Rocky slid a glance at his friend. This was the first baby step toward reconnecting. The Rift with Dash back on board, even for a few songs, was a dream come true, and he was excited and nervous at the same time. It wasn’t easy to make a clean start when the shadow of everything that had gone down before was still there. You could erase and erase, but the residue still remained, providing a base for whatever would come afterward.
He could feel the weight of Jake and Laz’s gazes on them. They’d made their peace with Dash and were moving on, but it wasn’t that easy for the two of them. He and Dash had so much history, too much hurt between them. To fall back into their brotherhood would be so easy if they could just stop circling each other warily. Rocky was cautious by nature, and the last few years of isolation for Dash had made him contemplative— neither one of them was programmed to leap and then look.
“Sounds good, Jules. It will be good to get back into the studio,” Dash answered.
“Well, that segues very poorly into the last order of business for me.” Jules paused, and then ripped off the Band-Aid. “Cole quit.”
“What?” The question popped out of all their mouths almost simultaneously, followed quickly by, “Oh fuck.”
“When? How long do we have to get a replacement?” Jake got down to the details, leaning forward, his expression irritated.
“He was invited to join Blue Lament as a full member, so he’s gone as of today,” Jules said.
“I fucking do not want to audition anymore bassists,” Rocky said. “Seriously, how many is this? Five?”
“Six,” Laz mumbled out from where he’d buried his head in his hands. He rubbed his face, frustration in every movement. “Why would he want to go play for that emo group? They cry onstage when they sing that shitty ballad.” He looked up at them, throwing his hands up in the air. “I thought this was rock-n-roll.”
“There’s no crying in rock-n-roll, asshole!” they all shouted in unison. It was a joke from way back when they’d first been out on the road, and their opening act’s lead singer had burst into tears when they’d been booed in a shitty dive outside of Seattle. They all stared at each other for a minute and then broke down with laughter.
Jules watched them, her expression making it clear that she thought she needed to get them all on some kind of medication—pronto.
She waited patiently until they’d all calmed down and were wiping their eyes and catching their breath to ask, “So what do you want me to do? Inquire quietly with some guys you know? Hold open call auditions?”
“Open call?” Jake asked.
“It worked for Chad Smith and The Red Hot Chili Peppers,” Laz said with a shrug.
“This isn’t fucking American Idol,” Jake answered.
“We could just kidnap Dash and make him play with us again,” Rocky said. It slipped out before he could pull it back. His stupid comment did exactly what he predicted—brought the ugly-ass purple elephant out of the corner and gave him a seat right in the middle of them.
The silence stretched out to the point of pain. Laz was the fearless one, asking what they were all thinking.
“What do you say, Dash? I’d love it. Is that something you might consider?”
“Me, too,” Jake said, his head shaking up and down. “We will be making adjustments for the women in our lives—more time off, probably a shorter tour. It would be the perfect time for you to come back… if you wanted to.”
Rocky slid his gaze to Dash and found him examining him. It was as if he was looking for the answer in his reaction. He had one. It probably wasn’t the one he was expecting.
“You’ve got to do what you want, Dash. You’ve been happy living out in the boonies. I’d love to play with you again, but I can settle for the studio once in a while if that’s what you want to do.”
“Fuck.” Dash broke eye contact, running his hands through his hair before slumping down into the sofa. His eyes were on the ceiling, giving him space to process. “I don’t know.”
“That isn’t a yes,” Jake said.
“And it isn’t a no,” Dash answered.
“Look,” Jules said, gathering papers and stuffing them into her bag. The official meeting was over apparently. “This is sudden, and I think you guys need to talk it out. You let me know what you want to do, but we’ve got to start looking fairly soon if you want them in place for the tour.”
They all watched her leave, the silence in her wake full of so many unsaid things that they all visibly bowed under the weight.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Rocky said, leaning over to grab his Diet Coke off the table and taking a sip. His mouth was dry, and his hands shook a little.
“I think we’re all on board with you coming back if you want to, Dash.” Jake took the lead as he usually did. Quicker to act, he made decisions in split seconds. Laz was mellow, open to anything as long as it was good for the music. Rocky was cautious, the one who examined every angle under a microscope. He couldn’t make a decision like this so quickly and wasn’t sure why they expected Dash to do it, either. But Dash was the strong one. The one who followed the strength of his convictions, and he would not be moved before he was ready.
“I need to think about it, talk to Lori.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t fidget; nothing gave away his innermost reaction. “But that isn’t a no.”
“Cool. You think about it. I’m not sure we have time to decide before the wedding anyway.” Jake rose to his feet, extending his hand to rest for a moment on Dash’s shoulder before he walked out of the room.
“It would be awesome to have you back, man.” Laz nodded as he backed out, giving a cocky salute before he turned on his heels and following Jake out of the room.
Dash didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Our friendship got really fucked up, Rocky, when I left. What do you really think?”
“I think we’re all older, and we’ve got our shit together. It could work.” He looked at him, one of his oldest friends in the world, and nudged him with his shoulder. “It’s been great having you back.”
