by B. B. Hamel
“I didn’t know you were here,” I say.
“I always come here when we’re in town.”
“Really?”
“Sure, it’s the best damn record store in the country.”
“Seems like it would be hard to find anything in here.”
He laughs a little and shrugs. “Yeah, well, you get used to it. The prices are dirt cheap because Terrance just wants to share his music.”
“Terrance?”
“Old guy up front.”
He moves next to me and starts flipping through a stack. I catch a glimpse of the CDs in his hand: Smashing Pumpkins, Stereolab, Tangents, Tatsuro Yamashita.
“Terrance is an old-school audiophile,” he says. “Made a fortune in the oil industry, bought all this crap, and hoarded it for years. Now though he just spends his time in here, selling music for cheap and talking to anyone that’ll listen.”
I smile a little bit, imagining an oil man spending his days listening to obscure records. “Sounds pretty nice, honestly,” I say.
“It is.” He flips through another stack and sneezes. “Except for all the damn dust.”
I laugh and start going through a pile. There’s not much interesting, but it’s nice to have a partner to search with.
We fall into the rhythm together, flipping and reading. I don’t find anything particularly interesting, while Landon pulls out a couple obscure looking Latin jazz albums I’ve never heard of.
“You don’t strike me as a jazz guy,” I say as we make our way back toward the front of the store.
“I like anything with good drumming,” he says and shrugs. “Nothing better than a drummer leading a band.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Max Roach, that’s a good one. Find some Max Roach. And then there’s this Turkish guy, uh… Ferit Odman. He’s wild.”
“I’ll check them out. Can’t say I’m up on the jazz but I love trying new stuff.”
“You’ll like it,” he promises.
We get to the front of the store and Terrance is snoring softly, leaning back against the wall. Landon grins at me and slaps his purchases down on the counter, clearing his throat loudly.
Terrance wakes with a start. “Uh, what?” His eyes narrow as he looks at Landon. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Hi, T, how’s it hanging?”
“Good until you woke me up.” He looks down at the CDs and the records. “Ten bucks.”
I gape at the old man. Ten bucks for all that is a stupid steal. I bet it’s worth way more, and if those records are particularly rare, maybe even ten times as much.
Landon gives him a ten. “Always a pleasure. How have you been feeling?”
“Wonderful. I’m cooped up in here with record dust all day.”
“You sound good. Looking hearty too.”
“Thanks. But I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
Landon laughs, shrugging. “I’m a drummer, after all. Hey, when are you gonna stock our records?”
“They’re in here somewhere,” he says. “Picked them up the last time you stopped in.”
“You’re a real prince, T.”
“Go away, Landon.”
“See you next year.” Landon waves at the old man and he grumbles to himself. I follow Landon back out onto the street, back into the oppressive heat.
We walk back toward the hotel together. As we get closer, what I have to look forward to comes slipping back into my mind.
“I saw the article,” Landon says, as if he can read my mind.
“I didn’t think you’d read that crap.”
“Part of the job, I guess.” He keeps looking straight ahead.
“Yeah, well, I screwed that one up.”
“Yeah, you did.”
I glare at him. “What do you know about it?”
He smiles a little sadly, cocks his head. He doesn’t speak for a second. “You know I quit the band once, right?”
“Everyone knows that,” I say. It’s common knowledge that Landon walked away for a while before coming back.
“Do you know why?”
I hesitate. “The rumors all say drugs and drinking.”
He smiles sadly. “That’s part of it, but nobody ever asks why I was drinking so much.”
“There was a reason?”
“Of course.”
He goes quiet again as we keep walking. I want to press him, but I don’t want to seem rude. Then again, he brought it up, so clearly he wants to talk about it.
Finally though, he opens up himself.
“Joss had someone,” he says softly. “Nathan didn’t need anyone, because music is his mistress. And Chase, well, Chase could get anyone he wanted. For me it was always one long string of girls that settled for the drummer. It was depressing. I felt alone, more alone than I thought I could feel.”
“So you were drinking,” I say.
“Exactly. It’s easy to feel alone on tour. I mean, shit, you’ve been here so you know.”
“I’m starting to get the idea.”
“Even with all this fame and all these people breathing down our necks all the fucking time…” He trails off, composing himself. “It was hard. I had to step away, or else I was going to let it consume me.”
I bite my lip, walking side by side with him. I don’t know why he’s telling me any of this. It’s the sort of stuff rock stars don’t typically admit to the world, the sort of vulnerability we like to pretend they aren’t capable of.
But Landon is clearly capable of being vulnerable, and he feels a depth of things I wouldn’t have guessed. On the surface, he’s a fun and happy drummer. But down below, there’s something else. Something darker.
“Look, I’m telling you this for a reason,” he says finally as the hotel looms up closer, just a block ahead. He glances in my direction and away. “Chase filled that emptiness with girls, lots and lots of girls… but that doesn’t mean the emptiness wasn’t there. I doubt he even understood it.”
