Rock Me Deep (37 page)

Under the table, something poked me; the tip of Sean's shoe. We shared a look, his saying,
Take this seriously!
Mine saying,
This is what you brought me here for?

“It's not that he has a stage name,” Johnny went on. His excitement grew along with his rising volume. “It's the reason.”

My heart wouldn't stop racing. “Give me the reason.”

His smile was wicked, lacking sympathy in every corner. “Drez uses a fake name so that it can't be traced back to his dad. The bastard put his own fucking
father
in jail.”

“I—he what?”
His father? What the hell?

“Drez beat the shit out of his dad, yeah.” Thin fingers ran through his greasy, unkempt hair. “Got him arrested, too. Guess the cops took Drez's side because his dad was known to drink a bit heavy."

When had I started shaking my head? “That doesn't make sense, why would he attack his dad?”

“What does it matter?” Sean snapped, gripping the edge of the tiny table. “If he could do that to his own dad, the guy has fucking issues! I told you he was dangerous.”

Johnny snorted, peering at us both. “That's for sure. He cold-cocked me, remember? I didn't do fuck all to him. If he wanted me out, he didn't need to punch me to do it—”

“Stop.”
I don't understand.
“Just stop a second.”
This makes no sense.
My temples were throbbing. “If his dad went to jail, it means he did something wrong.”

Drezden had to have a reason.

The man across from me scowled. “What, you think they needed a reason to put
me
in jail, too? Sometimes people end up behind bars because they're in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Then you don't even
know
what happened between him and his dad, right?” I asked slowly.

Johnny's forehead wrinkled, his scowl going deeper. “Maybe I don't know the details—”

“And it doesn't matter!” Sean cut in.

“—But I know the important shit. Drezden hates his dad, and if anything, would love to see the guy dead.”

Acid bubbled in my stomach. “You know that how?”

“Why change his name, why would he want nothing to do with the guy?” Johnny's voice had a wild edge; I watched the coffee cup shake, ready to topple. “You tell me! You fucking put the pieces together. The night after we officially formed the band...” He stopped, shooting a look at Sean.

Right. Johnny took the spot Sean auditioned for.

It had been easy for me to forget the connection my brother had to all this. I'd only learned about it recently.

In the back of my brain, my intuition buzzed.
Does Sean have some other reason for wanting me to meet Johnny? Something beyond trying to warn me away from Drezden?

My brother's 'kindness' was suddenly suspicious.

“Anyway,” Johnny mumbled, scratching at the side of his neck. “Me and the others—Porter, Colt... We all ended up in this graveyard, and Drezden was drunk as all get out. Guy was nuts!” Johnny was gesticulating, growing more and more manic. “Got angry when I tripped over a headstone. He, like, jammed me hard in the ribs with his fist.” For emphasis, he stabbed at the air. “Like that! Fucker hit me so much, just kept pummeling me! Bam! Told me to respect the dead, even as he went on yammering about the dead being forgotten or something.”

I was leaning backwards
.
Johnny was acting unstable.

“It's where the name comes from,” he said, blinking like he'd just noticed me. “Four and a Half Headstones, I mean. Drezden figured it fit us—something like, a half headstone exists to remind us we'll be forgotten someday or... I don't know. He was just crazy. Okay? Drez was always a crazy fucking—” A sharp ringing came from my brother's pocket.

Sean fumbled for his phone. “Sorry,” he said, doing a double-take at the number. “It's Shark, hang on. I need to take this.” Shoving the chair back, Sean stood and cupped the phone to his ear. “Man, hey,” he whispered, walking towards the door. “I'm in the middle of a thing—wait, what? Shit!”

I jumped, stunned by how Sean was hunched over, grumbling into the phone and walking back and forth. The man behind the coffee counter was staring, too. My brother was acting like a caged lion.

“Fine, yes. I'm on my way.” He shut his phone violently. “We need to go back. Caleb's a fucking moron. Shark just called to tell me he got himself drunk in public this morning, now he's in a holding cell.” Shaking his head rapidly, my brother laughed. “The asshole started drinking at ten this morning." It was after five now. "I need to go down and break him out.”

