Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin (11 page)

“Why don’t you ever dress up for me?” Mason asked, taking a seat across from us.

“There’s no point; we both know you like your ladies with more facial hair than I have,” I snickered.

The imp shrugged and winked at his self-proclaimed soul mate, the man sitting next to me. “True.”

The gentle movement of the bus as it slowed to a stop made us shift slightly. There was loud talking from the front before the familiar sounds of the door opening and the guys piling out let me know we’d made it to the mall. Slapping my twin’s thigh, I told him I’d see him later before walking out. My idiots and some of the TCC guys had been planning on going to some bar that carried over three hundred different types of beer, and I wasn’t in the mood to sit through that experience. Hanging out with Sacha just seemed like a bonus. A very pleasant bonus. A very pleasant, platonic bonus, like spending time with Carter would be.

Right
.

I’d barely jumped off the bus’s steps, slipping the strap of my purse across my shoulder, when I spotted Sacha and Isaiah outside waiting.

“Is it only us going?” I asked, walking up to them.

Sacha’s eyes slanted over in my direction, his mouth already opening in a certain way that let me know a smart-ass comment was going to be coming out of it in a moment, but nothing actually came out. He looked at me—my face, the bare skin of my chest above the purple cotton of the sundress, and then down the length of my body slowly. It made me self-conscious and I fidgeted. It was second nature to want to pull the front of my dress up but it wasn’t like it was low to begin with.

“It’s only us,” Isaiah’s low drawl answered. He looked at me evenly. “I like your hair.”

Unfortunately I was one of those people that never knew how to handle a compliment well from people I wasn’t close to, or even know what to say afterward. My face got a little warm and I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

I smiled at him once more before looking back at Sacha who was busy inspecting my face again. He smiled but it was a distracted, distant sort of look. The entire walk through the parking lot and the mall was surprisingly quiet. Isaiah hadn’t really spoken more than two handfuls of words to me in the nearly three weeks we’d been on tour, and Sacha was strangely silent. After buying our movie tickets, I nudged my gray-eyed friend when Isaiah said he was going to the restroom. We got in line at the concession stand.

“Is he usually really quiet around everyone?” I asked, gesturing with my head in Isaiah’s retreating direction.

“Isaiah?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Sacha nodded his head, keeping his eyes locked on the menu mounted from the ceiling. “Yeah. He doesn’t talk much.”

I wasn’t much of a talker unless I felt comfortable around someone, and it just so happened that I was surrounded by three of the people that already knew the best and the worst parts of me. If I couldn’t be myself around them, who could I be myself around? For some reason, something about Sacha put me at ease and he happened to be an exception.

He didn’t say anything else as the line ahead of us shortened, and it was really beginning to weird me out. Why was he being so quiet? It wasn’t like I needed to talk all the time, but still. Everything had been fine before I’d showered, so the change in his attitude was pretty confusing.

“Are you okay?” I finally tapped into my imaginary balls to ask, turning just slightly at the shoulders to glance at him.

He frowned, still keeping his gaze on the menu. “Yes, why?”

“You’re being really quiet,” I said.

Sacha finally looked down at me. He hadn’t put on any hair products and his hair was loose and shiny, the longer length falling to the side over the shorter side of his scalp. “My mind is somewhere else,” he said apologetically. His light eyes glanced at the neckline of my dress so briefly I almost missed it.

What I didn’t miss was his fingers going up to touch the braid draped over my shoulder.

“You look really nice,” he commented.

I would have preferred “pretty” but beggars can’t be choosers. “Nice” was polite and not at all creepy or aggressive. I smiled at my friend, one of the best-looking friends I’d ever had in my life. “Thanks.”

He blinked at me, smiling that distant smile one more time, making me wonder where exactly his mind was. “Want to share a popcorn?”

“Are you asking if I’ll get some so you can eat it?” I stared at him suspiciously.

He shrugged the same way he always did. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Well, I always did appreciate people who were honest.

“I’ll buy a drink if you get the popcorn,” he offered.

I snuck another glance at him. He was wearing the same thing he usually had on when he wasn’t onstage: running shorts, a T-shirt and his good pair of green-and-black tennis shoes. “Done.”

He curled his lips behind his teeth, giving me a hopeful look. “Butter?”

“Butter.”

A few minutes later, we settled into our seats in the theater with our concession-stand purchases. He gestured toward the extra-large water bottle he’d bought. “Want some?”

