by Kacey Shea
Her hair is already short and styled in a part-bun, part-fauxhawk updo so I don’t have to sweep it to the side to bring the zipper down.
“Thanks.” She turns and takes it off, right there in the restroom in front of me and the attendant, and shoves the fabric into my hands. “Here, try this.”
“Oh, I can’t.” I shake my head and try to give it back.
She waves her hand and turns to the mirror, adjusting the black corset top she’s wearing underneath. It’s not obscene, but it’s extremely provocative. I can’t believe she’s gonna walk out of here like that. “You must. I insist. Besides, I was getting too hot in that.”
“But . . .” I try again, but she’s already striding to the door.
“Don’t worry about getting it back to me. It’s a gift. Have fun tonight, okay? Don’t let some asshole ruin it for you. You should wear whatever you feel beautiful in.”
“Thank you!” I shout after her. The door opens wide enough that I can hear the familiar riff of a guitar. “Crap.” I hustle to slide my arms inside the lacey fabric and the restroom attendant steps behind to zip me up without being asked.
“Beautiful.” She encourages and when I meet her gaze in the mirror I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s perfect. Really, and I’m so thankful.
“I need to go. My boyfriend . . .”
“Go! Yes!”
“But I want to give you something. My wallet is out there.”
“No, please. You don’t owe me anything. Pay it forward when you can.”
“Thank you again.” I swear I almost don’t want to leave the safety of this small room. She’s practically my fairy godmother—both her and Lexi Marx. But this isn’t a fairy tale, and if I don’t get my butt out to that table, I’ll miss Coy’s first public performance with the band. That’s the only thought that moves my feet forward with a confidence I don’t really feel.
47
Sean
Our performance is flawless. The crowd, albeit way more subdued than any concert goers, still dance along and applaud as if they truly enjoyed our show. I try to focus on the task at hand, the reason we’re here, but even raising money for sick kids can’t chase the bitterness of seeing how Coy treats Jess when he thinks no one’s watching.
The last chord of our set list strikes and our band exits the small stage. I don’t miss how Coy avoids eye contact with me. That’s right, fucker. I saw you. I see you for who you are.
Coy hustles over to where Jess waits with open arms and a smile. He picks her up, swings her around, and claims her lips with a kiss that tells everyone in this room exactly who she belongs to. I’d do the same if she were mine. Her lips—lips too precious for such punishment—are swollen and bruised when he pulls away.
Jess lifts her gaze over Coy’s shoulder and finds me staring. I hold her gaze, though I’m not sure why, but my shoulder’s met with a jostle. It’s only then I look away.
“Dude, tonight was fucking awesome.” Austin’s arm slaps around my shoulder and pulls me toward the open bar.
“Yeah, felt great to help these kids.” I glance over my shoulder, but Trent approaches and blocks my view of Coy and Jess.
Austin chuckles as though he can’t believe our good fortune. “And Coy fit in perfect. It’s like he’s always been a part of the band. He even handled “Raw” like he wrote the drum solo. Fucker didn’t even break a sweat.”
Trent smiles as we step into the short line to the bar. “Yeah, I like him, too. He fits in well. I’m glad we picked him.”
No one asks what I think, but if they did I’d tell them Coy’s the worst kind of man possible. The kind who uses his words and strength to make a woman feel powerless. I don’t want to get involved with anyone’s drama or relationships, but that shit’s not cool. I knew there was something off with him from the beginning, and his behavior toward Jess tonight only proves I should always trust my gut.
He wants to belittle his girlfriend? That’s not okay with me. From here on out I’ve got my eye on that motherfucker. Bandmate or not, I won’t let that shit fly. I glance over my shoulder once more.
“Dude! The fuck, Sean!” Austin’s voice brings my attention back to the task at hand. I hadn’t realized we moved up in line so quickly.
The bartender regards me with patience even though I’m holding up his line. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Got any IPA back there?”
He nods and glances around. “Sure do. You ever try Ballast Point?”
I love events like this. They always stock the good stuff. “Hell yeah. I love everything they brew.”
