Tangled (30 page)

Not
even the brutal thrash of music could cage the elephant breathing down their
necks.

So
what if Cameron’s girl slept over after he was told to stay away from her?
Nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. “Don’t blame him,” Adonis
heard himself say. “He’s been on a short leash since birth. You can say he
never got out much.”

Tess
shrugged, clearly uncomfortable discussing it. “So have you ever been to a
mosh?”

“It’s
not really my scene.”

“You
can’t call yourself a real metal fan if you’ve never been to a show.” Her eyes glinted
devilishly. “Do you want to go?”

“I
don’t know. Do I need to create a last will and testament first?”

“Wouldn’t
hurt. Hold on a sec.” He waited as she consulted her phone. After a few minutes
of web surfing, she smiled. “If you’re feeling up to it, there’s a show playing
tomorrow night. You’ll like these guys. They’re pretty beast.”

“Gee,
however will I repay you,” he said, less than enthused.

“You
don’t have to,” she chirped merrily. “Consider it my Christmas present to you.”

Oh.
Joy.

____________________

Adonis
paced the sidewalk. Down the street, the continuous line of people streamed
into the nondescript building.

Hipsters,
punks, freaks, and a scattering of the normal-attired, it seemed as if everyone
had crawled out of their respective holes tonight.

Such
was the Lower East Side.
 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He
felt overdressed in a bomber jacket, white tee and jeans. Maybe he should’ve worn
war paint like the joker in the front.

Relief
bloomed outward as his pocket vibrated. He pulled up her text.
I’m here.

“Where
the fuck is here?” he muttered.

“Here.”

Adonis
whipped around, ready to maim her for making him stand around
like
an idiot tourist.

He
forgot how to breathe.

Hair
pinned up in a high ponytail, her curls spiraled past her shoulders. She wore a
ripped Cannibal Corpse tee. The diagonal slashes unveiled a teasing hint of
cleavage above the black tank she wore underneath. Tight, black skinny jeans
molded to the shapely contour of her legs, adding devastating length. The
purple-black smudged eye shadow accented the starburst of hazels, greens, and
flecked gold in her eyes.

She
looked dark and lethal and ready to eat him alive.

Hell
if he would stop her.

“Adonis?
Are you ok?”

“What?
Yeah,” he said dumbly. “Your purse and shit’s in my car.”
 

“Aw,
more excuses to spend time with me,” she teased, sticking her cell into her
back pocket.

His
eyes followed its transit, jealous of the inanimate object tucked snugly
against her ass. “You wish.”

Tess
appraised his outfit. “At least you didn’t wear a button down. But I was
looking forward to shredding shirt.”

There
was still time for that.

Tess
propelled him toward the dwindling line.

He
never had to stand in line before. It should’ve pissed him off. But her
presence distracted him. Unaware of his stupor, Tess chattered about the
history of the band headlining.
 

She
shouldn’t have fazed him. He’d been with sexier woman. Smarter. More cultured.
More experienced.
 

So
what made her so different?

Adonis
recovered enough to pay for their tickets before she could locate her cash.
Luckily he didn’t have to hear her protests for long.

The
second the steel doors swung open, deafening music decimated half his brain
cells. Multicolored strobe lights, interspersed with flashing claps of white
light, zigzagged over the crush of people. The closer to the stage, the more
ravenous the fans became: pushing, shoving, and crashing into their neighbors.

So
this was the world of metal. He’d gotten into the genre after first being
introduced to coke. The ferocity of its sound would bleed into his veins and
make his highs higher, last longer.

He
ran his tongue across his gums, itching for a bump. Just one.

Tess
tugged his wrist, dispersing the old urge, and pointed to the balcony stairs.
She didn’t wait for him to agree before dragging him along. She sifted through
the crowd with surefooted nimbleness and fought for a spot against the
banister.

“So
this is your old stomping ground,” he said as the music died down.

Her
flashed him a grin that made his something spring in his chest. “Before my mom
married my stepfather I used to come here all the time. It used to be my only
escape. Nothing mattered except the music.”
 

“Why
did you give this up if it means so much to you?”

Her
expression wavered. “It was hard enough trying to fit in with your people. You
think showing up to class with black eyes and bruises would’ve made things
easier? Or even inviting anyone to a show?”

She
had a point.

Whistles
and cheers gained volume as the next band’s roadies finished sound checks.
Anticipation electrified the air.

She
rose to her toes and yelled into his ear, “I haven’t seen these guys since I
was fifteen, but they're fucking phenomenal.”

