Mo seemed just as surprised to see me as I was to see him when he approached the table. “I didn’t think I was going to see you here tonight,” he said when I stood up to hug him. Frankie nodded to me from behind him but didn’t approach.
“Likewise.” Why did this feel like an intervention? “What are you doing here?” I was just going to keep asking the same question until someone finally gave me the answer I was looking for.
“We came out to support Dev.” Mo looked over my shoulder, nodding at the guys behind me. “Are we getting the band back together?”
“Hardly,” I scoffed. “This was my only way to get in tonight.”
Mo wrinkled his nose. “Why weren’t you on the list?”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Apparently not a very good one. “Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, he’s over at the bar.” Mo turned and pointed me in the right direction. It took me a minute, because I had to look over people’s heads to see the edge of the room. I had to squint to make sure it was actually him, talking to someone who looked an awful lot like Lexi, her hand on his arm. Mo’s expression mirrored mine when he looked back at me. We’d both seen something we shouldn’t have.
That wasn’t Lexi, but still she looked familiar. Devon’s laughing eyes scanned the room, landing on Mo, then widening when he saw me. He said one more thing to whoever that chick was then pushed through the crowd.
I didn’t even know what the hell I was going to say to him when he got to me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. The question of the night. He motioned behind me. “With these two? I thought you were at work.”
“I got out early.” Neither of us reached out to the other. “Who’s she?”
Devon didn’t know who I was talking about at first. “Oh, Kaylee? I met her at Rocklahoma.” He didn’t attach any importance to that information, until he realized what it sounded like. “She’s in town for the weekend.”
How convenient. “I bet.” I pressed my lips together in a hard line.
“Abby.” He actually sounded cross with me. Shouldn’t this be the other way around? “I’d forgotten all about her. She’s here with her sister. They heard about the show on Twitter.” Way to go, me. I guess I needed to be careful what I wished for. “I didn’t know they were coming tonight any more than I knew that you were.”
So maybe I was overreacting. But maybe not. I was still considering all the options before I answered. Devon glared over my shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here with them?”
Ever since I laid eyes on Devon, I’d forgotten all about Eli and Andrew, then realized I looked just as guilty as he did. Why did we have to fight any time the rest of the band was around? Fuck. The air was so toxic I was choking on it. “I wanted to surprise you.” I reached out for his hand. He didn’t close his fingers over mine right away. “The line was insane, and they had a table.”
Devon’s expression softened slightly, and he squeezed my hand. “I have to go play.”
“I don’t know if you should do any Sinister Riot stuff tonight.” He stiffened at my warning, once again glaring at the table. Maybe it was a good thing I wound up sitting with the enemy tonight, or else Devon would have been blindsided in a whole different way. I wanted to lean in and kiss him, wish him a good show, but something just didn’t feel right about it. For the first time in a long time, I was afraid of rejection. Instead, Devon nodded and I let him leave.
There was only one thing I was absolutely sure of tonight: I was getting drunk on American Original’s dime. The next time the waitress came to the table, I ordered a shot of bourbon and a beer.
Devon hadn’t quite settled down by the time he sat in front of his microphone. “How ya’ll doing tonight?” The room went wild in response, people yelling and holding their beer in the air in salute. He started again with Ziggy Stardust, strumming the guitar harder than he needed to. Once Devon began to sing, everything started to fall into place. He’d told me many times that the music made the rest of the world go away for him, and thankfully, that seemed to hold true. Even tonight.
Every so often, I snuck a glance over at Eli and Andrew to see their reactions. Andrew wasn’t even paying attention, his head buried in his phone. But Eli seemed to be enjoying himself, nodding his head to the beat of Not Fade Away and tapping the table.
He caught my eye and leaned over before I had a chance to look away. “How are you doing, Abby?”
Just the sound of his voice put me on edge. Every word he said made all my insecurities get up and tap dance. “Good.” I didn’t ask him how he was.
“Devon sounds good.” Eli kept talking. “The songs are tight.”
“He’s just trying to move on.” I probably shouldn’t have said anything, four drinks down in rapid succession.
“You’re doing a good job,” he said. I raised an eyebrow. “The band’s not the same without you.”
“Maybe I can give your manager some tips.” I turned my head back to the stage so fast my ponytail hit him in the face. Good. What the hell were these two doing here? Outside they were threatening me, and now Eli was trying to get back in my good graces?
Devon was better off on his own, and for the first time, I felt good about my decision to leave Sinister Riot.
“I have a new song for you tonight.” Devon had totally relaxed, and someone called out “Too Many Reasons!” That got Andrew’s attention. Devon ignored the request. “My girlfriend told me not to say that I was still working out the kinks on this one.” I groaned as everyone cheered. He winked at me. I think, anyway; I was starting to see double. “Abby, this one’s for you.” And that got Eli’s attention as Devon launched into All Day And All Of the Night.
Devon locked eyes with me as he sang, and as the words washed over me, everyone else in the room just didn’t fucking matter anymore.
“I’m fine,” I insisted as I wriggled out of Devon’s grasp in the foyer below my apartment. But after too many shots to count, the stairs rippled in front of me.
