Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
I cock an eyebrow and fall back onto the bed closest to the door. “She’s on heels, McCrae, so please don’t make her jump and break her neck.”
While she’s tapping her foot impatiently, he stares in my direction, drinking in the sight of me on the bed, as he tells her, “Please don’t lose it this time.”
Jerking the key out of his hand, she rolls her light blue eyes. “What time are you and Cal playing tonight?”
It’s the first time I’ve heard her address Cal by his actual name.
Wyatt must also realize it because he grins. “I’ll text Kylie with the time.”
As soon as he leaves, she crawls onto my bed and collapses next to me. “You were so quiet the whole trip.”
“You were asleep most of the time, and besides, I was tired.”
I slept half the time on the way here, and the other half was spent texting back and forth with Sienna. She and Lucas are heading to my parents today as part of a documentary Lucas is taking part in, and she’s worried my mom and dad won’t like her. I told her the truth—if my parents accept and love Lucas and me with all our problems, then they’ll love her, too. Of course, Sienna’s messages also tell me that she and Lucas have obviously gone beyond the boundaries of professionalism.
“I’ll be better after I get some sleep.”
“But are you okay?” Heidi asks.
I hate the way she says okay.
My face is numb as I shake my head. “I’m a wishy-washy mess.” I close my eyes and take a calming breath. When I glance at her again, Heidi’s lips are curled down into a frown. She places her head on my shoulder, and we both stare up at the ceiling. “So, no, I guess I’m not okay.”
“You will be.”
I know that I will eventually, and it’s for this reason that I bob my head slowly. “Thank you for coming with me.” I smile tentatively. “Even if the reason for my vacation showed up, and things went to shit.”
She grabs her chest theatrically and blinks back mock tears. “Thank you for still loving me after my douche bag one-night stand broke into our room and stole most of our crap.”
My shoulders relax, and a couple seconds later, I’m laughing, and so is she.
“At least, I still have my iPod. I can play good music while I starve.” As if on cue, my belly rolls. I skipped breakfast this morning, and I didn’t pick up anything at the convenience stores along the way.
“And apparently you are starving.” Heidi rolls onto her flat stomach and grabs a tall brochure off the nightstand. “Room service, it is.” She knows me like the back of her hand because she orders me a cheesesteak and fries, my favorite. When she’s done, she leaves my bed in favor of her own. As we wait for room service, she checks her voice mail to see if anyone from New Orleans has called about Shiner Bock.
They haven’t, and after she hangs up I clear my throat, getting her attention. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
I bite my lip, hesitating, but when she nods her head to encourage me, I start, “You and Cal...have you ever—” My words are cut short when her face flushes bright red. My conflict with Wyatt is temporarily forgotten as I scramble into a sitting position. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
She lets her head loll off the bed. “Rock Fest, two years ago.”
“And?”
“Your Toxic Sequel’s show in Seattle last March.”
“And last night?”
Snorting, she gives me a look. “Um, no. I was staying with him because the guy I slept with the night before broke into our room. Hooking up with Cal so soon after that would have been awkward not to mention an open invitation for all kinds of drama.”
Good point. Still, with their outrageous bickering, I should have already known what was going on between them, and I mentally kick myself in the kneecap for failing to notice. “And you’re just now telling me?”
She shrugs. “You never asked.”
Chapter Seven
It’s eight thirty in the evening on the dot, and I’m dragging a striped, nautical print T-shirt over my head when my iPhone starts ringing from its spot on the dresser. “Shit,” I snap as I shimmy the close-fitting top down my torso and over my belly button. Stepping over a small pile of Heidi’s shoes, I snatch up the phone just before my ringtone, Chevelle’s “I Get It,” moves to my favorite part of the song, the line about living in an imaginary life.
I flip the phone right side up and mutter a soft curse when I see that it’s my brother calling. After sliding my finger across the screen to accept the call, I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder. “About damn time.”
“I’ve been fucking busy, Ky. Sorry I haven’t called you back.” His voice is so strained that I immediately feel for him. “Besides, you said you wanted to be left alone while you were gone.”
