by T Gephart
“Give us an hour, for old times sake.” Troy flashed another grin. Crap. He knew I owed his family big time for everything they’d done for Pops and me. Saying no? Not an option unless I wanted my father to disown me. Goddamit. I’d hear him out, but whatever it was, I could already tell I wasn’t interested.
“Fine, an hour.” Which was sixty minutes too long as far as I was concerned if Jason was going to be present. The night had been so promising, too.
“Tuesday’s is still open, let’s head there.” James tilted his head to their waiting ride.
Um. No. Not getting in a car with them was on the top of my to-do list.
“I’ll drive myself thank you very much. My ’Vette doesn’t need to be on the street any longer than she already has.”
“Okay, see you there.” James gave me a wave as I cranked open my car door.
An hour. I could do an hour.
****
“What are you having?” the bartender asked the minute we’d sat down. The Power Station express arrived a few minutes after I walked in. I had opted for sitting at the bar. It was less personal than sitting at a booth.
“A double of the twenty-year-old Macallan. Neat. He’s buying.” I pointed squarely at Dan, barely able to contain my smile as he shot me daggers.
“I’ll buy.” Troy rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet.
“No, he buys.” Not going to lie, it gave me an irrational sense of pleasure to annoy Dan. Sure it was childish, but at least I could get some sense of enjoyment from this … whatever this was.
“For fuck’s sake, here.” Dan pulled out a roll of cash and peeled off a hundred and slammed it on the bar. The distaste in his voice making me smile even wider. “Give her the fucking scotch.”
“Thanks.” I cracked my knuckles as the bartender poured the overpriced liquor into an old school tumbler. “So, gentleman. I’m assuming you’re not here to reminisce about the good old days in the ’hood.” Might as well cut to the chase, we were still on the clock as far as I was concerned.
“You’re right.” James once again took the lead. “We have a business proposition for you.”
“Yeah, thanks guys but …” I hadn’t even had a chance to give them the no-thanks-there’d-be-a-cold-day-in-hell before James cut me off.
“We want Black Addiction on the road with us. Opening act. All dates, all cities.” He didn’t flinch. Was he actually serious? Offering an opening slot for a stadium tour like he was asking me to split an order of chili fries? He had to be high.
“Your opening act?” Cue my mouth hitting the floor and my eyes widening to unprecedented proportions, hell even my voice sounded weird. My effort to sound cool, calm and collected taking a back seat to freaking shock. “Don’t you have those assholes from Tampa on your lineup?”
Their smug smiling faces had been featured on the tour billiard, and no it wasn’t a case of sour grapes. Unhinged Throttle were genuine assholes. Their drummer had once gotten into a bar fight with Rusty over a look he’d apparently given him. A look, people. That’s as dumb as starting a war over a Facebook status.
Alex’s mouth spread into an amused smile. He’d always been a good-looking guy and the years had definitely not hurt him. Shame I’d never been into that. “Yeah that didn’t work out, we want someone else. Someone we know.” His voice just as smooth as I’d remembered.
“Sorry boys, not interested in being your feel good project.” My ass slid off the bar stool in one fluid movement. I wasn’t, nor would I ever be, a pity fuck. Any success and adulation we had coming to us would be earned, not because of a fence line that had once been shared. My feet pointed toward the door as I got ready to give them the see-you-later. Flipping them off would have been too bratty, even for me.
“Hey, aren’t you going to drink your scotch?” Dan looked at the glass of amber liquid that sat on the bar untouched.
“Please, it’s almost midnight. I have to be up in six hours. I’m not a raving alcoholic.” I laughed, flicking my dark hair back for good measure. “I didn’t want to drink it; I just wanted you to pay for it.”
“Fuck, you’re still a bitch.” Dan grinned, almost as if he was glad I still was.
“And you’re still an asshole, so we’ve established not much has changed.” My brow arched, daring his comeback. Our game of tit-for-tat was juvenile, but it sure beat the hell out of thinking about the guy who was standing not more than five feet away. Despite not even throwing a greeting in my direction, his eyes had been boring holes into me since we started this little pow-wow. Another reason why I wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.
