Текст книги "Wicked Beat"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 23

Eric’s chest was so tight he was going to suffocate. He punched the accelerator and drifted around a corner with skidding tires. From nowhere, a little black dog darted in front of his car. Gritting his teeth, Eric slammed on his brakes and slid to a screeching halt. Heart hammering, he peered over the hood, afraid of what he’d see. The dog trotted unharmed onto the sidewalk with its tail between its legs and ears drawn back, eyeing the car warily.

Eric released a breath of relief and eased forward at a speed more reasonable for a residential area. Why was he so pissed off? And so hurt? And why had he kicked Rebekah out of his car? Had he really broken up with her? Ten minutes ago, he’d told her mother that he wasn’t stepping aside for Isaac. Isn’t that what he’d just done?

Stepped aside for Isaac?

“Fuck,” he growled. He had to go back. Eric drove around the block and headed to the house. Rebekah was still standing in front, but she wasn’t alone. Isaac was holding her securely in his arms, one hand smoothing her silky hair. Isaac caught sight of Eric and grinned. He tilted Rebekah’s head back and kissed her deeply. The middle finger Isaac extended in Eric’s direction behind Rebekah’s back was more provocation than Eric could handle.

Eric was out of the car and crossing the yard in a heartbeat.

He wrenched Rebekah away from Isaac’s lips. Her tear-streaked, startled face scarcely had time to register before Eric’s fist was flying.

It connected with Isaac’s nose, knocking him flat on his ass. Eric’s satisfaction was short-lived. Rebekah dropped to her knees beside Isaac, who had both hands cupped over his nose, trying to clear his vision by forcing his eyes open and closed several times.

“Oh my God,” Rebekah cried. “Are you okay, Isaac?”

“Get up, you fucking pansy,” Eric said. “I’m not done kicking your ass yet.”

Isaac didn’t get up, but Rebekah leapt to her feet and turned on Eric, spitting mad. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“He was kissing you.”

“So that gives you a right to punch him?”

Uh, duh. “Well… yeah.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You need to leave.”

“But I came back for you.”

“Leave!”

“Call the cops,” Isaac said, climbing to his feet and brushing off the seat of his slacks. His perfect nose was still perfect, though swollen. Not even bleeding. “He’s obviously unstable.”

“I’ll fuckin’ show you unstable,” Eric said. Before he could throw another punch, Rebekah stepped between them.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if expecting him to actually hit her.

After a tense moment, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “I asked you to leave, Eric. I’m not sure who you are right now, and you’re scaring me.”

Scaring her? Eric immediately relaxed his stance. “Rebekah?”

He’d never hurt her. Not for anything. She had to know that.

“Good-bye, Eric. You need to cool off before you do something you regret.” She grabbed Isaac by the sleeve and pulled him into the house, leaving Eric alone on the front lawn.

Eric stood there, oscillating between anger and anguish. It took him several minutes to notice that his unattended car was rolling down the street.

Rebekah watched Eric chase his car down the road. He caught it, climbed inside, and sped off.

“Is he gone?” Isaac asked.

She nodded, the tears she’d been holding in check flowing freely now.

“Good riddance.”

“Why did you kiss me, Isaac?”

“I think that’s fairly obvious, angel,” he murmured. He cupped her face and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. “I love you.”

That was the last thing she wanted to hear at the moment. “Isaac.”

“Will you marry me?”

She stared at him in disbelief. Marry him? Was he serious?

Chapter 24

Eric had been driving on autopilot for almost an hour. He didn’t even know where he was going until he turned into Jace’s driveway.

He parked beneath the portico and sat there trying to collect his scattered thoughts.

Maybe he should just go home. The thought of being in that big fairy-tale house by himself was intolerable. He climbed out of the car and rang the doorbell. Aggie answered in full dominatrix regalia.

Had he not been so distraught, he’d have probably gotten a stiffy and started panting. Thing was, he was already panting. His only other option seemed to be crying, and that wasn’t going to happen.

