Page 12 of Bassist With Benefits
“Not in front of the dog.” Jeremy covered Brandy’s eyes with his hands. “It’s like watching her parents.” Brandy snorted and flipped her head back in an attempt to shake Jeremy’s hands off her eyes, and her head made contact with his cheek. Jeremy flinched and rubbed the side of his face. “Ow! You’ve got a hard head.”
Derek let out a hearty laugh. “Serves you right for thinking it was funny when she clocked me in the nuts.” He stopped smiling and leaned forward to look closely at Jeremy’s face. “Oh shit. Did she just do that?”
“Do what?”
“That bruise. On your cheek.”
Jeremy shook his head so his long hair fell in front of his face. “I don’t have a bruise.”
“Sure you do. It’s right there.” Derek tried to move Jeremy’s hair out of the way, but Jeremy pushed his hand away.
“Did she hurt you?” Concerned, Cam moved to the edge of his seat and peered across the couch trying to get a look at Jeremy’s cheek. “Bad girl, Brandy,” he scolded the dog. “What’d you do to Jeremy?”
“She didn’t do it.” Jeremy let out a deep sigh. “Don’t blame her.”
“Well, who the fuck did it?” Derek asked.
Alan felt the blood drain from his face, and he lowered his eyes. He had punched his best friend in the jaw like an animal, and he felt like a piece of shit. His arms went slack and the magazine slipped off his lap and tumbled to the floor.
Derek turned to look at Alan, the accusation clear in his eyes. “Did you do that? Did you hit him when you were arguing this morning?”
If Alan’s cheeks went white before, they must be fire engine red right now. Guilt ripped into him. He didn’t know he had hit Jeremy that hard. It was a gut reaction, one he wished he could take back right now more than anything else. He hadn’t noticed a bruise on Jeremy’s cheek, though. No one had, probably because the guy’s hair was always in his face. Or maybe Jeremy had been purposely hiding it.
“You had a fist fight?” Cam sat back, shock evident in his slackened jaw.
Brandon was shaking his head, but wearing a small smile. “You two never grow up.”
Alan was queasy with guilt and thought he might hurl. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Jeremy’s. “I’m really sorry.”
“No big deal.” A smile cracked the tension. “For a guy with big guns, I thought you’d hit a lot harder.”
Alan returned a lackluster smile while his gut clenched. Jeremy was like family. Over the years, there had been countless times when he had wanted to knock Jeremy’s head off his shoulders, but he had never once thrown a punch. None of them had. “Can I see it?”
“What? My cheek?” Jeremy backed away. “No. It’s nothing.”
“Let me see,” Alan demanded.
Jeremy paused, then pulled his hair back and turned his head. “See? Nothing.”
There was a scruffy red mark that looked like a rug burn on Jeremy’s lower jaw, back by his ear, with a slight bluish tint bordering the perimeter of the bruise. Alan’s heart deflated and heat flushed his cheeks. He could have broken his friend’s jaw or knocked out a tooth. “I… I don’t know what to say, Jeremy. Except I’m sorry.”
Jeremy’s eyes bore into Alan’s with intense seriousness. “Say we’re still friends. Say we can move past what happened.”
Alan would do anything to make up for hitting his friend. Nothing was worth coming between their friendship. If Jeremy could forgive Alan for hitting him, Alan could certainly forget about a harmless little blowjob, even if it was a monumental act that would now serve as a baseline for comparison for all blowjobs to come. “Yeah.” He nodded. “We’re good.”
The band arrived in Cincinnati to a swarm of fans blocking the entrance to the hotel.
“Wow.” Cam cupped his hands against the glass to block the glare on the window and inspected the crowd. “How are we going to get through that? I have to walk my dog.”
“Don’t worry,” Brandon reassured him. “Felix will have security clear an area for her.” Brandon hugged the dog. “I’ll make sure you can pee in peace, girl.”
“Look at this!” Cam exclaimed. “I’ll bet there are no barricades in place on purpose.”
Alan stood to look over Cam’s shoulder and out the window. There was an explosion of fans pressed up against the bus, shouting, waving and calling their individual names. In the background, two cameras from Twin Media were filming the crowd. After they got the shot, security hauled out the barricades and made a safe zone between the bus and the front doors to the hotel. Alan shook his head. “They’re just overpaid paparazzi. This rockumentary is going to be a fucking joke.”
“It’s not so bad,” Brandon reasoned. “The fans are safely behind the barricade now, and it made a nice effect for our arrival. It’ll look cool on film.”
Jeremy stood next to Alan, also looking out the window. Any other time, the closeness of their bodies wouldn’t have bothered Alan, but now the small hairs on his back prickled. He slowly turned toward Jeremy, holding his breath.
