Richard grumbled something but they took off.
“And we’ll get out of your hair too,” said Rory. He pulled out his phone. “Thank God for Uber. Come on bro. We’ve got an hour or so before closing time.”
Dev didn’t want to leave Cheri. It seemed unfair to leave her alone with this mess on her hands.
“Is there anything I can do?”
She waved him away. “I just need time to go through these numbers. Don’t worry, Dev. This is my thing. I’ve got this.”
“I know it. I appreciate it more than you know.”
Cheri gave him a smile and when her blue eyes flashed at him reminding him of the look on her face when they were in that dressing room. A lightning bolt of electricity shot straight to his cock. Damn. He was messed up. The worst day of his life and all he could think about was Cheri bending over that chair.
“Come on,” said Rory, pulling at Dev’s arm. “Let’s give her space.”
Reluctantly, he followed his friend and Cheri gave him a distracted wave goodbye. He would do no good there, and probably would only make her nervous.
It was a little dive, like so many of the bars they came to know in their career. Dev didn’t even remember what town he was in, which gave him a weird, disconnected feeling.
Rory and Dev settled at the bar, and sucked down shots, rapid-fire, to dampen their anger. But even the whiskey that burned Dev’s throat didn’t quench the desire that made him impossibly hard when he had a stray thought about Cheri.
From the look of utter concentration on her face as she worked at the computer, to how gorgeous her ass was as she bent over that chair.
It was killing him. Almost as much as it was killing him that literally everything was fucked now. He’d trusted the wrong asshole. And now, his best friend was sitting next to him, and all Dev could think off was having sex with the his sister. If that didn’t make him a total shit, he didn’t know what did.
He had to tell Rory about him and Cheri, but tonight, after they found out about Bill’s betrayal, the last thing Rory needed to hear about was Dev’s. It was almost worse.
Who was he kidding? It was way worse. Rory was like a brother to him, for fuck’s sake.
Rory put down as much whiskey as Dev and beer along with it before he slowed down enough to speak. They both stared at whatever game played across the screen as the bar patrons cheered or groaned at different plays. The crack of a rack of billiard balls breaking snapped through the air.
“Want to play a game?” said Rory.
“Naw,” said Dev, staring at his empty shot glass. He felt a buzz but also felt utterly horrible for his failures. “Another drink?”
“There aren’t enough drinks in the world,” said Dev.
“Yeah,” said Rory, tapping the bar to get the bartender’s attention. He pointed to his beer and put out two fingers. A minute later, he was rewarded with two brews.
“You going to drink two beers?”
Rory shook his head.
“Straight whiskey is just bad.” He pushed one toward Dev. “Switch to beer maybe.”
“I drink alone, with nobody else,” said Dev.
Rory groaned. “You’re not going to go George Thorogood on me. I hate that.”
“Hey, he was a prophet of our age.”
“Is there anything eighties you don’t like?”
“I’m a child of the eighties,” Dev said, unapologetically.
“Fuck that. You were born in the late eighties. You’re a child of the nineties.”
“I ain’t claiming that ‘bro. The nineties were lame.”
“Ren and Stimpy, man.”
“Fuck that, Ror, Transformers ruled.”
“Still, George got us in more trouble than anyone else.”
“How do you figure?”
“Remember that high school dance we were hired to play in our school?”
“Dimly.”
“You sang One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer.”
“Oh yeah, I did. As I remember, I nailed it.” It was a good memory, but hardly eased the hole in his heart.
“We got detention for a week.”
Yeah. They did.
“I can’t help it if the man didn’t see the redeeming social nature of art.”
“We didn’t do it for art. We did it so we could pay for the senior class trip.”
He’d forgotten that part too. They’d worked all summer before their senior year to earn money for the trip to Washington, D.C, but they were still short. All of their parents were barely getting by and had no money to contribute.
“They almost didn’t let us go.”
“I didn’t go,” said Dev.
“Yeah. You took the blame so the rest of us could.” Rory’s voice dropped. “We missed you.”
Dev took a sip of his beer, “Naw. You guys had a great time.”
“Not as good as if you were with us. Look,” said Rory. He put his hand on Dev’s arm. “What I’m trying to tell you is that things are rough now, but you’ve always had our backs. None of us think this is your fault.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“What? So you could pitch a fit and go solo on us? Leave us behind? Fuck that. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“So what? I’m your meal ticket?” Dev said, the ice in his gut thawing just a little.
“Damn straight, Lachlan.”
“Fuck you.” He said it with a grin and his buddy laughed.
“One bourbon, one scotch, one beer,” sang Rory.
“Oh, good lord.”
“Come on. Belt it out. We’ll pretend we’re in an English pub.”
“But we aren’t. Look around. This crowd isn’t in the mood to listen to you sing.”
Rory looked over his shoulder to the crowd gracing the local bar. Dressed in tees, flannels and baseball caps they didn’t look like the type to take up a sing-along.
“Are you dissing my skills?” Rory asked, feigning hurt.
“If you sang half as well as you play drums, I’d be back-up guitar.”
“What? Wait? What kind of compliment was that?”
