Back Stage

by T Gephart

  “Jase, what the fuck?” Dan’s eyes widened as my brain registered that my hands were gripping the front of his shirt, my teeth pitbulling at his face.

  “I’m sorry.” My fingers let go as my eyes flicked from Dan back to Troy. The big guy ten seconds away from getting involved. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

  “You cool?” Troy watched as I settled back into my seat. My nod doing little to convince either of us I was in fact cool. “Everyone needs to calm down. It’s Angie. After her mom died she spent more time at my house than her own. I don’t want to imagine anyone screwing her.”

  He and me both.

  “All I can do is say I’m sorry. It never should have happened, but I want to be clear about one thing. I never saw her as a piece of ass. Ever. She was beautiful and sweet and I wanted to be a part of that. Yeah, I was an asshole, I’ll own that, but it wasn’t just means to a quick fuck for me.”

  If things had been different, maybe it could have worked out. Who was I kidding? It still would have ended up in flames. I was even less capable then than I was now of doing the happily shacked up thing.

  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, dude.” Troy’s you-need-to-talk-to-her look transmitted loud and fucking clear.

  “Yeah, well I’ll go see her.”

  It was time I manned up and had the conversation anyway. Apologize for being a dick, let her yell at me and then hopefully we could move on. I mean, how bad could it be?

  “You better.”

  ****

  The bell jingled as I pulled open the door. The morning commute to the old neighborhood hadn’t been pleasant, my mind churning over thoughts like clothes in a dryer. I hadn’t grown up here, but it felt more like home than Albany did. If my folks still didn’t live there, I’d never go back. Even my brother and sister had shipped out. My memories of that place not pleasant. The people—I’d been trying like hell to erase from my mental space.

  “Well, well, twice in twenty-four hours. I’m literally giddy from the Power Station overload.” Angie scowled as she leaned up against the counter, her tits straining against the Joe’s Garage T-shirt she was wearing. Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought.

  “Can we talk?”

  Her eyes narrowed, giving me her answer before she’d opened her mouth.

  “I’m at work, Jason. I haven’t got time to socialize.” The empty shop not convincing me she didn’t have five minutes to spare. Regardless, I owed her an apology and my feet weren’t going anywhere until I’d given her one.

  “Hey Angie, you need me?” Joe wandered in from the connecting work bays. The rag in his hand wiped off the grease as he walked through the doorway into the office space.

  “All good, Pops, just an uptight loser driving a muscle car.” Angie turned to open a filing cabinet and shoved invoices into a drawer. Didn’t look like an adequate filing system to me, but I wasn’t about to argue.

  “Hey, Jason.” Joe’s face spread into a smile as he put out his hand. “I haven’t seen you in years. You guys did good, huh? Been awhile since you’ve been in the old neighborhood.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” My hand clapped against his, returning his handshake as I gave him a nod. “Yep, it’s been a while. Life has been keeping us busy.”

  My eyes shifted to Angie curiously. I’d half expected Joe to come at me with a tire iron not a handshake. Clearly, I hadn’t been the only one who’d been keeping our past on the quiet.

  “Sure, sure.” He loosened his grip and glanced over at Angie. “You two kids just catching up or you need something for your Mustang?”

  “No, she’s great.” The car I meant. Angie, not so much.

  “Okay, well I’ll leave you to it.” He shoved the dirty rag into his pocket as he moseyed back to the doorway he’d come in from. “Don’t be trusting any of those fancy city boys with the car if she needs work. You bring her here. We’ll take care of it, right, sweetheart?”

  “Sure, Pops.” The smile she gave was for his benefit, the eye roll for mine.

  He disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

  “You obviously didn’t tell him.”

  For a second I thought I saw something in her eyes other than distaste. That she had hidden our horizontal history to save us both.

  “You’re still alive aren’t you? If he knew, you would be laying on the floor doing a little less breathing.”