“Angie, come on. Give it some serious thought. This could open up a whole new world for you and the boys. Think of the exposure.” Ever the salesman, James tried to negotiate. He didn’t need to put in the effort; I knew what an opportunity like this could yield. Still—the offer—not one I wanted to consider.
“We don’t need to ride anyone’s coattails, thanks very much. We can do this shit on our own.”
“Maybe you should let the band have a say? Instead of letting your emotions dictate your decisions.” Jason unwisely opened his mouth for the first time.
Oh. My. God. Did he just accuse me of being emotional? Would he even know what the fuck that was? The man was soulless as far as I could tell. If he even tried that are-you-on-your-period bullshit, I was for real going to need to be held back. Did the motherfucker forget I had a gun? God, I’d been a dumbass when I’d gone there. Young and stupid—they were my excuses and I was sticking to them.
“My emotions?” I tried to rein it in, not wanting my emotions to get out of hand. “You think because I’m a woman, I’m being emotional? Head up your ass much? We have day jobs, asshole. We can’t just quit and go on tour with you. Think about it. What happens after the tour, and we need to go back to our regular lives, pay our regular bills? Somehow I don’t think I-played-with-Power-Station-three-months-ago will be enough to keep my lights on.”
Our game of eyeball chicken continued with neither of us looking away. There was so much I wanted to do to him. Sadly, not all of it bad, and that just made me angrier.
“Okay, that’s fair.” Typical. James tried to diffuse the situation, ignoring the stare down Jason and I were playing. “What about you open for our next four shows, all the Garden? It won’t interfere with your day jobs and we will more than make it worth your while. Gives us time to find someone else or alternatively you and the boys give us a number that will compensate for your time.”
What was being offered was a chance of a lifetime. Seeking us out and telling me to give them a number was insane. No one got that lucky, certainly not girls like me. I wasn’t sure if this was the break I’d be praying for, or if it would be selling my soul to the devil.
“Why us?” My head turned to James. I hadn’t wanted to look away but it was going to be difficult to have a conversation and shoot the death glare, sadly I wasn’t that talented. As far as I was concerned it wasn’t conceding though, more just being polite. “There’s a million dipshits out there who would kill to play with you. Why do you have a hard-on for us?”
“Because we need someone we trust,” James sighed. Curiously, it seemed more than just fatigue wearing him down. Hard to believe that someone who was living their life could have problems that would lead to that kind of sigh.
Troy edged closer toward me, my feet still undecided if I was walking out the door or sticking around. “You’ve known us since before we made it, and never once have you tried to capitalize on that. Hell, lord knows you’ve got enough dirt on us from the early days, would have set you up for awhile.”
“Yeah, well I’m not in the habit of selling out.” And wasn’t that the truth. “I’m not interested in that kind of singing.”
“Which is why we want you. Angie, it’s four shows. You hate it; you take the cash and walk. No questions asked. Worst case scenario you get to play stadiums instead of bars for a few nights and make a truck load of cash, bes
t case you get put on the map.” Troy joined James on the wear-Angie-down parade.
“Fine, but only because it’s you asking me, Troy. But the band does its own thing. We play what we want.” The only way I would be stepping on that stage was on our own terms.
“Your set, your rules. Complete creative control.” James held up his hands in a show of his word.
“Well …” My eyes measured them as I looked around at each member of the band. “I guess it looks like you’ve got yourself an opening act.”
“You won’t regret this.” Troy pulled me in for hug, my heartbeat already ringing in my ears as the reality of what I agreed to hit me.
“Let’s hope not.”
Angie Morelli.