“Seriously, you’d be amazing. But you aren’t.”
Dev motioned to the bartender for refills.
“You’re probably right, but know what, or rather who is amazing?”
“Who?”
“My sister. Cheri. She’s salt of the earth, man. Back there doing that shit job. She’s the best.”
“That she is.” Dev downed his new shot as the ice returned, full force.
“I’ve been a shitty brother to her.”
“What? You’re crazy.”
Rory shook his head. “She keeps telling me to lighten up, that she’s never gonna get a guy of her own if I don’t stop acting like I’d kill him if he touched her.”
“You’re only trying to protect her.” Dev said the words, but his gut twisted at the thought of another man’s hands on her.
“No. She’s right. Cheri deserves an amazing guy, and she won’t get that with me hovering over her like the angel of death.”
“Angel of death? Sound likes a song title.”
Rory scoffed. “I’m serious, Dev. She deserves someone to show her a good time, but also treat her like a queen, you know?”
Now Dev felt even more awful for holding back on his best friend.
“Maybe she’s not as sheltered as you think,” said Dev.
“What do you mean by that?”
Dev took another shot of liquid courage, which, up until now, was failing him.
“Aren’t you buzzed yet?” said Rory.
Apparently not enough, Dev thought.
His throat went dry and he drank the last of the beer Rory bought him.
Rory gave him an expectant look but Dev’s phone buzzed then. Cheri had sent him a message.
Shoot me a text when you get back.
What’s up?
I just wanted to say I’m sorry.
Dev stared at his screen, puzz
led. For what?
The lessons. Keeping you busy when you could have been focused on the band.
Dev typed back quickly. Not your fault.
He waited and, soon, another message popped up. If I didn’t distract you, you would have been all up into what Bill was doing.
NOT your fault, he typed again. I’ll talk to you later.
OK.
“Everything okay?” said Rory.
“Fuck, no. But nothing is worse than before, at any rate. That was Cheri. She’s still working on it.”
Rory nodded and turned his back to him, while Dev’s heart sank even further. He failed his band, and his best friend. What did it mean when he couldn’t even take care of business? Or be honest with his friend?
What kind of man did that make him?
He couldn’t silence the little voice inside his head that responded.
One that doesn’t deserve a woman like Cheri.
Chapter Sixteen
Cheri woke with her head aching and fuzzy from spending too many hours of looking at numbers and trying to sling them into the proper places on the band’s profit and loss statement. The only saving grace of yesterday was that Richard let her off the hook for load-in and load out for that night’s show because she worked all day on the books. She also spent all night on them too, until the numbers ran together before her eyes on the screen.
In fact she didn’t even remember going to bed.
But at least they’d finally determined exactly what was stolen and, according to Richard, the FBI was on the case to get it, and Bill, back.
She blinked and sucked in a long breath. It hit her that the smells of the bus were slightly different, more male, and her digit-scrambled brain didn’t place the irregularity until she heard an all too familiar voice.
“Wake up, asshole” he said. “I want to get some breakfast.”
Dev? What was he doing on the bus?
“Fuck you,” said Rory groggily. “Where the hell are we?”
Hell, she was on bus one. She was working here, hadn’t moved really, since that awful night when they found out about Bill’s betrayal while she worked. She must have fallen asleep and someone moved her to the nearest open bunk.
“Same place as yesterday, except four hundred miles down the road.”
“Shit. You should make that into a song lyric,” groaned Rory.
“Maybe I will. Are you going to get your ass out of bed, or what?”
“Go away,” growled Rory as if in pain. “I’m still not over my hangover.”
“You can’t have a hangover from a binge two nights ago or you’re the saddest rock star ever.”
“Says you. Go torture someone else.” Rory made a retching noise, which Cheri from long experience knew was fake.
“Eggs,” said Dev, and Rory belched.
“Bacon,” said Dev, and Rory whined.
“Hash browns.”
“You monster,” groaned Rory.
“Coffee,” said Dev with fiendish glee.
“Get the gone, Satan. I reject you and all your works.”
“Fine, spend your one day off in forever on this stinking bus. Anyone else want to join me?”
“Shut up,” moaned Mac.
“Turn off the light, asshole,” groused Quinn.
Only muffled sounds emerged from Connor’s bunk. He was obviously too insensible to even answer.
Cheri poked her head out.
“I could use some food.”
Dev grinned at her, a soul-shattering, sexy smile. Her stomach did a black-flip in the most pleasurable way. God, she loved looking at him, the way his tee clung tightly to his muscles, and his jeans hung off his lean hips.
“Welcome to the land of the living.” He kicked the bottom of the Rory’s bunk. “Galveston, I’m taking your sister out for food.”
“I don’t care what you do. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
Now Cheri’s concern spiked. She slid out of the bunk and peeked into Rory’s.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Yeah, sis,” he said. “Just beat. Too many days of successive hammering on the skins. I need a break—from everyone and everything.”
She gave him a little kiss on the forehead.
“Ok, big bro. You rest up then.”
“I plan to.” Rory pulled up his blanket over his shoulders and turned his back to his sister.