  “Look Ange, I’m so—”

  “Save it,” she hissed, cutting me off before I’d gotten a chance to finish my sentence. “I don’t give a shit. It was a lifetime ago, right? You think I’ve been sitting in my room crying my eyes out over you? Wow, your head is even further up your ass than I thought.”

  The venom was real. The hostility she was throwing today about ten times what it had been last night.

  “You don’t give a shit?” My head tilted as I tried to get a read on her. “But you won’t let me talk either. Doesn’t sound like you don’t give a shit.”

  My mission had been clear. Go, say sorry and smooth it over. Let her swear at me for a bit if necessary; hell I’d even let her take a swing if she wanted. All of it, well and truly deserved. But seeing her lie to me was something else. No matter what words were coming out of her mouth, things were most definitely not fucking fine. And that didn’t sit well with me.

  “You can say all the words you want, just not to me.” She tried to keep her voice down, but I could tell it was a struggle. “I don’t have to listen. So get back in your car and drive out of here.”

  Two choices.

  Escalate or eject.

  Any other girl and there’d have been no consideration. That big pile of drama could have stayed right where it was as I waved goodbye. Sayonara. So long. Yet my feet stayed exactly where they were. And it wasn’t because she was drop-dead beautiful. It was a need in me to set things right that was of unparalleled importance. Not for the band. Not for my fucking reputation. For her.

  “Angie, we need to be cool with each other.”

  That wasn’t so much a request as it was a promise to myself.

  “You want us to be cool?” Her eyes got wide like I’d said I wanted to french kiss the GTO parked out front. “We’re as cool as we get, Jase. Any cooler and penguins would be starting a fucking colony.”

  “Noted. But your water under the bridge bullshit isn’t fooling anyone.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. Moody bitch is my resting face. You weren’t that special.”

  There was so much I could’ve said and yet what I wanted most to do was kiss that fucking mouth of hers. The exact one that had been calling me an asshole. Because clearly, not only was she right on that count, but also because I was deranged. Wanting her. Wanting this.

  “We’re not done here.”

  Another promise. And one I’d be making good on soon.

  “Oh, yes we fucking well are.” Her hands slammed down on the counter in between us, her chest heaving as she sucked in a breath.

  “No, we’re not.”

  My eyes locked onto hers, so much being said without even opening our mouths, and she was the first to look away.

  One thing was for sure. That baggage that evidently just got FedEx’d to our doorstep was being dealt with. And as for the band, none of it would land on them. Hell, it had stopped being about the tour the minute I’d walked in.

  I gave her a look over before moving to the door. Her eyes did their best to try and meet mine but for the most part, she came up empty.

  My hand hesitated on the handle, my body having a hard time leaving the unfinished business. Not now, soon, the familiar jingle of the doorbell rang as I yanked open the door ready to leave. “See you tonight,” I said, looking back one last time. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she settled on flipping me off.

  Well that went well.

  Fire meet gasoline. Let’s get cozy shall we?

  The ’Stang seemed to drive itself back to my apartment, which was a bonus cause my mind was i
n another zip code. The purr of the engine letting me know that while we’d made it back to my apartment, I had yet to cut the ignition.

  Yeah, she hadn’t gotten under my skin. Not. At. All.

  “What’s this, an intervention?”

  The Troy welcoming committee was standing by my front door as I walked out of the elevator. My suspicion, it wasn’t a friendly let’s-hang visit.

  “Did you talk to her?” Troy didn’t waste any time with the inquisition, drilling me before I’d had a chance to get my keys into my door.

  “Yeah, she wasn’t in a chatty mood though. Wouldn’t hear my apology.” I neglected to mention the other stuff. His need-to-know limited to the earlier part of the conversation.

  “Well, that’s a problem then.” Troy followed me into my apartment, not needing an invitation.

  “Troy, I’ve got this okay. No need to worry.”

  Ha! Even I sounded convinced. Good job, Irwin.

  “So did she talk to you at all?” Troy parked his ass on my couch as I tossed my keys on the counter.

