Page 40 of Rock Bottom

I stumbled up the stairs and yanked open my top drawer, sifting through it in search of my wallet. An angry tear slipped down my cheek as I pulled my shirt over my head. I used it to mop up my face. Screw him. I should’ve known better than to think he gave a damn about me. I was just another job to him. Of course I was. What else was I supposed to be? It was my own damn fault. I’d mistakenly thought that because he didn’t care about music, maybe he could care about me.

I pulled on a plain white tank and grabbed my leather jacket. There was a red ball cap at the bottom of my bag. I put my hair up and tugged it on before adding the sunglasses. When I looked in the mirror, I could almost pass as human and not some washed-up addict hiding out in the woods.

That’s exactly what I am. I swallowed the bile coating my tongue and went to the window. At least now I don’t have to pretend to be anything else.

Tappy’s was crowded, badly lit, and the acoustics were shit. The stage consisted of a couple of two-by-fours held together with dreams and wood glue. Pool balls clacked together in an unsteady beat and waitresses in Daisy Dukes and t-shirts two sizes too small served bad beer to patrons in patched leather vests.

It was exactly the kind of place I used to play, and that made it easier to slip into old habits. When Oscar came back from the bar with two beers, I didn’t even hesitate. I took it and drank, part of me half-expecting someone to stop me. When no one did, it felt like confirmation. I was in control. I didn’t need Sam, or Remi, or Church telling me what I could and couldn’t handle. One drink wasn’t a problem, so maybe I wasn’t the problem.

“So…” Oscar tapped his fingers on his glass. “What do you think?”

I glanced toward the stage and shrugged. “Not bad.”

He grinned. “I told you, right? They’re no After Atom, but who is, right?” He gave my shoulder a light punch.

I rubbed the spot. “Right.” An uneasy feeling churned in my stomach. I lifted the glass and drowned it in cheap beer.

“Hey, listen,” Oscar started, “about yesterday…”

“Water under the bridge,” I replied and put down the empty glass.

“I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of creep or anything, Dante. I shouldn’t have done that. But…I really do like you.”

I turned the empty glass in circles. “Oscar…”

“Just hear me out.” Oscar’s hand came down over mine. “Give me a chance. I mean, I know you’re not dating anyone else.”

I frowned and pulled my hand away. “Who says?”

“I looked online. Plus, even if you are dating someone, you don’t really love them. That’s why you’re stuck on this song. You need a new muse. I can be that for you.”

I leaned away from him with a frown. This was veering too far into creepy territory for me and I needed to shut it down before it got out of hand. “I think you’ve gotten the wrong idea, Oscar.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes and he clenched his jaw. “I’m not good enough for you? Is that it?”

“What? No, I didn’t say that.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Don’t say no,” he whispered. “Not yet. Just give me a chance to show you. You mean everything to me, Dante. Is it because I’m just a housekeeper? That’s only a temp job. I’ll quit if you want me to.”

“No, Oscar, I—”

“And I don’t own much. I can sell my stuff and move to LA. It’s not a problem. I’d do it for you.” He put his hand over mine again and gave me a pleading look. “I’d do anything for you.”

I chewed on my bottom lip and glanced past him to the exit. I needed to get the hell out of there, but how? He was my ride, and it was too far to walk back to the cabin, even if I knew where it was. I needed to call Church. He’d be pissed, but at least he’d get me out of there.

I swallowed the fear blocking my throat and forced myself to smile. “How about we start with another beer?”

“Dante, did you hear me?” I stood at the bottom of the stairs, frowning up at his silence.

The last two days I’d spent in bed had given me a lot of time to think. Initially, after what happened between us, I was ready to shut this down—whatever this was between us. I thought I had to stay away from Dante Deluca because I wasn’t strong enough to resist him. My job was the one good thing I had in the world, the one thing I had left to be proud of. I was good at it. Putting all that on the line for a fling was irresponsible of me, and that’s all this could ever be.

But then the bastard had to go and ruin it by being a downright decent man the last few days, taking care of me while I was sick. I couldn’t help but start to wonder what we could be if we gave this a fair go.

So, I was going to tell him the truth over dinner, that I was interested, but that it could never work. I had a whole speech planned to let him down easily over a steak and kidney pie.

And then my mum called and ruined everything.

I couldn’t believe her. The bloody audacity of that woman, phoning just to tell me she and Helena had decided Harvey and I should go on a date. Never mind that Harvey was a backstabbing Thatcherite who’d only come out of the closet when it was politically convenient for him. He gladly threw every slur in the book at me through secondary school while still bending me over at every luncheon, every rally, every bloody tea our families held. I wondered if his mother would be so keen on us as a couple if she knew we were fucking before either of us knew what fucking was.

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