by I. A. Dice
My feet moved in sync with Ty’s. It wasn’t until we were out of the building that Adrian caught up with us, after he was thrown out of the club. He jogged to us, his face sullen.
Ty stood with me by the curb, holding me close while we waited for a taxi. He helped me take a cigarette out of the packet and lit it for me, pulling me in even closer when Adrian approached.
“Are you okay, puppet? Did he…”
“Shut up!” Ty boomed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Adrian lifted his weight from one foot to another, oblivious to the effect his outrage had on me. For a moment he just stared at Ty until he realised his mistake. He pulled on his hair, swearing under his breath.
“Baby,” he took a step closer, but he stopped when I moved back, unable to see past the panic blooming in my mind. “Fuck,” he spat out. “Puppet, look at me, please.”
“Back off,” Ty warned, holding his hand out when a taxi came to view. “Back the fuck away from her, Adrian, or I swear to God…”
Adrian obeyed, even though it was evident that not being able to explain was killing him. Ty helped me into the cab and closed the door, leaving Adrian alone. He held me flush against his side the whole journey back to his apartment, and then he stayed with me until I fell asleep, hugging Thomas’s t-shirt to my chest.
CHAPTER 6
THOMAS
High-five
Day after day, week after week.
I fell back into a routine: work, eat and sleep. The routine used to include fuck pretty blondes, but since Nadia came along, I lost interest in meaningless quickies.
Nothing changed when she left. Two months passed, but I hadn’t touched a single girl. I worked fourteen hours a day, flying back and forth between London and Madrid where the record label was ready to kick off.
Most of the time I was too tired in the evening to think about either Nadia or the what ifs, and whenever I wasn’t, Nick’s doors were always open. The tables had turned. He used to be the one who entered my office with a bothered look on his face. It was my turn to sulk, my turn to get shit off my chest, and his turn to play the shrink and pour the vodka.
For the first time, it seemed that he was truly on my side.
“I want to go to Madrid with you next week,” Nick said. Along with Scorpio and Ethan, we sat in his kitchen on a Thursday evening, playing poker. “When are you flying out?”
“Tuesday. I was going to ask you to come anyway. Everything is ready now. We should start looking for artists.”
“Speaking of,” Ethan cut in, and reached to fish out a CD from the inside pocket of his puffer jacket. “I think you should listen to that. I’ve met this girl a few weeks back…”
Nick chuckled, patting Ethan on the back. “You want us to sign this girl so you can get laid?”
“Very funny. No, it has nothing to do with her, besides that she took me to this bar last week, and they had an open mic night. Those guys…” He waved his hand dismissively, passing the CD to Nick. “Just play it and tell me I’m wrong.”
Nick shrugged but took the bait. Last time Ethan brought us a demo, we ended up making millions. It was worth a try.
“This time, I want a cut,” Ethan said when Nick rose to his feet to fetch his laptop. “Percentage of sales would be best.”
“I have told you time and time again to join us as a head-hunter.”
“If you like them, I might just do that.”
After just one verse, I wanted to meet the band. The lead singer had a powerful, unique voice—a blend between croaky and gruff in a way that makes girls wet. The beat required sprucing up, but it was nothing one of our producers couldn’t fix.
“If they play open mic, they might be out somewhere now,” I told Nick, and turned to Ethan. “Can you get in touch with them to check if they’re playing anywhere live tonight?”
“Sure, Chase gave me his number. Hold on a tic.”
He left the room with a phone to his ear, and Nick replayed the song, his smile growing wider with each note the singer hit with a sniper’s precision. We were going to cash in on those guys big time.
Amelia entered the room, holding her phone out as if to take a selfie, acting as if she was invisible to us. It was her usual play during poker nights. If on the odd occasion she couldn’t find something to do, she tried her best not to get in our way, but she often came downstairs for a glass of wine or snacks. We didn’t mind her presence, but she was adamant to give Nick some freedom once a week and was usually in and out of the kitchen within seconds and without as much as a glance our way.