The
lights went out, immersing them in pitch darkness. A second later, the thundering
explosion of drums and squealing guitars split the atoms around him. The
variation swung from bone shattering power chords to dulcet, melancholic
vocals. As tension crept back into the singer’s voice, mirroring the instrumental
build up, it revived the frenzied pandemonium.

On
stage, the singer screamed for a circle pit. Like a whirlpool, the masses below
eddied to a slow churn. As they gained speed, so did the savagery.

Tess
nudged him. “You want to go down?”

Was
she out of her fucking mind?

He
wanted to say hell fucking no. But she practically whirred with excitement.
Adonis groaned, already regretting this shit. “Sure.”

With
an elated squeal, she guided him back down the steps and into the sweltering horde
of bodies.

Everyone
was mobile. People slam danced feet away,
head-banging
,
leaping into the pit and ramming into bystanders only to be thrown back into
the center of chaos.

Beside
him, Tess had already cut loose. She yanked off her hairband and rolled her
neck, whipping her hair in circles. She bounced on the balls of her feet. She
punched her metal horns into the air. She’d lost her mind.

And
he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He’d
never seen her look fiercer or freer. She wasn’t a wannabe trust fund baby or
trying to blend into her surroundings. She wasn’t a one-dimensional caricature
capable of only regurgitated ideas and thought.

This
was the real Tess.
 

Her
skin was flushed with sweat. Her make up had started running. She didn’t care.
No one seemed to care.

Maybe
that was the point.

As
he tuned back into the music, he realized she was the right. Their sound was
gritty, raw,
electric
. It was so much more intense
live than listening through headphones or his car’s stereo.

Just
as he began to lose himself in the madness, angry motions from his periphery distracted
him. He saw it happen slow motion: two guys swept up in an argument, the
subsequent shoving,
one
guy’s arm rearing back to
deliver the blow.

Adonis
couldn’t move fast enough to intercept.

Tess’s
head flung back as the guy’s elbow struck the side of her head.

Rage
blew through his body like wildfire as she stumbled into someone and fell to
the ground. His muscles seized, torn between snatching the asshole up by his
neck and helping her.

Swearing,
Adonis hauled her to her feet and slammed his way through the swarm to the
exit.

He’d
chosen the right time. Behind him, angry voices crested the music. Bouncers jostled
past them to break up the impending fight.

He
spun around once they broke free of the doors. “You ok?”

“I’m
fine.” She touched the side of her head and winced. “Happens all the time.”

“And
you think I’m the crazy one.” He released her. She teetered sideways. “You’re
not fine,” he snapped, reassuming his grip on her arm.

“Just
seeing a little double. It’ll go away.” She tried to shrug him off.

Adonis
ignored her and flagged a taxi. “We’re calling it a night.”

Tess
didn’t put up an argument.

Ten
minutes later they arrived at her building. Adonis used her access key to
activate the elevator. “What floor?”

She
flailed for the button.

“You
live in a penthouse?”

“Jealous?”

“Have
you seen my place?”

“Whatever.”
Tess turned away from him.

Her
laconicism bugged him. So he’d laid the arrogance on a little thick. It was who
he was and she needed to get over it.

The
elevator dinged.

She
led them inside. “Anybody home?”

There
was no answer.

He
automatically scoped out the layout. It was decent enough.
A
few rungs above modest, but nothing to write home about.
“Never thought
I’d ever actually see where you lived.”

“It’s
my stepfather’s.” She retrieved a plastic sandwich bag from the pantry.

He
leaned over the countertop and continued his survey. “Same difference.”

“No
it’s not. None of this is mine. The only person legally tied to this place or
him is my mother.”

Sensitive
much? “What happened to your real father?”

“I
don’t know,” she said tightly and bagged ice from the freezer drawer.

“You’re
lying.”

“It
doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because
I was curious. Seems like a fair trade given how much you know about me.”

“True
story.” Tess applied the ice to her temple and winced away from it.

“Idiot.
Cover it with something first.” He looked around and swiped a dishtowel hanging
from the oven. “Let me see.” Adonis inspected the damage. The skin next to her
right eye had already begun puffing with tender pinkness. No doubt tomorrow
she’d have one hell of a shiner. “It’s not too bad.”

A
smile crooked her lips. “Why are we always cleaning up after each other’s
messes?”

“Because
someone has to.” Concluding his preliminary examination, his gaze fastened to hers.