by Kate Stewart
We lay in a pile of sedation as I ran my fingernails through his hair.
“Tell me what to do,” he said softly.
I cringed at the anger in his voice. He had every right to be angry. “I love you.” It was the truth and my only answer. And we drifted off to sleep for the first time as strangers. But I was determined to leave the woman he wasn’t familiar with behind, just as I had before, to give him the woman he deserved. “I love you,” I whispered again into the dark room as he slept. But jade colored words kept me awake.
You love me, too.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Drive: The Deftones
Eight Months Later
I typed furiously on my keyboard as I glanced at the notes I had taken at the show. There was a new band circling Austin that I knew without a doubt had potential to go far. I hadn’t been that passionate about any up and coming groups since the Sergeants, and I was busting my ass to do them justice. I was hoping for the same outcome and success the Sergeants had. I ignored the flicker of memories that tried to surface at the comparison of the two bands. They had a similar feel, charismatic but with a different sound. But it was there, the fire, the need to spread the word.
“So fucking beautiful,” Nate whispered as I smiled at my keyboard.
“I’m almost done,” I promised. I took a look at the clock. It was close to midnight.
“Liar,” he said sweetly as he took the seat opposite me. I glanced over my monitor and my breath hitched. His gaze was filled with what his words relayed. “Sometimes I look at you and I can’t believe how close I was to giving up.”
I paused my fingers. “Giving up?”
He waved his hand. “In the beginning. You were so young and I didn’t for one second think you would stay here.”
“New York called this morning,” I said with a wink, “want me to return it?”
“Only if you agree to shoot me first,” he said before he bit his lip in thought.
“I’ve never been to New York,” I said.
“You would eat it alive,” he said with confidence. He walked around to where I still pounded out my admiration for the lead singer, who played keyboard, guitar, and had recently mastered the band’s first demo. Nate scanned through my article.
“That good, huh?”
“Yes, Nate, I think I may call Roger Morris. You think he would listen to me?”
Nate ran his fingers through my hair. “Baby, your opinion matters.”
I paused my fingers on the keys. I had waited five years to hear him say those words.
I looked up to him. “You’re an authority now. That’s why LA called, Chicago called, and New York called. They want music’s new literary voice.”
My lips trembled as he leaned down. “It’s the truth. It’s not because I love you, or you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, or you make a mean pan of enchiladas, or you have a Midas pussy.” He grinned wickedly at his crassness. “It’s because you earned it. Your opinion matters—yours, Stella Emerson.”
“Midas pussy?” I laughed as happy tears flooded my eyes.
“Yes, shall we demonstrate its effects?” He glanced over his shoulder at the empty newsroom that housed over thirty employees.
I looked at the empty room behind him. “Did you ever think it would be this big?”
“God, I hoped,” he said, arms crossed as he stared at the room with a dreamy smile. “I think it’s time I gave it a rest.”
“Huh, that’ll be the day,” I said and cringed at the small amount of bite in my words.
“Well then, I guess you better get packed, because that day is tomorrow.” He laid two plane tickets on my desk. I picked them up and saw our destination.
“OH MY GOD, NATE!”
“Seven days in Mexico, you, me, and Midas.”
All the promises he’d broken were swept away with this one grand gesture. I understood his drive, I let the needy girlfriend take a backseat to both our ambitions, but the paper was thriving and there was enough middle management to finally and safely escape.
I gripped him to me. “Thank you!”
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Yes!” I said, beaming.
“We don’t leave until six tomorrow night, so let’s go have some fun. Jon Jon has us covered.”
“Where?” I asked, saving my article and throwing it into my flash drive.
“This week is all about Stella,” he said, his arms around my waist as he grabbed my blazer and held it while I slipped my arms through. I had on heels, slacks, and a blouse. I felt sophisticated and sexy, and it reflected in the eyes of my companion. “Let’s do a Stella thing.”
Hand in hand with my man, we walked toward the packed bar. “You’re an old man. I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay all night.”
“I got your old man right here,” he said wickedly as he brought our linked hands briefly and discreetly to his crotch.
“How crude,” I mocked shock.
“You know you love it,” he said without expecting an answer, which I didn’t have to give.
I walked past the long line and nodded to the doorman, Gerry, who waved us in.
Nate whispered into my hair. “My woman is such a bad ass.”
“Damn right,” I said. “I’ve been sweating my ass off for years, earning shit pay for this privilege.”
Nate furrowed his brows, but his twitching lips gave him away. “I paid you decently.”
“It was enough to buy toilet paper, you cheap bastard. A trip to Mexico is a good way to start making it up to me.”
“I could have pulled intern on you,” he said with a sigh.
“You wanted this too much,” I said, waving a dramatic hand over my face and body.
“I want it right now, so what do you say we skip this club and go home?”
“This place is packed,” I said, ignoring him and peeking over shoulders, only to see more shoulders. “I love this song.”
“What is it?”
“‘Talk Tonight’ by Oasis.”
I listened as the guy singing nailed the vocals, his voice soulful and raspy. I began to try to squeeze my way through the crowd.