“Eric?” Aggie said. “I thought you were a client. I was about to hit you for not going to the back door.”

There was probably a quip he should be spouting, but nothing came to mind. “Is Jace here?”

“Yeah, come in.” Aggie ushered him inside. She appraised him in the lighted entryway. “Sweetie, you look like shit. Is something wrong?”

“Had a little fight.”

“With Reb?”

He nodded.

She patted his back. “It will all work out.”

Eric wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded again. The doorbell rang. A chime that sounded like a doomsday theme.

“That’s for me,” Aggie said. “Jace!” Aggie called into the house.

“Eric’s here!”

Jace came into the foyer carrying his black tuxedo cat, Brownie, on one shoulder. His smile of greeting faded when his gaze landed on Eric’s face. “Dude, you look like shit. Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

Jace patted Aggie’s butt as she sauntered by. “Do you have your panic button, babe?”

She cupped his cheek and gifted him with a lingering kiss.

“Yeah. I told you subs aren’t a threat. I don’t know why you worry about me so much.”

“Yes you do.”

She smiled and slapped Jace’s ass with a resounding crack. He tensed, his lip curling with primal desire.

“Get Eric a drink,” she said. “He looks like he can use one.”

Jace approached Eric and handed the cat to him. Eric held the creature at arm’s length and stared into her appraising amber eyes. She batted a beckoning paw at him and he drew her closer.

She sank a set of claws into his shirt and pulled herself closer. For a second, Eric thought the cat was going to bite him, but she rubbed her face against his jaw and purred. “Browww wwwooownnnn,” she meowed. Eric chuckled and cuddled her against his chest like a baby.

He followed Jace deeper into the house, while Brownie batted at the lock of blue hair that rested against his collarbone.

Eric expected Jace to lead him to the family room, which had a well-stocked bar, but he led him into his home gym.

“Do you have a secret stash of booze in here?” Eric asked.

“You don’t need booze.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You need to hit something.”

“Or someone.” Though he’d already hit a certain someone, and it hadn’t solved his problems, only made them worse.

“Sit,” Jace said, indicating a bench along the wall. He picked up a roll of white tape and grabbed Eric’s free hand to tape Eric’s knuckles. “Talk.”

Eric released Brownie, who went to stare at herself in a floorto-ceiling mirror along one wall. Eric allowed Jace to tape his hands and wrists while he told him what had happened at the Blake residence.

“Do you think she still cares about him?” Jace asked when Eric reached the end of his story.

“Looked like it.”

“I’d have hit him too.”

“You would have?”

Jace nodded. “But not in front of her.”

“Too late to fix that part.”

“Yeah. So now you’ve got to play it cool. Get the aggression out of your system so you don’t do it again.” Jace walked over to a large punching bag suspended from the ceiling. “What’s his name again?”

“Isaac.”

Jace used the tape to make a letter I on the punching bag. “I’ll leave you two alone,” Jace said. “I’ll be in the family room. Come find me after you kick his ass.”

Eric felt a little foolish beating the shit out of a punching bag.

First of all, punching bags didn’t shit. Second, they didn’t fight back.

While Eric loved to engage in a good brawl, he wasn’t into doling out unchallenged beatings. Sometime during his attempts to beat that tape letter off the punching bag while imagining Isaac’s perfect face, he realized that the guy would never fight back. Hitting Isaac was like beating up the punching bag and even less satisfying.

Drenched in sweat, Eric appraised what was left of the tape.

“Fuck.” He shoved the bag with both palms, sending it rocking back and forth.

Eric had learned to get what he wanted by fighting a long time ago, but he would have to change tactics in this case. Beating Isaac to pulp might be fun, but it wouldn’t bring Rebekah back, and that’s all he really wanted. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what would win her over again. He knew jewelry wasn’t the answer. Maybe Jace had an idea.

