by Sybil Bartel
My cell vibrated in my pocket and when I pulled it out, the text from the same skank as last night was blurry.
Skank: You owe me one. I’m horny
Fuck, I was too wasted to drive. For half a second I thought about breaking my cardinal rule and texting her my address. Another text saved me.
Myles: Where r u?
Me: Busy
Myles: Doing?
Me: WTF do u care?
Myles: What’s wrong?
Me: Nothing
Myles: Why didn’t u come to practice?
Fuck. I forgot.
Me: Forgot
Myles: U never forget
He was right.
Me: Now I do
Myles: U home?
I didn’t answer. I was scrolling through my contact list for the skank’s number. I could walk to the bar and tell her to meet me there. Wait. Carly was working. Goddamn it. I tossed my phone on the coffee table and drank some more of the Jameson’s. I stared at the wall.
This was bullshit. I shoved off the couch and went to shower. Only slightly unsteady on my feet, I threw on clean jeans and a T-shirt. Stepping back into my work boots, I grabbed my wallet and keys just as a knock sounded at the front door. I stood there a moment, contemplating not answering.
“Open up, I know you’re home.” Myles pounded on the door again.
He had a key so I saved him the trouble. I staggered over, threw the lock and went back to the couch.
“What do you want?” I picked up the Jameson’s, took a swig and challenged Myles with my best fuck-off face.
“What the hell’s wrong with you? You blew off practice to drink?” Myles was pissed.
He wasn’t the only one. I snorted and took another sip. “Yep.”
He stared me down. Six four, blond hair, quintessential surfer looks, he couldn’t pull off imposing on a good day. Okay, maybe he could but I knew him so I wasn’t buying it. He looked more concerned than anything else. With half a bottle of Jameson’s in me, the thought of someone being concerned about my stupid ass made me want to laugh.
Myles sighed and sat down. “Spill. You’ve been a dick for weeks, more than usual.”
This time I did laugh. Fucking alcohol. “And you’re an expert?”
“With your moods? Unfortunately, yeah.”
“I don’t have moods.” I scowled.
Myles leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I know. That’s why I’m here. What happened?”
“My dad called.” It just came out, all loose and spineless, like my fucking mind right now.
Myles waited.
I tried to reason with myself to shut up but I was beyond caring. Myles knew my past. What did it matter if I told him? “My mother showed up at his shop today.”
“Shit.” Myles leaned back. “And?”
I stared at the Jameson’s. My mother used to drink Jameson’s. “She wanted my address.” Why the fuck had I drunk so much tonight?
Myles asked the one question I hadn’t asked my dad. “Why?”
“No fucking clue.”
“She didn’t say?”
“I didn’t ask. I hung up.”
“It’s the band,” Myles said solemnly.
I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the band. I took another swallow, the whiskey no longer burning on the way down. I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
“We’ve got shows from Miami to Atlanta the next few months, and I’ve booked us at the club every week for the next month. She must’ve found out about it.”
“She’s not a fucking groupie.” I couldn’t picture my mother being interested in anything besides her anger and her bottle.
“No, but she probably read one of the interviews we did and saw your name.”
I loved to play, more than sex sometimes, but I hated the attention of being in a band. Yeah, I used it to my advantage and slept my way through half the groupies but I fucking hated the fake bullshit. Myles could work a crowd without breaking a sweat, but me? I just got pissed. Cut me open and rip out my guts, it’d feel better than screaming fans thinking they owned a piece of me.
I snatched my phone. “Drop me at the bar on your way out.” If I wasn’t texting the skank back I wanted to see Carly. I stood and the room moved. Fuck, I was drunk.
Myles didn’t get up. “You think she wants money?”
Every woman wanted money. “I don’t give a shit, she’s not gonna get it.” I was done talking. I wanted to be fucking. I pulled up the skank’s number then the alcohol decided to fuck with me. Sky blue eyes appeared in my mind and smiled at me with innocence. Oh man, I wanted to see that smile. I pocketed my phone. Jesus. I was losing it. “Let’s go, I don’t have all night.” I’d fucking walk to the bar if Myles didn’t drive me.
“You meeting someone there?” he asked casually.
I was too drunk to pick up on where this was going. “No,” I snapped.
“Usually you use the club as your playground. You haven’t trolled at the bar in a long time.”
Yeah, not since Carly started working there. “Fuck that.”
“So who’s at the bar?” Legs stretched out, hands resting on his stomach, the fucking bastard looked perfectly calm.
Then I picked up on where he was taking this. I glared at him. “What?”
“The bartender?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Fuck you.” I snatched the Jameson’s, threw back the last of it and stomped into the kitchen to toss the bottle.
Myles chuckled. “You sure you want her to see you like this?”
“Like what?” I inhaled through my nose, feeling that last bit of whiskey. My legs were numb and my arms were too loose.
“The fact that you didn’t deny it tells me all I need to know. Let’s go, I’m starving and you’re coming with me.”
“Not hungry.” I tried to sneer at him but everything felt like moving Jell-O.
“Then drink coffee.” Myles walked out.