“Yeah,” Dash said, taking a drink from his coffee before mumbling over the rim of the cup. “I missed you.”
“You, too.”
Seconds passed as they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. This week was supposed to be about fun and good times, and it was suddenly full of drama and emotional crap that would make Dr. Phil take down his shingle and move to Florida.
Dash read his mind.
“You want to hug it out?”
“No.” Rocky dodged his lunge, shoving him back as they both broke out into laughter. “Idiot.”
“All right, since you’ve rejected me, I’m going to find Lori. She appreciates me.”
“You do that. I think I’ll see what Lita is up to.” He rose to his feet, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Things are working out between the two of you?” Dash asked, his tone dripping with all stuff hidden between the lines.
“Don’t read too much into this. It’s just a little fun while we’re here.”
“Too bad.”
Rocky looked up at the ceiling, wondering how far he wanted to go with this conversation, how much of the internal crap in his head he wanted to let out. Dash had been his best friend once, and that stuff hadn’t seemed to change no matter what had gone down between them, because Dash was the only one he could imagine spilling it all to anyway.
“It wouldn’t work. She lives for the spotlight. It’s her fucking job.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “No, it’s more than a job. It’s who she is. She lives for the light, and for us to be together she’d have to crawl into the cave with me.”
“There’s got to be a shady spot where you can both hang out.”
“It’s not just that. How do I trust her not to put the job before me, before us? Ask her to sit on stories? Maybe compromise her professional cred? I’m private, but I’m not a clueless asshole to not know how it
works. Sooner or later, she’d have to choose and I…” He chewed on this next point because it was the crux of the entire problem. “I don’t know if she would choose me.”
“Trust is believing with your heart, even if your head has doubts.”
“Dash, ”
“All I’m saying is that fate, karma, the universe, whatever, has brought her back into your life. Don’t waste it.”
He wasn’t a guy who put much stock in all the cosmic, new age stuff, but Dash’s comment resonated with him. What had been the status quo for the last four years had taken a major shakeup in the last few months. Everything from Jake and Callie, to the reappearance of Dash in his life, was a step in a direction he would never have planned.
The only bad thing was his dad’s former cellmate. It had been a while since he’d called. Rocky had been clear. The guy could have no delusion that he was going to get a dime out of him.
Maybe Lita was part of the same wave of change, and maybe he just needed to go along for the ride.
Chapter Eleven
Don’t. Press. Send.
Lita slid her finger across the built-in mouse pad on her laptop, gathering the courage to hit the button that would upload the new version of her Callie and Jake segment. It wasn’t exactly what Russ thought he wanted, but it was enough to appease him.
She hadn’t added in the sleaze that consisted of coverage for the wedding with other media outlets, but it did delve more deeply into Jake’s past and his broken engagement. Nothing that people didn’t know, but instead of a brief voiceover, there was a good two minutes of the piece devoted to their scandalous beginning and the ex’s continued plea for pity. She didn’t sugarcoat it. She told the truth, even when it didn’t paint Callie or Jake in the best light.
But the delicate part was the one that touched on Callie’s strain under the pressure of the wedding. Russ had seen it on the share drive and sent an email that insisted she use the footage from the press attacking her at the school grant unveiling. In it, you could clearly see Callie’s face crumble under the impact from the harsh words and ugly questions. She’d edited it to cut away as soon as possible, but you still saw that moment, the money shot.
She hated it, even though it was the truth. She was a reporter, and she couldn’t fail to put it out there to protect a friend. But she tried to stick by her gut and not blow things out of proportion for the sake of ratings. This was no more, and no less, than what she did on every story.
She clicked and watched as the tiny icon on the screen spiraled and morphed into a thumbs-up. If Russ accepted this version, she’d share it with Callie and Jake and explain it all to them. She hoped they’d understand and appreciate her dilemma. She knew one thing, she wouldn’t feel good about it until they did.
Her phone pinged with a text alert, and she picked it up, smiling when she saw the message from Rocky: I miss you. Get your ass to my room now. Elvis
She laughed, taking a quick peek around to see if anyone heard her giggle like a middle school girl. She sent a reply: Nice, Mr. Romance. Does that usually work for you? Priscilla
She hit send and stared at the phone for his response. Yes, she could just get up and make the short trip back to his room, but this was fun. This was anticipation, the sweet build of tension, the things normal couples did when they first met. They’d never had this, and she was going to enjoy every minute before the bubble burst.
The phone pinged.
If you want to complain after I’ve made you come about 8 times. Be my guest. Elvis (black leather Elvis not white jumpsuit Elvis)
And then another right after: Get your ass up here now.
Oh hell yes. He didn’t need to ask her twice, well, yes he did, but that was the fun part.
Lita closed her laptop and gathered her stuff, more than ready to meet his demand when her phone started ringing.
“Give me a minute to get up there,” she muttered as she fished it out her pocket and held it to her ear as she began to walk. “Yes?”
“Ms. Matthews?” The man’s voice was not one she recognized at all. Hard, with a smoker’s rasp and a New York accent.
