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He slept with me. We didn't discuss it, he just climbed in beside me, boxer briefs on. They remained intact. Things were so weird now. The gratitude I felt when he lay by my side burned.
Love was a bitter pill.
Sleeping in helped with my various aches and pains before we moved my stuff, which didn't take long. We each took our cars to deliver one load to the second-floor storeroom above the restaurant and we were done. Most of my kitchen and household-type items had been donated to a local charity just before the wedding. I thought I'd no longer need them, what with all of those gifts from the Delaneys' fancy friends arriving every day.
"Cover me." A hand suddenly gripped my arm. A male voice coming from directly behind me. "Good job. What's your name?"
"Is this a robbery or something?" I asked, not sure whether to be perplexed or afraid.
The mystery man laughed. "Fuck no. Got more money than I can spend in this lifetime. What's your name?"
"Lydia."
"Okay, Lydia. You're doing great."
"Thanks." I chanced a glance over my shoulder.
"Don't look at me!"
"Sorry, sorry." Despite it being nearly nine at night, the dude wore sunglasses. His face was mostly obscured by a trucker's hat. Strands of long blond hair had escaped the cap, however, hanging down past his shoulder. Bright green T-shirt. Other than that, I had nothing. If I had to describe him to the police, there wouldn't be much to go on, dammit. "I won't do it again."
"I should hope not. Sheesh, Lydia," he said, tone exasperated. "I need you to work with me here. Just act normal. Walk toward the bar like nothing weird is going on at all, all right?"
"All right."
"Let's go."
With slow measured steps we moved toward the bar. It took me a while to catch Vaughan's eye. I tried to communicate several things to him with my look. First, I was not happy. Second, whoever stood behind me was the definite cause of this unhappiness. His eyes widened, then his gaze jumped to the person steering me toward the big blond bartender.
"You trying to be in disguise or what?" Vaughan asked, voice oddly calm. Instead of reaching for a shotgun or something, he continued pouring a beer.
"Yes," said the maniac, stepping out from behind me. "Genius, isn't it?'
Vaughan leisurely checked him out then shook his head. "You're a fucking idiot. Get your hand off Lydia, you're freaking her out."
"I'll have you know, Lydia and I are the best of friends. She thinks my costume is awesome," the maniac falsely declared. "Don't you, Lydia?"
"I'm allowed to look at you now?" I asked.
"Knock yourself out," the man said, turning to Vaughan, his voice ecstatic. "This is my favorite part, when they get all excited about me."
"Mm-hmm."
The maniac gave me a broad grin.
Whoever he was, he certainly wasn't afraid of loud colors or stating his musical preferences. He wore a fluorescent green T-shirt with a large picture of Malcolm Ericson from Stage Dive on the front, and a matching fluorescent pink hat. "Mal for President" had been embroidered on the hat. Guess he really loved the drummer from Stage Dive. A lot.
"Wow." I gave Vaughan side-eyes.
He burst out laughing. "She doesn't recognize you."
"Duh. She's not supposed to recognize me, I'm in disguise." The maniac pouted and took a seat at the bar. "And give me that beer."
"Bullshit." Vaughan kept right on laughing, setting the beer on the bar as ordered. "You wanted her to know who you were, you fucking show pony."
The man declined to answer, instead drinking the beer.
"Babe," said Vaughan, smiling. "This is Mal Ericson."
Mal raised a hand in salute.
"From Stage Dive?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yep," said Mal. "So ... babe, huh? Don't recall you having a babe before, V-man. How interesting."
"Not interesting." Vaughan started pouring another beer. "None of your business."
"I'd like to buy, babe, a beer." He patted the bar stool beside him. "Sit, Lydia. Let us become friends. Tell your Uncle Mal everything."
"Don't tell him anything," countered Vaughan, brows drawn down. "Biggest fucking meddler I ever met. Always got to be sticking his nose into everyone else's business. And she's working."
"I'd love a drink," I told Mal, taking the proffered seat. "Dinner's basically over, Masa's just clearing the last couple of tables now. A soda and lime, please, bartender."
"You go, babe." Mal started clicking his fingers. "He's not the boss of you."
"Who the hell let him in here?" grumped a female voice.
For the second time tonight, I got accosted from behind. This time, however, it was welcome. Nell gave me quick hug before leaning against the bar. "Mal."
"Nell." The drummer removed his sunglasses, throwing them aside along with his hat. Golden blond hair flowed over his shoulders. Of course, with him revealed in all his glory, there could be no question about his identity. Stage Dive was only one of the biggest bands in the world.
I stared, starstruck.
"Nell, Nell, Nell. Still secretly longing for me, I see." Mal sighed. "You poor pathetic sap."
"Aw. I think it's wonderful that you're so removed from reality, Malcolm. Don't let anybody tell you differently."
He chuckled. "Lydia, did she tell you how when we were kids, she always used to chase after me when we played catch and kiss? Every single time. Not that I minded having an older girl hot on my trail. But shit, running after me every single day. It got a little old."
"I wasn't trying to kiss you, you idiot." Nell turned to me. "One time on the bus, the little asswipe tried to set my ponytail on fire. I kept chasing him to try and punch him, but he was too fast."
"Yeah, sure, Nelly. You keep telling yourself that," stirred Mal.
I looked back and forth between the two, trying not to laugh. Poor Nell's lips were puckered, a heavy scowl in place.
Vaughan slapped down a beer mat, placing my soda and lime on top. Staying out of the twenty-oddyear-old battle. Wise.
"Thank you," I said.
A tip of the chin.
"I was sorry to hear about your mother," said Nell in a softer voice. "She was a wonderful woman."
Mal nodded. "Thanks. I was sorry to hear about you and Pat."
"Yeah." Nell shrugged. "Shit happens, right?"
"Sadly."
"Where's Anne?" asked Vaughan.
"My beloved wife is nose deep in a romance book and doesn't want to be disturbed." With a grin, Mal took another mouthful of beer. "I got a feeling this one's going to be awesome."
"What?"
"Dude." Mal crooked his finger, motioning Vaughan closer. When he did so, Mal smacked him on the forehead. "Listen and learn, you fool. You've got a babe now. You need to know these things."
Rubbing his red forehead, Vaughan did not appear impressed. Or any more knowledgeable. Yet.
"When women read romance books, one of two things generally happen." Mal ran a hand through his lovely locks. "They either want to discuss the book in great depth. And probably, life and your relationship. Now sometimes that's okay. You reach a higher level of understanding with each other and shit. But sometimes it sucks, pure and simple. You wind up getting bitched at for days because of something the dude in the book did that makes you look bad. But if it's an awesome book, however, a hot one? Well then ... kinky fuckery like you wouldn't believe, man. The ideas Pumpkin has gotten out of some of those books. Gold. I could never have talked her into trying half of that stuff."
"Huh."
"Trust me, never mock a romance book," said Mal with all the zest of a manic street preacher. "You have no idea the amount of good they can do for you between the sheets and on the streets. If you love your girl? Buy her books."
A moment of stunned silence.
"Thank god we don't have penises," said Nell, patting me on the shoulder.
"Pretty much," I agreed.
Deep in thought, Vaughan scratched at his head
. "Romance books, huh? I'll keep that in mind."
"Give me strength," said Nell. "Everything okay?"
Her brother gazed back at her, face lined. I think we all knew she wasn't asking about the business. So far as I was aware, there'd been next to no communication between them since she'd broken the news of her pregnancy the night before. Given his expression when he stormed out of the back office, he hadn't taken it well.
"Yeah. Everything's fine." He reached out, taking hold of her hand. "How about with you?"
Her smile was grim. "Getting there."