I stared after him. Maybe he was right. Whatever. What else did I have to do?
We went to a diner on the edge of town that was thankfully dead. It was too late for dinner and too early for the drunk fucks like me who hadn’t scored. I don’t know what I ordered or what we talked about. I wasn’t a talker and neither was Myles. All I knew, an hour later my head was pounding so hard, I felt sick. I shoved my plate away and pulled out my wallet.
“I got this.” Myles threw some bills on the table.
I looked up and noticed for the first time tonight that Myles looked like shit. “What up?”
“I asked Sam to marry me yesterday,” he blurted.
Christ. “Congratulations.” You dumb fuck, but I didn’t say that.
Myles stared at the table. “She didn’t say yes.”
I ran my hand over my shaved head and tried to shake off the alcoholic fog. “Why not?”
“I don’t know but I love her.” He sounded like he was about to break.
“You’re twenty-one years old.” What the fuck did he know about love?
“I know, I know, it just happened.”
Happened? “Getting a ring, asking a woman to marry you, doesn’t just happen, Myles.”
“I didn’t have a ring,” he admitted.
I rubbed my hand over my face. “You dumb motherfucker.” Where did I start?
“She didn’t say yes. She didn’t even say no, she just didn’t answer.”
“What did you expect? Your mother would’ve had your ass for this.” Myles’s parents had died in car crash when he was sixteen and I was nineteen but I remember his mother like it was yesterday. She was beautiful and fiercely protective and religious as hell. If Myles had done this while she was still alive, her five feet of Cuban temper would’ve rained down on him like a tsunami.
“I know. It gets worse. This morning...” His voice broke.
There was only one thing I could think of that was worse. “Is she pregnant?” I was going to kill him.
“No! Christ, no, she’s still
seventeen! I’m not that stupid,” Myles snapped.
Oh my God. Was he implying? “You haven’t even slept with her?”
“No. Not that it’s any of your business.”
And he asked her to marry him? “I don’t know whether to be relieved or tell you you’ve completely lost your mind.”
“I fucked up this morning.”
“Only this morning?” If he didn’t see how much of an ass he’d made of himself, I wasn’t going to be able to help him.
He didn’t answer.
I managed to tone it down. “Okay, okay, what happened today?”
“I don’t know, man, she started talking all this shit about not being good enough for me. I got angry.”
“You got pissed because an underage girl felt insecure after a ring-less proposal from an aspiring rock musician who’s obsessed with his career? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Yeah, I’d seen Sam. Seventeen or not, I probably would’ve tried to tap that if he hadn’t found her first. She looked kinda crazy but she was a fucking siren. I’d never seen Myles into a chick before her so I couldn’t blame him for wanting to nail that down, but fuck? Marriage?
“You don’t understand. It wasn’t like that.”
Sure sounded like that. “Enlighten me.”
Myles sighed. “I have competition.”
Christ, this was like the blind leading the blind. I didn’t do competition. What was there to compete for if you were only in it for one night? “Fight for her if you want her. Whoever he is, he won’t be the last guy hanging around. This shouldn’t be news to you. We’re in a band, this shit happens every day.”
“In reverse,” he muttered.
“Yeah, in reverse, thus the insecurity on her part.” Jesus, he was clueless.
“I’ve never even looked at another woman in front of her!”
“You don’t have to.” I didn’t have this kind of patience. “A fucking harem follows you around every show. It’s worse than flies on shit.” It took me years to get used to the groupies. “And it doesn’t help that you put your music before everything else, her included.”
Myles looked stricken. “What am I supposed to do? I love her.”
“Jesus, Myles, I’m wondering what skank I’m going to sleep with next and you’re asking me for advice on marriage? Are you out of your head? I don’t do relationships that last longer than two orgasms, what the fuck would I know about it?” I was tired, and a hangover was edging out the numb.
He ran his hands through his hair. “Her mom took off a few days ago. She left Sam on her own.”
“And?” What did he want me to do about it?
“Don’t be a dick. You know what I’m saying.”
“No, I don’t.”
“We both know what it’s like, what she’s going through.”
What it’s like? My shoulders tensed and my hands fisted. He had no fucking idea what my life had been like. Myles’s mom had been a fucking saint and I’ve never once seen Sam flinch because she’s been beaten so bad it hurt to breathe. “Don’t fucking compare my life to hers,” I warned.
Myles stilled and his expression turned solemn. “I would never do that.”
I took a deep breath and nodded.
Myles exhaled. “Her mom’s not coming back. I just wanted her to know I was there for her, that I’d help her. I didn’t mean to scare her away.”
Shit. Two parentless kids, the irony wasn’t lost on me. I rubbed my hand over my face. “Just call her.”
“She turned her phone off.”
Christ. “Go over there.”
“It’s too late.”
This was painful. “Then go over tomorrow.”
“I’m leaving for Orlando. I’ve got that gig with Carlos. You’re coming too.”
“Hell no. And this is what I mean about putting music first.” This was exhausting. I wanted my bed.
“Don’t be a jerk. You know you want to see Carlos as much as I do. You said you were going anyway.”