Eric unwrapped the tape from his hands as he wandered through the house on his way to the family room. Jace nodded toward the empty recliner beside him. There was already a shot of tequila waiting for Eric on the side table. He sat on the edge of the chair and downed the shot.

“Feel better?” Jace asked.

“Not necessarily. I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t beat the shit out of Limp Dick if I want Rebekah back.”

“So you officially broke up?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. She was so pissed.”

“Maybe you should call her. Talk to her.”

Eric pulled out his cell phone and stared at the screen saver of himself and Rebekah kissing and smiling. She had a smudge of grease on her cheek. He’d snapped that picture the day before. A memento of them getting the Corvette running perfectly. How could he have fucked things up between them so quickly?

Eric decided he had no clue what to say and was afraid they’d get into another argument if he talked to her then. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ll probably say something I’ll regret.”

“Then text her,” Jace said.

Yeah, text her. He couldn’t put his foot in his mouth in a text message.

I’m really sorry, baby. I’ll call tomorrow when I have my head on straight. Love you. He sent the message and sank back into the recliner, holding the phone loosely. Within a minute, his phone beeped with a message.

His heart dropped when he read it. Fuck you, asshole. I never want to see you again. Isaac asked me to marry him, and I said yes.

“What?” he sputtered. They have one fight, are out of each other’s sight for two hours, and she’s already agreed to marry Isaac?

“No fucking way.”

He dialed her number. The call connected, then disconnected.

“She hung up on me,” Eric grumbled. He dialed her again.

“Hello?” a man answered her phone.

“Who is this?” Eric growled.

“This is Rebekah’s fiancé, Isaac.”

“Bullshit. Put her on the phone.”

“Look, loser,” Isaac said. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Don’t call her again.”

“Put her on the fucking phone.”

“Take a hint. She doesn’t want to be with you.” Isaac hung up.

“Son of a bitch.”

Eric dialed her number again. This time it rang, but no one picked up.

“What’s going on?” Jace asked.

“Rebekah is marrying Isaac.”

Chapter 25

Rebekah came out of the bathroom drying her hair with a towel.

A shower had made her feel almost human again after an hour-long crying jag. She found Isaac sitting at the end of her bed fiddling with her phone.

“Did Eric call?” she asked hopefully.

Isaac shook his head. “Nope.”

Her heart sank, and the tears she’d finally managed to suppress filled her eyes again. “He must be really upset. I thought he’d be cooled down by now. I hope nothing happened to him. He drives like a maniac.”

She sat on the bed next to Isaac, and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll call, angel. Give him time to realize he was in the wrong.”

“Maybe I should call him.” When she reached for her phone, Isaac hid it behind his back.

“He’s the one who needs to apologize, not you.”

“We both need to apologize. Actually, you need to apologize too. Why did you kiss me like that?”

“I’m not going to apologize for kissing the woman I love.”

“But I’m in love with Eric, Isaac. Why can’t you understand that?”

Isaac brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

She looked into his gentle gray eyes, opened her mouth, but couldn’t say it. She did love Isaac, but she wasn’t attracted to him.

With Eric, she had both. Her love for Eric was still growing, but her attraction was there in full bloom. Her love for Isaac was strong, but she would never be attracted. It wasn’t the kind of love you had for the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Was it? She felt like crying again. Why did Isaac insist on confusing her?

“You know we’re good together,” he said.

“Eric and I are good together too,” she insisted. “I’ve never been happier. Every minute with him is exciting and fun.”

“But how long will that last? He’s a rock star. You’re not stupid, Rebekah. It’s only a matter of time before he falls to temptation and breaks your heart.”

“He would never break my—”

“I would never.”

“But you did, Isaac. I was devastated.”

His brow crinkled with confusion. “You broke up with me.”

“Because you couldn’t stand to have sex with me. I disgusted you.”

“I told you I was sorry about that.” His hand slid across her back. “Your body has had more time to heal. We can try again.”