She hadn’t changed. Well, of course she was older and displaying a hell of a lot more ink than I remembered, but she could still get me from zero to one hundred just from looking at her. The multiple piercings up her ears were new, as was the edgier wardrobe. Those doe eyes she used to look at me with were gone though. Now, those big brown eyes were filled with attitude and hate. Not that I blamed her. Still, the piss-and-vinegar routine she had going on did nothing to hide how beautiful she was. She had to have noticed me staring at her, my eyes on her the entire time. And time had definitely been good to her. The way she filled out that T-Shirt and jeans was definitely enough to cause a re-rack in my pants. She looked good, and not in a way I wanted to leave alone.
“So what’s the story?” Troy had paid me the courtesy of waiting until after we’d dropped off Alex and James before giving me the third degree. “I know she had a crush on you back in the day, but that was some evil eye she was throwing your way.” Troy’s sideways glance a hint he hadn’t missed the arctic chill she was blasting in my direction. Not that she’d been trying to hide it. Hell, even the bartender felt the need to relocate to the other end of the bar, and we’d been the only people in the joint.
“Yeah Jase, what’s the story?” Dan’s shit-eating grin needling the situation. Unlike Troy, he knew the story. I’d stupidly confessed to him one drunken night early on, the guilt eating me up. And while he’d promised to take it to the grave, now it was out in the open, and he wasn’t doing me any favors in trying to keep it buried. The asshole pleased that it wasn’t him who was at the top of her shit list. Bad news for him was he was now located at the top of mine.
“No story. Just a misunderstanding. Not my finest moment.” Yep, let’s go with that. It wasn’t only the stupidest thing I’d ever done but sadly, I’d kill to do it over.
Seeing her had lit a fire under my ass that I had been sure no longer existed. The stirring up of old emotions giving me a reality check. It was a knife’s edge. And I wasn’t just talking about the sex either. Although—yeah, let’s not go there.
Well wasn’t this just freaking great. My keeping-it-together shit about to be unhinged by a blast from the past. My nerves jangled with the need to get physical. The thought of having sex—not appealing, despite the hard-on I’d already worked up. Punching stuff suddenly sounded good. Wonder if Wade had checked out of his hotel yet?
“You wanna clarify that for me, brother? Angie is like a sister to me, and I’m not liking where this conversation is heading.” The hard look he shot me was enough of a warning, the tone—exactly what I’d wanted to avoid.
Annnd here we go. I could dress it any way I wanted, but it was still going to be like entering RuPaul into the Miss America contest. All the fucking glitter in the world wasn’t going to hide the fucking dick. In this case, the dick was me.
“Then best you stop hearing it now.” Dan eased back into his seat, his grin getting even wider.
The motherfucker was enjoying himself and while he hadn’t broken out the popcorn just yet, he was settling in for some payback. The karma bus had my name it and currently sitting behind the wheel was Dan fucking Evans.
“Angie and I have some history. Not all of it great.”
Wow. That didn’t sound bad. Not at all. Excuse me while I go kick my own fucking ass.
“Define, history.” Troy’s words were measured, controlled. Not good.
“I dated her once, nothing serious.”
Sure, let’s fucking pretend like it wasn’t a monumental fuck-up on my part. Lack of judgment? Try, dumbest move I’d ever pulled. She was waaaaaaayyyyy too good for me, and like an asshole, I went there anyway. Of course the minute I came to my fucking senses, I did my best to fix the situation. Having her think she meant nothing was better than me ruining her life. Because that’s what hitching your wagon to me meant.
“Translation, he fucked her.” Dan piped in, freaking beaming with his addition to the conversation.
“Goddamit, Dan!” I slammed my fist on the inside of the door panel causing TJ, our driver, to turn around and give us the eye. It wasn’t like me to lose my temper, but Dan talking about her being a fuck, well, she had never been a fuck. The bastard should be glad it wasn’t my fist meeting his face.
“Fuck, dude.” The loud exhale from Troy killing the silence we had going on. “When was this?”
“Before we all moved into the shady POS apartment in Harlem.”
