Page 42 of Kneeling for Them
After we’re in his car and I’m buckled in, he pulls out his phone and looks at the screen.
“Have you heard from Sebastian?”I ask.
“No,” he says with a frown.
“Is he all right?”
“I think so.But he’s going to be so fucking disappointed at what he missed tonight.Happy Valentine’s Day, little one.”
I yawn and snuggle against his chest.“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy.”
Ten
Sebastian
“What the fuck are you doing here?”I ask Trina.
The woman is entirely out of place in this dive, wearing a pair of designer jeans and a purple cashmere sweater that matches her lips.Her black boots were created for style, not for kicking ass, and her handbag alone is probably worth more than this entire bar.
She looks over the three full glasses in front of me—vodka tonic, tequila, and beer—then reaches for my shot of tequila and swallows it in one gulp.Her straight blond hair swings with the motion, and there’s a challenge in her green eyes.
“I was going to drink that,” I say.
“No, you weren’t.You haven’t touched alcohol in six years.”She sets down the shot glass.Her plum lipstick has stained the rim.
Annoyed, I run a hand through my hair.“How’d you even find me in this dive?”
“Social media.Someone posted about seeing you nearby.”
I don’t know where I need to go for a fucking shred of privacy, but apparently a dive bar in a sketchy neighborhood isn’t even safe.
“You haven’t said why you’re here.”I nudge the vodka tonic and IPA toward her.
She grabs the vodka tonic and takes a sip before wrinkling her nose.“This is terrible.”
I shrug.“This place is a dive for a reason.”
“Anyway, I’m checking in on my number one rockstar,” she says.“My agent instincts are going haywire and I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’ve told you all there is to tell,” I say.“I’m working through some songs, waiting for something that clicks.”
“It’s not always about clicking.”She finishes the vodka tonic and shudders.“It’s about doing the work, putting in the hours.If your muse isn’t showing up, you chase that bitch down and make her work for you.That’s how it always was with you before, Bastian, and I don’t know why it isn’t that way now.Because I don’t see the hardworking musician and lyricist I brought out of the college bars—I see a brooding rockstar who needs to stop whining and get to work—”
I tune her out as man outside walks past the bar’s grimy window.He has curly brown hair stuffed beneath a ball cap, full lips, a cleft chin.Ella showed me a picture of her brother, Tommy, and this guy looks just like him.
“Bastian?”Trina says, her green eyes sharp.“Are you listening?”
“Wait a second,” I say, standing up.
She grabs for my arm, but I shake myself away before she can make contact, and then I’m running out of the bar.
I stare hard in the direction the man was walking.“Tommy!”I shout.
Nobody turns around except the couple closest to me, who look annoyed that I’m being loud.
If it was Tommy, he’s long gone.Sighing, I go back inside to Trina.
“Are you seeing things now, too?”she asks.“That’ll be something for the headlines.We could make hallucinations work for your brand.”