“No, Isaac. I love Eric. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?”

“I love you too much to watch you throw your life away,” he said emphatically. “He’s not right for you, Rebekah.”

“He’s perfect for me, Isaac. You just don’t know him.”

“I don’t think I want to know him. He’s crass. Low class. Violent.

I worry for your safety. He punched me without provocation.”

She shook her head at him. “Without provocation? You kissed me, Isaac. I’m his girlfriend. I don’t approve of him punching you, but I understand why he reacted that way.”

“Like a mindless thug?”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you insult him. I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Isaac hugged her tightly, reminding her how safe he always made her feel. “I don’t want to leave. I’ve missed you so much. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your new job.”

Rebekah really didn’t want to sit by herself while she waited for Eric to call. But she didn’t want to be alone with Isaac either. He was confusing her. Nothing new about that.

“Yeah, okay.” She climbed from the bed and headed toward the door. “Let’s go hang out with Dave. He could probably use the company.”

Chapter 26

Eric had lured the guys to his house with promises of a huge turkey dinner and football, so they weren’t too pleased to find out they were actually being put to work.

“Did you seriously sign us up for kitchen duty?” Trey grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eric said. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Brian said. “What’s fun about shoveling food on the plates of homeless guys?”

“You’ll see,” Eric promised.

“It’s great publicity,” Sed said in his deep voice. “Jerry is getting a news crew to cover it.”

“Aggie wants to join us. Is that okay?” Jace asked.

“Yeah, I signed up the ladies too,” Eric said.

“And Rebekah?” Trey asked.

“I don’t know if she’ll show up or not.” Eric secretly hoped so. “She’s the one who suggested it originally. Her family does it every year. I kind of got carried away on the sign-up list and volunteered everyone.”

“So we’re supposed to give up our Thanksgiving dinner and football because you were trying to impress a girl?” Trey said.

“I wasn’t trying to impress a girl,” Eric said. “I thought it would be good for us.” Impressing the girl was just an added bonus. And she hated him now, so it didn’t really matter anyway. He’d called her like a thousand times, and she never answered. When he drove past her parents’ house, her car was never there. He checked his messages every twenty seconds. She was obviously avoiding him. Probably busy planning her wedding with Dr. Perfect. Fuck!

God, he wanted to see her. He hadn’t slept all week.

“Dave was excited when he heard we were all going to be there,” Eric added, trying to get the guys to cooperate. “I think he wants to show us that he’s willing and able to get back to work.”

“We’re going,” Sed said, and that was the end of all arguments.

Eric rode with Aggie, Jace, and Trey in Aggie’s brand-new Mustang. Brian and Myrna rode with Sed and Jessica in Sed’s Mercedes. It was great to have everyone together again. Everyone got busy with their own thing when they were home on break, and he didn’t get to see them. At times, Eric longed for the good ol’ days when they’d all been bachelors, but then he saw how happy his bandmates were with their significant others and decided he’d been just as happy when he’d had Rebekah. Home wasn’t supposed to be hell.

When they arrived at the shelter, the news crew started hounding them before they were even inside the building. Sed—bless himstopped to talk to the reporter about “Sinners’ new Thanksgiving tradition,” while the rest were directed into the kitchen and given sharp utensils.

While most volunteers were too intimidated to boss them around, Myrna had no such reservations. She had Jace and Aggie peeling potatoes, Jessica putting ice in cups, and Trey spraying whipped topping onto pieces of pie. An entire flock of women watched him the entire time, probably because he got a lot of cream on his fingers and kept licking it off in a most Trey-like fashion.

Brian mostly followed Myrna around trying to talk her into taking it easy due to her pregnancy and insisting on lifting anything that weighed more than two ounces.

Eric looked around for something he could do.

“You can help me with the cinnamon rolls,” a familiar voice said behind him.