I was fine with this excuse to cut the meeting short. Johnny had to be exaggerating about Drezden, he just had to be. I stood on eager legs. “Alright. Let's go back.”

A hand touched mine, freezing me. “I want to tell you more. Hell,” Johnny snorted, “I feel like I
need
to. There's so much shit. Stay and hear me out.”

I jerked my arm away; his touch had been so oily. “Maybe another time.” I looked to my brother. He was antsy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I understood his worry; he needed to get his singer out before tomorrow, or his band couldn't play at all. “We're in a hurry.”
There's no way I'm hanging around here alone.

“Oh, okay! I'll just—okay, another time then,” Johnny shouted after me. “Nice to finally meet you, Lola!”

I didn't feel the same.

“I'm going to drop you off at your tour bus,” Sean said, guiding the van out onto the road.

Eyeing the sky, mulling over Johnny's words, I shook my head. “Actually, could you drop me off at the Hilton?”
I want to talk to Drezden in person.

The clouds were a foreboding black as we drove. Sean's headlights made the pavement a muddy yellow, the color reminded me of Johnny's skin. Frowning, I wiped at where he'd touched me. “Has Johnny been living in a gutter or what? He looked awful.”

My brother's laugh was tight, sour as bad wine. “Close enough. I met up with him this morning at the Greenmill Motel. Guess that's where he's been for a few days.”

That sounded strange.
We only rolled into the city last night. Was Johnny here, waiting for us?
He had to know the tour would end in Seattle. Thinking of the guy, gaunt and edgy, hanging around in a filthy motel just waiting for everyone to arrive...

It made my insides queasy.

“Did you believe what he said?” Sean asked casually, not glancing at me.

Fidgeting in the seat, I watched the road. “Not really. Some of it, but—come on. Sean, that guy is losing it. One look at him and you could tell.”

“He could be crazy
and
right about Drezden.”

Twisting, I narrowed my eyes on my brother. “What was this really about? Do you want to help me learn about my boyfriend, or are you just trying to prove to me that he's some sort of violent psycho?”

Sean just clenched his jaw in silence.

Slumping in the cushion, I pulled my hood over my head. “Guess I already knew the answer to that.”

“Lola—”

“You brought me to meet someone like
Johnny Muse
because you wanted me to think Drezden was dangerous.”

“He
is
dangerous!” Sean snapped, crushing the steering wheel.

No,
I thought morosely,
it's Johnny's who's dangerous. Not the man I—what? Love?
Closing my eyes, I pictured Drezden's face; his hard edges and wild green eyes. All I wanted was to see him, even just to talk to him and confront him with Johnny's accusations.
He might get mad. But let him.

There were nuggets of truth in Johnny's words. I wasn't sure which parts, but Drez
had
to explain. He just had to tell me what had happened with his father.

The drive to the Hilton couldn't go fast enough.

It was drizzling as we rolled up to the tall building. Even with the surge of bleak weather, people were milling around, covering their heads with jackets to stay as dry as they could.

My seat belt was unlocked; Sean's hand on my shoulder kept me sitting. “Lola, I know you're confused.”

“I'm not confused.” There were a lot of questions running wild, jabbing at me, but I had come to a conclusion as we drove. There was one person who could tell me the truth, and chasing after other sources had given me nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

Drezden is the only one who can tell me everything.

“I—Lola, just...” Letting me go, Sean leaned back so fast his elbow banged the window. Amazingly, he didn't act like he felt it at all. “You're stuck on wanting to believe that Drezden isn't to blame for any of the crap he's pulled.” Though I listened, I never took my attention from my knees. “But even if you imagine he has 'reasons' or whatever, can't you see he's still responsible for the violence? Hitting Johnny, fighting with his father, and... and the bastard even got into a fight with me.”

My neck ached from how fast I turned to stare. “He what? When?”

Shame danced on the corners of my brother's lips. “The day you came back late, the night we played in Aspen. It got a little tense in the parking lot.”

“A little tense?”
What the hell?
“You and my boyfriend fought and neither of you told me! Why would you hide that?”

Sean flicked his gaze at me, then away, all too fast.