Emo’s was about twice beyond capacity. Nate nodded. “He’s good. I’m getting a beer. Baby, what do you want?”
“Nothing for now. I’m still full from dinner.”
“Go.” Nate nodded toward the stage neither of us could see. “I’ll find you, but don’t get started on a story, woman. Mexico, tomorrow.”
“Hey, lady!” Casey, one of the managers of the club, came up to me. “Where the hell have you been? It’s been like two months!”
“Busy. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit. I haven’t been able to answer all my emails in months. So I finally decided to take you up on one of those beers you promised.”
“It’s the least I can do for you writing that piece about the renovation. I still can’t believe how you twisted it. Made this place look a national treasure.”
“Looks like business is doing well,” I said, looking around the expansive club. It was almost unrecognizable from my first years in Austin. Still, in its walls held memories no paint or shiny new metal could erase. I cleared my throat.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
“It’s awesome, right?” Casey said, looking toward the stage.
I swallowed hard as awareness pricked my skin and the crowd began to part.
Look up, Stella.
Static filled my lungs as I finally got a clear view of the stage. My stomach flipping, as Ben led the audience into a steady clap while Reid belted out the lyrics, his soul echoing through the club, uncompromisingly raw. My world tilted as I drew a breath and then another in an attempt to stave off the emotion that accompanied my utter shock.
Casey leaned in. “They just came in and said they wanted to borrow the stage. Can you fucking imagine? I guess they were feeling nostalgic. Word’s spreading quickly, we’ve upped security and the line outside isn�
��t going to make it in.”
Casey’s words splintered into background noise while I nodded. “Crazy thing is they’ve been playing covers all night. None of their own songs.”
With my heart fumbling over itself in rapid succession, I gripped the side of a cocktail table as I watched Dead Sergeants play like the world-class band they’d become. I hadn’t seen them live since before they got signed.
That shock was enhanced by the voice that sounded like a broken angel and it belonged to none other than Reid Crowne.
Reid Crowne was singing.
I sputtered something to Casey in agreement as I shook violently in my skin. Reid was shirtless, his T-shirt tucked into his back pocket. A new wall of tattoos covered his right side from his pec and spread over the rest of his chiseled frame. Inescapably beautiful, he pushed his rhythm, his eyes closed, while sweat dripped from his temple. He sang the story about a girl who fed him, about a girl he wanted to talk to from miles away, which he only spent a moment with, a girl who saved his life. He landed his beats expertly on the drums, the drums I won him, as he gouged my heart with his beautiful voice. I jumped as Nate slipped his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers. I gripped his fist tight as the song finished. The audience roared as the guys grinned back at Reid and Ben addressed the room. “Thank you. We’re just here to pay our respects to this great place that helped give us our start,” Ben toasted, a beer in hand with a nod toward the bar. Jon, who was still behind it years later, lifted his chin and raised his beer to reciprocate. “We promise never to fucking forget where we came from, Austin.” The patrons roared in praise as we watched on and Nate leaned over to Casey. “The Sergeants, right? Holy shit, you’ll be steady for the next six months.”
“I know, right?” They shared a smile as Nate gripped me tightly in his hold while the rest of me fell to pieces.
I was still reeling as Ben charmed them with his reverie. “Remember to tip them, folks. They aren’t here because you fucking smell good, because I can smell you from here and I promise you don’t.” Laughter and anarchy rang out back at the stage as he looked out amongst us. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes, the collective memories circling over the band’s heads. I felt immediate pride that I had been there to witness their beginning. They’d been on tour for the last eight months to sold-out stadiums. Their tour had cemented them as rock gods. Realizing their dreams must have made them reflective, and in doing that, it must have seemed fitting for them to finish the tour where it all started. Home. And Emo’s was home.
“Tonight’s about giving thanks and taking it back. So, here’s a little something we brewed up for you.” He nodded at Reid who held his sticks loosely as the room went dark. The bass sounded first before the echo of the snare, and I damn near fell forward in recognition. Adam and Rye joined in on the acoustic as Reid’s snare echoed in a dark tap, reverberating throughout the building. The thud of the bass shook me mercilessly, refusing to let up until it penetrated deep and to a place that had only been touched . . . by one.
“Oh God,” I said weakly as the spotlight hovered on a keyboard and Ben started pressing out the melody that I’d followed my whole life. My heart thudded as unsteadily as my breathing when Reid opened his mouth and began to ask me questions.
Jaw shaking, eyes flooded, I took a step forward, and then another, and then another as Reid’s edgy voice broke over the mic, raw and full of emotion.
In a sea full of strangers, Reid sang to me.
My favorite song, covered by his favorite band, the Deftones.
“Drive”.
