Rock Me Deep (24 page)

“
Prison?
”

She hushed me, looking around at the milling, mostly empty store. “Jesus, not so loud. It's not as bad as it sounds. That time it wasn't, I mean. The night Drez hit him, he was wasted and going insane so the cops just put him in a cell to sober up. He called me around six in the morning the next day. Of course, I already knew about the whole situation by then.”

Everything I'd heard about Johnny and Drezden had been in regards to the fight. The aftermath had escaped my mind. “What did he say to you?”

“Just tried to talk me into overruling Drez.” Those strawberry lips quirked. “I knew better than that. Drez formed the band, keeping Johnny in would have just made it all fall apart permanently.” Her tiny smile faded. “I sent someone to bail him out after we signed your contract. There was never any clause saying we couldn't kick him—or anyone—out.”

My fingers curled, recalling how the pen had felt when it ran over those crisp white papers. “You waited to bail him out until our bus had left.”

Thin eyebrows flitted over the rims of her glasses. “I knew he was angry. Figured it was safe to get out of there. But honestly, I never thought Johnny would do anything. He's immature, not dangerous.”

“You thought he would cause
some
trouble, though.”

“Trouble as in causing a scene.” Brenda pushed the cart of groceries towards the front of the store. I followed behind, bending in to hear her low grumble. “Which he did last night.”

Last night.
Those words didn't give me the same warm thrill they had before. No, now they sent tremors down my spine. “Tell me what he did.”

Her jaw, normally such an elegant curve, hardened. “The idiot got drunk, no surprise there, and caused a brawl trying to get into the club he knew you and Drez were at. It's lucky that you two left before he arrived or he might have punched one of you, instead.”

I covered my mouth, my eyeballs straining. “He
what?
”

“Got drunk. Punched a security officer.” The cart bumped into the check-out counter. Brenda turned one sharp heel, leaning in so close I could smell her minty breath. “When I told Drezden I could smooth over the gossip about you and him, I meant it. Johnny's insanity will be just as much of a headline, or even bigger. He's sitting in jail right now, he can't give his side of the story, we can cause a real fuss.”

“How do you know all this?” I gripped the cart tighter. "Fuck, did he ask you to bail him out a second time?"

Digging her phone from her purse, Brenda sighed. “Nope. He didn't bother to call me. I was trying to find out more details about the mess, if the guard is pressing charges or what.” She waved the phone at me, the screen glowing. “So far, no one can tell me what's up. I hate not knowing the details.”

The slim shot that Johnny Muse wasn't in jail, that no one could tell us where he was... it was as good as a punch to the gut. “Should we call Drezden and warn him?” I was already retrieving my cell phone.

She dropped a bag of apples onto the conveyor belt. The fruit made a heavy sound, rolling toward the bored cashier. “By now, the guys have told him everything. They were both at the club when Johnny showed up.”

I wanted to ask more, but my manager had turned towards the abruptly cheerful face of the cashier. They both wore false smiles, chattering away with pointless pleasantries as the numbers on the register stacked up.

Reaching down, I lifted a plastic container of coffee grounds from the cart. My goal was to stay busy. I had to keep myself from dwelling on this foreboding news.

It was no use. I kept picturing Drez's face when he'd told me about Johnny. He'd looked like a bushel of snakes waiting to strike. That had been days ago, what would be his reaction when he learned about the close call between us and Johnny Muse last night?

If we'd been slower... we might have spent our evening in a hospital instead of Drez's hotel room.
Pushing back my hair, I inhaled until my stomach swelled.
No. Drezden wouldn't have gone down.
The singer was huge, fast, and I'd experienced his strength.

He'd also promised that he'd
ruin
Johnny if he ever saw him again.

I had no reason to doubt it.

That was the one thing that gave me enough courage to stop fretting over the fact that I might have a violent man coming after me. Even so, as we headed out towards Brenda's car with our purchases rolling in the shopping cart...

I didn't stop looking over my shoulder until I was buckled in.

Drezden

––––––––

C
offee dripped on my shoes. It stained my jeans, burned where it had soaked through to my skin. Everything screamed for me to find cold water, a towel, anything.

