When Dan turned to ask Shan what she wanted, his eyes widened. “What the hell?”
Following his gaze, Shan looked over her shoulder, just in time to see Dave land on the table. Moments later he was at the bottom of a pile and she watched, openmouthed, as Quinn dove off the stage into the melee.
“Oh shit!” Dan cried, as he and Ty charged over to help. In seconds it seemed like the whole bar was engaged in the brawl, with beer bottles and chairs flying through the air like something out of an old-time Western.
Shan couldn’t believe her eyes. She watched Quinn snatch one guy off of Dave and toss him aside like he was a rag doll. When Ty and Dan got there, they plowed through the frat boys in short order and Dave emerged, looking ready to kill.
One jock leapt on Quinn’s back brandishing a bottle and Shan gasped. She sprinted across the room and snatched the top of one of their wooden packing crates off the edge of the stage. “Get off of him!” she cried, bringing the board down on the jock’s shaved head.
He let out a yelp and let go of Quinn, whirling to confront the threat from the rear. He hesitated for a second when he saw who it was. Half a second was enough and Quinn laid him flat with an uppercut.
Then he spied a couple of the jocks heading for the stage. “Dan!” he yelled, pointing. Dan saw, scrambled onstage, and grabbed one of the mic stands. Swinging it an arc, he managed to keep them away from their equipment until the bouncers could get their hands on them.
A screech erupted from the monitors. “The police are on their way,” intoned a voice over the PA. It was the sound guy, who had wisely stayed behind his board.
The statement was like a magic incantation. The crowd evaporated like dew, leaving Quinntessence, a couple of bar staff, three bouncers, and a very angry club owner.
Shan watched Quinn and Ty disappear into the office to placate the owner. The place was a mess, with overturned tables and broken glass everywhere, but she couldn’t spot any serious damage. Their gear was intact and the brawl hadn’t made it as far as the sound board.
Dan appeared. “Here,” he said, tossing her the keys to the van. “I’m going with Dave.”
She caught the keys. “Going…?”
“To the hospital,” Dan told her, frowning. “He’s hurt. I’ll see you all back at the house.”
Then he was gone and Shan was left wondering what in the hell had just happened.
The next morning, Quinn was sitting under the sycamore tree with a bag of ice on his right hand. The ride from the club had been animated, with Ty and Shan both still pumped up on an adrenaline high. He himself had been more subdued. Neither of them had witnessed his altercation with Dave, so they had no idea that it was all his fault.
Dan called shortly after they got home. Dave had a broken nose, he reported, and assorted bruises. Dan would drive him home, then crash at his place. Could they tell Denise where he was?
Quinn left that to Shan and went to bed, pausing just long enough to retrieve a bag of ice from the freezer. His right hand was killing him.
He swathed it in ice, wrapped it in an ace bandage to hold the pack in place, and slept with his hand propped up on a pillow. The bag leaked during the night and he woke up wet.
In the morning his hand was stiff, but the ice had kept the swelling down and he was relieved nothing appeared to be broken. He got a cup of coffee and a fresh bag of ice, then headed out to the chair by the creek, where he sat and smoked and moped.
Around ten, he heard a car pull up in front of the house. A few minutes later, Dave came out on the back porch, dressed in shorts, T-shirt, and sunglasses. “Hey,” he said, sounding pissed.
“Hey,” Quinn replied, dropping the ice bag into a bucket at his side. Dave descended the steps and crossed the yard to stand in front of him. His nose was swollen, but otherwise he appeared relatively unscathed. “You look okay,” Quinn said.
“Do I?” Dave sneered. He removed his glasses, revealing two black eyes.
Quinn grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
Dave’s eyes, now rimmed with purplish black crescents, went to Quinn’s hand. “What’s the matter with your hand?”
“Not much.” Quinn flexed his fingers. “A little stiff, that’s all.”
“Nice quality in a keyboard player,” Dave said.
Quinn waved him off. “It’s nothing.”