“You’re loaded.” Devon put his arm back around me as I took an unsteady step. “Did you eat anything today?”
“I had a banana.” Drunken me was fixated on that chick from Oklahoma again. She made damn sure to say good night to Devon after the show, and then I found out Mo had driven Devon to the show. In my bourbon-soaked mind, the two events were related. I usually didn’t get this drunk, my emotions were all over the place, and I wasn’t going to let Devon be right.
“That’s not food,” he joked, obviously having no idea I was mad at him. After the show, before what’s-her-face gave him that hug goodbye, he’d talked to Eli and Andrew like things were almost normal. Right now I kind of hated all of them.
“Sure it is.” My s slurred. If I tried to unlock the door right now, I’d fall backwards, so I handed Devon my keys. “I still don’t understand why Mo picked you up.”
“Because.” Devon sighed. “Like I’ve already told you five times, I called to see if he wanted to hang out after the show because you were at work. Come on. You never act like this.”
I wasn’t used to being a jealous girlfriend. Apparently it wasn’t a good look on me. But all that bourbon in my system was making this too big of a deal.
“Right.” As soon as I landed way too hard on my bed, I pulled at my boot laces. The knots grew tighter. Devon kneeled down and unzipped the side of each boot for me. Kicking them off, I pulled the rest of my clothes off as well, just leaving my socks and my panties. I dropped it all on the floor, too, knowing Devon hated the mess. “I was at work, and Candy or Carrie or whatever that chick’s name is just happened to be there.”
“Kaylee.” He’d kicked off his boots and slid out of his jeans, but of course, he folded everything neatly. He eyed my pile of crap but ignored it. “And you walked in with Eli.”
“Because I had to,” I protested. Devon climbed over me. “That’s my side of the bed.”
He shook his head. “If you get sick, I’m not get
ting in the way.”
“I’m not drunk.” Even I didn’t believe it.
“You realize you’re jealous of someone who thinks it’s okay to drink radiator fluid.” Devon rolled his eyes. “We can fight about this in the morning.”
“But I want to fight about it now.” I pouted, and even Devon couldn’t help breaking a smile at that.
“You, my friend, are shit out of luck.” He kissed me on the head. “Good night.” He pulled the blankets up, and laid down. With his back to me.
He never slept with his back to me.
Oh, hell no.
“Devon.”
He sighed. “What, Abby?”
“Roll over.” I might be fighting with my boyfriend, but I needed my best friend right now.
He did, and I lay my head on his chest and drifted off.
“You are making me so glad I stopped drinking.” Devon smiled as I pulled the blanket up over my face. “I don’t miss this feeling.”
“I never get hangovers.” This morning there was a small, angry toddler inside my skull trying to kick its way out. “How much did I drink last night?”
“All of it, I think.” Devon was enjoying this way too much. “I think you drained the bar of its last drop of booze.”
Last night began replaying in fuzzy bits and pieces in my brain. Eli. That frigging bimbo from Oklahoma.
Ugh.
“So what really happened last night?” I attempted to sit up. It wasn’t a good idea, and it didn’t last long.
Devon pulled me up by my arm. My stomach roiled in protest. “We’re not going to talk about it until after your coffee.”
Even grinning took effort. “Then go make me coffee.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Get dressed. We need to get you some breakfast to sop up that alcohol.” I didn’t move, and he handed me clothes. “And I know there’s nothing to eat here.”
“How can you even think of breakfast at a time like this?” I pulled the shirt over my head. “I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.” Devon put his boots back on, then ducked to look in the mirror and fix his hair. “Café Du Monde? There is nothing those beignets can’t fix.”
He had a point. But making me wait until we got to the riverfront to have coffee was cruel and unusual punishment. Devon drove, because too many things were going to be moving for me to even consider it. I pressed my head against the window. “Are you mad at me?”
Devon wrinkled his nose. “Why?”
“For getting drunk.” And acting like a jerk.
“Did you get mad at me the eight thousand times I got drunk?”
“No.” Frustrated yes, but not mad. “Why did you do it?”
“Because I wasn’t happy.” He sighed. “I don’t need to drown my frustration anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew what he was trying to say, that I made him happy. But I also knew that I’d been a big part of that frustration, so I couldn’t feel great about that. Although, until I got coffee, I couldn’t feel great about anything.
“Don’t be.” He pulled in to the spot and cut the engine. “But I really wish you’d give me more credit than thinking I’d throw everything away for some girl I met once.”
That hadn’t been what I was apologizing for, but it was what we were fighting about. “I really wanted to surprise you last night.”
“I know. I saw your text messages after the show.” Devon opened the car door. “We weren’t supposed to talk about this before coffee.”
We swung our hands back and forth on the way to the door. “Holy shit.” The line was endless. I was never, ever getting coffee today.
“Grab a table.” Devon let go of my hand. “I’ll wait in line.”
There weren’t many tables available, so I grabbed the first one I could find and put my head down. Too much activity for me this morning. When I picked it back up, I saw Devon talking to a group of older black ladies who’d lined up behind him. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but it was clear they found him charming. It was adorable, watching these proper southern ladies laugh and flirt with a tattooed rocker guy.