Dev ’s eyes sparkled with unmasked joy. “I guess it’s you and me then?”
“I should clean up,” said Cheri raking her fingers through her hair.
“No. You look—” he glanced back at Rory’s bunk, “fine.”
But when they both got out of the bus, Dev put his arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear in a panty-melting low voice.
“You’re gorgeous.”
Cheri closed her eyes as she breathed in his scent. Having him this close dissolved the problems of the past couple days and she almost sighed with happiness.
Dev had his phone out, scanning the online options for breakfast.
“There’s a breakfast restaurant here, “The Wicked Skillet.”
“Wicked?”
“Specializes in pancakes.”
“You’re an eggs and bacon man.”
“I make exceptions for half-starved accountants.” He gave her a little slap on her rear. “You’re wasting away. We need to get food into you.”
“Your concern is duly noted,” said Cheri rubbing her backside, “but I’m hardly a candidate for modeling school just yet.”
“Could fool me, beautiful. Here’s the Uber.”
Cheri melted when Dev called her beautiful. Here she was, hair a mess, in jeans and a tee shirt, but he couldn’t care less. She snuggled up close to him in the car and he put his arm around her shoulders.
This wasn’t a lesson. This was a date. An oasis in the midst of a shit-storm. It might not last, but there was no denying that this wasn’t a favor anymore. Dev was here with her because this was where he wanted to be.
The knowledge was bone deep, and warmed her to the core, but she didn’t dare say it out loud. She didn’t want to jinx it.
The car took them to a quaint tree-lined street downtown, lined with local shops and restaurants. It reminded Cheri of the little town in Connecticut named Mystic that she’d once visited that retained the character of centuries past as if the world hadn’t entered the twenty-first century.
They walked into the small restaurant where a long counter and stools ran the length of the right-hand side, and a row of booths took up the left-side wall. Several people looked up from their meals to watch them enter.
“Hello,” said a woman carrying two menus. “New in town?”
“No, “ said Dev smoothly. “Just here for breakfast.”
The woman eyed their t-shirts with the band logo.
“Sub-Zero?” she said.
“Oh, my god!” screamed a teenage girl from one the booths. She was sitting with two adults who looked horrified at their daughter’s behavior. The girl whipped out the booth. “It’s Dev Lachlan!”
“Elizabeth,” said the woman with her frowning sternly, “Sit down.”
“But mom,” whined the girl.
Dev walked to the booth with Cheri trailing behind him. “That’s okay,” he said. “How are you?”
“Amazing, now. I’m going to your concert tomorrow night,” enthused the girl.
“Not if you don’t behave,” said the father.
Cheri watched with amusement and little awe that Dev was now recognized in the smallest of towns.
“We’re sorry,” said the mother. “Our daughter does know better.”
“It’s okay,” said Dev with a smile. “Comes with the job.”
“Would you sign my t-shirt?”
“Elizabeth!” snapped her mother.
“Okay, my jacket.” She pulled up a jean jacket from behind her seat. “If you sign that, it would be awesome.” She held out a black permanent marker expectantly. Dev glanced at
the parents for approval and the mother nodded, so he signed the back with wide sweeping strokes.
“How’s that?” he said.
“Sick!” enthused the teen. “Thank you, Dev.” With that the girl launched herself at Dev and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Elizabeth!” both parents chorused and Cheri had to hold back her laughter.
“Okay, got to go now,” said Dev. “I’ve got to get this lady here fed.” He pointed to Cheri.
“Who is that?”
“Cheri Galveston, Rory’s sister.”
“Wow,” the girl mouthed. “Where’s he?”
“On his day off. Nice meeting you Elizabeth, ma’am, sir.”
Dev moved down several booths and the waitress followed. He wisely sat with his back to the teen and Cheri sat opposite him. Dev rattled off his order as Cheri peered at the menu. She ordered blueberry pancakes and the waitress left them alone. When she finally raised her eyes to Dev she found him watching her. She blushed at the intensity of his stare, which seemed to communicate just what he wished they were doing right now.
It wasn’t something that they could do in a restaurant.
Memories of the other night, when they’d been so close, flooded her and she shoved them away ruthlessly. She didn’t need to get all hot and bothered at breakfast, for God’s sake. The tour would probably be over before they had a chance to be alone like that again.
The thought made her cringe, but she pushed that aside to. She was going to enjoy the time she had with Dev, no matter how fleeting.
Cheri watched as the teenager excitedly typed into her iPhone and she wondered if and when her friends would descend on “The Wicked Skillet.”
“We may have to make a strategic retreat,” she said in a low voice. “Your fan is texting her friends right now.”
“The price of fame may be too steep if I can’t get breakfast.”
The waitress brought their food just then, and Dev gave her a thumbs up.
“Is there a back door? You know, should we need it?” asked Cheri. She threw a look toward the teenager and the waitress nodded her head.
“Go back toward the rest rooms. You’ll see it.”
“Great,” said Dev handing her his credit card. “I’ll pay now.”
Hard Lesson: A bad-boy, rock star romance Page 14