“Put the ice back on the magic fucking fingers,” Dave snapped. Quinn scowled, but retrieved the bag of ice from the bucket. When he had it positioned on his knuckles, Dave sat down in the other chair. Shan’s chair. Quinn’s lip curled.
Dave didn’t waste any time. “What is it with you and this chick?”
“We’ve been over this. There’s nothing.”
“So I got my ass kicked over nothing? I don’t buy it.”
“I’m not the one who kicked it,” Quinn reminded him. “I only shoved it.”
“A technicality.” Dave put his glasses back on. “Look, I have a feeling about this band. It’s special. Besides, you and me…hell, Q. We go back a long way, and we’ve always had each other’s backs.”
“I had it this time, too,” Quinn said. Dave’s eyes flicked to the hand swathed in ice.
“Good thing,” he said, “since it was your fucking fault.”
“I said I was sorry,” Quinn said defensively. “It’s over. Can’t you just let it lie?”
“It’s over so long as I stay away from the guitar goddess, right?”
Quinn hesitated, then nodded. Dave frowned. “You said it was nothing heavy,” Quinn said, “so what’s the problem?”
“I do like her, though,” Dave admitted. “I like her a lot. She’s such a sweet little thing and we hang out easy together. Besides, I don’t much like the idea of you dictating my sex life.”
“I don’t give a shit about your sex life,” Quinn said, ignoring Dave’s other comments. If he addressed those, he might well hit him again. “My concern is Quinntessence, which I have spent literally years assembling. I’ve put everything I’ve got into it and I can’t think of a better way to rip it apart than exactly what you’re doing.”
Dave was still regarding him with suspicion. “So I’m supposed to believe that’s what you’re worried about? Disrupting the band?”
“What else would I be worried about?”
“I think you want this chick for yourself,” Dave said. “Maybe you’re too busy doing groupies to get into anything heavy right now, but I think you’re keeping her on the back burner. A little insurance policy for when you decide you’ve done enough of them.”
Quinn laughed to cover his chagrin. Christ, am I that transparent? “Right. That’s just what I want, a fucking ball and chain right in my band. Have you met me, dude?” Dave hesitated, eying him with consternation. “Look, it’s simple. There’s a rule. No fraternizing inside of the band. Period. If you plan on mixing it up with my lead guitar player, then you’re out. That’s it. I’m not compromising on this, Dave.”
Dave thought about it for a minute, then heaved a sigh. “I suppose you do have a point.”
“All right, then,” Quinn said, concealing a colossal rush of relief. “Fuck anybody you want, as long as they’re not part of Quinntessence.”
“So that means I can’t do Danny either?” Dave said, forcing a smile.
Quinn grinned back. “I’d have thought Ty was more your type,” he joked. “But no, you can’t fuck them, either, Dazz.”
chapter 25
Since Quinn’s hand was stiff and Dave was in considerable discomfort, the band shelved practice for that day. Dave went home, Ty went out somewhere, and Dan left, as well, intending to drop Denise at work, then shop for a new splash cymbal at a drum store in Hollywood. After everyone departed, Shan came downstairs in search of Quinn.
She could hear him in the music room, experimenting with a different mix on a song they’d recorded the week before. He was at the mixing board, using only his left hand. The right, swathed in a bag of ice, was resting on his leg. She wait
ed for a pause in the music. “Hey, Q,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied without looking up.
“Can we talk?”
“I’m kinda busy.” His tone was cool and he still didn’t look up.
She sat down next to him anyway. “I hate it when we don’t speak.”
He ignored her, fiddling with the sliders. “I know you’re still mad at me,” she said.
“I told you I wasn’t mad,” he said, beginning to sound testy.
“You are, though,” she corrected him gently, “and I know it’s about the thing with Dave.”
He didn’t reply, but he stopped moving the sliders. “I…I didn’t know you were at home, Q. It wouldn’t have happened, if I’d known.”
“So you’ll wait until I’m out of the house next time? How considerate of you.”
