Page 1 of Crazy Love
-1-
Nathaniel Darke
“Sign it with big smoochy kisses.”
I pause when I hear the footsteps approaching, silver Sharpie poised over the back of a T-shirt that Dane’s current squeeze is modelling. Officially, she’s running the merchandise table for tonight’s gig, but it’s hard to see how she’s going to shift much stuff while her lips are glued to those of my idiot younger brother.
I glance upward without raising my head, unsurprised by what I find. This showdown was scheduled the moment I saw Bitch Slap were on tonight’s billing. If I was a good brother, I’d give Dane a kick, but we’re not exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment. Not after the bastard blew me off and left me to talk to the music execs alone while he did the horizontal mambo with a girl he’d picked up in the taxi rank. Not this girl—the current one he’s playing throat hockey with—or one of the three rock chicks approaching. At least, I don’t think it was. With Dane, it’s hard to predict, especially of late.
“Hi, Jess,” he says, coming up for air right before she strikes.
Oh, yes!
Right hook.
Smack on the nose.
No one can accuse Jessie Lyn of hitting like a girl. There’s power enough in her skinny frame to lay most guys out cold.
Dane’s head snaps backward. The girl in between them yelps, then makes a sensible choice and ducks before Jessie decides on a follow up.
Instead, Ms. Lyn contents herself with a growl that sounds an awful lot like “Bastard, fuckwit, shit prick!”
I can’t honestly disagree with most of those.
“What the fuck?” Dane yells.
Aw, shit!
Dane only goes and wallops her right back. Fucking dickwad of a brother. I’m not saying he should stand around and take it, but striking a woman, even when provoked, is plain barbaric.
I’m going to have to friggin’ intervene.
Then again, given that it’s three against one, maybe just sitting tight exactly where I am, is a better plan.
Jessie recoils like a spring, fists raised ready to block anything else that’s coming. Her two band mates, girls I’ve never clapped eyes on before, but who look as if they’ll happily put his eyes out, and then stuff his dick down his own throat, circle in from the sides, velociraptor-style.
“Do you want to tell me what your fucking problem is?” Dane yells, while throwing me a side-eye.
Like I’m actually going to provide him with back-up.
Well, I might if things get serious. I do need him in full working order for the gig tonight given everything that’s at stake.
I dip my chin and pucker my lips into a kiss, letting him know I’m keeping Caitlyn safe. Not that I imagine Dane recalls her name. Apparently, it’s old-fashioned to want to know whose mouth you’re tasting. Guess I’m plain archaic.
Meanwhile, Caitlyn has wedged herself between my feet and the end of the merchandise table.
“Hypocritical Bitch,” Jessie yells.
It’s a storming song. Not one of our best, but definitely Dane’s best offering.
“What about it?”
Jessie’s eyebrow’s shoot up her forehead, because, yeah, we all know it’s about her. I know, Knox and Joel know, Jessie and her two pals, hell, even Caitlyn knows, and I’m not sure she’d heard anything by us prior to an hour ago. Anyone who’s ever heard the track knows, because while the lyrics stop short of actually mentioning Jessie by name. He only went and slapped her likeness on the goddamned cover sleeve.
“It’s just a song.” Dane smirks showing far too many teeth. It’ll be his own fault if she knocks a few of them out. “As if you meant enough for me to want to sing about your skinny arse every night.”
Jessie comes for him like a pinball. Lightning fast. She ignores his face this time, and aims low. Grabs hold of his tackle and squeezes so hard he’ll be singing soprano tonight. Let’s hope Knox is up to filling in on backing vocals, because we need this gig to be A-grade given who’s going to be out there watching.