Eric’s heart was already pounding before he even turned around. Rebekah offered him a timid smile and lowered her gaze. She’d dyed her hair all one mousy brown color and was wearing a plain white blouse and trim black pants that accentuated the gentle flair of her hips. His eyes automatically went to her throat. Instead of the sapphire butterfly necklace he’d given her, she wore a slender silver chain. Her wrist was completely unadorned. He took her lack of jewelry as an obvious sign of rejection. She hated him. And she looked so abysmally normal and sedate. What had happened to the vibrant, quirky girl who’d captured his heart? Had that all been an act? Or was this girlnext-door persona an act?

“I don’t know how to make cinnamon rolls,” he admitted.

“But no one shakes spices like you do.” She glanced at her mother who was staring at her with stern disapproval.

“I do have good wrist action,” Eric said and simulated jacking off vigorously.

Rebekah laughed, her eyes lighting up with delight. Mrs. B cleared her throat, and Rebekah’s smile faded. “Do you want to help?” she asked the middle of Eric’s chest.

“Sure.”

Eric followed Rebekah to a large mixer. Isaac, who was mixing one hell of a huge ball of dough, smiled warmly at Rebekah. “It’s almost ready, angel.”

Eric closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. The man just had to breathe and it pissed him off.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac asked Eric.

“Helping the less fortunate,” Eric said, forcing himself to meet Isaac’s displeased gaze.

“Which would be me,” Rebekah said. “I need help sprinkling the cinnamon.”

“I was going to help you with that,” Isaac said. He dumped the mountain of dough onto the silver countertop that had a coating of flour over its surface.

“I think my dad needs help carving turkeys.”

Isaac located Father Blake carving one of dozens of turkeys.

“Looks like it.” When Isaac turned to walk away, Eric almost cheered.

He’d never been happier to be considered inept with a knife. There would be no turkey carving in his immediate future.

Rebekah handed Eric a big silver shaker. “I’ll let you know when to start shaking,” she said.

Truthfully, he was already shaking. He wanted to draw her into his arms so badly he had to grip the shaker with both hands to control the impulse. He watched her roll out the dough with a big wooden pin.

“How have you been?” she asked, concentrating on her task. She was probably avoiding looking at him.

“Okay. You?”

“Okay.”

She rolled the dough into a big rectangle. An awkward silence stretched between them. She reached for a tub of softened butter and spread it over the dough with her hands. He was imagining buttering up her breasts until they were slippery, pressing the succulent globes together, and sliding his cock…

“Eric?”

Rebekah’s inquiry pulled him out of his delicious fantasy. A fantasy he could have made a reality less than a week ago. “Huh?”

“You can start shaking the cinnamon and sugar now.”

“Okay,” he said breathlessly.

He moved to stand beside her. She worked her way down the dough, still spreading it with a thick layer of melty, slippery butter, and he followed, shaking the cinnamon and sugar mixture over the butter. He was soon lost in fantasyland again. Rebekah was rubbing that butter all over her breasts, her nipples standing erect and begging to be licked. Instead of shaking sweet powder over the dough, he was stroking his cock and spurting cum all over her chest. His attention riveted to her chest.

The first signs of her arousal produced two small bumps on the front of her blouse. He was showing off his own arousal as a bulge in his pants. They had both stopped working and were staring at each other’s hard evidence.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

“Watching you spread butter on your breasts until they’re all slippery, while I jack off and come all over your tits,” he whispered back.

“I want it in my mouth,” she whispered.

Eric groaned. It wasn’t nice to tease him like that. Wasn’t she going to marry Isaac? He opened his mouth to ask her just that when Mrs. B appeared on Rebekah’s opposite side.

“Are you two about finished?” Mrs. B said. “We’ve got to get those in the oven.”

Mrs. B helped herself to Rebekah’s butter and spread it over the dough. Eric’s erection withered to nothingness. He was no longer entertaining fantasies of slippery breasts.

“I’ve got it, Mom,” Rebekah said, spreading butter faster now.