“I meant that I wouldn’t have been so…well, obvious,” she said nervously. “I mean, I know it was kind of…um…loud. It must have made you feel uncomfortable, listening to that.”
“Uncomfortable. Yup. That’s how it made me feel, all right.” He sniggered. “Just let me know in advance the next time you’re planning a sex binge. I’ll put on some punk ska to drown out your shrieks of ecstasy.”
She stiffened. “You don’t have to be so mean.”
“Leave me alone, then. I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“But I want to make sure you understand.” She touched his arm.
He jerked away as if she’d burnt him. The ice slipped off his hand as he turned and she found herself looking directly into his eyes for the first time in days. His tone might be cold, but his eyes weren’t. They were blistering, ablaze with barely suppressed fury. “Understand what?” he inquired. “Understand why you decided to rehearse a porno practically right in front of me? Or why you thought it was a good idea to get down and dirty with one of my oldest friends? Just what the fuck am I supposed to understand, exactly?”
“I…I don’t know,” she said miserably. “I’m just sorry, because I know that I hurt you. That’s the last thing I want to do, ever.”
He let out a snort of laughter at that. “It’s true,” she declared. “You’re the most important person in the world to me. The thing with Dave…it was nothing.”
He looked skeptical. “It sure sounded like something to me, Shan. It sounded like a whole lot of hot, sweaty something.”
“It wasn’t,” she insisted, but he turned back to the mixer in a clear dismissal. She put her head in her hands, a sick, anxious jitter in the pit of her stomach. He was starting to scare her, beginning to make her afraid that permanent damage had been done.
She raised her head. “We did some coke,” she said, after a moment.
He froze. “What?”
“We snorted some coke and wound up in bed together. That’s all it was—crazy coke sex.”
“What the fuck are you doing with coke?”
“Dave had it. I was in a lousy mood, and it was there and I slipped. Just a slip, Q.”
“So you’re down, and here’s some guy with blow, and then you’re vacuuming Bolivia’s finest up your fucking nose?” His face was flushing with rage. “Bad decision, Shan. Really bad.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like it was H.”
“I can’t believe you could be so fucking stupid! And Dave—I’ll kill that douche bag!”
“It’s not his fault,” she said. “I made my own choice. I’m a big girl, remember?”
“Right. A big, stupid girl making big, stupid choices. And you don’t have to suck dick just because some guy offers you dope,” he added viciously. “You have a choice about that, too!”
She blanched with a swift intake of breath. Her face went dead white.
He regarded her with disgust for another moment, then, “You know what? I’m done. I went through this shit with you once and I’m not going there again.”
She gaped at him, eyes like saucers, then hastily cast them down.
“You can take care of yourself,” he said. “That’s what you always say. Do it, then. Find yourself a new band, and a new place to live, and dope yourself into a coma if you want. We’d both be better off if you moved out. You remember, don’t you, that I told you a long time ago that I don’t want an attachment? That I don’t want a girlfriend? That I don’t want to be tied down?”
The mere sight of her seemed to be making him madder and he turned away to direct his tirade at the mixing board. “But what do you care? You don’t give a shit what I want. I haven’t been able to get away from you from the first minute I set eyes on you. ‘Take care of me, Q,’” he mimicked. “‘Be my family, Q.’ ‘Make up for everything bad that’s ever happened to me, Q.’ If you stay here I’ll have an attachment whether I want one or not, and a junkie one at that, because I’ll have you hanging around my neck like a fucking lead weight for the rest of my life.”
He reached for the sliders in a fury, forgetting his injured hand. He winced in pain and shot an angry look at Shan, who hadn’t responded. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even raised her head to look at him. Her knuckles had gone white from the force of her grip on the hem of her shirt.
His anger seemed to ebb as he stared at those white knuckles. “Hey…” he began.
Shan leapt to her feet and bolted, heading for the back door. Just as she pulled it open, he landed against it with all of his weight. She ducked her head. “Open the fucking door,” she said.
“No.” He grasped her chin and pulled her face around.
