Outsider (38 page)

Ethan
nodded, feeling like slug slime on the bottom of Mamá’s shoe. “She caught us
together.”
Fucking in the shower
. “And that’s when we broke up. But we decided
to stay roommates and friends.”

“You
can’t be friends with a chick you’ve banged,” Juan said knowledgably. “Not
possible.”

Didn’t
Ethan know it? Those long hellish months of living with Reagan, but not as a
couple, had nearly done him in. Watching her move on to other men had seemed a
cruel and unusual punishment for his infidelity. But she probably hadn’t seen
it that way.

“So
I tried to be exclusively gay during that time, but what I really wanted was to
be with a woman,” Ethan said. One woman and only one woman. “But whenever I
tried to be with another woman, it felt like I was cheating on Reagan and I
couldn’t do it.”

“Ah,
mijo, you are so confused.”

“I
used to be. Until I met Trey. Trey is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Trey
is like me.”

“Disgusting?”
Juan was actually taking this much better than Ethan had assumed he would, so
his barb didn’t sting. Much.

“Bisexual.”

“Only
women can be bisexual,” Juan said. “And,
guey
, that is some hot shit
right there.”

Mamá
slapped him again. She apparently needed to strike harder. Her punishments did
no good.

“Go
on,” she said to Ethan.

“The
three of us got together. At first it was just physical between us. And I was
okay with that, I thought. But I still had feelings for Reagan, and a person
can’t be with Trey and not fall in love with him.”

Mamá
smiled. “You’re happy now.”

He
nodded because his throat was too tight to get out the yes that was on the tip
of his tongue.

Mamá
rose from the sofa and reached up to cup his face. Her dark eyes sparkled with
tears as she stared into his eyes. “That’s all Mamá wants for her boys. Happy
life. Happy always.”

“So
explain how the physical part of this works,” Juan said, twisting his fingers
into various configurations.

Mamá
turned to scowl at him. “Stop that or I’ll send you home.”

Ethan
was starting to see why Mamá needed her own place. If she moved in with Juan or
Carlos, she couldn’t send them away when she was perturbed with them. She could
starve them, however.

“I
need to get back to the tour,” Ethan said. “I’m away for one day and they get
engaged.”

“So
sorry they hurt you,” Mamá said as she slipped her arms around Ethan’s waist to
hug him.

“I’m
not hurt.” Not too much. “They need me there. They’re both a little reckless.
Especially Trey.” He chuckled, feeling so light-hearted he wanted to dance. Or
at least fidget a bit. His mother knew that he was in love with a man, and with
a woman, and she had yet to kick him out of her house in disgust. .

“I
will meet this man you love, no?” Mamá asked.

“How
about on Tuesday? There’s a show in Atlanta—”

“Tuesday!”

“I’ll
fly you anywhere you want to go for a concert. You can see Reagan again and
meet Trey. Or visit us in Los Angeles when we’re on a break from the road.”

“Does
Carlos know you’re queer?” Juan asked.

Mamá
spun around so fast that Ethan had to take a step backward. She grabbed Juan by
one ear and pulled him off the sofa. “I don’t like that word,” she said. “You
will never say it in my house again.”

“I’m
sorry,” Juan said, wincing.

“Don’t
apologize to me. Apologize to your brother.”

Juan’s
gaze focused on Ethan, but he didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Mamá
released his ear, and he scrambled to safety. “If you want to screw men, that’s
your business.”

Mamá
groaned in frustration and threw her hands up. “Why are you like this? I raised
you wrong?”

“It’s
okay,” Ethan said. “Not everyone will understand me or accept who I am.” He was
sure everyone felt like an outsider at times, if not for their sexual
orientation, then for their quirks or their appearance or their ideas. Trey had
come to terms with that fact long ago. Ethan was just starting to align with
his wisdom.

“Your
brother should accept you—he’s your blood,” Mamá said. “Where Carlos?”

“He’s
in Laredo,” Juan said, “with his . . .” He glanced at Ethan
nervously. “. . . uh, bros.”

“Again
with this?” Mamá said. “Will he ever get a real job?”

Mamá
knew
Carlos was heading down a dark and dangerous path and she hadn’t
bothered to mention it to Ethan? Or ask him for help in steering Carlos in a
better direction?

“Does
he do this often?” Ethan asked.

“Several
times a week,” Mamá said, shaking her head. “He wants his mamá to die of shame,
that’s what he wants.”