“Come to Mama.” My face lit up when Devon approached with a tray full of food, and my coffee. He set down the beignets in front of me, then bacon, then his own food. “I didn’t want a whole order of bacon.”
“I did.” Devon smirked before he finally gave me my coffee. “This way you won’t eat all mine.” He grabbed a strip of my bacon.
“What were you talking to those ladies about?” The first bite of beignet was a little iffy, but once my body realized what the food was trying to accomplish, it wanted all of it. Including the bacon.
“Oh, they’re here from Memphis, one of them is turning sixty, and once they realized I lived here, they wanted to know where all the fun places were.” Devon smiled. “Bourbon Street better watch out. I think they’re going to earn their beads tonight.”
“Nice. I hope we were still that fun when we were old.”
“We’ll be even more fun.” Devon stole another piece of my bacon. “And I’ll make sure you earn your beads.”
His new friends walked down the aisle with their trays, and Devon waved and wished them a good trip. One of them stopped and squeezed my shoulder. She leaned down and whispered loudly, “He’s a keeper.”
I looked up at her and smiled, and then looked back at Devon. “He is.”
“Are you going to the wrap party tonight?” Mallory asked me the following weekend. We only had a couple days left on The Associate, and everyone wanted to celebrate before they got the hell out of dodge.
“No. Devon has a show.” He was booked pretty much every weekend now. His doing, believe it or not. Once he got back out there, he realized how much he’d missed playing. My last use of the Sinister Riot social media accounts before handing them over to Andrew was to ask everyone to follow Devon. For the most part, they did, and a whole bunch of new people were starting to discover him, too. Tonight was going to be the first night Devon tried some new material. He hadn’t even let me hear it yet.
I couldn’t wait.
“You see Devon every day. You might not see some of these people again.” She held back the curtain to my bedroom and watched me put my makeup on. The light was best in there.
“Exactly. I’m not going to blow off the people who are actually there for me to hang out with people who aren’t even going to remember me.” Even though I didn’t hate working on the movie as much as I thought I would, or at all actually, but I was really looking forward to Thursday, when I got my life back.
Mallory looked confused. “If you don’t go, they won’t remember you. If they don’t remember you, they can’t hire you again.” She considered her sluttiness job security. Good to know.
“Mal, this was just a job for me, not my career.” I headed to the kitchen for more coffee. Saturdays were pretty much zombie days after working an overnight. I didn’t want to be yawning through Devon’s set. “I still want to work in music.”
“Can you put on a new pot?” Mallory hadn’t got out of her pajamas yet, either. “The Sinister Riot thing almost worked out. I get it. But Devon’s just playing cover songs.”
“For now.” I didn’t bother telling her anything about what he had planned, because she’d dismiss it automatically, like she was now.
“You’re not going to be able to make money off of that. You’re not in college anymore. You need a real job.” Devon was actually pulling in decent money from these shows, but that wasn’t any of her business. And as promised, I got my cut. It wasn’t enough for me to live off of, yet, but it was much better than I’d expected.
I headed to the bathroom so I could start my hair. Since I hadn’t got dressed yet, I wouldn’t have to hear what Mal thought of my outfit. “What you really mean is I need to pay you rent.”
Mallory laughed. “Well, yeah. You’d have to pay anyone rent. You’ve got to get your head out of dreamland.”
“You’re right.” Her face l
it up. “Don’t get too excited. But I need to at least try to do to what I went to school for before I settle for whatever I can get.”
She took a sip of coffee and sighed in appreciation. “I guess. But you can’t base your whole life on what Devon does.”
“I want to work in the music business. And right now, Devon gives me the best opportunity to do that.” Even if I was working at a big label right now, all I’d be doing was sending form emails and going on coffee runs. Working for Devon, I could book shows, do marketing and promo, and do actual work in the industry.
“You’ve only worked with Devon. You’re limiting yourself,” she insisted.
“Don’t you remember all the rejections I got this spring for internships?” I knew I couldn’t fucking forget them. “I know I need to do my own thing. But I also know that I’m better off going slow and steady with what I really want than giving up completely.”
Mallory didn’t have an answer for that. Finally. She kept watching me, I’d clipped up all my hair and worked on curling it, section by section. It was an elaborate process, or else I’d have a bunch of straight hairs and it would look like crap.
“This suits you,” she finally said. “What other job would you get to play dress up and talk about Devon constantly?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just when I thought you were going to say something nice.”
“Actually, I kind of am.” I turned from the mirror. “You love this. Planning your outfits, and talking about music, setting up the shows and everything. I’ve seen you work for the band, and I saw you on set. You had a hard time going with the flow. You’re meant to take the lead, Abby.”
“Wow. You did say something nice.” I might have been in actual shock. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Mallory smiled at my reflection in the mirror.
“If you’re going to go crazy and say something nice about Devon, let me put the hot curling iron down first.”
She laughed. “Put it down.”
I rested it on the sink, and turned to her in shock. “Holy shit. I need my sweater.”
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