“I see,” I say softly. “What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re going to hear a lot about him, and most of it isn’t true. But some of it is. Chase fucked a lot of girls over these past few years, but they didn’t…” He trails off.
“Mean anything.”
“Yeah. They didn’t mean anything. Drinking didn’t mean anything to me, and the girls didn’t mean anything to him.”
I nod a little bit. “So you think I should forget about his past.”
“I think you should understand who you’re getting involved with. I guess you do, since you two go way back, but still.”
“Yeah, I think I understand.”
“And look, this black hole you’re getting sucked into. . . be careful. Don’t let it consume you.”
I bite my lip and nod. “Okay. I won’t.”
“But if there’s anyone who can keep you from getting flattened, it’s Chase.” Landon grins at me. We’re at the front door of the hotel now, and I hesitate. I’m not sure I want to go back in.
“Come on,” he says, still smiling. “It’s not so bad.”
“It’s pretty bad.”
“Well, yeah. But he likes you. That’s good, right?”
“I guess so.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t expect to get married so young.”
He laughs at that. “I didn’t expect to be a drummer for a fuckin’ famous rock band, but hey, here we are. Let’s go find your husband.”
I follow Landon into the hotel, not sure why I’m doing it.
The image of Chase at the center of a massive black hole keeps bugging me. I know that isn’t right. He’s the spaceship keeping me from spiraling in there… or at least he’s supposed to be.
Right now, I’m not so sure I can be saved.
We don’t find Chase in the dining area, and Landon gets sidetracked by the food, so I head back to my room.
I shut the door and take a quick shower, thinking about that old man in the record store. He probably waited his whole
life to end up alone in that place, surrounded by the music he’s loved his whole life. He doesn’t have to work hard anymore, he can just exist and share what he loves with people.
It’s not a bad way to live.
I come out of the shower and as I turn to go get changed, a knock at the door startles me. I hesitate but pull it open slightly, a towel wrapped around my middle, my hair still wet.
Chase looks back at me, a little smile cracking across his face. “Well, look at you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“Just to talk.”
“Are you sure? I’m such a big fuck-up, why bother?”
He sighs, looks away. “Let’s just talk, okay?”
“Give me a second.” I slam the door in his face, turn around, and head into the room. I’m tempted to let him watch me change, but I’m still angry with him.
I throw on some shorts and a t-shirt. He’s still standing there when I come back a couple minutes later. I let him inside and he sits down at the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands, while I stand across from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says before I can go in on him.
I frown a little. “You’re sorry?”
“Look, ah, I’m just sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know… I know this is crazy. And difficult.”
“Those are understatements,” I say, glaring at him.
“I know, I know. I pulled you into this and I’m just… drowning you. Of course you’re making mistakes. I haven’t been good enough about making sure you know what to do and what not to do. I guess I just… I don’t know. I’m an asshole. And I’m sorry.”
I stare at him and he looks back, frowning slightly, but with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. I think about Landon’s comment, about Chase needing something to fill himself… and the anger slowly deflates.
He’s not bad. He’s not an asshole. He’s just… missing something.
This is as new to him as it is to me.
“Okay,” I say with a sigh.
“Okay?” He perks up a little bit. “You’re not still angry?”
“I’m still angry, I’m just… I understand.”
“You understand.” He shrugs a little. “Okay.”
“But we need to work together more,” I press him. “You need to be thinking more about what I need to know.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good. And don’t be a dick anymore.”
“That I can’t promise.” He grins at me and stands.
“What’s next on the agenda, asshole?” I ask him.
“Nashville,” he says. “Bus is leaving soon.” He hesitates, meeting my gaze, moving closer. “You gonna be on it?”
“I guess so.” I stare up into his eyes. “How long of a drive?”
“Long. We’ll be cooped up tight together for a while.”
I bite my lip. “You better behave yourself. I’m a lady.”
“Yeah, sure you are.” He laughs softly and turns away. “Meet us downstairs in an hour, okay?”
“Okay.”
He heads over to the door and opens it. He looks back. “I’m glad you’re still in on this.”
“Yeah, I am too.”
He nods, still smiling, and leaves.
I watch him go, wondering if I’m looking for the exact same thing he is.
13
Chase
Driving days are always the absolute worst.
They start out okay. Everyone’s energized to get a little downtime. Nathan fiddles on his guitar, Joss does some reading, Landon watches movies on his laptop, and I’m usually napping in the back or something. Today though, I can’t seem to sleep.
“Quit kicking me.”
I poke my head out from my bunk. Delia’s lying below me, knees up against the ceiling. She grins.
“What’s wrong?” she asks innocently.
“You keep kicking my bed,” I grumble at her. “Quit acting like you don’t know.”
“Little old me?” She bats her eyes in my direction. “Can’t be.”
I grin at her. “Don’t make me come down there.”
“No way. There’s barely enough room for me in this thing.”
“Quit complaining. At least we have beds. Before we got famous, we used to tour in just a van.”