“It’s
not so bad,” Juan said. “You support Ethan and his weird lifestyle, so why
can’t you support Carlos too?”

“Is
an embarrassment!” Mamá snapped.

“Why
would Mamá support Carlos being in a gang?” Ethan asked. “What is he
trafficking? Drugs? Humans?”

Mamá
and Juan gaped at him for a long moment, and then Juan burst into raucous
laughter.

“Carlos
in a gang?” Juan wrapped his arms around his gut, but that didn’t diminish his
mirth. “That chicken shit? Oh, that’s a good one, Ethan. I’ll have to tell him
you think he’s in a gang.”

“Then . . .”
Ethan was at a total loss. “Why is he riding with a bunch of dudes in yellow
bandanas to border towns?”

“He
plays trumpet in a mariachi band,” Juan said. “You thought he was in a gang?”
He shook his head, still chuckling. “No wonder the police fired you.”

Ow,
that barb stung. A lot.

“They
wear ridiculous sombreros and beg tourists for money,” Mamá said, crossing her
arms. “So disrespectful to our heritage.”

“Mamá
hasn’t actually seen him perform,” Juan said. “Her friend Gloria—”

“Gloria
is no friend of mine,” Mamá said, pretending to spit on the absent ex-friend.
“Puta.”

Ethan’s
eyebrows shot up. Wow, she must be beyond upset if she was calling other women names.

“The
puta brought Carlos’s shameful profession to Mamá’s attention.” Juan leaned
close to Ethan and whispered, “He’s actually doing quite well with it. They’ve
got a manager now and everything.”

“Big
black guy?” Ethan asked.

Juan
nodded. “Dimitri.”

“From
New Mexico. Drives a beat-up white van.”

“That’s
him.”

So
all the pieces fit. Ethan felt like an ass for suspecting his brother was up to
no good, but why had he tried to hide the truth from him? Probably for the same
reason Ethan had hidden his sexuality. He hadn’t wanted his brother to
disrespect his life choices.

“I’d
like to see him play sometime,” Ethan said. “Mamá, you should come with me.”

She
shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make sweets now.”

Juan
exchanged a knowing glance with Ethan. “She forgives us,” Juan said. “She feeds
us.”

Since
they played back-to-back shows in New York, Reagan got to spend an entire long
weekend in one place. Her lush hotel suite started to feel like home, with the
exception of Ethan being absent. He’d picked a bad time to find himself in
Texas. The three of them could have spent quality time in the room together. To
pass the hours before Sunday night’s show, she and Trey went with Logan and
Toni to visit the 9/11 Memorial. As Reagan read each name engraved along the
walls of the manmade waterfalls, an ever-increasing weight of despair pulled on
her heart until she had to stop and let the tears fall. Toni passed her a
tissue and dabbed at her own eyes with a second one.

“I
remember the day it happened,” Toni said. “Watching it on TV. It was tragic.
Horrible. I couldn’t believe it was real. But standing here, where these people
lost their lives . . .” She sniffed loudly. “And for what?”

Reagan’s
throat was too tight to respond, so she just nodded and wiped away fresh tears.
Trey turned her in his arms, hugging her gently and rubbing her back with both
hands. He didn’t encourage her to stop crying, but simply lent her something
solid to cling to until she got her emotions in check. Though they’d been
joking around when they arrived, they were humbled and somber when they left.

They
caught a cab back to Times Square for a bite to eat before they headed to
Madison Square Garden for their second sold-out show. While Reagan gawked at
billboards and chaotic crowds, it occurred to her that no one had harassed them
while they’d been out in public all day. She got the feeling that while people
looked at her and at Trey, they didn’t really see them. Or maybe they just
weren’t famous enough for anyone to bother them. She supposed that was a
benefit of being in one of the largest cities in the world. There was so much
interesting stuff going on there that no one gave a single fuck about her
personal shit. Maybe she should move to New York. LA did have warmer weather,
however.

