by Flite, Nora
“Hm?” He was watching me, and from my angle, he looked like a beautiful angel. An angel who'd fallen so far from heaven he was swimming in liquid black sin.
“I—there's something I need to tell you.” My throat closed on my words, trying to keep them at bay. No, I can't keep lying about this. If anything is going to happen between Drez and me—anything meaningful—I can't hide this.
The hand on my scalp trailed down, sliding along the back of my ear. “I'm listening, Lola.”
I know. I wish you weren't, I thought crossly. Unable to meet his curious gaze, I focused on the condom in my hand. It was heavy, I wanted to drop it and forget it. “I've never... well. I never opened a condom before.”
Chuckling, but not unkindly, Drez played with my hair. “Just tear it open.”
“No—I mean, I've never held one.” Heat built behind my eye sockets. Everything wobbled, congesting as I fought back humiliated tears. “Never touched one. Never had to even think about putting one on—on anyone.” I swallowed, tasted sourness. “Ever. Until... you.”
Drezden went still, fingers stuck in place on my head. His silence was torture, and if I wasn't such a coward, I would have looked up to see what he was doing. I was freed of the choice; he grabbed my chin, tilting it up while he simultaneously crouched in front of me. In his perfect green-mirrors, I saw my own pale sadness. “Lola,” he said flatly, “are you trying to tell me I was the first guy you ever slept with?”
A tremble rocketed down to my guts. “Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. I'm so sorry, I should have said something before.”
“You thought I would be—what, angry?”
Reaching up, I wiped at the corners of my eyes. “Fuck, I don't know why I'm crying, this is dumb.”
I wasn't expecting him to laugh, but when he did, tension fled my body. Pulling me close, Drezden crushed me on his chest, nose going into my hair. “Idiot. Why would I care if you were a virgin or not?”
Biting the side of my lip, I hesitated. “You always seem so... you just know what you're doing. It felt strange to think you were my first, but that you'd been with so many people—”
Gruffly, he held me by the shoulders at a distance. “How would you know how many people I've slept with?”
“I don't! You just—this morning—the whole running out of condoms thing.”
“Oh, god. Lola,” he sighed, thumbing away a left-over tear from my cheek. “You read into it too much. I meant I'd only had one condom on me at the hotel, I wasn't 'out' of them. Shit, you're acting like I finished a whole box in the week before we met.”
The laughter broke free, escaped even my palm as I covered my mouth. It was ridiculous, I'd been so worked up over nothing. “I'm so sorry, I really thought...”
“That I was some kind of man-whore.” Arching an eyebrow, Drez ruffled my hair. “I don't know if I'm even insulted.”
And now I'm still wondering how many people he's been with. Fighting my remaining, uneasy giggles down, I smiled weakly. But it doesn't matter. Asking that would make things weird. “Sorry if I ruined the mood.”
Plucking the condom from my fingers, he slid it into his pocket and zipped his pants. “You didn't.” His lips pressed to my forehead; it was the most tender kiss he'd given me. Stunned, I stayed where I was, mouth open. Squinting down at me, Drezden adjusted himself in his pants with a grunt. “If you stay down there like that, I'll be tempted to continue.”
Grinning wide, I sat on my haunches. “What's stopping you?”
Scratching at his hair in regret, the singer lifted his phone free. “Barbed Fire is finishing up their show. Brenda will kill me if you don't at least get into a clean outfit for our set. My phone's been buzzing like crazy for the past five minutes.”
Like that, my heart shrank, poisoned. Oh no. Oh no oh no.
Standing in a whirl, I slid my bra back on and tugged at the trailer door. In my distress, it took me a second to remember to unlock it.
I actually missed Sean's show.
Drezden had done it. He'd made me forget, and I could only blame myself.
And blaming myself...
Well.
That was the easy part.
Cold evening air assaulted me. I barely felt it, legs pumping, carrying me back into Belly Up. The back door had security floating around, but they took one look at me, who I was, and didn't slow me down.
