Down Beat Page 16

  “Why did you walk out on me?”

  He stares straight ahead as he strides. “It was either punch a hole in your wall, or head out for smokes. And given you’re broke as fuck, I figured you wouldn’t want to spring for drywall repairs.”

  “Um, excuse me.” I cock an eyebrow as we hustle along the sidewalk. “If you punched the hole, you’d fix it.”

  The whisper of a smile tugs at his lips. He glances at me from the corner of his eye, and then promptly steers us into the convenience store.

  “Ladies first.” He pulls the door open, shoulders hunched as he waits for me to go inside.

  “Why, thank you.” The surge of heat from the overhead blower smacks me in the face.

  It’s heaven.

  Rey wanders into the store, seemingly in his own little world as he heads for the drinks fridge. Me, on the other hand…. I’m stationed at the door like the fucking Secret Service, doing a sweep of the place to see if there are any other people who might recognize and accost him.

  How the hell does he do this day to day? How does it not get old being unable to step out your front door without wondering if somebody will know who you are? Wondering if somebody will be there to photograph you, or upload you to social media via live stream?

  Fuck fame. Being a nobody has its perks.

  “You want anything?”

  I snap my attention back to the man of the moment as he lifts an energy drink from the fridge. How on earth is he not freezing his ass off in only holey jeans and a T-shirt?

  “No. I’m fine.”

  The guy behind the counter watches our interaction with dead eyes. I shake off the creepy vibe it gives me and hustle to Rey’s side.

  “When did you last have a cigarette?” Probably half the reason why he’s so testy.

  He scratches his chin with the fingers of the hand holding his bottle, seeming to think the question over. “Before the flight. So, five-ish, I think?”

  “How early were you up this morning?” Is this going to be a regular part of touring too? Predawn arguments between the band?

  “I never went to bed.” He throws me a wink before asking the guy behind the counter for a pack of cigarettes.

  I stand aside while he completes the transaction, strangely turned on by the sight of him as he then rips the pack open and uses his bottom lip to pull one out. He has that effortless James Dean look about him as he tucks the rest in his pocket and juggles the lighter with his drink.

  “Here.” I take the bottle from him and hold the door open.

  He passes through to the street and immediately sparks the stick. The look on his face can only be described as orgasmic.

  “Better?”

  Rey’s eyes close as he lets out a long sigh. “Fuck, yes.” He flicks his gaze to me, lifting the cigarette between us. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  I shrug. “Can’t say I like it, but it’s not a deal breaker.”

  He chuckles. “You know, you should have said it would be.”

  “Why?” I uncap his drink and pass it back to him.

  He makes a face as though impressed at my service. “Because if you’d said me smoking was a problem, it would have given me reason to quit.”

  “Then yes, it’s a problem.” I smile.

  He smirks, taking another pull. “No take backs.”

  “Asshole.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” He waggles his eyebrows before sucking in another deep drag.

  “You know.” I fidget with my jacket to save from stepping into his space and suffocating myself. “I don’t see you as anything other than you. You aren’t a label to me, Rey. None of them.”

  He stares off across the road. He doesn’t believe me; it’s as clear as day.

  “I get you think that I’m just saying what you want to hear, but maybe after we spend some time together you’ll see that I mean it.”

  He ducks his chin, staring down at the ground as he smokes the last of the cigarette. “I want to believe you, kitty.”

  “But your heart won’t let you?”

  “My head won’t let me.” He matches my gaze with his own, the frustration at himself clear in the darkness of his irises. “I get I asked you to come back with me to help, but that doesn’t mean we have to talk about how much of a fuckup I am every second of the goddamn day, okay?”

  He takes an abrupt step past me to head home, punching his hands against his sides as he hugs his arms to himself. “Coming?”

  “Yeah.”

  Although the more he fights against me, the more I wonder if he was telling me the truth about why he needs me, or if Rey Thomas was simply telling a naive girl with modest dreams what she wanted to hear so that he could get what he was after: company.