At
that night’s show, Reagan was again volun
told
to instruct a pretty young
woman in the art of playing guitar. Apparently Reagan’s job wasn’t to fill in
for Max. Apparently her job was getting strangers worked up about the prospect
of watching two attractive women get it on. She had half a mind to give the
audience what they wanted and toy with her student, but that would mean that
Sam had won another battle. He might be able to force her into doing this
staged publicity stunt, but he couldn’t make her like it or even pretend to
like it. By the time she got offstage, she had made some great music and was
enjoying herself enough to forget about the guitar lesson segment. Women were
exploited for their sexuality all the time; she wasn’t sure why it bothered her
so much that she was being used in that capacity. Sam had made it clear that
they planned to use her as a sex symbol. Sooner or later he’d figure out she
wasn’t an ideal candidate for his campaign to give the fans boners. She tried to
glare a hole into his back as the band followed him to the limo, but he didn’t
fall over dead.

“There’s
a little surprise waiting for you inside,” Sam said to Max as he waited for a
member of their security team to open the door. Seeing all the strong, competent
men in their yellow security shirts made Reagan sigh. She missed Ethan
terribly.

“A
good surprise?” Max asked.

“The
best I’ve found in over ten years,” Sam said.

Max
peered into the car and immediately stepped back. His gaze landed on Steve, who
was bullshitting with Logan about how much pussy he planned to conquer at the after-party.
Reagan had promised Toni she would keep an eye on Logan that night—
again
—because
he tended to get in trouble when he was with Steve.
Everyone
tended to
get in trouble with Steve. Was that why Max was eyeing him oddly? Did he fear
he was about to get everyone into trouble?

“Maybe
this isn’t such a good idea,” Max said to Sam.

“Nonsense.”

Curiosity
getting the better of her, Reagan nudged Max aside and looked into the limo. Five
young women sat toward the middle of the long car. Dressed all in black from
their Victorian lace-up boots to their lace gowns to their leather corsets, they
ceased talking through their black-painted lips their black painted lips paused
in conversation and turned heavily lined eyes on Reagan. Though they were
dressed enough alike to look like a matched set, each woman had a contrasting hair
color—green, white, red, blue and purple—beneath a layer of coal black. The
longer Reagan looked at them, the less identical they appeared, but they were
obviously part of some group.

“I
figured it was high time you all met each other,” Sam said. “You’ll be spending
a couple of months in their company while you tour Europe.”

Realization
struck Reagan, and she nodded a greeting at the five women of Baroquen before
stepping away from the car and studying Steve. Did Sam really think it was a
good idea to force them all into a car together for their first meeting? Steve
was still pissed that Twisted Element had been replaced on the tour by some
unknown goth metal girl band. And Steve was not the kind of guy to mince words.
He was sure to be vocal about his displeasure, even if their new tour mates
weren’t at fault for anything other than Sam’s belief that they were talented.

“Maybe
you should take a cab,” Max said to Steve.

“
You
take a cab,” Steve said. He climbed into the limo. “Right on. The hookers are
already here.”

Reagan
winced and scampered into the limo, dodging five sets of eye daggers that were
being hurled in Steve’s direction. “Hi,” she said, settling next to the
severe-looking woman with the underlayer of shockingly purple hair. “I’m
Reagan.” She knew how intimidating it could be to be in the presence of
mega-stars like Exodus End. She hoped that by extending the hand of friendship
she could decrease the animosity that was sure to follow. At least from Steve.

The
woman smiled and said, “We know who you are.”

Sam
sat next to Reagan beaming an ear-to-ear smile. She’d never seen him so happy.
The rest of the band entered the car, forcing Steve to sit as far from the as-yet-unintroduced
newcomers as possible.

“I
call dibs on Red,” Steve said, eyeing each woman appreciatively.

The
goth woman with a mix of black and red locks in her long layered hair blinked
at him. “Excuse me?”

Dare
elbowed Steve in the ribs and then cupped a hand around his mouth to whisper in
Steve’s ear. Steve’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. “Is it too late to
take that cab?”

“Stop
being a drama queen,” Sam said, which earned a smirk from Red. “This is that
band I was telling you about. Baroquen.”

“Nice
to meet you,” Reagan said, still hoping her olive branch was big enough to
counter any stupid insult about to come out of Steve’s mouth. “I haven’t gotten
a chance to listen to your music yet, but Sam says you guys rock.”

“You’ll
get to hear them tomorrow during your satellite radio performance,” Sam said.
“It’s all arranged.”

“You
gave them our air time?” Max asked, looking none too pleased by the news.

“Not
all of it. They’re just playing one song.”

