Hunter's Desire (Dragons Of Sin City Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

  “What the fuck! What the hell--You--What the fuck?” Alex and Allie parted and Allie looked at me in shock, and opened her mouth to say something. Whatever it was that had frozen me in my tracks melted like ice on a charcoal grill and I turned around and walked away. I somehow managed to make it to my car, find my keys in my pocket and get them out.

  “Mark--Mark, wait!” Alex wasn’t saying anything, and I thought angrily to myself that it was no wonder. I unlocked my car and climbed into the driver’s seat, getting the key in the ignition somehow and starting the engine. I pulled out of the parking space with my wheels squeaking on the asphalt and didn’t even look to see if Allie was close, if Alex was coming after me with her. I turned the car towards the road and left the lot. Suddenly I wasn’t even a little hungry anymore. Just the thought of telling Jules and Nick about what had happened turned my stomach, and I decided I was done--for the day, maybe for good.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I heard my phone buzzing, but I didn’t even look at it. It was either one of the guys in the band, Ron, or Allie--and I didn’t want to talk to any of them. It had been a day since I’d left the studio, since I’d seen Alex and Allie practically making out next to Alex’s car right outside of the building. I hadn’t gone back to the studio after the lunch break; instead I’d gone straight home and found the bottle of Jack on top of the fridge and crawled into it.

  I’d forgotten to forget about Allie’s stuff in my car; I knew it was there and there was a part of me that insisted that if nothing else I needed to do the mature thing and get it back to her, but I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for anything but more booze when I got up the next day. My head had been throbbing as if there was a fucking hurricane spinning inside of it, my mouth had tasted like garbage water, and my stomach had felt like it would crawl right out of me if it got half a chance.

  I walked away from the buzzing phone near my bed and through the living room into the kitchen. Part of me wanted to just start drinking again; but I needed to take care of my hangover first. I slumped into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet, pressing it against the lever on the water dispenser on my fridge while I yawned and scrubbed at my face. I pressed the on button for the Keurig machine--my mom had gotten it for me a year before, and it sat right next to the normal coffee pot, as an “in between” for times when I didn’t want to make a full batch of coffee--and waited for it to heat up. I drank down the water, burped, and filled the glass again.

  By the time I had a cup of coffee in my hand and I was walking into the living room again, trying to decide what to do with myself--the studio was fucking out--I heard a knock at the door. “Fuck that noise,” I muttered, sipping my coffee. I didn’t even care who it was: Jehovah’s Witness, building manager, one of the other guys in the band, Allie, my own brother. I didn’t want to talk to anyone; I didn’t want to see anyone. I’ll fucking mail her the gear, I thought, remembering Allie’s stuff in my car again.

  The knocking started up again, louder. “Mark! Come on.” It sounded like one of the guys, but through the door I couldn’t tell specifically who. Knocking again, and I drank down about a third of my coffee, not even really caring that it was too hot for that kind of gulping. “Mark!”

  “Come on, asshole, open the door!” I glanced in the direction of the door and glared.

  “Go the fuck away!” I set down my cup of coffee and combed my fingers through my hair. The situation with Allie was settled--more or less. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do about the band. Fuck ‘em. Alex, at least, I could obviously do without. That asshole was dead to me. But Dan, Jules, Nick? Did they deserve for the band to go up in flames? Why would it be my fault the band goes up in flames because of something Alex fucking did? It wouldn’t be fair but I knew that that would be the way that Alex would try and spin it. Even if the rest of the band knew better, everyone in the scene would blame me. Fucking shithead.

  “Mark, if you don’t let us in, we’re going to tell the building manager you threatened to kill yourself.” At that point I knew it was at least two people: Nick and Dan. I sighed; there were rules about shit like that, laws and regulations. If they told the building manager I’d threatened to kill myself, he’d have to let them into my unit--maybe even call the cops.