“This is she. Can I help you?”
“I think I can help you.” The man coughed briefly into the phone, and she waited impatiently. She had a hot man waiting upstairs for her right this very instant. This guy was getting another five seconds. “My name is Jerry Prentiss, and I have a story about Rocky Cardano.”
…
Rocky paced the room, listening for the sounds of Lita in the hallway. She was taking forever to get her ass up here. He briefly considered texting her again, but decided against it. Stalking was never sexy.
He was like a horny teenager waiting for his girl to get to his house before his parents came home. But it had been hours since he’d been inside her, and while the prior waiting period had been four years, now that his memory of just how hot and juicy she was had been restored, he was like a junkie.
He heard her heels on the hardwood and wrenched the door open before she could knock. Mr. Restraint, he was not.
“Rocky, ”
He cut off whatever she was going to say with his kiss. Rocky couldn’t even ease into it; his control was zapped, up in flames, toast. He pressed in with his tongue, coaxing her own into playing with his, savoring the sweet taste of Lita. She hesitated at first, her body rigid against his own, but she softened, her body and mouth growing pliant under his own, and he groaned his relief at her acceptance of his desire. But then she grew desperate, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, her body shaking. Something was off, flipping the alarm bells in his head, and he eased off his assault. Ramping down his kisses, transforming his aggressive possession into tender worship of her mouth, her sighs. She still trembled, the spasms quaking against his chest and thighs.
Rocky pulled back, framing her face with his hands. Her expression was sad, emotion he could not name poured out of her eyes, the slight quaver in her lips.
“Hey, you okay?” He smoothed back her hair, the loose curls like the coolest of silk against his flesh. She pressed her face into his palm, her eyes now glassy with unshed tears. “You’re starting to freak me out here.”
“I’m sorry.” She opened her mouth to speak again, shut it on a frustrated whimper, and restarted. “Sit down.”
“Only if you do. You look like you might pass out.”
“I might,” she said as he slid down next to him on the couch.
“I’m officially freaked out. Tell me what’s going on.”
Lita wouldn’t look him in the eyes, her hands in constant movement on her lap, then touching her hair, her mouth, and back to her lap. He’d never seen her like this. She was always poised, perfectly together. Something was terribly wrong, but when he reached out and tipped her face up to look at him, the emotion there was not what he expected.
Pity. Sorrow.
For him.
Fuck.
“Rocky, I got a phone call right before coming up here.” She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his chest, to steady herself or to ground him, he wasn’t sure. Either way, this wasn’t going to be good. “It was about you…and your father.”
He actually felt the blood leaving his face, rushing away and leaving him cold with fury. He knew what was coming next.
“His name was Jerry Prentiss, and he said he was in prison with your father. His cellmate.” She leaned over and grabbed a small notepad out of the bag at her feet. The pages were covered with her long, elegant scrawl. Big loops and precise letter spacing, but the words were indecipherable; all he heard was her voice through the rush of blood in his head as his blood pressure elevated.
“He said your father was a man named—” she read.
He was not going to listen to whatever bullshit this guy had been told in lockup. If Lita had to hear the ugly truth, it would be the truth, not some version of lies concocted by his old man to impress some shithead loser in prison.
“My father was named Salvotore Adamo, and
he was an enforcer, a hit man, who worked for a large crime family in New York. He seduced my mother when she was sixteen, got her pregnant, and refused to marry her. She didn’t like to talk about it, but I think he started beating her while she was carrying me.”
He rose from his place beside her. This entire conversation made him jumpy. His body screamed for release of all the anger and pain. There was a reason he loved drumming— all that percussive pounding and the loud noise soothed him like nothing else. But he was stuck here, explaining the fucked up childhood he’d survived because some asshole wanted to make a buck.
“My mother used to tell me ‘essere invisible’ when he would come around to get laid, get fed, and knock her around.”
“Be invisible,” Lita murmured.
He was only shocked for a moment and then remembered her background, her time spent in Rome. Of course she could translate Italian.
“That’s right. When we first met, you joked about how invisibility was my superpower. That’s how I got it. Hiding from my mean old man while he beat the shit out of my mom.” The tears were right there, but he shoved them down. There was no use crying now when that little boy had remained still and silent as the grave. “When I got bigger, I started to fight him. I’d try to defend her, and he’d lay into me like his life depended on it. I took it because he left her alone, and when I would go to bed in agony, I knew there would be a day when I would stop him. I just waited for that day to come.”
“Oh, Rocky,” Lita said.
He looked at her again, shocked by the tears on her cheeks, streaks of mascara under her eyes. He stalked over to her and fell to his knees in front of her, wiping the wetness away with his fingers.
“Don’t you dare cry about it. It’s over and I survived. Crying time is done. Okay?”
“How can you say that?” She stared at him, eyes huge with her surprise and her anger. God, she was sweet. All that indignant anger wasted on him and something that happened a lifetime ago.
“Because he doesn’t deserve it. I don’t want him to get a part of anything else. He took enough.”
Playing With the Drummer Page 9