Eric shook his shaker more vigorously to coat the buttered dough.

“Go get the baking sheet,” Mrs. B said to Rebekah.

Rebekah glanced at Eric and then went to retrieve a baking sheet, her buttery hands in the air.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Mrs. B said to Eric as soon as Rebekah was out of earshot. “Trying to interfere with her relationship with Isaac. It won’t work. She will marry that young man, and you will not mess things up.”

Wow, this woman hated him. It wasn’t the first time someone had hated Eric, but it didn’t usually bother him this much.

“Why are you busting my balls, lady?”

Mrs. B made a sound of exasperation. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“No, actually, she deserted me when I was four years old.”

“I can understand why,” Mrs. B huffed.

Eric set his jaw in a harsh line and dropped the shaker on the counter. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He didn’t often think about the mother who had left him behind. He sure as hell didn’t agonize over his situation or let it bother him, but that… that hurt. Stomach in knots, heart aching, eyes stinging, Eric turned and strode away before he called Rebekah’s mother a fucking bitch to her face.

“What did you say to him?” he heard Rebekah ask her mother as she returned with the baking sheet.

“Nothing,” Mrs. B said in a saccharine sweet voice. “Isaac,” she called. “Would you mind helping Rebekah cut the dough into strips?

She was never any good at it.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. B,” Isaac said eagerly.

Aggie snagged Eric around the waist as he stalked by. “We could use some help,” she said. Eric found himself wedged between Jace and Aggie. They continued to peel potatoes. Eric stood there and gulped air.

“You okay?” Jace asked.

“I was until Mrs. Bitch showed up.”

Jace sniggered. “She makes a guy miss his mama not at all.”

“I think she’s even worse than my mother,” Aggie said, “and that’s saying something.”

“She gets along with Isaac just fine. She just hates me.”

Aggie bumped Eric’s leg with her hip. “She just doesn’t know you, doll. If she got to know you—”

“She’d hate me even more. Maybe I should get a haircut and wear something nice and be more careful about what I say and—”

“Don’t go there, dude,” Jace said.

“Who cares what Mrs. Blake thinks about you?” Aggie said.

“Rebekah loves you. What her mother thinks doesn’t matter.”

The three turned to watch Mrs. B chatter animatedly with Isaac, who was cutting dough into strips, while Rebekah coiled them and placed them on the baking sheet. Rebekah glanced at Eric and offered him a miserable smile before turning her attention back to her dough arranging.

“Rebekah would obviously rather be over here with you,” Aggie said.

“Yeah? So what’s stopping her?”

Aggie shoved the pot of peeled potatoes into Eric’s chest. “Go rinse these in the sink over there, and bring them back so we can cut them up.”

Eric did as he was told. While he was washing the potatoes, Rebekah appeared at his side. “Do you mind if I wash my hands?”

she asked. She held her greasy fingers up for inspection. “I’m all buttery.”

Eric stepped aside. “Go right ahead.”

“Did my mother say something to you?” she asked as she scrubbed her hands with dish soap.

“No.”

She sighed heavily. “Liar.”

She rinsed her hands and was gone before he could find his tongue. He was starting to wish he’d never come. The heartache wasn’t worth viewing Rebekah from afar.

Eric did his best to avoid Rebekah and crew while they were in the kitchen. When it came time to serve, he found himself in charge of serving mashed potatoes. Rebekah was to his right with the gravy, and Isaac to his left with the stuffing. Hell. On. Earth.

What made it worse was that Trey was at the end of the line.

Being the social creature that he was, he kept slowing up the line as he chatted with and teased every person who wanted dessert. And everyone wanted dessert when Trey Mills was offering it.

“Can I get some extra stuffing?” a legless man in a wheelchair asked Isaac as they waited for the line to start moving again.

“Of course. Just don’t tell my boss,” Isaac said and scooped more stuffing onto the man’s plate.

“You can have extra potatoes too, if you want,” Eric said.