  I got up and walked to the door. I unlocked the deadbolt, then the knob lock, and opened the door and walked back to the couch, not even looking to see if either of my two friends and band mates came into the apartment. Of course, they did, and as soon as I sat down and picked up my coffee, they were closing the door behind them and making themselves comfortable.

  “So, what the fuck happened?” Dan held my gaze.

  “Alex won’t say anything, Allie was in tears but we couldn’t get anything coherent out of her, and you won’t answer your fucking phone,” Nick said.

  “What happened is that I walked out of the studio to see Alex making out with Allie by his car,” I told them. “I decided that going the fuck home was better than getting arrested for murder.” Nick and Dan looked at each other and then at me again.

  “Are you serious?” I nodded.

  “Dead fucking serious,” I said.

  “About the murder thing or about finding them together?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Both,” I told Nick.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Dan shook his head. “Does Mary know?”

  “I texted her last night,” I said, remembering that detail. I cringed as I remembered what I’d specifically texted her the night before. Since your boyfriend likes making out with my girlfriend, why don’t we up the ante and fuck each other? In fairness to me, I’d had about a third of a bottle of Jack at that point.

  “And there’s no way you could have been mistaken, right?” I shook my head.

  “No fucking way,” I told Dan. “He was kissing her.” My two best friends in the band looked at each other again.

  “Fucking asshole,” Dan said, shaking his head. “He’s all about not risking ruining the band and pulls some shit like this?”

  “Ron’s going to pop a fucking aneurism,” Nick suggested, half-smiling. “Man.” He scrubbed at his face.

  “Alex wouldn’t say anything about anything,” Dan told me. “He walked out of the studio. Allie was crying her eyes out.”

  “I don’t care about that,” I said, trying not to picture it in my head.

  “She seems to think that there was some kind of misunderstanding,” Nick told me. “Though I can’t imagine how that’s even possible.”

  “I drove her home,” Dan continued. “Anyway, Alex wouldn’t say anything, and then you weren’t answering your fucking phone, so Nick and I decided that since you obviously weren’t coming in today, we’d come to you.” I couldn’t help but smile a little bit. It was different from the last time that I’d bailed on them; this time they were actually trying to get me back. But this time it was way more serious than Dan picking up some girl that I’d wanted to date.

  “I don’t want to be to blame for the band fucking up,” I told them. “It’s not my fucking fault--we can agree on that, right?” Dan and Nick looked at each other and then at me again.

  “Let’s not talk about that right now,” Nick suggested. “You look like you downed a bottle of Jack.”

  “Two-thirds of a bottle,” I corrected him.

  “Let’s get some coffee in you and get you to Tucker Duke’s,” Dan said. I thought about it; it actually sounded like a damn good idea. My stomach twisted inside of me and I hoped that food would at least take care of that shit. Everything else was going to take longer, but at least I might feel a little bit better with some food in me.

  “Let me change,” I said, picking up my cup of coffee and drinking down the rest of it.

  “I won like $40 off of Alex in a bet,” Nick said, smirking. “I’ll use it to buy your lunch. It’ll be like Alex is paying for it unwillingly.”

  “You’re all heart,” I told him. I took the coffee cup into th
e kitchen and put it in the empty sink, scrubbing at my face again. I knew Nick and Dan were going to try and figure out how to make shit work in the band; I didn’t know if I was on board with going along with it. There was no way that anything would ever excuse either Allie or Alex, right? I shook my head, dismissing the idea. There was no fucking way.

  I didn’t say anything to either Dan or Nick as I went into my bedroom. I needed to eat, and I wasn’t about to turn down a free meal, especially a Tucker Duke’s meal. I started stripping off my stinking, alcohol-reeking clothes and thought about maybe taking a quick shower, at least to wash off some of the BO I knew I was drenched in. But instead I slapped on some deodorant, stepped into my bathroom and splashed some water on my face, through my hair. I sprayed just a little bit of cologne on and put on some fresh clothes. I looked like hell, but I was pretty sure that if anyone in the band was entitled to look like shit right then, it was me.