The bartender reaches into a bucket of ice and dries off the bottle. “Glass?” he asks. I shake my head in the negative.
“Hey, let’s go bid on shit before dinner starts.” Austin points at the rows of display items.
Trent nods and sips his drink. “I’m down with that.”
I grab my beer and drop a five in the tip jar before catching up to Trent and Austin. It doesn’t take long before Lexi joins us. It consumes all my willpower to not look back over my shoulder toward our table to see whether Jess is still there with Coy. The need to make sure she’s okay pulses at the forefront of my mind, even though realistically there’s nothing I can do. It’s not my problem. But still, I can’t stop thinking about it. Why she would allow someone to treat her that way. Maybe I’m naïve, or maybe I’ve been raised around strong, take-no-shit women and the men who wouldn’t dream of treating anyone that way.
Austin bids on a few items. An African safari—don’t know when the hell he’ll have time to squeeze that in. Skydiving tour—Ha! Boy must be dreaming. There’s no way Bedo lets that go down.
Trent and Lexi walk ahead, hand in hand, and never stop talking. I’m glad Lex has a few days’ break on her tour. Trent’s been missing her like crazy, and he’s uptight as fuck. This stuff with Iz and the entire process of finding Coy when we’d planned on coasting down Easy Street until our next tour has been stressful on all of us. But Trent always mellows out after their time together.
They stop ahead at a framed print up for auction.
“You like her?” Trent nods at the oversized photograph and kisses the top of Lexi’s hair.
“I do.” She doesn’t look away from the portrait.
He leans forward to reach for the pen on the table.
Lex grabs his arm to pull him back with laughter. “I don’t want you to buy it.”
“I will if you like it.”
Lexi pulls out of Trent’s reach to roll her eyes and settle her hands on her hips. The average onlooker might expect she’s pissed, but we all know better. Her eyes hold humor. “That because she’s naked?”
“The only woman I want naked is you.” Trent reaches for Lexi and pulls her to his side.
“That’s my man.” Her gaze goes back to the print and it’s then I actually take it in. “There’s just something about her. She’s spellbinding. But she’s too sad, I think. I wouldn’t want to look at her every day.”
I completely agree with Lex. There is something about the model photographed and the way that the artist captured her. Something that’s almost tormented or broken, but also deeply beautiful. It captivates me, too. As if she’s swimming in a sea of shadows, but fighting to be seen anyway. I reach for the pen to place a bid. I don’t even know why.
“Oh, sure. Now Sean’s gonna buy it for you. Fuel the tabloids.” Trent jokes and we all laugh.
I set the pen down and grin. “No way, man. I want it for myself.”
“That ’cause you can’t find a girlfriend of your own?” he throws back, brows raised.
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Please. No way in hell I’m tying myself down to one woman. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Well, except for you two.” I wink at Lexi and her lips stretch wide with a smile.
“Can we crash your party?” Coy and Jess step into our circle. I didn’t even see them coming. Anger bubbles up at his happy-go-lucky smile and the proprietary way he
plasters Jess to his side. As if he can’t stand for her to go too far. Sure, Trent’s doing the same with Lexi, but the difference is Trent treats his woman better than a princess.
“Coy, this is my girlfriend, Lexi. Lexi, Coy. And this is Jess, his girlfriend.”
“Hi.” Lexi’s lips pinch together and she reaches a hand to shake Coy’s before extending it to Jess. “And it’s so nice to meet you, Jess.”
Jess lifts her eyes to meet Lexi’s as they shake hands. Jess’s smile is weak and they exchange a look—it’s one I can’t quite place, but almost as if they share an understanding. Strange because they’ve never met before tonight. At least, I don’t think so. But as quick as it comes, it’s gone, and Jess’s eyes dart back to the floor as soon as Lexi releases her hand.
The lights overhead dim twice and the MC calls everyone over for dinner. I don’t wait around to mingle, but head straight for the bar. I’ve got an entire dinner to endure with my band, and I’m not nearly intoxicated enough to tolerate Coy and his two-faced persona.