“Isn’t it like five o’clock in the afternoon in New York? Why are you still in bed? And when will you start to eat again? You’re so thin I’m actually jealous.”
“I was taking a nap before work. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
Nadia’s voice resonated from the speaker on Mel’s phone sending a wave of hot and cold shivers down my spine as if my body couldn’t decide whether it was happy or anxious to hear her.
Both, probably.
Nick frowned and turned around to snatch the phone from his wife.
“Work? Why do you work? And where, sis?”
“I make the best coffee in a diner two blocks away every day from eight in the evening till two in the morning,” she recited, her voice playful. “I needed something to do. Working nights means Ty gets some sleep and isn’t so grumpy anymore. Also, I have an excuse not to watch Adrian start his training this week, but don’t tell him that.”
Nick’s frown deepened. “Why aren’t you cheering him on? You were always first to see him fight.”
“I no longer find violence entertaining.”
“You want me to quit? Just say the word, puppet, and I’ll quit.”
Adrian’s voice sounded from the speaker, and I burst into fucking flames. Anger burned my stomach like battery acid. I listened to Jim Henson there, my palms damp and my leg bouncing on the floor.
“No way!” Nick exclaimed. “You might not be my brother-in-law anymore, but you are supposed to stay the best boxer I’ve met.”
“Don’t count on that,” Adrian chuckled, making my skin crawl. “I’m way out of form.”
I hadn’t met the guy, but I loathed the asshole more than anyone. It wasn’t even about Nadia going back to help him, because, let’s face it—it wasn’t Adrian’s fault she didn’t love me, but he did hurt her, somehow, and that was enough for me to hate his guts.
Okay, fine. I also loathed him because Nadia chose him. Happy?
“Who are you kidding?” Nadia clipped.
It was easy to imagine what she looked like now—chewing on her cheek, nostrils flared, arms crossed and a don’t-bullshit-me attitude.
Nick raised an eyebrow, prompting the asshole to explain.
“She’s annoyed because I nailed some shithead at the club last week. You know I can’t stand those fucking vultures eyeing her up.”
Nick sneered but didn’t get a chance to get a word in before Ty’s voice boomed in the background.
“Either move away from her, or I’ll fucking move you myself.”
Scorpio and I traded confused glances. He even mouthed what the fuck with two vertical lines marking his forehead. Ty’s behaviour sent my mind into overdrive. I couldn’t rationally explain why he was so protective of my girl.
Stop. Rewind.
I couldn’t rationally explain why he was so protective of Nadia, but the ideas I had were fucking with my head. Were they a thing? Was Ty in love with her? Was he the reason Nadia went back to New York?
Anger in Ty’s voice bordered on pure wrath. My heartbeat sped up, and I rose to stand on Nick’s left so I could watch the screen.
Nadia sat on a couch, her eyes wide with dark circles surrounding them, and Adrian leaned over the back, his arm touching Nadia’s shoulder. He didn’t matter. Nadia was the one I stared at, and her stance made my bones shiver.
Neither Nick nor Mel saw anything odd about the way she hugged her frail fram
e. There was nothing odd about it to any passive observer, but I knew what was going on through her head. The realisation almost fucking floored me.
Her chest rose and fell on the count of four. She held her right hand on her ribcage, close to her heart, the left one on her right arm, and she thought of me. She recalled the way my lips felt on the nape of her neck, the smell of my cologne, the tone of my voice.
Ten weeks. Ten fucking weeks had passed, but there she was, sitting in a New York apartment next to her ex-boyfriend, thinking of me.
Ten weeks, and my immediate reaction was to board the first flight out to New York just to hold her.
“Chill out, man,” Adrian said to Ty, then looked back at the screen. “Pay no attention. He’s pissed off about the guy from the club, too.”
“Chill out? I’ll fucking chill out when Nadia’s not here. Fuck,” Ty’s voice got louder as if he came closer to the phone. “Tell him. Suck it up and tell Nick what you’ve done.”