The memory had been buried but hadn’t gone anywhere. I still remembered everything about that night, the way she smelled, how she smiled, the way she felt. Hardest thing I ever had to do was look at her after. Looking at myself? Try couldn’t stand the sight of my own fucking face for weeks. Only thing I did right was walk away. Everything else was a fuck up for which I deserved to rot in hell.
“Wait a minute. Before we moved? She was like seventeen. I’m not liking this intel.” The raised eyebrow and the tight jaw an added hint he wasn’t cool with what he was hearing. No surprises. I wasn’t cool with it either.
“Nope, she was eighteen. Might have been twelve-oh-one on her birthday, but she was definitely legal.”
Like it mattered either way. Legal or not, my hands should never have gone there, and yet they did. Not the nice guy everyone thought I was, because a nice guy would have regretted it. And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t make that happen.
“Jase was the gift that kept on giving.” Dan tapped me on the shoulder because apparently he was done being annoying; we had to add patronizing to the mix.
“Dan, seriously stop.” My fist connected with his arm. He even had the fucking balls to look surprised.
“You slept with her?” Troy’s voice dripped with disappointment, and straight up I wished we didn’t have to have this conversation. “How could you just sleep with her? That wasn’t just some piece of ass, it’s Angie.”
“She wasn’t a piece of ass.” That control I had locked down all but splintered as I white-knuckled my fists. “She was never that.”
I clocked Troy dead in the eye. “Look, I’m not proud of myself. She was sweet, and the flirting back and forth was cute, but she turned it up a little, and cute was no longer the word I was using to describe it.”
“Keep talking.”
“I swear to you, I wasn’t going to go there, but it was the night before her birthday and we were drinking in your backyard.”
“Okay, maybe stop talking.”
She had been pure.
Not in that she’d been a virgin, as in she was untouched by the world and all its evil. I could tell just by looking in her eyes. It was like looking out on a calm lake on a warm day. The sun hitting the surface, the tiny ripples across the top. Inviting, calm and a fucking peace I’d never known could exist. It had been for that reason, in addition to me not wanting to do jail time, that I’d kept away from her for so long.
That kind of beautiful, that kind of purity, didn’t belong with me—in any capacity. I knew it. I knew it every single time I was around her, and still, I wanted her. Not just sexually—although she was the hottest thing I’d ever seen—but because I wanted to feel that peace, even if it was just once. Complete dick move, selfish and fucking uncaring, but I needed it. Just to prove to myself that it was actually real.
> That night, the night I caved, I’d been worn down fighting it. Talked myself into believing that all she was after was a fun night. Her mouth had been sprouting silly, drunk talk about needing a man to kiss her properly and that’s all it was supposed to be. A kiss. Problem was that when I started, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop and figured that if I made her come hard enough it would even out the fact I was an asshole that didn’t deserve to lay with her, much less have sex with her.
I used her that night—not for sex like I used other women—but for warmth. To feel the sun on my face again.
“Anyway, the reality hit the next day. Waking up with her. She was so damn sweet, dude. You knew who I was back then, that man was not for her. So as much as it made me an asshole, I told her it was a mistake and that it couldn’t happen again.”
“Let me guess, she didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy after you slept with her and then dumped her.”
“It wasn’t like that.” The anger surged in me again. She was never like that. “I never wanted to hurt her in that way, which is why I had to end it. No way did I want that for her. I’d rather her think the worst of me than know it. Trust me, any hurt she felt would have been a holiday compared to reality.”
Troy and Dan knew my history. They’d both seen it with their own eyes. Sleeping with her had been a mistake, trying to have a relationship? We’re talking fall out of biblical proportions.
“Still, dude.” Troy shook his head. “This is not the kind of shit I would have expected from you. Dan, maybe. But not you.”
Dan’s face contorted in horror. “Why am I being dragged into this? I didn’t screw her.”
Mention of Dan with his hands on her, even in the hypothetical, made me move before I even knew what I was doing. Someone as sweet as her being with him, being with anyone made me glad I no longer carried a gun. Irrational as it was, no one would ever be good enough for her.