Before I left Nashville to go to New Orleans, I told him that I would quit if he so much as bothered me while I was away. I made a few more threats, but of course, he merely brushed them off.
“Since when do you give a crap whether or not I want to be left alone?”
“Since I decided I don’t want to be bothered either.”
Well played, big brother.
“Right...Sienna.” I lean close to the mirror to determine if I want to spring for makeup tonight. One look at the dark smudges under my brown eyes is all the convincing I need. “How’s that going?”
“She’s good.”
Leave it to Lucas to tiptoe around my question. He knows that I have a soft spot for her. There are few people I want to see at the receiving end of his bullshit, but Sienna’s one of the people that I would actually step in front of to protect from my brother. I told Lucas as much when he first realized that he had a potential second chance with her.
“She’s got everything taken care of here,” he assures me.
I bet she does. “Don’t fuck things up with her,” I warn.
He sucks in a breath. “Jesus, Kylie, stop that shit.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. Stay out of your personal life. I get it.”
When I hear a shuffling noise across the room, I look up to see Heidi in a giant robe, padding out of the bathroom. As she wraps a towel around her wet hair, her eyes find mine in the dresser mirror. She shifts one of her eyebrows curiously.
I turn my head around to face her. “It’s my brother.”
“Finally.” She grabs her underwear and a bundle of clothes from her bed before returning to the restroom.
Focusing my attention back on Lucas, I ask, “How was the thing with Mom and Dad today?” While I wait for him to respond, I put my phone on speaker and leave it on the dresser, so I can finish getting ready. It’s eight thirty-five now, and Wyatt and Cal’s set with the band is supposed to start in twenty-five minutes. If I’m going to make it on time, I’ll have to rush.
“It was alright, I guess. I mean, it’s a fucking documentary about music. I don’t really know why they wanted to talk to Mom and Dad, but I guess they were happy to see me.”
Of course, our parents were happy to see him. Neither of us returns home to Atlanta enough, so my mother and father roll out the red carpet each time we decide to make an appearance. Compared to Wyatt, who rarely mentions his childhood or his parents, Lucas and I are fortunate. I didn’t realize that for years because I had spent so long feeling like I was the kid my parents never wanted. I’d forced myself to believe that until I made myself physically sick.
But I’m lucky.
And I haven’t smothered myself with that type of poison for a long time.
I clear my throat a few times, hoping it will relieve the tightness in the back of my mouth. “I’m so glad it went okay.”
“Remind me why you wanted to let a film crew follow me around again,” Lucas complains.
I can easily imagine the look on his face right now, with his jaw clenched and lips pressed thin.
“Because it’ll be good for your career.” This isn’t the first time I’ve told him that Rock on the Road, the documentary he’s being featured in, would do nothing but help him, especially since Your Toxic Sequel is going on tour at the end of this coming summer.
“My career is fine.”
I hear the squeak of his guitar followed by his sharp exhale. I tighten my grip on the pair of red skinny jeans that I plucked from my bag, bracing myself for whatever it is he’s about to say.
“Mom wants to know what’s going on with you.”
“What? I’m fine.” I sit on the edge of my bed and slide my pants up my legs. They’re so tight that I have no other choice but to lie back to button them. “I’m really, really good in fact.”
Lucas is always the first to pick up on my bullshit. It’s an unnerving ability that he shares with Wyatt. They’re both able to peel away my layers, go past the convincing smile, and figure me out. “What the fuck ever. She says you’ve been rescheduling trips back home since before Christmas.”
Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I freeze, staring at the phone in horror at the thought of Lucas—who has a shitload of his own problems—and our mom having a lengthy conversation about me. “Did you tell her what I said? About coming to Atlanta for Easter?”
He snorts. “Yes, I told them both exactly what you asked me to.”
“Well, then drop it. I keep my promises.”
Maybe Lucas can hear the irritation in my voice, or he’s just ready to get our conversation moving, so he can end the call. Either way, he changes the subject, transitioning easily to my vacation in New Orleans. “How was your flight back to L.A.?”