Nick’s back straightened. “Tell me what?”
“You keep whining that he should know, so go on,” Ty continued in a mocking tone. “Be a man, Adrian. Tell him.”
Nadia’s eyes grew wider, and she reached out to grab the phone, but Adrian beat her to it.
“He’s right, puppet. Nick should know.” His voice was calm, but his face betrayed he was everything, just not calm.
Nadia was no longer visible on the screen. Her panicked voice resonated from the speaker and my blood ran cold.
“Don’t. Please, don’t. We talked about this!” Her voice climbed higher, breathing quickened.
Adrian was walking away, as if Nadia was chasing him.
“If you tell him, I’ll leave,” she yelled, close to tears.
Adrian stopped, and rubbed his face, glaring into the camera, weighing his options.
“I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t. I can’t lose her again. She’s all I have.”
My palms balled into fists, the wall beside me a tempting outlet for the frustration bubbling inside. Seconds later Nadia’s teary face appeared on the screen for a moment before she cut the call.
“What the hell?” Scorpio muttered, speaking my mind. “This is fucked up, Nick. She sounded hysterical. What the hell are they hiding?”
Nick gave Amelia her phone. For a moment, he just stared at the cards and chips littering the table.
I took my phone to send Nadia a message, ignoring all the assumptions and resolutions. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of decision, but one I would never come to regret.
She was no longer mine, the hole in my heart the only reminder of the time we shared, but it didn’t mean shit. I still cared.
Say a word, and I’ll come and get you.
She didn’t reply. I wasn’t even sure if she had the same number or if she had a US one by now.
Ethan came back to the room, a smile on his face. “They’re playing at Underground in thirty minutes.” He put his phone away and stopped mid-step, sensing the heavy atmosphere. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Nick muttered.
I could literally strangle him. Nothing?! What the fuck?
“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “She’s afraid of him! Why the hell are you letting her stay there? You should bring her back now.”
Nick glanced at me, his shoulders tense. “How am I supposed to do that? Force her? You think I have any power over her? She doesn’t listen to me, and she obviously doesn’t fucking trust me, so please, do tell me how am I supposed to bring her back! She’s not a little girl, and this isn’t a movie. I can’t tell her what do to!”
He banged his hands on the table, making Mel jump, then downed the rest of his drink, glaring at me.
“She has her issues, but it doesn’t mean she’s afraid of him. Whatever happened, he feels guilty, and she’s willing to forgive him. It’s not my place to dictate her life, Thomas.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to let go of Nadia and go back to the post-Nadia mode where I tried my hardest to live a normal life minus the meaningless quickies. Three deep breaths, and I was still ready to board a plane to bring Nadia back home even if she would never be mine again.
Three more breaths, and I pushed her out of my head for the time being, focusing on the task at hand.
One step at a time, remember?
Ethan stood in the doorway, waiting for us to decide whether we were going to see the band play live. It was a rarity for us to ditch poker night, but their undeniable potential was too good to miss. Nick ordered a taxi, while I pretended that Nadia didn’t call and that I didn’t hear panic in her voice or see fear in her eyes. I pretended that I didn’t fucking care.
Thirty minutes of mental pep-talk later, we entered a small bar on the outskirts of London, and I was no longer shaking. The smell inside left a lot to be desired—stale beer mixed with sweat and dampness of the brick walls. There were no windows in sight, which must have made it damn near impossible to let fresh air in.
The stage was nothing more than two square metres of floor space, separated from the crowd with red, retractable line dividers. The band was setting up. The lead singer and the electric guitar player were twins: tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed.
No one says it out loud, but nowadays, no matter how amazing the music, in ninety-five percent of cases a musician won’t reach the top without the looks. Ed and Lewis were ugly exceptions.
“So far so good,” I told Nick, pointing to the crowd of women in the first lines, swooning at the band members.
“If they sound as good live as they do on the demo, I want them in the studio tomorrow to see what else they have to show.”