“Sure,” I said, already taking it out of the cup holder. I twisted the lid off, held it up a couple inches above my mouth and was about to pour it when he groaned.

“Drink from the bottle. I don’t have cooties.”

“You never know,” I mumbled, putting the opening to my mouth. He plucked the medium-sized bag of popcorn from my lap while I took a sip.

Handsome, perfect Sacha, with a voice that gave me goosebumps every night, grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved half the fistful directly into his mouth. “So good,” he moaned through an overflowing mouthful.

Isaiah hadn’t reappeared since he’d left for the restroom. Sacha had sent him a text message telling him we’d wait for him inside the theater. Nearly at the same time, we both kicked up our legs to rest our feet on the back of the seats in front of us.

My new friend grabbed more popcorn and shoved it into his mouth.

I ate a small amount at a time, too busy watching him ingest handful after handful. It was amazing. It was seriously amazing watching him eat so much so quickly. “Are you planning on eating it all, fatty?”

He gasped in the middle of grabbing more. “You think I’m fat?”

“Yes,” I lied, eyeing the flat slope of his stomach like I hadn’t seen him shirtless nearly every night. If I were ever honest with myself, I would admit I could draw his six-pack from memory. “Do you only run?” I couldn’t remember ever seeing him work out. On the other hand, he was usually always eating.

He mumbled something between a mouthful of popcorn that sounded like “I lift weights too.”

“When?”

“Usually during the opening band,” he explained. “We have dumbbells and a bench in the back of the trailer.” The timing made perfect sense. I rarely saw any of the guys after doors in the venue opened.

“You?”

“Just cardio.” I held up my arm and slapped the bottom of my upper arm. “See? No muscle.”

He licked his salty lips, looking at me intently. “Where do you live?” he asked out of the blue.

“In Dallas. You?”

“San Francisco.”

“That’s cool,” I thought for a second. “Aren’t we stopping there next week?”

The quick, enthusiastic nod he gave me in response made me smile. Excitement radiated through his pores. “Yeah. You can meet my friends.”

“Okay.” I smiled and nodded, remembering a prior conversation. “What about your family? They don’t live there?”

“Not anymore. My mom lives in Australia now; my dad is back in Russia—”

“Are you Russian?” I finally asked. I mean, I’d been wondering where he got his name from and I’m surprised I held off asking for so long.

Sacha nodded. “My parents are. My two older sisters were born there but the rest of us were born here.”

I set my elbow on the armrest and looked at his face. “Huh. That’s really neat. What’s your last name?”

“Malykhin.”

“Spell it.”

He did.

“And your sisters?” I asked.

“They’re everywhere. One is in Africa, one is in the UK, one in Alaska, and another in Hong Kong.” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get to see them much anymore unless I go visit or we meet up somewhere for the holidays.”

“Do you miss them?” I was well aware of the fact I had no right to ask, but I did anyway.

Surprisingly, he answered without even thinking about it. One single shoulder going up in a fraction of a shrug. “A lot, but I’ll get to see my mom soon.”

“That’s nice.” I nudged his elbow with mine. “If you ever want a brother, feel free to borrow Eli. You can keep him too.”

His lips fluttered with a raspberry before he laughed. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Just saying. If you’re craving being terrorized, made fun of and farted on, he’s yours.”

Sacha slid me a look out of the corner of his eye. “I already get two of those three.”

He did? I tried to think about the way he was with the TCC guys but they all seemed to get along really well, if a little distantly, and they were more mature than GO’s morons were. “From who?”

He nudged me again. “You make fun of me on a daily basis… I fear for my safety when I’m around you…”

“Oh, shut your trap!” I started laughing.

“All I need is for you to start farting on me—“

“I would never do that!”

He made a face that made me laugh harder.

“I would never do it on purpose, at least!”

Sacha gave me this huge grin, his straight white teeth on display. “That sounds more like it.”

Oh God. I shouldn’t think it was funny that he would think I’d fart on him— because I wouldn’t—but I did. Especially when he started nudging me with his elbow. I just nudged him right back.

The next thing I knew, we were both elbowing the other, each of us trying to aim for the other person’s thigh until he hit his target and I squealed like a pig, making him laugh so loud the people in the rows in front of us turned to see what the ruckus was about.

I smacked his shoulder with my open palm. “You ass.”

With another big grin, he grabbed my hand with both of his much larger ones. His fingers were cold. “Do you think I’m mean to you?”

