Page 80 of The Bridges I've Burned

“What’s your poison?” Hendrix asked. He handed me a plate and a napkin. “Hard rock? Metal? Alternative?”

“I grew up listening to a little bit of everything—whatever my brother could get his hands on. He’d sneak off to this record shop in town, and they had a small CD section, and he’d buy whatever they had—within reason,” I added with a grin. “I think after a while, the owner took notice and saved stuff for him.”

“Did he ever play? Your brother?”

I shook my head. “He never really got the option, growing up, but I think he would have liked to.”

We all started fixing our plates. I was happy to see they’d ordered a salad in addition to the pizza and plopped down a large amount next to my single slice.

We all took a seat in the living room and sat in companionable silence as we ate.

Finally, Hendrix looked up and asked, continuing our conversation from earlier, “Do you like anything modern? Or do you mostly just stick to the classics?”

I wiped my mouth with my napkin, catching Zander’s gaze. “I listen to modern stuff.”

Hendrix, having finished his pizza ages ago, absently plucked out a tune on his bass.

“Is that Manic at Midnight?” I asked him, and I swore Zander grimaced.

“Yeah. You a fan?”

I shrugged. “They’re all right. Their earlier stuff is pretty good,” I said.

Daniel had actually tried to get tickets to one of their concerts when they came to a small venue in Richmond a long time ago, but it sold out too quickly. Even back then, they had been crazy popular.

“Are they even still together? You know, since?—”

“Since their lead guitarist knocked up a seventeen-year-old minor and then tried to pay her off to say it wasn’t his?” Hendrix interjected.

“Yeah, that.” I winced. I’d already known that, but even hearing it again out loud made me sick. “Seriously, who does that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Hendrix said. “My dad works in the music industry and has heard it all. But Mitch is one of those guys who let it all go to his head. He wasn’t always like that, and unfortunately, he didn’t give a shit who he took down with him when he spiraled.”

“I guess fame doesn’t always bring out the best in everyone.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Zander had been suspiciously silent during this whole tangent of conversation, leaning back against the sofa with his head slightly bent, as if he were an observer rather than a participant.

“I, um, really like Vertigo,” I said, hoping to redirect the conversation. “I was actually telling Zander how jealous I was that he got to tour with them. I love their album.”

“They’re great,” Hendrix said. “And their lead singer? So fucking hot. Zander was an idiot to pass on that, but he’s a stickler for his ‘rules.’” I didn’t miss the way Hendrix made little air quotes around the last word and rolled his eyes.

“Rules?” I didn’t know why I was probing for more information regarding this particular subject. It wasn’t like I wanted to know more about Zander’s sexual exploits on or off the road. In fact, the mere thought of it made the pizza in my stomach start to churn.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure. It never ends well,” he simply stated, setting his plate on the coffee table before settling back into the plush sofa.

“So, you’re saying two consenting adults can’t have a casual relationship?” Hendrix pressed.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Zander argued, shifting in his seat as he eyed his friend. “But when you add the element of working together, it can blur the line of professionalism, and that’s when it gets messy.”

“I agree with that.” I nodded.

“Yeah?” Hendrix set his bass down and headed to the kitchen for more pizza.

“I had this thing going with a coworker years ago before I started dating—” I realized neither of these men knew anything about my dating history, so mentioning my previous long-term boyfriend who was no longer in the picture was pointless. “Anyway, it was great for a while.” Fucking hot, actually, but I didn’t need to go into detail. “And then we got put on the same case. When he started slacking and I had to call him on it…”

“I bet that went over well.” Hendrix grimaced, returning with four pieces of pepperoni piled high on his plate.

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