“God, do you ever check your text messages?” Doing a set of lunges toward my suitcase in hopes that my tight pants will loosen up, I say, “My flight was nonexistent.” I bend over my bag and rummage around until I find my music note–print makeup case.
Lucas groans. “Don’t make me play guessing games, Kylie. What’s going on?”
I toss the makeup onto the dresser and begin to pin my chin-length hair back from my face. “Some asshole robbed our room last night and stole my license and credit cards.”
“Fuck,” he growls. Lucas surprises me then. Instead of immediately jumping down my throat and making sure that anything affiliated with him is safe, he goes into protective older brother mode. “You’re not hurt, are you? He didn’t touch you?”
My gaze lowers to the phone on the dresser, and I stare at it, rubbing my lips together. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re worried about me.”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I reassure him. “I was doing laundry when he broke in.” And banging your best friend in said laundry room.
My brother releases a moan of relief. “So, what the fuck are you doing to get home? Do I need to send someone out there to get you? Do you need money to—”
“Calm down, okay? I’ve got everything ... under control,” I say. I’m grinning like an idiot as I dab concealer beneath my eyes. Lucas has his moments when I want to strangle him, but times like this remind me that he actually has a heart beneath his many layers of vice and all his growly impossible orders. “I’ve already scored a ride.”
He doesn’t respond, and there’s nothing but silence between us. Since I hate when people are too quiet, and because I’m sure he’s imagining me hitchhiking from New Orleans to L.A., with bearded men who call me Little Girl, I give in and tell him who I’m with. “Cal and Wyatt are bringing me home.”
There’s more silence on Lucas’s end because, apparently, his band mates are no better than random men.
“You called them to come and get you?”
“No,” I reply calmly. “They were already planning to drive from New Orleans to L.A.”
“What the fuck for?”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my brow pulls together. Lucas doesn’t know about Wyatt’s deal to go on the road with Cal’s cousin. Suddenly, this entire arrangement just screams shadiness. Even though I was not told by either Wyatt or Cal to keep my mouth shut about the shows, I skirt around the subject with my brother. “They’re not entitled to a vacation, too?”
“To each his own.” There’s a sound on Lucas’s end of the line, like he’s rubbing his hand over his face. “One, I’m going to find that little shit who robbed you and break his fucking legs. And two, I’m going to call Wyatt.”
I grip the handle of my mascara, and when I stare at my reflection in the dresser mirror, I realize that I’m holding it like a weapon. My brother nudging his way into my personal life tends to bring out that type of response from me. “I don’t need you to baby me, Lucas. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, I know you can, but it still won’t stop me from calling him,” my brother says in a rough voice. I hear Sienna murmur something to him in the background, and he releases a low noise of frustration. “You be good, Ky. I’m going to get off here.”
I try not to think about the multiple meanings behind those particular words. “Hey,” I say quickly before he has a chance to hang up. Lucas pauses. “Sinjin ... how’s everything going with him?”
He’s quiet for a long stretch, as if he’s contemplating exactly what to say next. Exasperated, I drop the tube of mascara on top of my makeup bag. My hands are already shaky enough as it is. If my brother says something that’ll piss me off, the last thing I want to do is poke myself in the eye.
“I think he’s going to be alright this time.”
“You said that the last time.” And we argued about it that time. In fact, Lucas was so moody about me confronting him and acting like he didn’t care enough that he handled all his business transactions himself for a week before finally caving and apologizing to me.
“Yeah, well, I think this is it. He scared himself.”
Lucas leaves it at that, but I understand what he’s saying.
Even before Wyatt confronted me about the cutting eight years ago, I was determined to stop. I was afraid of where my mission to cope with all my shortcomings—no, what I felt were my shortcomings—through little slices of pain would take me. I knew that I was messed up, and more than anything, I wanted to fix myself. But even determination has boundaries, and I’m still thankful that Wyatt McCrae caught me before I could break through those.
Heidi pokes her head out of the bathroom door. “Hey, ask him if he knows Sin’s address.” Once again, she disappears, and the soft roar of the hotel’s blow dryer kicks in.