  “Just enough to tell me she wasn’t my number one fan. I believe she also mentioned my head was up my ass as well. In any case, she isn’t some evil vindictive bitch who’s going to sabotage the tour just to get even.” My butt hit the opposite two-seater as I gave Troy the only debriefing he’d be getting.

  The stuff I said about Angie pulling it together, I had absolute faith in. Confident she loved that stage more than she hated me.

  “She isn’t the only one I’m worried about here. That shit in the car with Dan. Haven’t seen you lose your cool like that for a while. You aren’t feeling nostalgic are you?”

  The man sitting across from me had seen me at my worst. The whole band had. My polished, have-all-my-shit together persona was a far cry from the dude they’d first met. But those days were over. The drinking and fighting hadn’t been an issue in years. And while the aggression that churned through my body hadn’t left, I had found a more acceptable outlet for it.

  Sex.

  And what do you know. Being in a rock band meant there was plenty of that on offer. Even keyboard players got lucky. Talented fingers and all that jazz.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” My lack of desire for D and M at all time high. “I’m not allowed to have a bad day? I’m fucking solid, Troy.”

  Trust me. No one wanted a rerun of my past less than me. That cry me a river shit had more than taken up enough of my time.

  “If you say it, then I’m going to have to believe you are on the level with me. But Jase, shit changes, we talk it out. Don’t think for a second I won’t get involved if you don’t.” Troy’s hard stare told me he wasn’t kidding.

  “Listen to me, brother, I know all this Angie stuff might seem like it’s stirred the pot. But trust me on this. I’m good. Now we done sitting around in my living room like jerk offs?”

  “Yeah, Yeah we’re done.”

  “You are a machine. You can do this.” The reflection that stared back at me wasn’t so sure. No, it looked like I was going to puke my guts out. “Fuck!” I paced as my nerves got the better of me. It was just a bigger stage, nothing different. Fancier, bigger stage but still a stage. When the hell did I start getting stage fright? This wasn’t me; the jangling feeling that was twisting my stomach into knots was not me. It was because of him, it had to be.

  Seeing him again after all these years had thrown me off my game. Rattled my cage. It was the only explanation. Sure, let’s put the blame squarely at the feet of Jason fucking Irwin. I liked the blame there. It felt familiar, I sure had laid more than the fair share of the blame there in the past. Not that I was jaded. Of course not. He broke my heart years ago but I wasn’t bitter, I was just making sure it never happened again. EVER.

  Not that there was any danger of it with him. Nope. No fucking chance. I was just mad I had to see his face again. Bring all those memories back. That’s why I was so pissed off. His face.

  I bounced on the balls of my feet like a prizefighter; trying to burn the extra adrenaline my adrenal gland seemed hell bent on secreting. I was over him; this shouldn’t even be a problem.

  So over him.

  So over him it was hilarious.

  I was so not over him.

  He wasn’t my first—boyfriend or sexual experience. He wasn’t even my first heartbreak. Nope, that pleasure had gone to Tyler Farley. At sixteen he’d broken my hymen but had forgotten to give me an orgasm. It was horrible and messy and made me want to never do it again. But, I did and the next time wasn’t so bad. Of course, after six months Tyler decided to dump me for Cindy Watts. She was a cheerleader. We weren’t friends.

  My poor little sixteen-year-old heart thought my world was ending when I spent those nights crying into my pillow. Little did I know the real heartbreak would come later.

  Jason Irwin. That’s where the real heartache lay.

  Asshole extraordinaire.

  Who still looked amazing.

  And what the fuck was with his we aren’t done? The guy must also be insane. Good looking and insane. Top two headers on his resume. Oh, and hot. Most definitely hot.

  Great, now I was insane.

  “You ready to knock them on their asses?” Rusty burst through the door without knocking, pulling me from a dangerous slide down memory mountain. I was supposed to be remembering the reasons why I hated Jason, not focusing on what his chest looked like underneath that shirt.

  “I could have been naked, Rus.” My attention was happily diverted to the six-foot-two blond guitarist in front of me.