“Hold up!” Austin calls, and meets my gait until we’re both back at the bartender station. “Good call. I’m sorry, but this “rock star” gig got a whole less fun once everyone started pairing up.”
I laugh. “It’s a rare moment, but I totally agree with you.”
“Damn it. I should have recorded it for proof. Say it again?” He pulls out his phone as we shuffle forward with the line.
“Fat chance.” I laugh.
The group in front of us moves away with their wine glasses and the bartender smiles, pointing at Austin first. “Another whiskey for you?” After Austin agrees, he turns to me. “And another IPA?”
“Make that two. Please.” I drop a bill in the jar. I’d ask for three, but even I realize how bad that’d look, given the recent press. Besides, I can always come back for more.
“Wow. Double fisting. Impressive, and classy.” Austin raises his glass of whiskey and lifts his pinky finger high as he takes a sip.
“Fuck off.” I take both of my beers and turn toward the table, grimacing the moment my eyes find the rest of the band there waiting.
“Whoa. No need to be a little bitch. It was just a joke.”
I almost stop and head back to the bar. With only two open chairs, one next to Coy and one next to Jess, neither seat is without torment. Fuck me.
“You know I don’t give a fuck. Drink all you want tonight.” Austin continues. “Fuck, I need a new wingman.”
“I’d keep the application process open,” I grumble.
Austin steps ahead and pulls out the chair next to Coy. For that I’m thankful. At least over here I won’t hear every dumbass thing he says. I only have to pretend I’m not attracted to the woman seated next to me. Hope no one at this table notices my thoughts have moved beyond friendly to infatuated. I want to ask her how she likes Deb and whether they had fun shopping together. But after Coy’s tissy fit about her dress and now the lace cover-up hiding half of its allure, I don’t dare bring up something that’s now become a sore subject.
Fucking asshole, that guy. My distaste for him is almost enough to justify my lust for his woman. Only that’s not fair or right. I’ve been thinking about her well before I had the confirmation he isn’t a good man. I normally pride myself on my high moral code. It’s the way I was raised and the only way I stay true to my roots, navigating this world of fame and privilege. I won’t move in on someone else’s woman, no matter how horrible a person he is, and never would I do that to a bandmate. That kind of behavior is inexcusable.
Taking the seat next to Jess, I inch it as far from her as I can without knocking knees against Trent. I lean back into the chair and lift one of my beers, not pausing until it’s drained.
“We’ve got all night,” Trent says, but I ignore his comment and pick up my second.
My plan’s already working, because it becomes easier to tune everyone out with every passing second. I barely notice the way Jess dabs the cloth napkin at the corner of her lips each and every time she takes a sip of water. Or that her perfume reminds me of a beach in Bali. God, I’d love to take her there. She’d love it. The water—warm, still, and clear—and the people and food. The energy there is magic; my only regret was having to leave after two days to go back on tour.
“Do you like the beach?” I twist in my seat and ask.
Jess doesn’t answer or glance up but I know she had to have heard me.
“Beaches. You like ’em?” I tap my salad fork against the gold plate at her place setting and that earns her attention. Unfortunately, everyone else’s as well.
“I like bitches.” Austin laughs and Coy slaps his hand in a high five.
“Me?” Jess asks with eyes wide. They’re bigger than normal, like she can’t be certain I’m speaking to her and not someone else.
Coy wraps his hand around her shoulder and leans over her lap to raise his eyebrows and meet my stare. “We live in California. Of course she loves the beach.” He rolls his eyes and leans back, turning to answer something Austin asks.
Servers bring plates of salad and baskets of bread and I’m thankful that it diverts everyone’s attention. This time I work really hard to speak softly and not slur any words. “Hey,” I say holding the basket of bread for Jess.
“Oh, thank you.” She lifts her gaze, her lips pulling up at the edges for a slight smile. She selects a roll and grabs the basket to pass around the table.
I don’t release my grip though, and it gains her attention. “So, do you? Like the beach?”