I didn't fucking care.

“Whoa, Drez!” Porter stammered, hands rising while he stood nervously in the middle of the aisle. “Holy shit! Calm down man, let me get you a rag or—or something.”

“Tell me again.” There was a quiet threat on my tongue. Porter and Colt had heard it before; the wary look in both their faces said enough.

The drummer remained in his seat. I could tell from the tightness around his eyes that he was doing his best to control the adrenaline flooding his veins. “I said you missed the action last night. Yeah, you fucking heard me. Johnny came around looking for you.”

Johnny. Johnny Johnny Johnny.
The crushed Styrofoam cup fell from my fist. The noise it made when it landed was hollow. “That's what I thought you said.”
That piece of shit actually dared to show his face. Did he want to fight, to get back at me for kicking him out?

Wiping my palms on my shirt, I debated reaching for my cigarettes. It wouldn't have done any good if I had. After last night with Lola I hadn't bothered to replace my empty pack.

Lola.

Imagining her face was enough to turn my rage into something just as heated, yet different.
Johnny thinks he can waltz in after a show as good as last night and—what? Try and change my mind? Get me to take him back?

The idea was laughable.

Lola is the best replacement I could have dreamed of.
I dug my nails into my opposite shoulder. I wanted to pretend they were hers, that she was clawing at me desperately like she had this morning. Knowing the girl wasn't here, on my bus, made my skull pound.

And Johnny would dare fucking show up and interrupt—
A sudden wave of paranoia dropped my jaw.

“Drez?” Porter risked coming closer, approaching like I was some rabid animal. “Hey, you alright? Don't worry about anything. They arrested Johnny, he's probably sitting drunk in some cell, his usual motif. You know that.”

I'd heard him, but I was too busy working through my nugget of worry.
Johnny might not have been there to talk to me.
Cramps wormed into my guts.
There's a chance he was looking...

Looking for Lola.

“Drez, man, snap out of it!” My bassist squeezed my shoulder. The touch sent me reeling, eyes focusing on his furrowed brow. If it weren't for the familiar worry in Porter's eyes, I would have pushed him off of me.

My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. “I'm fine. Just pissed that Johnny would have the balls to show up like that.”

“It's not about balls,” Colt snorted. “He's always been a little nuts. I figured that was why you picked him years ago.”

The reminder that I'd chosen Johnny to be in my band didn't make me feel any better. I'd been sure he'd work out, he'd played better than anyone else who'd auditioned. That day, listening to the people who'd shown up in Colt's garage, it had been eye opening.

We'd had so few people. Especially compared to the line fighting for a chance at the gas station on this tour.

If only Lola had shown up back then.

Instead, her brother had. Pursing my lips, I brushed Porter off of me. Gripping a handful of napkins from a cupboard, I mopped at the coffee on my skin and clothes. “I was too optimistic back then," I mumbled.

That had both of the boys laughing. “You think you were in a better mood
then?
” Porter asked, sharing a meaningful look with Colt. “Man, your memory is broken or something.”

“Yeah?” Throwing the wet paper ball at the bassist, I crossed my arms. “You think I'd bring on Johnny today with how he is?”

“I'm talking less about Johnny, and more about a certain someone bringing out a side of you I've never seen you show before,” Porter said.

With careful patience, I lowered my hands to my hips. “You want to try and fucking lecture me like Brenda did?”

“You could use a lecture.” Colt rose up with a grunt. In a smooth motion, he swayed my way without a hint of fear in his eyes. If anything, he looked like he was judging
me
. “Maybe a few, now that I think about it.”

In that small corner of the bus, I felt the scrutinizing stares of my band mates. We'd spent so much time together, even before forming Four and a Half Headstones. Rarely did they become so intense with me.

I owed them my ear. “Say what's on your mind,” I grunted. “Both of you. Just get it all off your fucking chests.”

Palming his skull, Colt grit his teeth in preparation.

Porter spoke first, his hand coming down, landing on the table so hard it reverberated through the bus. “Drez, just tell us the truth. Is this thing—you and Lola—going to mess up the tour?”

