Page 21 of Wes

After the initial shock, my mind focuses on the list of things that need to be done.

Jutting my chin up, I rattle as Trish takes notes, “Email the volunteers, both people who work at the orphanage and the ones who help out only with the charity events. We need all boots on the ground today. Tell them to be here by midday. Contact the creatives who design our campaigns. We need posters and banners for this afternoon. And call the local news stations. Let them know Voss & Berkfield wants to shutdown Welcoming Hills, but we won’t go down without a fight.”

8

WES

Taking my eyes off the glass of whiskey I’ve been nursing for the last half-hour; I glance over my shoulder. Jerry & Ron’s Lounge is packed, but nobody gives a damn that a couple of world-famous musicians have parked their asses on the bar stools. That’s always the case here, which makes us keep coming back. That and the fact that Ron’s friendship with Logan secured us a place to rehearse back in the day when Muse of Darkness joined the ranks of countless hopefuls. Since we made it to the Big League of Music Stardom, we try to return Ron’s kindness by performing pocket shows here whenever possible.

Tonight is not one of these occasions.

“We haven’t played here in a while,” Nick blurts.

The uncanny way his words echo my thought sends a chill down my spine.

“Ugh!” I shiver. “Reading minds now or something?”

“I wish.” His belly laugh turns a couple of heads our way and earns a headshake from Sylvie, the bartender. “If I read minds, this flat stool wouldn’t be making my ass numb as I wait for Your Highness to spill the tea. What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

I peer into his deep-set green eyes that reflect the stark whiteness of his button-down. Dropping my gaze to his jeans and colorful sneakers, I run out of items to catalog as I buy time.

With a sigh, I confess, “You’re absolutely right.”

He waits for me to go on for a moment as I study the bottom of my glass.

When I don’t say another word, he nudges my side with his elbow. “What’s so hard that you can’t talk about? I’ve got my suspicions, but I’d rather you told me. What the hell has been eating you since you’ve returned from São Paulo?”

The rough cotton of my T-shirt tickles my palm as I rub it on my chest and belly. I battle a wave of queasiness as the thudding of my heart cuts off the flow of oxygen to my brain.

When I trust my voice, I confess in a pained whisper, “I wish I knew, bro.” I resume staring at the untouched amber liquid in the glass and shake my head. “I’ve no clue what’s wrong.”

“Does Maria have anything to do with it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat at the mention of her name. It pierces my chest like a fucking spear.

His hand lands on my shoulder with a whack, his fingers dig into the stiff muscles there. “I’m sorry to be the one to burst your bubble; but you’ve got it bad, Wes.”

Arguing with Nick won’t get me anywhere. Not because I agree I’m in love with Maria. But because I can’t label the fucking feelings I have for her. They aren’t romantic. That much I know.

I hang my head. “Thinking about her brings me physical pain. It’s been like this every waking moment, and most of my sleepless nights, for the past thirty days.” Sipping from the glass, I relish the path of fiery sensation down my throat. At least, this time it’s the whiskey. “I don’t understand what happened.”

Nick reminds me, “You were the one who suggested the one-and-done thing.”

I cover my face with my hands and groan. “Fuck! I know.” I flop my hands back on the marble counter cussing Nick’s good memory. With a sidelong glance, I add, “I’ve also told you that I regretted it, that I just said what I did because I thought she wanted to hear it.”

“Yeah, but the other day you claimed you did the right thing. You said to me that you and Maria could never have a future together. That it wouldn’t work. Forgive me if I’m confused.”

“You and me both. And that’s what’s driving me nuts. Conflicting ideas chase each other in my head.” I pause for a beat. “Despite the undeniable attraction, I thought Maria was uptight when we first met. She made it clear she wasn’t into rock stars let alone me.” I take another swig as I sift my wayward emotions to wrangle them into coherent thoughts. My shoulders droop. “But halfway through that night, I experienced a connection with her I’d never had before. It was so much more than sexual gratification, more like at soul level, you know?”

Nick throws his hands in the air, guffawing. “It must be a bug that’s going around. It got Logan; then, Erik, and now, you. Keep away from me!”

“I’m not inlovewith the woman!” I enunciate it like it’s a curse word. “It’s just an unresolved issue, okay? Like a door that hasn’t closed all the way and it bothers you until you go back and slam it shut.”

Nick nods as I present the analogy, but his smirk speaks volumes. “Sweeping stuff under the rug is a very healthy attitude. If you want your subconscious to kick you in the ass when you least expect.”

I roll my shoulders as I weigh his words. He knows a thing or two about the subject. His mother headed the Department of Psychology at Harvard before passing away.

When I remain silent, he asks, “What are you going to do?”

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