It was sort of strange. Not so long ago, guards like that had thrown me to the ground outside the Headstones bus. They'd stomped on my moral, all because they didn't know who I was.
Now they knew.
So now they just ignored me.
“Sean!” My shoes pounded on the stage, my attention flying around as I tried to spot my brother among the crew tearing the set down. Even back there, among the shadows of the back room, the screaming tsunami of the crowd was deafening. “Sean! Sean, where—Sean!”
The only hint he'd heard me was a quick, dismissive glance over one shoulder. Then my older brother began walking, following the rest of his band to the rear of the building. I wasn't going to give up, though. The fear that was aging in me was a warning, threatening that if I didn't explain myself to Sean now...
There would never be another chance.
Panting, I chased him out a side door and back into the low-lit parking lot of Belly up. “Wait, hey, just hold up!” My voice was ragged; I was glad it wasn't my job to sing tonight.
Sean didn't stop until I grabbed his shoulder. Finally he spun around, the other Barbed Fire members slowing to see what was going on. “What the hell do you want, Lola?”
Pulling up short, I held a hand to my burning chest. “I need to talk to you!”
“Yeah?” Shooting a glare at the sky, he avoided my pleading eyes. “Maybe I don't have the time, maybe you'll just need to talk to me later.”
“Don't pull that shit!” Through my guilt, a maggot of frustration was infecting me. “Earlier was different, I had no time, but I was going to talk to you!”
“You could have answered your phone and talked to me!”
“It was fucking dead!”
Wiping his nose, my brother shrugged to his ears. “For all I knew, so were you.”
Wind fled my lungs. What could I say to that? “It—I was fine.” But he didn't know that. “Sean, please—”
“Why don't you just go hang out with your fuck-buddy Drezden?” Pointing, I followed his finger, spotted the singer where he was leaning on the building in the shadows. “That's all you care about now. Doesn't matter what I've done for you, you don't give a shit about any of it now that you're the 'famous' one.”
It was like he'd stabbed me in the ribs. I grabbed for him, but Sean easily stepped away. The cold indifference in his eyes reminded me terribly of our father. How he would look at me with contempt, the constant reminder of his wife's infidelity. “Sean... please... it isn't like that.”
“We both know why you missed my show just now.” Turning away, his profile belonged to someone I had never met before. This bitter person wasn't my brother.
He couldn't be.
Did he change... or was it really me? Staring after his vanishing form, I lifted a hand. It was all I could do, all I had. Sean was right—he was fucking right. I'd been distracted by Drezden, and today, I hadn't once called my brother when I could have.
I brushed him off earlier.
Now he's showing me how it feels.
Drezden appeared beside me, a shark in the water. When he touched my shoulder, I pushed away. “Come on,” I mumbled, “I need to get ready. We've got a show tonight.”
A show I know Sean won't be watching.
Chapter Six.
Drezden
I couldn't sit still backstage.
My eyes hadn't moved from the doorway, waiting to swallow Lola up once more. She'd been whisked off for makeup and wardrobe as soon as Brenda had seen us. The look that my manager had given me didn't affect me.
The look that had been in Lola's beautiful blue cente
rs did.
All because of her fucking brother. My boot tapped the ground over and over. That piece of shit really messed with her head. I'd watched it all go down; it had taken strict control not to chase after Sean when he'd walked off.
It was my fault, really. I'd been the one to enchant Lola. My desire to see what I could do to her, make her forget about everything—everyone—else. And I did that, I thought triumphantly. The only thing that existed for her was me. Lola had crumbled at my feet. The way she'd gazed up at me, lips parted, chest rising rapidly...
Breathing in sharply, I adjusted myself in my jeans.
I'm letting the fact she hid her inexperience from me slip by. Honestly, I'd been surprised when she'd told me. Not angry, not even suspicious; just surprised. Lola had come to pieces under my touch that first night, it didn't seem possible for her to have been a virgin.