Lucas doesn’t have the exact address, but he tells me the name of the rehab, Melody’s House, which I jot down using a blue eyeliner pencil and the back of a flyer advertising a local pizzeria. Then, he says he needs to go help Sienna arrange an appointment for tomorrow morning. Considering it’s close to ten in Atlanta, it’s, without a doubt, the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.
“Have fun with that,” I state dryly. I start to ask him how things are going with her just to see if he’ll give me a straight answer, but then I decide against it. He’s anxious to get back to Sienna, and that tells me he’s getting his way.
I just hope he doesn’t treat her like crap, and drive her away again, like he had two years ago.
Lucas ends the call on a positive note. His “I love you” makes my head suddenly start spinning. I sink down on the edge of my bed, tapping my fingers together anxiously, until Heidi comes out of the bathroom and calls me out.
“Kylie?”
I lift my gaze to her. She’s managed to coax her curly hair straight, and she’s dressed simply, wearing dark jeans and a red silk bustier that my boobs could never pull off. She’s also frowning at me.
“Why are you staring at a blank TV screen?”
“My brother just said he loves me.”
She shrugs, undaunted. Heidi has four brothers and a very close-knit family, so I love you was a common phrase in her house when she was growing up. Don’t get me wrong. My mom and dad are quick to tell me that. But Lucas? Not so much.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Heidi questions tentatively.
Pressing my palms into the mattress, I push myself to my feet and return to my makeup. “I think he’s falling in love with Sienna Jensen.”
Heidi slides into the chair on the far side of the dresser and begins rubbing globs of Victoria’s Secret lotion on her bare arms. “The chick filling in for you? He’s known her for...what? Maybe a total of three weeks if you count whatever happened between them a few years ago?”
I brush bronzer across my cheeks and shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. Lucas doesn’t act like this. Ever.” As I drag the hairpins out of my hair, I watch Heidi’s face as it draws into a network of worried lines. I can only assume she’s thinking about my brother’s ex-wife, and I swallow hard. “Yeah, I’m hoping it works out, too.”
“Sam’s been quiet lately. Maybe she’s gotten over him.”
Or Lucas is paying her off again.
I force a smile as I turn to face Heidi and then twist around in a slow circle. She rakes her eyes over me before giving me a slow nod of approval.
“Ready?”
“We’re late,” she points out as we leave our room. After I slide into my jacket, she squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, stop worrying about your brother. He’s a big boy, so you don’t have to play relationship police. Samantha’s crazy ass has probably moved on, making some poor loser miserable.”
For Sienna and my brother’s sake, I hope Heidi is right.
***
Since Wyatt and Cal are long gone, and at this point, probably playing the second or third song of their set, Heidi and I walk the four blocks from our downtown hotel to the bar, huddled up close to each other despite the muggy Houston night. I don’t even think about my missing license until we’re about to be carded at the entrance, but then a willowy blonde with giant green eyes, who reminds me of Taylor Momsen from The Pretty Reckless, sidles up to the door supervisor.
“It’s alright. They’re with the Toxic Sequel boys,” she says in a husky voice. Raking her hand through her platinum hair, she winks a heavily lined eye at me. “Heidi and Kylie, right?” When I nod slowly, cocking one of my eyebrows, she shrugs. “You’re the only chick with blue hair who’s come in all night. I’ve been keeping an eye out for you for Wyatt and Cal.”
Moving aside, the bouncer jerks his head back into the bar, and Heidi and I step inside. Because it’s already steamy in here from the friction of so many scantily clad bodies, I shed my jacket and ball it up under my arm.
“Thanks,” I tell the blonde.
Her lips curve into a little smile. “Don’t mention it. Wyatt said you lost your ID, and I’m pretty close to the staff.”
It’s impossible for me not to notice the way her voice slides over his name. It’s the same way mine does when my legs are wrapped around his shoulders while my nails are digging into his back. I swallow hard but blame my sudden discomfort on thirst and the guy who accidentally bumps into me. “Glad he’s looking out for me.”