  “Okay,” I said, coming out of my bedroom. Nick and Dan were busy texting--I could guess pretty readily who. They put their phones away, and had the good grace not to look the least bit self-conscious as they got up.

  “Let’s get a burger in you and some cheese fritters and figure out what to do with the rest of the day,” Dan suggested, picking out two of the things he knew I liked best from the restaurant.

  “Let’s see how those go down, and then we’ll figure it out,” I countered. I wanted to put off talking about the band, about Allie, about the whole bullshit situation, as long as possible.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “You can’t keep avoiding him,” Jules said from across the table. I rolled my eyes.

  “It’s been two fucking days,” I told him. “And at this point the only thing keeping me from saying I won’t go into the fucking studio with him ever again is knowing that if I quit, everyone’s going to fucking blame me.”

  “Well the band will blame Alex,” Jules pointed out. “That was a shitty fucking thing for him to do.” He plucked a cigarette out of its box and brought it to his lips.

  “Apparently, Mary is fine with it,” I said bleakly. Jules snickered.

  “Not so much,” he told me. “Basically, his story to her was that he was trying to prove that Allie was no good, that she wasn’t loyal or anything, just trying to use you.”

  “Well he did a good goddamn job at that,” I said, lighting a cigarette of my own. We were outside of Jules’ apartment building, armed with coffee and donuts from Dandee Donut Factory near my house. Fran was at a show, and Jules hadn’t wanted to go, so he’d invited me over--and as much as I was hating life, I had to admit that I wanted to hear his perspective on the situation. “Also proved that he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself,” I added.

  “Mary told him no sex until he fixes his life,” Jules told me.

  “She might as well break up with him, then,” I said.

  “She has faith in him,” Jules said with a shrug. “Look: from what I’ve heard from Allie and Alex--and yeah, take shit with as many grains of salt as you want--she didn’t have much to do with that.”

  “They were kissing, Jules,” I said. “Just because I’m a drummer doesn’t mean I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Jules said. “But think about this: if Alex had just grabbed Allie and started kissing her, it wouldn’t look that different from if they were kissing each other.” I looked at him for a long moment.

  “How stoned did you get before I came over?” Jules laughed.

  “Not nearly stoned enough,” he said, shaking his head. He sipped his coffee and flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. “But the point remains.”

  “So, you’re telling me that Alex forced himself on Allie, and so I should forgive them both?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m telling you to talk to your girl,” Jules said. “There’s more to the situation than just people violating your trust or whatever you want to call it--especially since there’s the whole band to think about.”

  “So even the rest of the band will blame me if shit goes to hell, even though it was Alex who pulled this shit,” I said.

  “No,” Jules told me. “If you want to drive up to his place right now and kick the shit out of him, I’ll go with.” He grinned. “I think you’d probably be able to recruit Dan and Nick too. But the thing is, you have to think about the band. We can kick Alex out--but that’s a huge fucking load of paperwork, and also, we end up with no lead singer.” He shrugged again and took a drag of his cigarette. “The real question is whether you want the band to keep going. What that’s going to look like.”

  “I don’t even know,” I told him. “I’m good with you, and Dan, and Nick.” I took some smoke into my lungs and held it there a moment before blowing it out. “I just don’t know what I want to do. Things were starting to actually go well for us and then…” I shook my head. “It’s not fucking fair.”

  “You’re right,” Jules said. “It fucking isn’t. But you have to make up your mind about how to deal with that, and you have to do it fucking fast. The label is on the verge of just paying us off if we don’t come up with something for them.” Jules stubbed out his cigarette. “If you’re done with the band, then you’re done with the band. But if you’re not, you need to figure out what you’re going to do about the situation with Alex.” I nodded and looked down at the ground for a few moments, thinking.

  “Let’s go to his house and fucking jump him,” I said, half-joking.

  “Want me to call Nick and Dan?” I sighed.

  “I should probably just fucking talk to the guy, but I feel like if I go and do it alone I’ll lose my shit,” I told Jules.