Ethan navigated around the crowd, then placed three beers and a glass of vodka on the rocks on the high table we gathered around.
“Sorry, they’re all out of whiskey,” he told the guys. “The bartender said they haven’t seen a crowd like this for a long time.”
Things kept getting better, but I was sceptical until the lead singer outperformed himself from the demo.
His voice alone, the bluesy, rocky mannerism, could peel the panties of thousands upon thousands of female fans. Male performers were always more celebrated. You don’t see guys fainting at Beyoncé’s concerts too often, but take Justin Bieber, and the number of first-aids on site triples.
“Charles is the vocalist. His twin is Chase. I don’t know the other two yet,” Ethan said. “What do you think?”
“I think you should quit your fucking job,” Nick beamed. “They’re good. The beat is a bit too boring for my liking, and they sure need a change of wardrobe, but we can fix that.”
Charles tapped on the mic to get everyone’s attention. “This next one is for all the single girls out here tonight.”
I smirked under my nose. He knew how to work the crowd. Girls swooned, phones ready to light the screens. Good-old lighters were so nineteen nineties.
Scorpio tapped my shoulder, pointing toward the bar.
“That blonde has been checking you out since we walked in. I think it’s right about time you got laid, mate. Go for it.”
I looked turned my head and caught the barmaid staring. She moved her eyes to a customer, her cheeks pink.
“The barmaid?” Ethan joined our conversation eyeing up the girl with a sceptical look. “She’s a bit… big, don’t you think? I’m not saying she’s fat, but if I were to take the five fattest girls I’ve slept with, she’d be three of them.”
Scorpio burst out laughing. “She looks like a coat hanger. She’s skin and bones, mate. Besides, she’s not for you. Go on, Thomas. It’s been two months. Time to move on.”
I looked back to the blonde. Scorpio was right, she was my perfect one-night stand. Maybe it really was what I needed… One meaningless night to forget about Nadia.
Worth a shot, right?
I made my way to the bar, still focused on the song. People leaned over the countertop waiting to be served, swaying to the rhythm of the monotonous love ballad. It was tacky, but I could see
it top the charts, considering the recent demand for bedroom music performed by handsome, sensitive guys. A few girls sang along, which was one more good sign when it came to The Mishaps.
Yup, we were going to negotiate a name change for sure.
“Hey! I was here first!”
A fat, bald guy with round, rimless glasses complained, when the blonde moved in to take my order the minute my elbows touched the surface of the bar.
“What are you having?” I asked him not letting her apologise.
“Three Budweiser’s.”
I looked at the bartender. The nametag on her chest read Pamela, but we weren’t going to get as far as first name basis.
“Make it six and put it on my tab, sweetheart.”
Her face lit up at the endearment. This was going to be easy.
“How about you?” She pursed her lips. “What is it that you want?”
I leaned forward, and she mimicked my position giving me an insight into her cleavage. Double c’s—not bad. I glanced higher, tracing her tanned skin, neckline, and botoxed lips to stop at the ice-blue eyes.
“Ten minutes with you in the backseat of your car.”
The line usually included my car, but I arrived in a taxi, and I didn’t feel like using one of the bathroom stalls tonight.
Her eyes widened, and she drew her lips in a thin line—as thin as botox allowed. They all try to put up a facade, look offended or disgusted, but not one said no. I wasn’t irresistible. I was just good at choosing the right girls. The key was not trying my luck with a blonde who didn’t already imagine me inside of her. The horny, ready-for-a-bit-of-fun girls were easy to spot in the crowd.
Pamela glanced at the fat guy on my right who listened to our every word. She lowered her gaze and her skin turned redder than Santa’s outfit, but after another second, she raised her chin, standing taller.
“I get off at nine. A baby-pink Fiat is parked at the back. Wait there.” She winked, walking away to get the beers.
“Dude! That was awesome!” The bald guy cheered holding his hand out to high-five me.
Some people need a high-five… in their face… with a chair.