“Please. That’s how I toured, like a year ago.”
I laugh a little and the bus hits a little bump. She groans and sighs.
“I don’t miss touring.”
“It’s not so bad. It’s temporary, and the money’s good.”
“I’m not getting paid,” she grumbles.
I laugh and lie back, staring at the ceiling barely six inches from my face. “You’re getting paid plenty.”
We lapse into silence again. I can hear Nathan’s acoustic guitar up front, strumming away. I’m already bored and it’s only been a few hours of traveling.
“What do you guys normally do to have fun?” she asks.
“Joss and Nathan usually write songs,” I say. “I sleep.”
“Great. I got stuck with the guy that naps.”
“Hey. I’m good at napping. Some would say the best.”
“Some would, would they?”
“I’m gonna go pro soon. Pro-napper.”
“What would that look like?”
“I don’ know. I guess I’d fall asleep fast and be really hard to wake up.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“People love it. Competitive napping.”
She laughs and kicks the roof again. “Oops. Bump.”
“Do it again. Seriously.”
She kicks it again. “Another bump.”
“Delia. I’m warning you.”
“What are you gonna do, big man?”
She kicks it one more time and I roll out of bed, landing on my feet on the floor. She squeaks as I push her into the little bed cubby, sliding in next to her.
“Get out of here!” she protests, trying to squirm away.
“Nope. You asked for this.” I push her aside until she’s squeezed up against the wall, our bodies pressed tight together.
“Ugh, I’m regretting all my decisions.”
“Never push a competitive napper. We’re very violent.”
“Clearly. You’re crushing me.”
“Poor baby.”
“Ugh. Asshole.” She shoves against me and I laugh. I’m twice her size, so she doesn’t do all that much. “Move over, dickweed.”
I roll onto my side and give her some room. She lets out a breath and stretches.
“Better?” I ask.
“Better.” She sighs, hands behind her head, staring at the top of the bunk. “I have to admit, this is a lot better than the van.”
“Right? We even have a bathroom.”
“With a working shower. How does that even happen?”
“Lots and lots of money.”
She sighs. “Rich people get all the best stuff.”
“We sure do.”
She laughs and I press up against her again. I breathe deep, smelling her skin and hair. It’s intoxicating, having her so close, and I feel my heart beating faster.
The guys are right in the other room, but I can’t help myself. Delia looks up at me and I think she can read my expression, because her eyes go wide.
“No way,” she whispers.
“No way, what?” I smirk, moving closer to her, my lips brushing her neck.
“No way, that.” She doesn’t push me away or shrug me off, though. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not that bored.”
“You don’t need to be bored to get off, do you?”
“Chase,” she warns, but I’m already moving my hands down to her shorts, tugging them over her hips.
She struggles a little bit, laughing the whole time, and I manage to get her shorts off. She groans, melting under my touch, as my hands find her wet pussy.
“Oh, shit, you asshole,” she whispers. “We seriously can’t do this.”
I reach out and grab the curtain up near my head. I yank it free from the bracket and slide it across the pole, closing off our little bunk bed cubby.
“Better?”
“Not really.” I slide a hand down her panties and rub circles around her clit. “Oh, shit. If someone comes back here…”
“They won’t.”
“They will.”
“Let’s find out. It’ll be fun.”
“Fuck.” She bites her lip as I slide my fingers inside of her, curling my fingers, sliding them back out to tease her clit. She’s soaking wet and I know that she loves this, despite her fake protests.
I kiss her neck softly, her chin, her bottom lip. She goes to kiss me but I bite her and she grunts as I slide my fingers inside. I slide down her body, pushing her upwards, scrunching her body.
“What are you…?” she gasps as I pull her panties down. “There’s not enough room for that.”
“Quit complaining,” I say, sliding my fingers inside of her again. “Or I’ll stop.”
She purses her lips and is about to say something, but decides against it. I move down again and finally get my mouth between her legs, licking her clit softly at first, teasing her.
“Oh, god,” she groans. “We’re totally getting caught.”
“We definitely will if you can’t be quiet,” I say, sucking her clit, licking it up. She bites her own lip, trying to stifle her moans.
I reach up and put my hand over her mouth. Her eyes go wide and she puts her hand on my wrist, but I leave it there as I lick her clit faster, harder.
She moans into my palm, trying to keep quiet. I manage to stifle most of the noise as I keep sucking and licking her, moving faster and faster, her hips getting into it. We hit bumps in the road, the bus makes a turn, but I don’t stop.
The guys are in the other room, and while I know this is messed up, it’s so fucking hot. I tongue Delia’s delicious little clit, sucking, lapping, tasting her.
The way she moves, her gasps and moans against my palm, I know she’s loving it. But she’s right, we can’t wait too long.
I slide my fingers inside f her, leaning up against the wall to keep my balance. I have one hand on her mouth, two fingers in her cunt, and my tongue on her clit. We’re shoved into this tiny little bunk and at any second, someone could come back here. This is far from ideal.