It was ashen and her eyes were huge. “Get off of me, you—” but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes brightened and he gasped as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
“Jesus, don’t cry! You never cry. You never, ever cry. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t!” He pulled her into his arms and she wrenched away, but he held fast until she collapsed.
He sank to the floor, holding her. “I didn’t mean it, angel. You know I didn’t.” He rocked her like she was a child, but she covered her head with both arms, weeping as if she’d never stop.
She sobbed and sobbed. It was as if a dam had burst and she cried on and on, unable to quench the flow. Her muscles convulsed with each sob and he held her for nearly ten minutes before she showed any sign of slowing.
Eventually the sobs diminished to hiccups. “Are you finished?” he asked when she raised her head. She opened her mouth to answer, but was seized with a fresh onslaught of weeping. “Shan, please stop,” Quinn begged. “You’re breaking my heart.”
But she couldn’t, sobbing and choking for several minutes more. Eventually she swabbed her eyes. “Look at that,” she said. Her voice shook like a maraca. “I got your shirt all wet.”
His face was stricken. “I didn’t mean it, angel.”
She swiped her eyes again. “Oh, I think you meant it just a little bit.” She climbed off his lap, opened the back door, and went outside.
Quinn scrambled to his feet and followed. Shan was picking her way across the creek. When she got to the other side she disappeared over a hill, never once looking back.
He set out after her and, when he crested the hill, saw her trudging up ahead. She obviously needed space so he kept some distance between them, but he was careful to keep her in his sights.
She trekked for a good, long time, easily a mile, probably closer to two. Eventually he caught up with her, after she’d flopped down on the mountainside. The view was stunning, a sweeping panorama of the canyon they lived in. “Is this where you come when you go out walking?” he asked when he reached her.
“Sometimes,” she said, wiping her cheeks. There were still tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. “I like to sit here and play.”
“You’d better be careful,” he said, frowning. “I don’t like the idea of you this deep in the woods by yourself.”
Her lips pursed. “I can take care of myself, like you pointed out.”
He sat down beside her and they were silent for a few minutes. Eventually Quinn spoke. �
��I’m sorry for what I said, about you being a burden. It was a shitty thing to say and it isn’t true.”
Her slight shoulders began to shake and he saw that she was crying again. “I’ve never felt that way about you,” he persisted. “You…you’re a joy to me, angel. An absolute joy.”
She began to sob, pressing her fingers against her eyes as if to force the tears back into their ducts. He gave up talking and took her in his arms again. She was limp and slid through his hands until she was lying in his lap, her cheek against his thigh. He smoothed the hair off her face and let her cry. Eventually his leg was wet from her tears soaking through the fabric of his jeans.
After a while she pulled away and glared at him. “I’d better stay away from that area,” she said. “You’ll think I’m trying to suck you off for drugs.”
He winced. “You know I didn’t mean that, either. I think you’re awesome, angel. Bright, talented, beautiful…” he paused, unable to come up with enough superlatives. “There’s nobody I respect more than you.”
She was watching him now, her face raw, painful. “You’ll never let me in, though, will you?” He stared at her, a faint frown creasing his brow. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you, Quinn. Not in any real way.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, perplexed. “You know me better than anyone. I tell you everything.”
“Tell me about the coke, then.” He stared at her, clearly mystified. “Your coke, I mean. Your coke problem.”
When he comprehended what she was saying, Quinn’s eyes widened. “What? How did you…” He paused, and then, “Dave?” He looked utterly gobsmacked.
“Yes, but don’t you dare get mad at him,” she said, sniffling. “He didn’t rat you out. I told him about my drug problem, how you helped me get clean, and he brought up yours. He figured I knew. It’s a reasonable assumption, I think.”
Quinn was silent for a long time, still looking stunned. Eventually he spoke. “I always planned on telling you,” he whispered. “A dozen times I almost did.”
“You should have told me. I can’t believe you’d keep a secret like that from me.” Her tears, which had never completely stopped, began to flow faster. “I’d like you to tell me now, please.”
Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) Page 22