She tilts her head to the side, sizing me up, before she motions for Heidi and me to follow her. As she leads us through the throng of drinkers, she peeks back over her shoulders. “I’m Terra, Hazard Anthem’s manager.”
I’m not terribly old myself—only twenty-five—but Terra hardly looks old enough to be in this damn bar, much less be the band’s manager. I nod anyway as I step over a puddle of what I hope is booze on the floor. She stops to talk to some guy who stumbles all over her. When he grabs her ass, I can’t help but be a little envious. I modify my initial assessment of Terra.
She’s Taylor Momsen with Kim Kardashian’s ass.
“I want a drink,” Heidi says loud enough to be heard over the screech of the guitar and the lead singer, who is a screamer and a damn good one. “Want me to grab you something?”
“Corona?”
“You got it, babe. Get us a table?”
I slink away from Terra, who’s still in deep conversation with the groper, and find a spot close enough to the stage to get a good view of the band but far enough away so I won’t have groupies bumping into me every five seconds. When Wyatt’s eyes meet mine, he grins and winks. He strokes the tip of his thumb over the neck of his Kramer in a slow, deliberate movement meant to make me think of his fingers between my legs.
He succeeds.
“So, you’re Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe’s baby sister?” Terra slips into the seat meant for Heidi.
I give her a polite smile. “Unfortunately.”
“I met him once...in...” Terra darts her green eyes upward, trying to recall the exact location, and then she lowers her gaze, grinning. “2010.”
“At your high school graduation party?” I mean to keep that to myself, but somehow, it slips out.
She’s obviously not offended because she throws her head back and laughs.
“Rock Fest, but I’m pretty sure I’m older than Lucas and Wyatt.”
She says Wyatt’s name the same way she did at the door—with that desperate hush of admiration mixed with desire. I glide my tongue from side to side between my teeth. Plenty of women are attracted to Wyatt McCrae. There’s no reason whatsoever for me to have a negative reaction to this particular one just because she can appreciate a sexy, talented man.
Heidi’s hand reaches down over my shoulder, plunking a Corona with lime down in front of me. “Here you go, love.” I glance back at her just in time to see her give Terra a long look that’s one part curious and the other part aggressive. “Sorry, did you want me to grab you something, too?”
Sliding out of Heidi’s chair, Terra shakes her head. Her mane of blonde hair flies around her face like a slow-motion shampoo commercial. “I’ve got...” She flicks her green eyes toward the stage. “Band stuff to do, but I’ll catch up with you bitches later.” She winks again.
Somehow, Heidi holds in her snort until she’s out of earshot. “She’s cute.” She takes a swig of her banana bread–flavored beer. I’m a big fan of trying new flavors, but I can’t help but wrinkle up my nose at the bottle. “Bet she gets them a bunch of gigs.”
“Maybe.” I focus my eyes back to the stage. The band has changed songs, and now, they’re playing a metal version of Heart’s “Crazy on You” that literally gives me chills. It’s a feeling that very few bands have been able to bring out in me, and I’ve got a good feeling about Hazard Anthem’s future. “They could probably be managed by a fucking ogre and still hit it big.”
As my gaze skims back over Wyatt, I bite the inside of my lip. He’s sweaty from the heat and exertion. When he’s in his element like this, playing incredible music, it takes my breath away.
With a thoughtful look on her face, Heidi runs her finger in a circle around the neck of her beer bottle. “You think that’s why Cal and Wyatt are helping them out? I mean, you don’t think they’re thinking about leaving Your Toxic Sequel, do you?”
Wyatt told me before that he has no plans to leave the band, so I decide to take him for his word. “I think YTS will be alright.”
She breathes a relieved sigh before twisting around in her seat to watch the band perform. She taps her fingers on the table, singing along with the lyrics but getting seventy-five percent of them wrong. “You’re right. They are kick-ass,” she says once the song ends.
My sight is still connected with Wyatt’s midnight blue eyes as I murmur, “Absolutely amazing.”