“Yes,” I said it but I really had my attention focused on the fact that he was holding my hand between his. Did I try to pull away? No, as stupid as it was.

“I’m not joking. Do you think I am?” he asked, his husky voice lowering in what I could assume was an attempt to be serious.

I smiled at him. “No. Why would you think that? I like the way we play around,” I told him because it was the truth. Sure, I played around with Eli and Mason but that was different. Even my ex didn’t like to joke around with me a quarter of as much as Sacha did.

“Are you sure? Carter is still mad at me for the whole penalty kick incident.” His thumb grazed over the knuckles of my hand gently once and only once. His gaze strayed to my still-bruised jaw.

“Yes. I mean, you’re an asshole for kicking the ball at my face but it’s fine,” I told him, watching his pale eyes drift to my chest quickly. “But you bruise my money-maker again, and I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

We both laughed at the same time that the lights in the theater began dimming. Isaiah appeared at the bottom of the stairs, walking up with his hands full of treats. I pulled my hand out of Sacha’s grasp to grab some popcorn from the bag that at some point had ended up on his lap.

He raised an eyebrow at me when I stuffed my mouth just like he had, but before he could pipe in, I hissed, “If you call me fat, I’ll make sure Eli farts on you.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Sacha shrugged before leaning toward me. “If it goes to your ass, I won’t say a thing.”

I couldn’t…

I was…

Pleased. A little too pleased.

O
nce upon a time
, I had nothing against San Francisco.

I’d been there before a handful of times with Ghost Orchid, and I liked it as much as anyone could possibly like a city that they didn’t spend a lot of time in. After the day I’d had, exactly six shows after jabbing my ex in the throat, the city would forever be tarnished by the memory of all the shitty things that happened. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it was the worst day of my life, but it sure as hell wasn’t the best.

When I woke up to cramps that rivaled giving birth—at least I imagined so—I hopped out of my bunk as fast as I could.

Only it wasn’t fast enough.

My brother of all people had just been getting out of bed at the same time and happened to see the huge red stain I’d been worried about.

“Holy shit! Flabby! What the fuck?!” he barked, pointing and laughing. Literally, he was pointing and laughing at me.

I flicked him off before grabbing my bag from the floor, where we all left our stuff, and darting into the tiny bathroom to take care of business.

Needless to say, he told his two bandmates. It was bad enough to deal with the cramps and back pain, but all that while getting made fun of too? It was like being twelve years old during my first period all over again.

When the jokes just kept coming and coming and coming from my brother, Mason and that twerp named Gordo, and I was
this close
to losing my marbles, I finally went to hide in my bunk.

Hours later, when I slipped on the last step exiting the bus and scraped the hell out of the skin covering my Achilles tendon, I threw a rock at Eliza when he laughed. Only Isaiah and Carter asked if I was fine because they were decent human beings. My brother and friends were damn dipshits.

To top it off, my phone fell out of my pocket and the corner of the screen cracked. I literally raised it up to the sky as if it were some kind of ancient sacrifice to a sun god and scream-grunted like a total psychopath.

I went right to setting up the table for the night after unloading, thankful that Carter was a solid, nice guy who didn’t relish terrorizing me.

In a brief moment of guilt, Eli had texted and asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him since there wasn’t any catering available. To be honest, the only reason I agreed to go was because The Cloud Collision’s tour manager had given him my buy-out money. Otherwise I would have told him to go suck his nuts and leave me alone. But when I went out to meet him by the bus, I immediately zoned in on my twin.

I stared.

Then I stared some more before mumbling, “I can’t deal with you today.”

He gave me this dumb look that begged for a smack. “What?”

It should be noted that years ago, Mase and I had thrown away twenty of Eli’s stupid, ugly polo shirts that were way too small on him while simultaneously making him look like a giant douche-bag. Because apparently, he wasn’t informed that wearing not just one, but two polo shirts at the same time with the collars popped was… just… no. No. I almost shuddered having a flashback of it.

Had he complained about what we’d done? No. He’d bitched. He’d bitched and he’d bitched some more. But Eli was cheap, and he thankfully never went back to buy any more polos to layer.

Until now, apparently.

All two hundred pounds of Barreto stood there proudly with a clean, emerald green polo, which would have been nice and fine… if it didn’t have the collar flicked up straight. Ugh. “You likey?” he asked with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t find it in me to snort.