That slice of her is mine, now. Smiling to myself, I ran fingers over my forearms. She thought I'd get upset at the news. I'm actually happy about it. It wouldn't have mattered to me if she'd been innocent or if I'd been her hundredth lay.
But I had unknowingly claimed that side of her.
It fucking thrilled me.
The door opened, Lola striding into view, Brenda at her heels. With her hair hanging in wild waves, eyes rimmed dark as tar and lips shiny like blood... she was stunning. Her old clothes were replaced by skin-tight grey denim. Hard, angular spikes coated the ankle-high boots. Combined with the swell of her chest, brought out by the thin purple and black tank-top, she was a walking vision of sex and power.
I took note of the most important detail; her long, elegant neck was still dappled in my bruises.
Brenda spotted me, shoes pounding my way audibly. “I guess I have you to thank, she refused to let them hide those damn hickies.”
My teeth were shining. “They look fantastic on her.”
“It's just going to make fans more crazy, even worse than today,” she hissed.
I pushed off the wall with forced calmness. “'Today?'”
Skepticism swam across Brenda's face. Together, we watched Lola approaching. In the seconds before the guitarist got in ear-shot, Brenda spoke to me. “She didn't tell you yet? Then what was all that time with her earlier spent doing—no, don't tell me.” Her voice fell lower. “Then it's my job to warn you. Some girls messed with Lola earlier today. Messed with her bad. You've got some pissed off, jealous, dangerous fans on your hands, Drez.”
Dangerous. The word lifted the hair on my neck. Dangerous in what way? There wasn't time to pry.
Lola smoothed the front of her shirt, glancing between us. “Guess we're up soon. Where's my guitar?”
“Here.” Grabbing the case from the wall, Brenda handed it over. I watched how Lola's fingers squeezed onto the container with fierce protectiveness. “I need to go find Colt and Porter, please don't vanish on me again, okay?”
A roar went up from the stage, drowning out whatever Lola had said. Shaking her head warily, Brenda hurried out of view. The screams died enough for us to speak.
Neither of us did.
Looking her guitar case over, Lola kept her eyes down. I didn't understand the awkward air around us; I just knew I loathed it. Whatever happened when they were out was worse than I thought. Lola said it had been a flat tire. There was more than that.
Dangerous. The word rattled me.
Clearing my throat, I slid my fingers into the top of my belt. “You feeling alright?”
“Sure,” she answered too quickly. “Just ready to play. The set for tonight, any changes I should know about?”
Her tone was emotionless. That was fine; I had enough growing in me for us both. Reaching out, I held her shoulders, gave her a brief shake. “Don't lie to me.”
There, a hint of something furious in her crystal eyes. “I'm not lying, I'm really okay!”
“After your brother stomped off, after what happened today,” I growled, noticing the flash of contrition that tugged at her frown. “You want me to believe you're fine?”
She tried to shove my hands off; I just squeezed tighter. “What am I supposed to say to you? We're going on stage, I don't have time to fucking open up about all of this!”
“Just say something useful!” My hands were bear traps, but Lola was showing no signs of pain, of breaking down. Always so tough. “Tell me what happened earlier today!”
Inhaling through her nose, Lola became rock under my grip. “I said I would.”
“You told Sean that, too.”
Curling back her lips like a wild animal, she slammed her hands into my chest. It surprised me enough that I released her, stumbling an inch. “Don't bring him into this! I didn't—I haven't had time to tell him, or you, what happened!”
“You had all the time you needed to tell me our fans put you in danger.”
Lola's eyebrows shot up, then knotted so ferociously she hardly looked like herself. “Brenda told you.”
“In ten seconds, she told me more than you did, yeah.”
“It isn't as simple as that! There was...” Trailing off, Lola hugged her guitar case. I was seeing her transform from feral to beaten in record time. “It isn't the only thing I wanted to tell you about. I had something else that's more complicated.”
More secrets. Suddenly, the revelation of her virginity was less of a prize, more of a premonition. What else has she kept hidden from me?
We hung there in silence. Our words, thoughts, becoming dew drops that threatened to fall and crash. With neither of us going first, we remained in limbo.