Pinpricks of heat traveled up my neck. “You didn't tell me because you started it, didn't you?” He stared blankly through the windshield. “Sean. Sean, that's it, isn't it? Why else would you not—”

His fist came down, hitting the wheel with a thud. “I thought you were hurt, or worse! I thought he knew where you were. Either way, trust me, your shitty boyfriend was more than happy to be in that scuffle.” He was no longer avoiding my glare, but the rage in his face didn't make me shy away.

I was pissed off, too.

“Why are you so obsessed with making Drezden into a monster?” I didn't breathe, I even wondered if my blood had gone still. I wanted Sean to say something—anything—to justify his actions.

A flicker of pain bloomed in his stare. “I need to go pick up Caleb.” He reached across me, opening my door.

If I left now, I knew he'd never tell me what was going on. He'd double down and hide it deeper. Gripping the door, I slammed it shut. “Please, Sean. Why is this all so important to you? It's not even about
me
anymore... is it?”

“Of course, it's about you.” His voice was weak, unconvincing. “It's always been about you.”

On instinct I jumped at him. It could have been an attack—it wasn't. My body folded across the middle of the van, encasing my brother in a hug before he could fight me off. His claim was a cry for help. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled against his shoulder. “Sean, I'm really just—I'm so sorry.”

“Lola? What the hell?” His body was tense, but he hugged me back like it was muscle memory. The times he'd protected me flooded back into both of us. I
felt
the barrier cracking in a sudden shatter. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I don't know,” I sniffled, wiping at my eyes.

“Why are you
crying?
”

“I don't know!” A hiccup choked me, broke my sudden tears and turned it into uneasy laughter.

Sean's arm crushed me against him, holding the back of my head. Relieved chuckles shook free from him, too. “You're ridiculous.”

“You're worse than that.”

Rubbing my shoulder blades, he breathed out loudly. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

We sat in the car and listened to the rain. It reminded me of the day, so recently, where we'd gotten soaked while Sean warned me about Drezden. Clarity rolled up my spine. “You've been angry at him for so long, haven't you?”

Gingerly, my brother eased me off of him. His blue eyes were rimmed in red; I noticed the spider-veins crawling in the whites. How long had those been there? “Drezden messed with my head—with everything—that day.”

That day.
He didn't have to say it. Sean was talking about the audition. “Tell me what happened.”

“It wasn't even—lord, I don't know. It's hard to explain.”

Reaching for his hands, I cupped them. “Just try, I want to know.”

His face was pale in the shadows. “I drove all the way upstate when I heard there was an audition.” Sean flexed his fingers in mine. “I showed up, and Lola... I played my damn heart out. I was—” He cut himself off with a bark of cold laughter. “I was so sure I had the position. I was so stoked; how could I
not
be picked?”

Thunder rattled the sky outside. “And?”

Closing his fists, my brother gave me a sad smile. “And Drezden told me to leave. Just that, to leave. I asked him
why
. How could I just walk away without understanding why I wasn't good enough?” Gritting his teeth, he resembled a snarling dog. “The asshole told me—get this—he said he
knew my type
. He said some bullshit like, 'Someone who gets angry and bitter when things aren't handed to them... someone like that doesn't have what it takes.'”

My mouth was hanging open. Not because of what Drezden had told my brother, but because Sean remembered every last word of that sentence.
He's been going over that in his head for years. Reliving that day. Holy shit.

“He asked me something, too,” Sean muttered hotly.

My throat was parched. “What?”

His sapphire eyes looked through the window. They stared into the past, seeing that fateful day instead of the grey rain. “He asked me, 'What makes a good guitarist?'”

The hairs on my body stood on end so tight it hurt. “What did you answer?” I asked eagerly, my curiosity turning my stomach in knots.

He fell back in his seat, arching his neck and watching the ceiling. “Talent. I told him that talent was what made a good guitarist.”

My heart was stuffing itself into my throat. “What did
he
say?”

There, the crooked, cynical smile I knew so well. “He told me I was wrong. He responded, quite eloquently, 'Fuck off.' So I kicked over his amp and then I left.”

The pounding in my skull wouldn't stop.
That's what this was all about. A several years long grudge.
Drezden had called it. I remembered the night we'd had dinner, my first night spending time with Headstones.
Drezden asked me if my brother was still pissed about what had happened. Brenda told him to stop worrying.