The
woman with blue hair leaned forward. “If it’s a problem—”

“No
problem,” Sam insisted. “Let me introduce you all.” He started with the quiet
mint-green-haired woman on the far end. “Sage plays guitar.” Sage lifted a hand
in greeting. “Lily plays drums.” The woman with the white underlayer nodded. Next
Sam indicated the red-haired woman that Steve had called dibs on. “This is
Roux. She plays keyboard and sings harmony.”

“Keyboard?”
Steve said. “What kind of metal band has a keyboard?”

“We’re
more a mix of punk, goth, progressive, and hard rock than true metal,” said the
purple-haired woman next to Reagan. Roux gave Steve the finger, which made
Reagan snort.

Up
next was the blue-haired band member. “Azura”—Sam introduced her—“on guitar.”

“Wait,”
Dare said, obviously trying to keep the women straight. “I thought Sage played
guitar.”

“I
do,” Green said. “But so does Azura.”

“So
which is lead and which is rhythm?” Dare asked, his eyes moving from the green-and-black-haired
woman to the blue-and-black-haired one and back again.

“Depends
on the song,” Azura said. “We mix it up in every song. Sometimes I start a solo,
and she finishes it. We play to our strengths.”

Sage
nodded.

While
Dare puzzled out a pair of guitarists who didn’t have a set lead versus rhythm
role, Sam introduced the final member—the purple-haired woman seated to
Reagan’s left. “And Iona is lead vocalist. She also plays bass.”

“I
play bass,” Logan said, his knockout smile having its usual affect as several
of the women sighed aloud. He was always good looking, but when the man smiled,
panties got wet and hearts skipped beats.

“Well
aware of that, gorgeous,” Iona said with a smile that made Reagan switch into
cock-block mode for Toni’s sake.

“He’s
seeing someone,” Reagan said out of the corner of her mouth.

“So
am I,” Iona said, her smile never faltering as she blatantly checked Logan out.

“How
can you possibly think our fans will like this group of goth girls better than
Twisted Element?” Steve asked Sam, apparently already beyond the limits of
politeness.

“I
don’t think that,” Sam said. “I think the opposite of that. Baroquen appeal to
a younger fan base. A fan base Exodus End currently lacks.”

“So
you think teenaged goth kids will flock to see these wannabes and when we play
them some real music, they’ll become our insta-fans?” Steve asked, shaking his
head.

Roux
snorted. “Already living up to that asshole reputation of yours, eh, Aimes?”

“His
best friend is in Twisted Element,” Reagan said defensively. On a regular basis
Reagan thought that Steve was an asshole, but these newcomers weren’t allowed
to judge him before they even knew him. “How do you expect him to feel about
them getting fired so you can take their place on the tour?”

“We
didn’t ask for Twisted Element to be fired,” Roux said. “But we’d be fools to
turn down this gig.”

Azure
squeezed Roux’s leg and fixed her attention on each member of the band across
the car from them. “We are incredibly lucky to have been given this
opportunity,” she said. “We won’t let you down.”

Reagan
wasn’t sure whose side she should be on. On the one hand, she adored the men of
Exodus End and she wanted them to be happy—all of them, even Steve. On the
other, like these ladies, she knew what it felt like to find yourself unexpectedly
on tour with superstars. The experience was both exhilarating and intimidating.

“Twisted
Element was allowed to finish out this leg of the tour,” Sam said. “They should
be glad their mediocrity was allowed on your stage in the first place.”

“Mediocrity?”
Steve said, his animosity turned on the deserving party now.

“Really,
Sam?” Dare said, shaking his head. “Must you always push his buttons?”

Sam’s
little smirk hinted that he thoroughly enjoyed pushing Steve’s buttons.

“Did
you really give up some of our unplugged satellite segment?” Max asked. “You
know how important it is. The reach is nationwide. Hell, it’s global. This
isn’t some local radio station you’re talking about here. It’s
satellite
radio, Sam.”

Sam
lifted both hands in surrender. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said. “Tonight I
want you all to have a good time. Get to know each other. Stir up some
interest.”

“Do
they always go at it like this?” Iona asked, never taking her eyes off the band
who seemed to be falling apart at the seams. A person would never realize how much
tension existed in the group from watching their concerts and interviews, but
when in their company for more than a few minutes, you couldn’t miss it.

“Only
when Sam is around,” Reagan said quietly so she wouldn’t be overheard. She
wondered if the guys realized that unfortunate truth. Steve obviously did, but
she wasn’t so sure about the others.