Page 10 of Pistol Whipped

“They’re all about you,” she says, even more softly. This time, what she’s saying fully computes.

“All of them?” I gasp. I look at her goggle-eyed. I can’t help it. I’m in shock. My mouth even hangs open because I’m basically a cartoon oaf at this point. Meanwhile, the girl in front of me is turning nearly as purple as her eyes.

Everyone thinks Rain Gamble is this quiet, gentle, introverted thing. And she is, like ninety-nine percent of the time. But the three of us—Dax, Dutch and I—and her Grams, we all know different. We all know the warning signs to watch out for. The ones that mean Rainy’s about to explode. This is one of those signs, and if I don’t say something to fix it in the next ten seconds, then I’m about to face her wrath.

What do I do instead? I laugh. A wave of relieved laughter, a wave of I-can’t-actually-believe-it laughter. I’m laughing because it’s actually absurd that a polo-wearing, skinny loser like me could be so damn lucky. Not only are my musical dreams coming true, but the girl of those same dreams just confessed that all the love songs she’s written have been about me.

She clearly doesn’t realize that, though, because her shoulders stiffen and she’s already leaning forward, ready to spit venom at me for laughing, so I do what I can to get control of myself.

“Rain…” I’m still chuckling but manage to put a finger to her lips in the hopes that she’ll hear me out before screaming at me. The action only makes more anger dance in those magical eyes of hers.

“Rain, please just listen. Then if you still want to kick my ass, I’ll let you.”

She stills, thank God.

“You’re right. I didn’t leave to go take a piss. I left the session because listening to you sing had me so riled up, I had to go rub one out in the bathroom like some pre-teen who can’t control his penis.”

Not exactly the stuff of Shakespeare, I know, but I’m an eighteen-year-old idiot, so sue me if I’m not great at the romance stuff.

It works, though. This time, it’s Rain that looks floored. So I take my chance. I lean forward and whisper back to her, “Hearing the girl I’m crushing on, have been crushing on for years, sing my music. Baby, it’s everything I dreamed of…well, almost.”

I’m not sure where the term of endearment comes from, but it slips out, and when she doesn’t cuss me out for it, I lean in and plant a soft kiss against those pouty lips of hers. She kisses me back, and my heart, my head, my body, they all fucking soar. I can’t help but smile against her mouth when the kiss breaks. She’s red-faced, eyes shining, breathing hard. In a word, perfect.

“Now, it’s everything,” I whisper, as I stitch our fingers together and lead us, because Rain and I are an ‘us’ now, back into the studio.

End Interlude

Chapter 6

We Used To Be Friends

Dutch

I’ll always remember the first time I saw Rain Gamble, and I’ll never forget the last time I saw her either. That first time, she was thirteen, her smile was almost too big for her face, and her dark eyes played games with me, daring me to call them purple. They’re not, at least not quite, but they are goddamn close. Even more so when she’s been crying, like she was, or had been, that last time.

Fucking Cohen.

I am still so angry at him for how everything went down all those years ago. The way he wouldn’t fucking listen. The way he fucking sank into his depression and dragged my brother right along with him. Only Cohen had his Mom and Dad to help him climb back out. Dax didn’t; I am all Dallas has.

Now here he is, making decisions for all of us, acting like a damn fool, just because he can’t let go of the past. Something about Rainy’s presence turns him right back into that eighteen-year-old kid willing to do anything to get her attention. Even if it’s negative attention.

What is he even thinking? Where are we going to find another singer with that kind of power in their voice, or the ability to hit those high notes he wrote into every fucking song just because he knew she, and only she, could hit them? Not to mention, the idea of someone else singing Rain’s songs doesn’t sit right with me. They are too personal, too hers, too ours.

My hand claps down on Cohen’s shoulder, ready to step in. To remind him he is a fucking grown-up now, or is supposed to be, so he should get over himself and act like it. Only before I can mutter a single word, the storm cloud that is my Rainy finally bursts.

“Go fuck yourself, Cohen Brady,” she spits before darting out of the room. Her long hair, a faded plain brown colour that I don’t recognize, trails behind her as she races towards the elevator with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

These two. I forgot that it’s either fucking or fighting with them. And considering Cohen swore up and down after their break-up that he never wanted to fuck Rain Gamble ever again, it looks like we were going to be stuck with fighting.

Especially when Lou looks Cohen dead in the eyes and says, “No, it’s either Rain or nothing.”

“We’ll see about that,” Cohen grumbles, crunching the contract in his fist, “Let’s go, guys.”

Typical. Because his annoyance has gotten the better of him, he doesn’t even check to see if Dax and I are following. I am more than a little annoyed myself, because we do in fact follow. However, I have to help Dallas out of his chair, because he is still too weak to do it himself.

There is no sign of Rain as the three of us make our way through the lobby. She probably ran out of here like a bat outta hell. And because I am dragging my brother, I can’t even chase after her. Not that I’m not pissed at her too. And at myself. We’re all equally to blame for our bust-up. The wisdom of hindsight and all that crap. I could see it back then, too. I said some horrific shit I couldn’t take back, and by the time I tracked her down to apologize, Rain Gamble was long gone.

Vanished.