“Oh, yeah. I love it, actually.” Her neck stains and I’d bet if she weren’t wearing that lace cover up I’d be tempted to see just how low the pink travels when she blushes.
I shake my head to get back to the purpose of my question. “Have you ever been to Bali?”
She giggles and, oh God, it’s my new favorite sound. “I’ve only been to Santa Monica.”
“Wait. You’ve only been to one beach before? How long have you lived here?” My eyes are wide with disbelief.
“Only about six months.” She hands the bread basket to Coy and Austin, but turns her attention back to me.
“Oh, thank God!” I slap my chest as if she’s confessed to not hating puppies. “That’s not so bad. But seriously, we need to get you to the beach more. I’m pretty sure it’s a cardinal sin to live in LA and only visit one beach.”
She laughs again. “I’m almost certain that’s not a cardinal sin, but if you say so . . .”
“I do.” I grin and pick up my fork to stab a bite of salad. “If you ever want to go, I’m totally game.”
Coy clears his throat, leaning into Jess’s side.
I get a thrill that this is bothering him. Me talking to Jess. Me inviting Jess to the beach. My smile widens and I don’t look away from her. “Just don’t wear that white bathing suit of yours. Not much fun if I have to spend the entire time fighting off leering men!” The words come out louder than I intend. Whoops. My bad, and maybe the beer, too. Either way, I regret them the moment they slip through my lips.
No more smile from Jess. No cocky stare from Coy. Even Lexi appears horrified at what I just said.
Coy whispers something into Jess’s ear and she nods, not glancing up at all. I don’t know what exactly I said that was so wrong, but I do know saying anything else will only make things worse so I remain quiet, eating the rest of my plate until it’s replaced with another. The main course comes and the MC for tonight, a local radio host who’s interviewed us before, steps onstage to thank everyone and introduce one of tonight’s speakers. The awkward tension is broken but when I tilt my chin to try and catch Jess’s stare, if only to try and express my apologies, I notice two tears drop from her cheek before she can wipe them away.
Fucker made her cry. All because I opened my big mouth. God damn it.
The night moves on, a few testimonials include children who’ve spent time in the hospital and found health through advances in medical care. It’s incredibly mo
ving and I’m glad I bid on that photo. I’m glad we had the opportunity to entertain guests with our music tonight, and I hope the hospital gets what they need to keep changing lives for the better.
By the time they bring out dessert—plates of three different mini pastries—Jess still hasn’t looked up once. She hasn’t said a word either. Not that I’m staring. It’s just I’ve been listening while making small talk at our table.
“Babe, if you’re not feeling well, why don’t you go upstairs?” Coy says and that’s all it takes before she’s up with her clutch in hand.
“Do you have a headache? I think I have something in my purse?” Lexi grabs for her own bag but Coy shakes his head.
“She gets like this sometimes, but it’s nothing she can’t sleep off. Right, babe?” A dismissal. I see it for what it is, and by the flare of Lexi’s nostrils she sees it, too. But the rest of the table is clueless.
“Hope you feel better!” Trent offers, but Jess doesn’t even lift her chin to say good-bye. Only mumbles the words and turns toward the exit. Trent’s lips twist together, along with his brow. “Bro? You’re not gonna walk her up to the room?” He points to Jess. “You can cut out early. You don’t have to stay and hang out.”
“It’s cool, man.”
But it’s so obviously not cool. I expect Trent to say something, or maybe Lexi, but neither challenge Coy’s rude and unchivalrous treatment of his girlfriend. Maybe it’s not their place. Hell, it’s not even mine, but it doesn’t bother me any less. We all finish our dessert as the silent auction winners are announced and thanked from onstage.
“And wow! This one goes to someone who has already generously supported tonight’s gala along with his talented band. “My Shelter,” photographed by the award winning J. Moreno of Phoenix, Arizona goes to Sean Willis of Three Ugly Guys.”
“Dude! You got the girl!” Trent teases.
“You always pay that much for a naked woman?” Coy gets his jab in.
Austin laughs loudly and grins at me, raising his glass. “No way! This is cherry popping. The first time Sean’s had to pay for ass.”