Page 39 of Crazy Love
“It’s my theme tune.” I turn so that I can inspect the writing in the mirror, rather than attempt to wrestle my way past Dane. What I see reflected causes my jaw to slacken and my mouth to fall open.
“What is it?” Dane asks, brows furrowing in response to my astonishment.
She said it was my theme, that she’d heard it while I was inside of her. It is my rhythm. The damned one I’ve been searching for. It’s the missing bass-line toTL:DRwritten on my arse in purple ink.
It doesn’t matter if we perform for Graham Callahan anymore because we finally have our bargaining chip.
I look at Dane, and he looks at me.
“We’re sorted,” I say. “The song’s complete. It’s all gonna work out.”
-15-
Nathaniel Darke
Despite technically being six minutes early, we’re still the last to enter the function room, which looks even sadder in daylight than it did post show. As we cross the carpet, the same miasma of beer and damp, topped off with a hint of beeswax wafts up my nostrils.
We look pretty grungy this morning, Dane, Joel and I, all having pulled on whatever was to hand out of our bags. If Callahan’s looking for polished professionals, we’re already doomed, because it’s relaxed fit jeans and geeky T-shirts all round.
Speaking of the man, Callahan and his two assistants are seated before the stage in a line like we’re auditioning for a talent show. I almost expect him to have a megaphone so he can holler up at us, and yell, “Next!” The guy has definitely been watching too much Saturday evening reality TV. It begs the question, what sort of trial is he going to spring on us if we make it through to the next round? Boot camp recording studio in Borneo, maybe?
Bitch Slap are looking decidedly more sophisticated. They’ve turned up in their performance gear of leather, lace and expensive perfume. They’re currently positioned to the right of the stage, so we form up on the left, and I do my best not to stare across at them. It’s difficult not to seek out Loveday, though, given my heart gives such a kick when I think of her. No one has ever turned my world upside down in one night in quite the way that she’s done, and she doesn’t even know it.
If it wasn’t for her, I’d be contemplating slitting my wrists right about now.
I rub my tired eyes. Loveday has covered the effects of her late night with smoky eyeshadow and a coating of blood red lipstick. The colour makes me think of sex, of her down on her knees with her mouth wrapped around my cock and the lips, of her swollen cunt right after she’d come all over my face.
When I get a chance, I want to thank her in a way that makes her flush that colour all over.
Jessie notices me looking and glowers back. Although, she wears that frown so often, I’m beginning to think her scrunched-up pout is actually her resting expression.
If only this feud between her and Dane could be set aside, and we could all shake hands and wish one another luck. Just because the pair of them can’t get a handle on their emotions, shouldn’t mean that the rest of us have to suffer.
“Don’t even think of it,” Dane warns, when I put one foot forward. “Don’t think about her. Don’t go near her. Get it together.”
“I am together.” At least mostly, as much as my tired brain will allow.
“I need to speak to her at some point,” I say.
Dane shakes his head. “You don’t have shit to say to her. Not a goddamned thing.”
We’ve been over this particular point umpteen times in the last hour. Dane’s positive we need to keep the fact thatTL:DRwill include Loveday’s bass-line super quiet. He’s afraid that Bitch Slap will lay claim to the song, whereas my insides are knotted over the idea that by not telling her, we’re stealing her intellectual property. Just because the tune was written on my skin, doesn’t grant me licence to use it, or make it my possession.
And I’m no thief.
Besides, why would I screw someone whose friendship I value like that? Given what one night with her has produced, I’m more than a little eager to see what we can create when we’re not pressed for time.
“Nice of you to join us, boys.” Graham Callahan casts a weary glance at his watch. “I’d assume we’re ready to begin, but you appear to be missing someone. You were a foursome last night, I believe?”
“Yes,” I agree. “We are.”
“Knox. They’re missing Knox,” I hear Jessie’s mega whisper from across the room. I’m just praying Loveday hasn’t said anything about Knox to her. I cross my fingers and offer up a silent plea to whichever supernatural being might be listening.
“And is Mr. Knox joining us?” Callahan asks. He taps his pen impatiently against his knee.
“No.”
The pen stops mid-arch. “He’s not coming?” His beetle black gaze bores into me.
