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I grinned and played along. “It was really good advice.”
He turned his head away and kept motioning for more.
Now I was laughing. “It was an absolutely brilliant stroke of genius.”
He put out a hand like Okay, you can stop there.
“It was nothing,” he said nonchalantly, still playing up the self-mockery angle. Then he grew serious, though with a smile. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m just a little worried about my journalistic integrity.”
He made a face and blew out air through his lips. “If you were interviewing the President or a Congressman or somebody important, then, yeah. But we’re just three guys and a crazy chick who get up on stage and play songs.”
“You’re joking, right?” I asked, stunned. “You guys are incredibly important!”
He swept his arm around at the room. “Don’t confuse the trappings with being important, Kaitlyn.”
“What about the people you inspire? What about kids who are where you were four years ago, in their parents’ basement, following their dream? You’re important to them.”
He bobbed his head modestly and nodded in grudging assent. “Well, okay, yeah, those are the people I want to be important to, so that’s fine. But believe me, you’ll be giving them a dream, too: the hope that, one day, they too will be able to get a beautiful Rolling Stone writer to question her journalistic integrity.”
I laughed and swatted him on the arm. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he grinned, and walked off into the crowd.
As he left, though, his words played again in my head:
And to think, all of this was made possible by my advice.
I intentionally ignored the whole part where he had confessed to falling in love with me years ago. The fact that he was happy to see me happy… that was confusing enough.
But despite my fog of giddiness and champagne, I remembered something else besides the ‘let yourself go and live a little’ part:
Be careful. He’s my best friend, but… just be careful. Don’t give too much of yourself away. Not completely.
I like you way too much to see you get hurt.
It was like hearing the whispers of a ghost echoing down a long, dark hallway.
Unsettling.
Disturbing.
And then I forgot everything as I felt the sting of somebody slapping my ass HARD.
“OW!” I yelped.
I was about to wheel around and give Derek hell –
When I realized it wasn’t Derek.
“What up, Blondie!” Riley cackled, then darted in and sloppily kissed my cheek. She reeked of sweat and Jack Daniels.
“UGH, get off me!” I shouted, pushing her away violently.
In retrospect, I think it was the champagne that emboldened me to do that.
She backed away into the crowd as she pointed at me. “One day, Blondie! One day, I’m gonna tap dat ass!”
And then she bumped into a stunning brunette…
Wheeled around and got an eyeful…
And then smacked her rear end, too.
The brunette was not quite as unreceptive as I was.
Which Riley took immediate advantage of as she began sucking on her face.
I watched the whole display with an expression I usually reserve for roadkill.
“Looks like I have competition,” a voice rumbled behind me.
I turned and saw Derek grinning.
I rolled my eyes. “If you died, and then the whole rest of the world except for Riley died, too, you still wouldn’t have any competition.”
He laughed, then circled his arms around me, nuzzled up against my back, and whispered in my ear, “Hey… you feel like getting out of here?”
Mmmmmmm.
“I so feel like getting out of here,” I whispered back.
And then Killian ruined everything.
57
He strolled over to us, smoking a joint and strumming his guitar.
“‘Ello, luv,” he smiled at me, then looked at Derek. “We still on for tomorrow, yeah?”
Derek stared at him blankly – and then closed his eyes and winced. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot…”
I frowned. “Forgot what?”
For the first time ever, I saw something other than a look of placid contentment on Killian’s face. He looked flat-out disappointed. “Aw, c’mon now… I’m happy you two are in the midst of connubial bliss, but you promised, mate.”
“Connubial…?” I slurred, now firmly in the grips of the champagne. “I don’t think that means what you think it means…”
I giggled, realizing I sounded a lot like that quote from The Princess Bride:
Inconceivable!
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Which I thought was hilarious.
Come on, cut me a break. I was drunk.
Everybody else, though, was ignoring me.
“Killian…” Derek said, sounding like he was about to try to weasel his way out of something.
“You promised,” Killian said, standing firm.
“Promised what? What’s wrong?” I asked, now slightly alarmed.
“Bring her along! I’ve got more than enough – the more the merrier!” Killian turned to me and asked enthusiastically, “You want to go to Joshua Tree tomorrow, luv?”
“I don’t know,” Derek said, suddenly far more adult and wary-sounding than I’d ever heard him before.
“Joshua Tree?” I frowned. “Like… U2?”
Killian chuckled. “Yes – exactly! They named the album after it. Joshua Tree National Park. We’re going tomorrow for an overnight stay.”
“Don’t you have a concert?”
“Nope. Specifically for this reason,” he said, frowning at Derek like You PROMISED.
“Get Ryan to go instead,” Derek suggested.
Killian snorted derisively. Compared to what he normally acted like, he was a full-on riot of emotions. “Ryan’ll never do anything. You know that.”
“Ryan’ll never do anything what?” Ryan said, suddenly materializing beside Killian from out of the crowd.
“Where’d you come from?” I asked, surprised.
“You guys looked like you were having a band conference. Ryan’ll never do anything what?” he repeated.
“Joshua Tree,” Derek said simply, as though that explained everything.
Apparently it did.
“Damn straight Ryan’ll never do anything,” Ryan agreed.
Killian pointed at Ryan but made a face at Derek – like, See? What did I tell you?
“And he’s trying to get Kaitlyn to go along,” Derek explained.
“Oh, hell no.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use this much profanity, ever,” I teased Ryan.
“There’s a good reason,” he said darkly.
“Bah,” Killian said, flapping his hand dismissively. “Just because you’re a prissy wanker doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t partake.”
“You prissy wanker, you,” Derek repeated. Ryan just rolled his eyes.
“Partake in what?” I asked. “Why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?”
“Yes, why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?” the guitarist said plaintively, like a five-year-old child who only got a package of underwear for Christmas.
Derek sighed heavily. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just…”
“It’s just what?” I asked.
Derek paused, then gave me a mischievous grin. “He wants to do shrooms while we’re there.”
“…shrooms?” I repeated, not quite understanding in my drunken state.
Then I got it.
“MUSHROOMS?!”
“Say it a little louder, luv,” Killian griped. “The coppers outside the stadium didn’t hear you.”
“You want to go take drugs out in the desert?!”
Killian seemed to consider that a baffling question. As in, who wouldn’t want to?
“…yeah!”
“It’s an annual thing,” Derek explained. “Ever since he came to Athens, he has to go to Joshua Tree every year and trip on shrooms. It’s like his annual ritual or something.”
“Exactly,” Killian said, sounding comically dignified. “It’s my annual ritual.”
“And every year Derek goes with him,” Ryan said.
“And trips his balls off,” Killian added.
“And every year he tries to get Ryan to go, too – ” Derek said.
“But Ryan’s a prissy little wanker who won’t partake,” Killian sniffed. Then he leaned in close to me. “Don’t be a prissy little wanker, luv.”
“I… uh… I’ve never dropped shrooms before,” I said, a little bit frightened. Okay, a lot frightened.
“You ‘drop’ acid. You just ‘take’ shrooms,” Derek said.
“You can drop shrooms,” Killian said.
“Yeah,” I said, annoyed at being corrected.
“Nobody says that,” Derek scoffed.
“Well, Kaitlyn can drop shrooms if she wants,” Killian said magnanimously, and then gave me puppy dog eyes. “Please, luv? Do it for Queen and country.”
“She’s not British,” Ryan pointed out.
“Pretend you are.”
“The fuck’s going on over here?” Riley shouted as she stumbled over. “Is this a band conference?”
“Unofficial one, yeah,” Ryan said.