I shot a look over at Mason who was standing behind him, staring right at his friend’s neck with a funny expression on his face. I think his eye might have been twitching.

“Nice, huh?” Eli asked again for confirmation that only someone who had once worn a trucker hat could give.

Forcing the grimace from my face into a reluctant grin, I nodded. “Sure, E. If the year was still 2002 and you were on the lacrosse team.”

“Scissors, we need scissors, Flabs,” Mase muttered loudly enough for my brother to hear.

Eli frowned and told us to fuck off before we started walking around the bus toward some hamburger place they’d heard was good. We’d barely made it around the building when I patted my back pocket and realized I’d left my phone.

“Damn it, I left my phone in the bus. Let me go grab it real quick.” I didn’t even wait for them to agree that they’d stand there for me to get back before I started jogging back to the bus. Knowing them, they’d wait maybe five minutes. If I weren’t back within that time, they’d leave me. The fact was, I didn’t trust leaving my phone around these guys. Not even the guys in TCC. Though I hadn’t spoken to Miles or Julian since the incident with Brandon, I still got along well with the rest of the TCC entourage and wouldn’t hold it past them to post dick pictures on my social media pages or something else my mom could see.

I got on the bus to find Gordo on his computer on one of the couches. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing. I forgot my phone, and we were on our way to eat. Do you want me to bring you something back?” I asked, already moving through the bus on my way to the middle section.

He shook his head. “I’ll grab a bite later.” He tipped his chin up and jerked his head to the side, in the direction of the bunk area and the back. “Hold on, Flabs. Sacha’s back there with a girl…”

There was a girl back there with Sacha?

What?

There was a girl back there with Sacha?

I…

I felt… I felt my stomach drop to my knees, then continue on a path through the first layer of the Earth’s crust and head straight down to its core.

He was back there with a girl.

My heart sputtered, choked and died a little in that split second.

But somehow I found myself nodding, still even-faced at Gordo’s warning.

Girl. Back. Sacha.

Sacha, Sacha, Sacha who had just gone to the movies with me and said something about my ass.

Back there with a girl.

Good grief. Why did my chest hurt? Was this what a heart attack felt like?

Before I could think about it too much, I made the snap decision to still go into the bunk area because if I didn’t, Gordo would know something was wrong. Tension throbbed right between my eyebrows at the mystery behind what I could possibly see… or hear…

Fuck!

I nodded at my old friend but managed to hold back the weak smile that would give me away. “Thanks for the warning.”

Yeah, I held my breath as I walked into the bunk area. My heart pounded and this knot formed in my throat…

His bunk was above mine. His bunk was above mine.

But he wasn’t there.

I heard the voices before I noticed that the door that led to the back room was wide open, and I saw it. Saw
them
.

Sacha was sitting on the bench seat directly in front of the door with his arm over the top of a girl’s shoulders. Their temples were touching. And they were whispering to each other.

In the blink of an eye, my chest began to ache again, and even though I didn’t want to blame it on the intimacy of the moment I’d walked in on, I knew it was. There’s no way to even begin to describe the feeling that flooded my chest before it decided to swim along my spine, shoulders and finally my skull. It was as if I wanted to throw up at the same time a migraine set up shop in my cranium.

I took a step forward closer to my bunk, fighting the nausea in my gut.

“We can’t do this here…” he said just barely loud enough for me to hear.

Oh, fucking hell.

My head pounded. My stomach was in a knot. Tears swam in my eyes for all of a split second before I slipped my upper body into my bunk, snatched my phone from the corner I always left it, and came back out, smashing my elbow into the wooden frame that connected all of the beds. Did it hurt like hell? Yeah, but I didn’t even have it in me to cuss because I’d made so much noise, and I needed to get the hell off the bus as soon as possible. Two minutes ago, preferably.

What the
hell
was wrong with me?

My heart thumped erratically as I walked by Gordo on the way out; my fists had begun shaking. I recognized the feeling manifesting itself through my body all too well.

I was jealous. Horribly, stupidly, pathetically jealous.

Jealous of the redhead who was sitting side by side with Sacha. With his arm around her. Touching her face with his.

I mean, they could have been friends, but I didn’t want to be naïve either. Mason and I were closer than best friends, and we didn’t really have physical boundaries with each other, but we never sat together, whispering. Usually we were picking on one another, not cuddling and crap. There was an intimacy to the moment that spoke volumes.

It made me want to cry.

But I wouldn’t do it.