  Do I even want to know?

  THIRTY-ONE

  Rey

  “I’m Not Sick but I’m Not Well” – Harvey Danger

  Kendall stares at me from her spot perched on the barstool at the kitchen counter. I lean my ass against the edge of the sofa, arms folded, and eyeball her in return.

  Bitch doesn’t trust me.

  Tabby crosses between us, fussing as she packs a bag or two to bring on the tour. My hands ping with pins and needles—the need to reach out and snag her to prove that Tabby belongs with me, intense.

  “How long will you be gone for?” Kendall asks as Tabby wanders past, boots in hand.

  She pauses at her friend’s question, and turns to look at me for the answer.

  “We have four weeks left.”

  I need another smoke already—this bullshit seriously pushes me to my limit. Yeah, so I walked out on the guys. Fuck it. It was either get my ass over here for a mental health break, or they could have dealt with the fun that would have been covering up my utter breakdown mid-set.

  I’m done with this shit: done with the pressure, and done with the constant rush, rush, rush. Done. I want to slow down. I crave a week somewhere without the goddamn internet so I can find my fucking Zen or whatever the hell it is people do when they go recluse.

  All I know, is I’m done with people. Give me a month in solitude with my guitar, and I’ll give you five new tracks. But force me to play when I don’t want to, force me to pretend that everything is honky fucking dory, and I swear to God the press will have a field day with the fallout.

  “What about the music you were working on, Tab?” Kendall holds my eye as she calls out to her buddy.

  Kitty’s voice carries from her bedroom. “I’ll still work on it.”

  “What music?” I ask, suckered in hook, line, and sinker.

  Café Girl snarls as she looks me head to toe before answering. “Tabitha has a career too, you know.”

  Damn thing is missing in action, if you ask me. “I said I’d talk with Wally about getting her exposure, so your point is?”

  “Does this really help her? Or your ego? Do you honestly think you can come in here and demand she drop everything for you?”

  “I asked nicely, Kendall. Used my manners, and all.” I scowl at her.

  She pulls a face at me before storming off in kitty’s direction. The girl’s loyal—I get that. But it’s not as though I strong-armed Tabby into coming with me. I may have laid on the charm a little, but that was out of sheer desperation, not ill intent.

  I need the woman like I need air to breathe.

  Without her I suffocate, and unless anybody has some handy tricks on how to sing when your lungs are void of oxygen, then the only way I’ll make it through the rest of this tour is with my safety blanket beside me: Tabby.

  “Just drop it,” kitty hisses under her breath as she enters the room sans Kendall. “What time is our flight?”

  “6:00 A.M.”

  Her lips twist as she jerks the zipper closed on the duffle in her hand. “You think there might be somewhere close to the airport with a free room?”

  I frown at the frantic little thing. “Why?” Doesn’t she want to stay here? “What happened to pizza night?”
>
  Her gaze cuts to the hall before she leans in to whisper. “Let’s just say things are a little chilly in here.”

  “Gotcha.” Things are damn near arctic with that buddy of hers around. I check the time on my phone, ignoring the notifications on the lock screen. “There’s literally eight hours until we leave. It’s not long enough to worry about a room somewhere.” As much as I’d love that alone time to pet my sexy little pussy. “We can crash at the airport if you really don’t want to stay here.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Why? Because I’m supposed to be handled with fancy white gloves?”

  Her lips twist up on one side as the duffle falls from her hand. It hits the floor with a thud. “No. I just didn’t want you drawing any unnecessary attention.”

  She takes a tentative step toward me, most likely still on edge after the way I blew up at her earlier. I reach out and take her hand, tugging her against me. She falls against my leg, her feet either side of mine as she straddles me where I lean against the sofa.

  “I think I drew enough attention when I forced a show to be canceled and disappeared.”