  “So, not like you’ve got anything I haven’t already seen before. Plus, I know you’ve probably been dressed for like an hour.” He shoved his hands into his worn jeans while his grin of satisfaction dared me to say that I hadn’t. He wasn’t wrong; I’d been dressed for over an hour and a half.

  “Not an hour.” I lied; the smile on my lips spelling out how little his interruption had bothered me. “And just because you’ve seen me naked once before doesn’t mean you get to see it again.”

  “I know, and I die a little each day because of it.” Rusty laughed before pulling me into a hug.

  Rusty wasn’t just a guy and my guitarist, he was my best friend. I’m not sure if it was because I was an only child or because I’d grown up in a garage, but for the most part the whole girlie gene was missing from my DNA. High school had been a nightmare with girls assuming my interest in cars had been an angle to steal their boyfriends. Consequently, I didn’t have many female friends, so when Rusty transferred in tenth grade from another school, we became tight.

  Him being so good looking didn’t hurt, but neither of us had ever been attracted to each other. Trust me, we’d tried to hook up in the early days, thinking being that we were such good friends the sex would be super awesome too. But it just didn’t work. We both ended up laughing before he’d even gotten the condom on, quickest mood killer ever. So instead of having sex, we spent the night drinking beers he’d stolen from his dad’s beer fridge, and jamming to a Foo Fighters CD.

  “So, I’ll ask you again.” Rusty shadow boxed before raising his voice. “Are. You. Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I blew out a breath, convinced the pep talk I’d tried to give myself hadn’t done shit. So much for the power of positive thought. Fuck you, Deepak Chopra.

  “I give you gold and you give me some lukewarm meh … yeah whatevs.” Rusty’s grin twitched at his outer lips. “You’re not nervous are you, Angie?”

  “Me? No. We play in front of eighteen or so thousand people all the time,” I mused sarcastically, wondering if I should be fussing with something. Messing around with my hair wasn’t going to make me feel any better.

  “Well stop doing whatever it is you’re doing and get excited.” He leapt onto the couch and raised his arms above his head. “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” I knew I was in trouble now he’d started quoting Gladiator. “We’re opening for Power Station at the Madison Square Fuck
ing Garden!” He leaned across and gave me a shake. “This is our time.”

  I wanted to be happy. Knowing how much this meant to him, and the rest of the band. Hell, knowing what this meant to me. “Yep, dream come true.” I just wished it had been any other band. One that didn’t feature Jason. Damn him, and damn me too. I hated that he still got under my skin.

  “Well stop jerking off and let’s do this thing. Joey’s had three Red Bulls and is either going to have a heart attack or fly off the stage like Superman. I’m trying to tell him the ‘gives you wings’ tagline is just fucking advertising. I could use the reinforcements.” He tapped me playfully on the arm.

  “Give me a few minutes to get in my groove and I’ll meet you stage side.”

  “Just don’t take too long, I’m itching to plug in.”

  “I won’t. I want this too.”

  Rusty gave me a quick wink and eased toward the door. “Remember, Angie. They want you, they just don’t know it yet.”

  It had been our motto since we’d started the band. Knowing that if we could get out there and play, that’s all we would need. Funny how much those words were messing with my head tonight. Maybe sometimes they didn’t want you. Ugh. That was so not about the band.

  “You nervous?” Troy tapped at the open door; the one Rusty had conveniently forgotten to close behind him.

  “Well I wasn’t until everyone started asking me. You worried, Troy? Think I’m going to make you look bad?” My arms folded across my chest as I turned to face him and smile. Where Rusty was my best friend, Troy was the big brother I’d never had. Sure, we hadn’t been as close in recent years, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t something that could be wiped away by time.

  “Nope, I’ve seen you play. I know you deserve the shot.” The easy smile on his face proved he wasn’t worried. He’d always had faith in me, even when I didn’t have any in myself.

  “So this a social call?” My eyes fell toward the open doorway wondering if anyone else would be joining us or if this was just a Troy-Angie heart-to-heart.

  “Yeah,” Troy cleared his throat and rubbed his neck awkwardly. “So … you and Jason?”