  “Then let me call a meeting,” Jules said. “No Ron, no Jack, just us. We haven’t done that in a while.”

  “We haven’t,” I agreed. “I just…” I groaned and stubbed out my own cigarette. “Fuck, man.”

  “It’s some fucking bullshit,” Jules said, nodding. “We need to handle it. We need to figure it out.”

  “But you’re on my side on this, right?” I looked at him. Jules smiled.

  “As far as you having beef with Alex, yeah,” he said. “You’re justified. But I think if you want the band to keep going you’re going to have to find a way to deal with it with the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know, man,” I said. I finished off my coffee and grabbed one of the last donuts from the box. “I just don’t fucking know what I should do.”

  “Let me get the other guys on the phone,” Jules told me. “We’ll talk.” I didn’t think it would really help all that much, but I knew that with the contracts and everything going on, there was no way I could make a decision on my own about something that was going to affect the band. I had no idea what would happen to Alex, whether Molly Riot would keep existing, what I would do about Allie’s stuff still in my car, but I knew I had to face up to it all. I couldn’t just keep avoiding it the way I had months before with the bullshit that happened with Dan. Maybe I’m growing the fuck up, I thought, as Jules stood up and took his phone out of his pocket to start making calls.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At first, Alex refused to meet without Ron present. So I told him--through Jules--that either we had the meeting with just the band, or I sent my notice to the label that I was quitting. Since we’d managed to negotiate ownership of all our masters, they couldn’t put the album out without me.

  So, Alex set a meeting for the weekend, and I went with it just because I didn’t know if I’d be able to see his cocky-ass face without punching it. Better to let it wait, I’d decided. The rest of the guys in the band went to the studio separately in between, re-recording old parts and tweaking a few things so that at least we wouldn’t all be out of the studio, letting things hang, pissing off the label.

  In the meantime, I was more or less by myself for the few days before the meeting, and all I had to amuse myself was thinking about what Jules said, drinking, smoking a little pot, and watching TV. I binge-watched House, M.D. almo
st all the way through in two days, trying not to think about what a fucking shit show everything had become. My phone rang every couple of hours--one of the guys in the band, or Ron, or in a few cases, Allie, calling me. I didn’t answer it most of the time, even if it was Nick or Dan. I just didn’t feel like it.

  I had fallen asleep on my couch--in the middle of a three-episode run of House--when I heard a knock at my door; it jolted me right out of a dream about what my life would have been like if I’d somehow become a doctor instead of a drummer, following House, working under him. The knock at my door shattered the dream, and I almost tumbled onto the floor of my living room in surprise.

  Another knock brought me to my feet, and in spite of how self-pitying I felt, I couldn’t help but be a little curious. Who the hell is knocking on my door? It was mid-afternoon; it wasn’t likely to be anyone from the band, my mom would have called ahead, and my friends outside the band didn’t even know I’d be home. I padded towards the door, and whoever was on the other side of it knocked again. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I was starting to feel irritated at whoever-it-was.

  I didn’t even bother to look through the peephole; I just unlocked and opened the door. Of all of the people I thought it could be, every possibility that had flashed through my head while I walked to answer the door, I wasn’t expecting Allie. My first instinct was the close the door immediately--slam it in her face. I started to, and she put her hand on the door frame.

  “Look, Mark,” she said, meeting my gaze in spite of me, “I just want you to give me--like--five minutes. If you want me to leave after that, then I will.”

  “If I want you to leave right now, you will,” I said, scowling at her. She sighed.

  “Please just give me a chance to explain what happened, okay?” Allie looked at me, and I could see that she’d been crying. Well she fucking should be crying, I thought, remembering what I’d seen. “Mark, just give me five minutes. Please.” I took a deep breath. Technically I didn’t have to listen to a goddamn thing she had to say; technically I could close the door on her hand--but that would take away whatever moral high ground I had in a way that beating the fuck out of Alex wouldn’t.