  “And then you reappear at an airport halfway across the country with the girl who opened your surprise show last week.” She lifts a slender finger to trace my lips. “How do you think that would look?”

  I nip the tip of her digit, holding it hostage for a moment before answering. “I guess it would look like that girl meant something to me.”

  “Yeah?” She sets her hand on my shoulder, gaze on my mouth. “What kind of something?”

  “The sort of something that makes a man do crazy things like walk out on a sold-out show to be with her.”

  She says no more, simply smiling. I lean down to close the gap between us, my lips getting the barest tease of hers before that pain in the ass friend of kitty’s ruins the moment.

  “Seriously?”

  Tabby pulls back as though Kendall jolted her in the ass with a cattle prod, stepping away with a flush in her cheeks. “Sorry.”

  “Why?” I snap, throwing my shoulders up. “Why are you sorry?”

  The look I get from Café Girl is nothing short of killer.

  “I didn’t realize she was in here,” Tabby murmurs, hands running nervously over the ass of her jeans.

  “So what if she fucking is?” I push off the sofa, throwing a hand out toward Kendall.

  “Maybe I don’t fancy seeing you stick your tongue down my best friend’s throat?”

  “Jealous?” Yeah, I’m an ass.

  Kendall’s eyes narrow as she slowly shakes her head. “Questioning your motives, actually.”

  I cock an eyebrow at her, Tabby quiet between us as she stares at the floor.

  “You’ve known Tab for a week,” Kendall explains. “Ten fucking days to be exact, Rey. Makes me wonder why you want her with you, truthfully. Is she just another bed warmer? Another person you can use up and toss aside when the thrill of the tour is over?”

  “You’re fucked, woman.” If she’d bothered to do any research on me, looked up anything at all, she’d see that I spend most of my time alone.

  “Am I?” The bitch rounds the counter, placing herself possessively beside Tabby.

  That shit doesn’t sit right me with one fucking bit.

  “If you want me to let her out that door,” Kendall levels, “then you better give me one damn good reason why I should let you have her.”

  “Babe,” Tabby whispers to her friend.

  “No, Tab. I want to hear it. What’s his fucking reason for coming in here and expecting you to drop everything to jump on his schedule?”

  I swallow hard, pissed that she’s put me on the spot like this. I’m full-on when I’m invested in someone. It’s all in or nothing at all, and I kind of wanted to hide that from Tabby for a bit longer before I freaked her out with my intensity.

  “If I leave here without her,” I explain, “then there is no tour.”

  “Blackmail.” Kendall stares at me, head bobbing with her lips in a firm line. “That’s low, Rey.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” My fists curl at my sides. I seek out Tabby, holding her gaze as I drop the weight of it on her. “If I leave here without you, kitty, there’s no more tour because there’s no more me. I meant it when I said I was done. I need you. I don’t know why, I just know that nothing gives me reason to look forward to tomorrow like you do.”

  Kendall slams a hand to her face in my periphery, yet I stay fixed on the only person who matters. Yeah, it sounded cheesy as shit, but it’s also true. I couldn’t get Tabby out of my head from the moment she stormed that theater, and at first it confused me. I mean, why was this literal stranger in my every waking thought? Why did I care whether her concert was ruined or not? What fucks did I have to give where she went, or what she did after she walked out of that auditorium?

  But then after a while it made sense. She made me fight for her attention. She didn’t gush over me, or try too hard to get my attention. She stayed true and genuine to who she is, and that creature, the one who stands before me chewing on her lip, is a breath of fresh air.

  And God knows I need one when the tour suffocates me to the point of delirium.

  “I won’t be held accountable, Rey,” she whispers as she takes a step toward me. “I get what you’re saying, and like I told you, I want to help. I will help. But the guilt doesn’t land on me. This is your fight, your victory. Don’t burden me with the responsibility of keeping you around.” She sets a palm on my chest, eyes locked with mine. “That stays squarely on your shoulders, okay?”