A stupid fucking idea began to brew. “Whatever.”
“You’ll go,” Myles said confidently, completely ignoring my comment about his music.
I dragged my ass into the house after Myles dropped me off. Tired and spent, I almost missed the flashing light on the phone. Only two people had my home number, my dad and Myles. There were three messages, all from my dad. I deleted them without listening and fell into bed.
Myles called me at work the next afternoon. “Did you listen to what your dad had to say yet?”
If I wasn’t fighting a massive headache I might’ve questioned the way he’d phrased that, but I didn’t. “No.”
“I’m on my way to Orlando. Pick you up?”
“Did you go see Sam?”
“No time.”
Coward. “I’ll meet you there.” I didn’t give him shit because I knew what I was going to do.
“How much longer you need? I can wait an hour.”
Myles was early to every gig and he was irritatingly punctual for everything else. That he was willing to wait for me should’ve been the second thing I called him on, but I didn’t. “I’m still working, don’t know what time I’ll be done,” I lied.
Myles sighed. “Fine, see you there.”
I went back to work for a couple of hours, then went home to shower and change. I traded my usual worn jeans and T-shirt for a dark pair of jeans and a navy button-down. After stepping into a pair of black shoes, I added cologne and decided on a quick stop before going to Sam’s.
Driving to the bar, I wouldn’t admit to myself that I wanted Carly to see me dressed better than usual. I told myself I was just thirsty but in truth, I wanted a reaction out of her. When I walked in, she didn’t disappoint.
Carly smiled appreciatively. “Looking good, Allen. What’s with the new threads?”
They weren’t new but I didn’t correct her. “Maybe I have a hot date.” It pissed me off that she called me by my last name.
Her face fell and she paused with a glass in her hand. “Well, you look nice,” she said sincerely.
And there I had it, what I’d come for. But it felt like shit. And because I was who I was, I drove it home. “That’s the point.” I didn’t smile.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured noncommittally, putting the glass down. “Want a beer?”
Fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Would it bother you if I was going on a date?” Isn’t this why I came?
Carly silently held up a beer.
I shook my head. “Coke. You didn’t answer me.”
Getting my drink, she didn’t answer right away. When she set the Coke in front of me, she looked so weary she looked sad. “It’s a catch-22. If I say yes, you get what you came for and leave. If I say no, you leave. If I decline to comment, we’re still here, neither of us saying what we mean.”
Well...shit. I didn’t have a comeback for that.
Her pretty, honest gaze held steady. “Maybe the better question is this. Do you want me to be bothered?”
Damn. “I think I just got schooled.”
And then she smiled, a genuine, no-bullshit, just-for-me, make-my-knees-weak smile.
“Drink your soda, get out of here.” Her laugh was soft and forgiving.
Maintaining eye contact, I folded my arms on the bar and leaned toward her. “Come here.”
A flush swept across her pretty cheeks but she took the bait. She came just close enough.
“Not a date,” I whispered and kissed her cheek.
Chapter Six
Interference
I stood there for five minutes pounding on Sam’s door. Every light was out but I heard movement.
“Sam! Open up!” If she didn’t come to the door in five seconds, I was out.
The door opened and I froze. Christ. Sam was in bad way. Bloodshot eyes swimming around her hollow face, her long brown hair a mess, she looked even smaller than the last time I’d seen her.
“I’ll get the keys.” She walked into the kitchen.
/> “What keys?” I got so fucking pissed at Myles, I almost couldn’t see straight. I followed Sam in, slamming the door shut behind me.
“Then what do you want?” she snapped back, angrily swiping at tears.
Jesus. I wanted to pull her into my arms but Sam was always aloof as hell. Five foot nothing, she was a tiny dark mystery with eyes so strange you couldn’t look away. The first time I met her, I got Myles’s infatuation. Sam turned heads. But now? Tortured and broken and in pain so palatable you could taste it, she was sexy as hell. Challengingly sexy. I wondered how long it would take to make her forget her tears. “Why didn’t you answer the door?” Christ, there was something wrong with me.
“Sleeping.”
Bullshit, but I admired her grit. “You look like hell. What keys?”
“I thought you were here for Myles’s keys and thanks for the compliment, love you too.” She opened the fridge. “Lemonade?”
I leaned against the counter. Love. I hated that fucking word and I wasn’t going to touch the key comment. Sam pulled out glasses then carefully sat at her kitchen table. Her haunted expression trailed me as I sank into a chair across from her. Something told me she’d seen more shit in her life than even I could imagine. She took a sip, winced, then put the glass down.
“How old are you?” Her finger traced the condensation.
It was turning me on. “What?”
“I don’t know how old you are.”
I had to remember why I was here. “Old enough to know both you and Myles are behaving like idiots.”
“So what, that’s like twenty?” She picked her glass back up.
I snorted. “Twenty-four.”
“Really?” She looked surprised.
Ignoring her, I asked the question I’d come here for. “Why didn’t you say yes?”
Slow, like she was going to drop it, she set her glass down. “I thought you were younger.” Her hands slipped to the edge of the table and her knuckles went white.