The crowd cheered, the jubilee floating backstage and into our bitter world. The band before us had finished. It would be our turn, now.
Our turn to play in unison when our hearts were battling to find any harmony at all.
****
In spite of what plagued her, Lola didn't hold back on stage. She smoked through Tuesday Left Behind, smashed expectations with No More Stars, and destroyed her strings during an encore of Black Grit.
Her guitar thundered; the crowd struggled to be louder.
Every flick of sound she created set my blood steaming. It was an experience I had come close to forgetting. Now, I reveled in the reminder.
Lola was perfect.
Several times, I looked right at her. The only thing she shared with me was her profile, lashes thick and low, hiding her away. It was one thing to cloak herself in indifference, it was another to think she was trying to spare me from her mood.
Basking in the adoration of the crowd, I felt Lola's very existence in my cells. She didn't need to look at me.
Her music was inside of me.
Porter hit a heavy, shuddering note. The bass moved as a train, sinking in long and deep around the venue. I let it guide me, found the tail of the final song; Velvet Lost. “Sticky sweetness, burning fast. My love, my dear, this will be your last...”
And that was when I saw it.
Gazing out over the sea of waving arms and gnashing teeth, a stark white poster drew my attention. The garish words read a simple phrase; 'Lola is a Giant Slut.'
Shock stabbed in my throat.
Twisting my head, I gaped at Lola, wondering if she'd noticed. Of course she has. Sweat burned along my collar bone. That's why she's been looking down all night. Now that I'd noticed one sign, I couldn't stop seeing them.
'Go Home Lola.'
'Drezden Isn't Yours.'
'Bring Back Johnny Muse.'
My lungs shriveled, then flared with my rage. Who the hell are these people? Everyone I looked at became a potential enemy. Get rid of Lola, bring back Johnny?
Johnny Muse. God damn fucking Johnny Muse.
He wasn't even there, but I hated him more than ever.
It was a testament to my ability that I finished out the song. I didn't give a shit about skill or achievement then, though. My skull was bloating with images of people who would dare insult the woman I had found fit to let into my life.
Looking across at Lola, I studied
the lonely corner of her frown. I felt incredibly stupid, my brain just now putting the pieces together. This amazing woman, she'd handled so much today, and I was just beginning to glean some of it.
Brenda said they dealt with dangerous fans. Lola said they'd gotten a flat tire. There's no way it isn't all related. The signs in the crowd, displaying jealousy-fueled disgust for Lola, was the final thread.
Crushing the mic, I cut through the fading, clapping hands and shouts. “I know we're finished, but I have an announcement.” From the side-lines, I caught a flash of Brenda's face; she looked whiter than normal, mouth falling open. “I have something to say, and all of you better be listening.”
Spinning out, I could see the rest of my band, their confusion. Porter was mouthing something at me, Colt was fidgeting with his sticks.
It was Lola who held me.
Finally, after the whole set, she was actually meeting my gaze. Those were eyes I never wanted to see hurt again. “You all know that we've got a new member here.” Winding the mic-wire around my wrist, I spoke louder. “And you all know she's the best fucking thing to happen to this band in a long time.”
Out in the bar, a mixture of cheers and confusion erupted. I was glad they were listening, it was the least they all could do. “So, here it is.” My tongue wet my lips, prepped me for my own spontaneous decision. “Lola and I will be writing a new song together, a song we'll be performing at the final show on this tour.” Air flooded my chest, my body swelled. “It's going to be the best fucking thing you've ever heard. I can't wait to share it with all of you.”
Share how great our creation will sound.
Then you'll know.
You'll understand.
Dropping the mic, I stormed backstage to the chorus of squeals and cheers. I hadn't even known what I was going to say, but it had come out.
And it felt so right.
I hadn't created a new song in some time. I certainly had never let anyone write one with me. This would be beautiful; Lola and I were going to break the god damn world. I didn't care if we left it burnt, barren.
I only needed a fragment if I was with her.