister’s hero. You’re making it up.”
“I’m telling it true, girl. All your sister wanted was for you to be happy. That’s all she wanted. She told me that. In fact, during our last conversation, she told me she hoped to find you someday and tell you in person. And thank you for keeping her safe.”
“Oh, my God,” Gia said, as her heart cracked open wide. She sobbed as Marco’s words hit home. “She did find me, but I don’t remember if she told me or not.”
“I’m telling you now. And if I'm a sentimental fool, so be it. Susy…er, Shauna… wanted you to be happy. Look at me.”
Gia lifted her sloppy, snotty face to him, blinking at the speed of her racing heart.
“You make me happy. I’ve already experienced more happiness with you than I ever experienced in my life, Gia. I think Shauna would be happy for us both.”
Gia’s hands flew to her face. “Oh, God. My heart is breaking to bits right now. I can’t take any more. You being nice to me, telling me I was my sister’s hero, the sister who died next to me in the car…” Her body shook with the pain of Marco’s revelations.
A Twist of Love Page 16