Sacha was my friend. I shouldn’t have any feelings for him, much less possessive feelings, but I did. They were just buried deep down in the back of my head, obviously, because I’d been swimming in a river called Da Nile.

I liked him. I liked him a lot, apparently, if the awful, shit emotions that were making a snack out of my nervous system were correct. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I had almost forgotten Eli and Mason might be waiting for me when I made it to the side of the venue building, but they were there, standing around looking at their phones. Before they could see me, I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand to make sure my body wasn’t being a damn traitor and tried to get my facial muscles under control.

This wasn’t the time to get upset. Hell, it was never the time to get upset over Sacha spending time with a girl. On the bus. With his arm around her.

I was not going to get upset. I was not going to get upset, damn it.

I’d heard all kinds of stories over the years of band members screwing around with their fans. Hell, Mason had said something about having sex with some girl behind the bus in Las Vegas a few days ago. Every single time I’d gone on tour with Ghost Orchid, all of the monsters would have some kind of one-on-one “interaction” with their fans, even Gordo. That’s what single guys did. And some not-so-single guys that doubled as unfaithful pieces of crap.

It was a tale as old as time. Even the least attractive band member got hit on by a fan or audience member once; whether they did something about it was a different thing. There was something about musicians, even semi-popular ones, that made them more attractive to women. I understood that.

Only this time, it felt like a jab to the kidney to see a man I wasn’t dating, who wasn’t anything more than a friend to me, with someone in the bus.

I felt…

“The hell is wrong with you?” my twin asked with a scrunched-up nose as I walked up to them.

“My leg hurts from where I scraped it,” I quickly lied.

Eli blinked. “Dumbass.”

And he let it go for a little while.

While we ate, he kept looking at me, asking if I was fine—or in his exact words, “What’s up your ass?” I kept telling him my Achilles hurt, that I was cramping, and I wasn’t feeling well. Mason frowned the entire meal.

I couldn’t help but notice how Eli came to see me during the show that night, which meant he actually came to the stand instead of staying backstage or on the bus the entire time. He didn’t ask any more what was wrong, but I knew he could tell something was bothering me. The whole Sacha thing in the bus had left a hole in my chest. I was sad.
Sad
. It was pitiful.

I couldn’t even enjoy the show. I shoved my earplugs in and sat with my arms crossed every chance possible. Of course it was the night that the audience was super-chatty and people were mentioning Sacha’s name every five seconds because it was his hometown.

At some point, a fan tried to walk off with two CDs that had been sitting as display on the table, and that turned into a debacle with me confronting him, and the security guards having to get involved once Carter called them over. The guy called me a bitch before he got kicked out of the show. So, overall, things could have been going better. A lot better.

I didn’t even take a break that night except to go pee and change my pad because I didn’t want to deal with anyone.

I thought my night would be over the moment I finished packing up and helping Carter load the dolly.

But fate had other plans and wanted to turn that silver dagger in my gut one last time.

“We’re going to eat, Flabs,” Eliza told me as soon as I’d gotten on the bus.

I frowned because I was feeling that bitchy. “I’m not hungry.”

The look he shot me could have melted wax. “
You
aren’t hungry? Now I know something is wrong. You’re never not hungry.”

Leave it to Eli to actually pay attention every once in a while. I didn’t give him enough credit. My twin knew me. He was a lot smarter and kinder than his rusted, creaky heart gave him credit for. If there were anyone Eli would move Kilimanjaro for, it would be me.

Maybe. If I asked him on the right day at the right moment with a blue moon in the background.

If I lied to him completely and said that nothing was wrong, he would know. He always did and already had, which was why he hadn’t stopped asking. So I went with the next best thing: a partial lie. “I feel sick. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes. “Too bad, you’re eating. Otherwise, I’m going to be stuck listening to you whine in a couple of hours about how you’re starving and that shit is annoying.” He glanced at me for another second before pulling me onto the seat next to him, throwing his heavy arm over my shoulders.

I didn’t even care that he was sweaty, so I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Tuning out everyone getting on the bus, I felt it start moving, but I stayed in my spot, appreciating the rare moment in which my brother was both quiet and comforting at the same time. The next thing I knew, the bus was stopping again across the street from some diner. I got out with the rest of Ghost Orchid, the members of TCC following behind, though I wasn’t exactly keeping an eye.

A warm hand grasped my shoulder as we walked in. It was Mason, looking at me with concerned aquamarine eyes. “Not feeling good?”