Page 27 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
He’d just gone out of his way to call me to him when I was talking to someone else.
Half of me was offended that he thought he had the right.
The other half was highly amused and more than a little bit touched. I found, to my surprise, that I didn’t hate him having the idea that he had a claim on my affections.
Maybe because he sort of did.
Not that I was going to let this opportunity for teasing him pass me by.
I turned to the audience and let my grin grow. “Hey folks, looks like Rivers has called me up here for no real reason. Unless any of you knows something I don’t.”
I turned my ear and put my hand up to it, inviting the audience to chime in on the question, and they immediately did so.
“He’s afraid to be up there by himself!” someone shouted.
“Because he’s in love with you!” someone else added.
“Doesn’t want you down here talking to anyone else!” someone said, their voice full of laughter.
I widened my eyes, trying my best for innocence, and put a hand to my chest. “You think he doesn’t know how to be up here by himself? But he’s been doing it for years!”
The crowd laughed and shouted more options, each of them more unlikely than the last, and finally I turned to Rivers and lifted an eyebrow. “What about it, Rivers? They seem to think you’re either afraid to be up here by yourself or afraid to leave me down there on my own. Which is it?”
He opened his mouth to answer but frowned at the same time, and I didn’t have to ask to know that this was probably the biggest response he’d ever had from an audience. The guy had gone out of his way to keep everyone at arm’s length and had probably never invited their opinions up on stage with him. Now they were suddenly cheering for him in a way they never had.
And he didn’t know how to deal with it.
I grinned at him and grabbed one of his spare guitars off the stand.
“Well as far as I’m concerned, the best reason to be onstage is to sing a song. And since you’re not going to invite me, I guess I’ll just have to invite myself. Chime in if you feel the need.”
I turned back to the audience, who were all grinning and laughing now, and started playing the same song I’d played that first morning at breakfast. It didn’t need backup and I could certainly do it by myself.
But when Noah picked up the beat with his drums and Matt started adding bass, I gave them quick grins. Moments later, Hudson and Rivers had joined in as well, each of them adding a layer I hadn’t written, and before long we were playing like we were a whole band, the boys improvising while I sang, and I didn’t know if anything had ever felt so right before.
Except, of course, having been in Rivers’ arms that afternoon under a bright sky dotted with fluffy clouds that looked like dragons.
RIVERS
Istumbled up the last few stairs and basically fell through the door onto my floor, chuckling to myself. God, I was drunk. Way more drunk than I’d realized when I left the bar downstairs. I hadn’t really felt it until I was climbing the stairs but once I started trying to use my legs for something more complicated than just walking, it had become a problem.
I tried to remember how much whiskey I’d had to drink... but failed.
The problem was, I hadn’t been drinking it by myself. There had been a least three other people at the bar with me and we’d been splitting bottles. I thought I’d had roughly ten shots, but I couldn’t even be sure of that.
Hell, I couldn’t even remember the names of the girls I’d been drinking with. Or, come to think of it, what they’d looked like.
That was mostly because they weren’t important. I’d found them in the bar and joined their party without an invitation, and when they realized who I was, they’d let me right in. No arguments. Just plenty of flirty looks and that general adjusting of the hems of skirts and neckline of blouses that always came with groupies realizing there was a rock star among them. I’d noticed it and laughed under my breath, half sickened and half thankful for it.
I was there, after all, for distraction.
The problem was, I’d been on that stage with Lila Potter. I’d been on that stage before she even got up there, when she’d been talking to some other guy. It had nearly torn my heart out to see her laughing at whatever he said, and I’d reacted so quickly—overreacted so quickly—that she’d gotten to the stage before I knew what I’d done.
When she asked me what I wanted, I hadn’t been able to answer her. I wanted her all to myself. I wanted her in my life, in my pocket, for as long as she’d have me. For the first time in my life, I wanted someone there with me rather than wishing they’d leave me alone. I wanted her sunshine and her laugh and her ability to believe the best of the world.
And I’d known in the same breath that I couldn’t have it. I’d never been able to keep anything like that, and I wasn’t going to drag her down into my rocky, drunken underworld. Lila needed the sun and air, and I lived in the darkness of lonely hotel rooms.
Then she’d laughed and started playing her music and my band had gone along with her like it was all a plan, and I’d known two things at once: that I was having the best time of my life... and that it couldn’t last. I’d left the stage without looking back and had gone right to the bar to figure out how to forget about Lila Potter and what she made me feel.