A sunbeam of warmth spread throughout my body, a reflection of the elation in my heart as I pressed forward, ignoring the mob, overflowing, consumed. Tears multiplied as he repeatedly asked who was going to take care of me, touch me, console me. Question after question of who would be there for me, who would hold me accountable for myself, for my dreams. It was all there, in every lyric. The questions for him to ask as he confronted me with his heart and demanded my truth, his truth, the truth of us. His voice flowed like whiskey through the club, drawing me further and further into him, his soul cracking under the weight of our loss. Rye transitioned the song and ran away with the guitar solo while Reid rocked back and forth on his beat, his head shaking subtly from side to side, eyes closed, sticks blurring, immersed in the beats that rocked my soul. His voice was like an angry moan that hooked and swept me to the edge of the stage. Bass and rhythm, melody and words that rang truer than any I’d ever known. Seized without warning, I closed my eyes and streamlined into the past. The first lingering glance he gave me in the back of Paige’s car, the slow lift of his lips the first time he smiled at me. I relived the explosion of our first kiss, and the night we clutched each other lifeless on his mattress after giving our heart away to the other. His voice echoed in a rapid demand as the bass dropped and the stage went dark in pause, right before they picked back up and the crowd exploded behind me. Reid ignored their recognition, diving deeper, pushing his voice, asking me, begging me to answer before he brought me back to a slow descent into reality with the last note. The club was in an uproar of praise while the drummer pressed his lips together and let out a pained breath, his eyes cast down. I hiccupped a sob as I watched him hurt, for me.
“Santeria in the house,” Ben said as he spotted me at his feet. Jerked back into the noise, I realized I was sobbing next to the stage, when Reid’s eyes shot up at that moment and found mine. My face twisted as I broke for him the way he had for me. I let him see the twenty-year-old girl who surrounded herself in the dark because he refused to let her into his own abyss. His face twisted with emotion as he leapt from his chair and I raced past the curtain at the side of the stage and hit him in a collision. We were arms and exasperated words, and then his lips took mine. His kiss shattered me as I dove for all I could take, clutching the T-shirt at his back in an attempt to tear through it. We were fire and warmth as his tongue tasted and seized, burning through the years between us. Reid owned me with his kiss. Only when we were breathless did he pull away.
“Baby, are you really here?”
“Reid,” I sobbed into his mouth as he clutched me like he was never letting go. And I didn’t want him to.
“Reid,” was all I managed as I crumbled in his arms, in his hold while the crowd roared and chanted behind us, demanding their drummer. But he wasn’t theirs. He was mine and had done everything in his power to prove to me what I had already known.
“Stella, baby, don’t cry.” Ignoring him, I pulled him tighter to me. He held me back just as hard as he whispered to my temple. “I never forgot you. I can’t. You know this thing between us won’t just fade away. Don’t cry. I’m right here,” he whispered. “I always will be,” he promised.
“That was so beautiful,” I said tearfully, as he pulled my face from his chest and looked down at me. My cheeks in his hands, my hands on his, he murmured, “You’re beautiful. God, every time I see you—”
And then his smile was gone, replaced with a flash of something I’d never seen. I followed his eyes to the ring on my finger.
And then reality came crashing down around us.
He ripped his hands away from me, accusation clear in his features, all the warmth leaving him. Incredulous, he stared at me before he shook his head. “I should have known.” His voice cut me a thousand times over when he spoke again. “The funny thing is, I never felt you leave me,” he said with a voice full of irony. “I never felt you leave me, Stella.”
I was gasping at the loss of him, grasping again for the man I missed as he slipped through my fingers. “Reid—”
“Reid,” Ben repeated behind me. “Hey, Stella.” I looked to see Ben eye me wearily. Apparently, I was a sore subject when it came to the Sergeants. “They’re rioting man,” he said, looking between us and reading the tension before he shook his head and walked away.
I couldn’t say anything. I was too far gone. Doused in gasoline with no match in sight, the aching, the longing, and
the burning all there. I looked to Reid, who took a retreating step back from me. “Maybe you were never there.”
“Oh, I was there,” I assured him, taking a step forward as he put up his hand, a wall between us. “I was there, Reid. And I felt every goddamned thing.”
“You sure?” he said, eyeing me spitefully as he glanced at my hand like it disgusted him. “Because I’m pretty sure the girl I fell in love with is lost.”
“Reid—”
“Better get on home now, Stella,” he said, his eyes glowing green and piercing me. “Your future husband awaits.”
Nate. I hung my head as I thought of the man waiting out in the bar for me with my promise of forever. I wiped my face of the debris and looked up at Reid, who was as inconsolable in his anger as I was in my aching.
One song. One fucking song.
Dread coursed through me as I realized within the seconds of that song I had lost them both.
As I stared at the man in front of me, all I could do was wait for the inevitable.
“I wish we would have never happened.”
I gasped at his cruelty.
“I swear to God I do. Because at least broke and alone I wouldn’t know what it felt like to lose this,” he muttered before he began to brush past me and stopped when we were a shoulder-width apart. I managed to look him in the eyes. There I saw his decision before he spoke it. “I’m done waiting.”
Chapter Forty
Poison & Wine: The Civil Wars
I walked through our condo door, both relieved and terrified to see Nate’s Tahoe in the drive. He left me at the club, and I had no idea what he saw, but I knew I was headed into a second living hell. I noted the eerie quiet of the house. And then I heard his voice. Reid’s voice.