“I would like more potatoes. Thanks.”

Eric added potatoes to his plate.

“The stuffing is excellent,” Isaac said and scooped more onto the man’s plate.

“But not as good as the potatoes,” Eric insisted and added to the heap already on his plate.

The man looked relieved when the line started moving, and he could get some gravy for his mountains of stuffing and mashed potatoes.

Isaac scooped larger and larger servings of stuffing onto each plate. Not to be one-upped by a twerp, Eric made sure each person’s serving of potatoes was larger than their pile of stuffing.

“What are you trying to prove, rock star?” Isaac growled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Not a thing, doc.”

Rebekah shook her head. “Will you two take it easy? We’re going to run out of food. I know you’re both generous, but—”

“I’m way more generous than he is,” Isaac said.

“Not!” Eric added.

The news crew flitted about, zooming in on the band members as they served people they would never encounter on a regular day.

Despite Isaac’s constant presence as a thorn in his side, Eric started to remember why he was there in the first place.

It wasn’t to ogle Rebekah. It wasn’t to wonder if he’d ever win over Mrs. B. It wasn’t for good publicity. It wasn’t even to hang out with his best friends. It was to make a small difference in a stranger’s life. Instead of stuffing visitors with potatoes, he shifted his focus to talking to them while they waited for Trey to stop yakking at the end of the line.

When a mother with two young daughters made their way through the line, Eric’s heart melted. The two girls stared at him with wide eyes, uncertain what to make of the tall, thin guy with the crazy hair.

“How come your hair is blue right there?” one of the girls asked.

Eric estimated her to be about seven.

“I wanted it to match your eyes.”

“Mah eyes is brown.”

He leaned over the counter for a better look. “I guess they are.

Should I change the color to brown then?”

She shook her head. “I like blue. I never saw blue hair afore.”

“Don’t frequent West Hollywood much then, do you?”

Rebekah snorted.

Her younger sister stared at him, but was apparently too shy or too scared to initiate conversation. “Do you like blue too?” Eric asked.

She nodded.

“It’s about time for me to change colors again. What color do you think I should do next?”

“Purple!” the older girl said.

The younger nodded again.

“Purple?” Eric pretended to be perplexed. “Isn’t that a girl color?”

“No, pink is a girl color,” the girl insisted. “Boys can have purple.”

“Alright, purple it is. I trust you wouldn’t steer me wrong and make my hair a girl color.”

The younger girl laughed. “Pink. Pink. You should have pink hair!”

“Now I know you’re trying to make me look silly.”

“You’ve already succeeded in that on your own,” Isaac mumbled.

Eric refused to take his bait.

The mother offered Isaac a scathing look and then smiled at Eric. “Thank you,” she said quietly and helped her girls push their trays further down the line. Eric caught Rebekah smiling sadly as she offered gravy to the two little girls. He placed a gentle hand in the center of Rebekah’s back, and she leaned against his arm. When she looked up, his throat closed off, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her.

“Yo, Eric,” Sed called from the beginning of the chow line.

“Gather the rest of the guys and come down here for an interview.”

Eric knew Sed could do a fine job with the interview on his own, but he did his bidding anyway. Something about Sed made Eric always want to do his bidding. “Bring Dave with you. And Rebekah too.” Especially when Sed made requests such as those.

Eric gathered his bandmates and Dave. They went to sit at one of the picnic tables. Trey sat on the table with his feet on the bench, while the rest lined up in a row. Dave maneuvered his wheelchair into the space at the end of the table next to Sed. The only one not present was Rebekah. Eric made a return trip to retrieve her.

“Sed wants us all to have an interview with the news crew.”

“Why me?”

Eric shrugged. “I dunno. He specifically requested you join us though.”

She handed her gravy ladle to a volunteer and wiped her hands on her black pants. Eric noticed the flour handprints on her ass and wondered if they belonged to Isaac. He wished he could say that they belonged to him.