Page 17 of Crazy Love
I head into the ladies’ bathroom to straighten up my clothes and wash the scent of him off my skin before I track down Jessie and Ivy. There’s no sense in advertising what happened. No good will come of it, but at the same time, I refuse to feel guilty over something that gave me such an impressive high. There aren’t that many guys who have got me off, and none of them have done it without a heck of a lot of pussy-worshiping first.
Whatever happens come dawn, I’m not done with Nathaniel Darke yet. I want to know what his mouth feels like against my sex. I just pray that come six thirty, he’s not done with me.
Jessie is sitting in the bar exactly where I left her, still clasping the same Dirty Martini. I’m not sure she even likes the stuff, she just likes the sound of it, and making the bar staff hunt around for olives.
“What are they doing?” she demands when I slip onto the bar stool next to hers. She turns and grabs hold of both my hands. “Please tell me they’re as rattled as we hoped.”
Meaning twice as panicked as she is. Nope—no can do. The only member of Paradise Kiss I stumbled on was Darke, and while he was definitely a little on edge, he’s Mr. Cool next to Jessie.
“Well?” Jessie prompts releasing her grip on me in order to engage in some hand flapping. Patience isn’t something she’s ever had in abundance. “What did you see? What did they say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She screws up her pretty face, so that her eyebrows and pout are almost touching.
“I didn’t see anyone, Jess.” I’m not precisely sure why I decide to outright lie, maybe it’s simply to protect myself from a verbal onslaught. Jessie in a rage is never fun. Or maybe I’m still trying to process what the hell happened between Darke and me, beyond it being a whole lot of awesome. I mean jamming and then shagging him really wasn’t the plan. Not that I had an actual plan, just orders to do some reconnaissance.
“Fuck it! We need to know what they’re planning.”
I don’t see why. Knowing what track they’re playing isn’t going to make any difference, but Jessie needs to feel as if she’s doing something, primarily because she can’t bear the thought of Dane beating her at anything. Me, I think we’ve bigger problems to focus on.
“Where’s Ivy?”
“Upstairs, sulking. Probably on the phone to Nightshift.” Jessie cradles her drink closer to her chest. I suddenly wish I had a glass to hold and some cheap oblivion to pour down my throat. “I can’t believe she’s being so difficult about this. It’s our shot at the big time. Most people have to work for years and years to even get a crack at something like this, and all she can do is whine about the fact it’ll take her away from her boyfriend.”
“She’ll play, though,” I say. Ives will, she might be flaky, but she’s not pond scum. She won’t leave us in the lurch when it really matters.
“And afterwards?”
“Maybe it’s best not to think too far ahead. Could be Graham Callahan knows a stupendous keyboardist who just happens not to be attached to a group right now.”
“Yeah, and it could be that he’s only after us because he thinks Black Halo fans will love Ivy flashing her muff.”
“Dunno.” I scratch my head, because I’d hate to think the only reason we’re in the running was because our exhibitionist mate doesn’t wax. “Maybe there’s no sense in dwelling on it, and we just have to see what tomorrow brings.”
“You’re being awfully philosophical.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t get punched in the face earlier tonight.”
Jessie sighs and rubs her jaw where a bruise is forming. We sit a moment in companionable silence.
“Did Dane ever hit you when you were together?”
She shakes her head, then leans over her drink with her fingers threaded through the front of her hair. “Leastways, only on the arse.” She peeps at me from beneath her heavy eyelashes and smiles. “We have to win, Loveday. No way am I letting that dickhead think he’s better than me.”
“Then we’d better get some shut eye.” That’ll put us ahead of Paradise Kiss, because I’m not sure any of them are planning on hitting the sack.
-8-
Nathaniel Darke
After Loveday leaves, I spend two minutes checking over Knox’s bass and my Gretsch for damage. Both instruments appear to have survived our rampaging libidos unscathed. However, I don’t attempt to settle down and resume what I was doing. I was getting nowhere even with the rest of the song playing on endless repeat. Instead, I decide it’s time to track down Knox.
I swear if I find him crashed out in bed, I’m going to give him such a kicking.
We’re bunked up in twin rooms. It’s all the hotel was prepared to offer, eight rooms to split between the five bands that were on tonight’s roster. I’ve heard that Bulldozer are all packed into one room consisting of two doubles and a dodgy sofa, so the fact that I’m ostensibly sharing with either Knox or Joel, I chalk up as a minor inconvenience. It beats sharing with my brother, which I point blank refuse to do. We spent enough nights as kids listening to one another snivel and heavy breathe. That, and he inevitably has company.
The guys aren’t in either of our assigned berths. Dane’s obviously gone to her place, whoever the lady in question is. Joel, fuck knows, I guess he’s off somewhere being pissed at me, but Knox…Knox isn’t allowed to be AWOL. I fucking well need him to be here.