  “I can’t carry that weight anymore.” I hang my head and chuckle. Who is this pussy I’ve become? “To tell you the honest truth, I’m scared, kitty. I’m scared of what I’ll do when I hit my next low.”

  “Then we make sure you don’t get that low, again.”

  “Tabitha,” Kendall pleads. “He isn’t your responsibility, honey.”

  “No,” I agree, reaching for Tabby’s face as I answer Kendall. “She’s mine.”

  Fuck her roommate.

  If I want to kiss this goddamn woman, then there isn’t a fucking thing that’s going to stop me.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tabitha

  “Interstate Love Song” – Stone Temple Pilots

  Kendall pleaded for me to stay at home, saying that it was crazy that we were even entertaining the idea of sleeping at the airport. Yet I refused. I can’t say why it was, but a part of me worried that if I had one more night in my own bed then I might overthink this whole crazy idea and change my mind.

  I didn’t want that chance to analyze the fun out of it. I can’t remember the last time I simply up and did something on a whim, trusting my gut instinct. Every decision I’ve made since leaving home has been thoroughly thought out, dissected, and all scenarios taken into account.

  This? It’s an adventure. One I’m not likely to ever get again, and if I’m not going to get the chance to go places with my own music, then I’m hardly going to turn down the opportunity to experience what the life of a professional musician is like by living it vicariously through somebody else’s fame.

  “Why are you smiling?” Rey picks at the shared meal laid out between us, a lazy smile on his lips.

  We’re seated on the floor facing each other near the entrance to the terminal, tucked behind the huge scales they have to check your luggage weight. The only thing open for food at this time of night was a coffee shop halfway between domestic and international. Still, our shared late-night supper of coffee and brownie couldn’t be more perfect.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how crazy this is.”

  He huffs a small laugh before popping more chocolaty goodness in his mouth.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little nuts?” I ask.

  He shrugs as he swallows. “Maybe. Why, though? What’s crazy about it?”

  “Kendall was right.” I spin my takeout cup in hand. “We’ve known each other
a couple of weeks.”

  “I don’t have to know you long to know that I like being with you, kitty.”

  “I know.” I take a sip to avoid looking at him. The intensity of his gaze is bad enough without actually locking eyes with the guy. “But outside of the fact I play violin, what do you know about me, huh? What if I’m the one who can’t be trusted?”

  “If you were going to sell me out, you would have done it by now,” he levels. “I trust you.”

  “How, when you hardly know me?”

  “Why do you trust me?” He catches my eye, holding it as he pushes the last of the brownie my way. “I’ve had my half.”

  “You can have more if you’re hungry.”

  “Eat, kitty.”

  I pick up a crumbling mouthful and pop it in as he watches me. Damn. I’m kind of glad I didn’t give any up now—this is good.

  “Tell me about you,” Rey instructs as I continue to eat. “What should I know about this foxy little woman who knocked me on my ass?”

  I grin at his jest, heated by the challenge I find in his eyes. He meant every damn word. Wow. Can’t say I’ve ever been called foxy before.

  “Well.” I lick my fingers off one by one. “I’m an only child.”

  “Huh.”

  “Does that surprise you?” I bundle the rubbish, shoving the crumb-filled napkin back in the paper bag.

  Rey shrugs one shoulder as he reaches out to take it from me. “All the people I’ve met who are only children have been entitled assholes.”

  “Really?” I know the stereotype, but I didn’t think it was that honest of a representation.

  “What else?” He sits up straight and pulls his arm back, lobbing the trash toward the bin behind me. It goes in on the first attempt.

  “Nicely done.”

  “Thank you.” He grins, scooting around so his back is against the wall. “What else, kitty? What made you take off to play the violin?”

  My fingers walk across the fibers of the carpet as I try to summarize what pushed me to make the decision. “I hated playing at first.”

  “Because you wanted to play football.”