“Not just the tour.” Colt jutted his chin at me. “Everything. You and her, you going to turn us into some shit show? Tear us apart and leave us like some forgotten group of nobodies?”

“Of course not!” I straightened as disgust rushed up my spine. I wanted to do something with this energy, this angry flood of emotions, but there was no place to channel it. It left me on edge, molars creaking from clenching them. “You're actually worried I'd do something like that?”

Colt hunched his shoulders, reminding me of a vulture. “I don't know. Maybe not intentionally, but come on. She's been with us a few days, played one single damn show!” His voice rose, the skin around his mouth going pale. “You couldn't keep your dick in your pants long enough for her to integrate with us better? What
is
it about her that's turned you so—so...”

“What?” I didn't remember stepping forward. My face was mere inches from Colt's, pressure thrumming in my temples. “Turned me so fucking what? Say it.”

He stared me down. I knew Porter was still beside us, but he didn't exist. It was just me and Colt, horns locked on the verge of a fight. One beat, two beats; my heart counted as I waited for him to answer me.

Unblinking, he finally did. “Selfish. You kicked Johnny out because he was putting this band at risk. Now you're willing to be the one who breaks us apart. Why? What changed?”

Even with all my built up rage, I had no answer. I sensed their surprise when I turned away, effectively abandoning the challenge.
He's right. When did I start caring more about getting what I want—no. I always chased what I wanted.

But when did that turn into Lola Cooper?

Like my bones had melted, I fell into a leather seat. “I don't know what changed. You're right,” I said, watching them both in resignation, “Something has. But it doesn't matter. Call it selfish all you want, you'd be spot on. I want to have Lola
and
I want this band to succeed. I want both.”

Porter's voice was swimming with sadness. “
Can
you have both?”

It was the question I hadn't wanted to hear. I felt the answer bubble up before I could think on it. “Yeah. I can.” There was a certainty in my response that didn't reflect my internal struggle.

Was it possible to have both Lola and my band?

If I had to choose between them—
No. I don't need to choose.

I don't need to pick one or the other.

I fucking refuse to.

Exhaling loudly, Colt's skinny arms folded behind his head. “As long as I don't need to hear you and her banging at night on this bus, I'll zip my lips.”

It was as close to acceptance as I could expect from him right then. Grinning sideways, I helped break the tension. “No promises there.”

Porter laughed first. It was contagious, all of us letting the sound escape while tension evaporated from our bodies. It was a reminder that we were all friends. It was a reminder that I needed.

With their worries spoken and the air cleared, we hung out on the bus and reveled in the comfortable quiet. The world rolled past, Colorado looking especially beautiful that sunny day.

Though I smiled at Colt's jokes, or shared eye-rolls with Porter when they fell flat, my mind roamed. The silent cellphone in my pocket began to feel like a throbbing tumor. I touched it, ran my fingers over the shape and waited.

We were an hour out from Aspen, the location of our next show that very night, and I still hadn't heard from Lola. An itch of worry grew, similar to my craving for tobacco.
She hasn't messaged me. Are her and Brenda that busy shopping for food? No, it's more than that. She wanted to get Lola alone.

I imagined Brenda trying to talk Lola into hiding what had happened, like she'd tried with me this morning. It curdled my blood.
Lola won't agree to that. She couldn't.
Honestly, I wouldn't let her try. My mind ran with the idea. I pictured Lola attempting to slink into the shadows. Or worse, turning away as I got close.

But that would be all she could manage,
I thought fiercely. My hands squeezed the tops of my thighs.
I'd chase her down, steal her lips, her tongue, in front of every single pair of eyes watching.
I burrowed my nails in further.
If she dared to try and turn herself, us, invisible, I'll just have to expose our relationship to the fucking world.

Relationship.

Mountains rolled by, but I didn't see them.
That's the word for this, isn't it? I want her—need her—to the point of insanity.

What else could this be but a relationship?

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
So that makes me her boyfriend. I like the sound of that.
Again, I fondled the silent cellphone.
I'd like the sound of her voice more right now.