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“Second one to the left.” I say, pointing down the hallway. In true Bristol fashion, she goes right and like a slow motion car accident she grabs the knob and opens the door before I can stop the impending crash. She pushes herself inside before a word can leave my lips. Like stop. Don’t go in there. Her hand trembles as it rises to cover her mouth as she stands in the middle of Alex’s catastrophe of a room. Clothes and empty water cups litter the floor, a guitar and amp sit in the corner, and his nightstand holds lotion with Kleenex, and as I take a step into the room, his scent surrounds me. The stale scent of no disturbance lingers heavy in the air. I purse my lips and try to hold my breath, not wanting to breathe in any more memories than necessary.
“I said left, Magellan.” I sigh, leaning my head back towards the ceiling.
“Who do I look like, Lewis and Clark? You could have just shown me the room like a normal host.” She spits, her arms flying out in exasperation.
“This isn’t my fault.” I seethe. “Let’s go.” I grab her arm and tug her out of the room. She fights me for a moment, but I can stay in here another second.
We walk across the hall to her room for the night, and I throw her suitcase on the bed. Anger rips through me, I didn’t want to go in there. I planned on leaving it just the way it was before he left for tour, but now that Bristol’s been in there, it feels like I have to do something about it. I’m not ready. I can go through his things, I can’t throw pieces of him away. Overwhelmed is the only word I can describe for how I’m feeling right now. A soft hand grips my shoulder lightly, pulling me out of the self deprivation tunnel I was walking through.
“I’m sorry.” She says, spinning me slightly so I’m facing her, her blue eyes hold mine, and I know she means it. “I didn’t know.” She whispers.
“I know,” I nod, “I wasn’t ready to go in there yet.” I swallow hard, emotion rising up.
“When you are, I’ll help you.” She smiles lightly. I nod, not trusting my voice. I clear my throat and look around the room. Instruments line the walls and there’s barely room for the bed.
“Move whatever you need to.” I motion to the shit everywhere. “Get settled, and we can order a pizza, yeah?” I ask.
“Okay.” She says, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Chapter 20 Bristol
The wooden sticks in my hands feel like coming home. I haven’t played since the other night in the garage, but I haven’t performed in months. I hit the sticks against my bare thighs, tapping out the beat to Riot Act. We’re only playing two songs tonight so I didn’t have to practice, they’re both songs I know like the back of my hand.
The back room of Whisky a Go-Go is one of the most infamous rooms in LA. Legends have walked these halls, the amount of drugs and sex that this room has seen is unfathomable. The couch in the middle of the room should have a biohazard sticker on it, and I wouldn’t sit on it if you paid me. The boys stand on the other side of the room, talking to some guy in a top hat and wild long hair. They laugh boisterously at something he said, and I can’t help but watch Rhyit and how happy he looks. His dark hair is down and hangs in front of his face slightly. He’s wearing a leather jacket with no shirt underneath, ripped black jeans, and combat boots. His washboard abs and tattoos on full display for the audience, and the black eyeliner smudged around his eyes makes the green pop against his skin. He looks fucking delicious, and I know I need to tamp down the hormones if I’m going to survive this tour. I hate that I’m sucked back into his orbit, hate that I need his warmth. His betrayal sits at the surface of my skin, but that’s it. It’s not bone deep anymore, it doesn’t hurt the way that it did years ago. Maybe I just don’t care about it anymore, I think to myself, but then I remember that I do care. His apologies and a few orgasms aren’t going to erase the hurt that I felt. That I still feel.
“Hey.” A deep voice says from beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. I swivel the stool I’m sitting in slightly and look up. The most gorgeous pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen meet me, and I take a second to appreciate how good looking he is. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a defined jaw and a Romanesque nose, he looks like a Viking god. Like he should be captaining ships in the sea not backstage at a rock show.
“Hi”, I squeak, my words coming out quickly.
“You’re Pistol Graham, right?” He asks, his voice is deep and reminds me of smoke and leather.
“Yup.” I reply with a nod, holding my hand out to him to shake. His face breaks out in a huge smile as his palm meets mine. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“Babe, the pleasure is all mine. I’m a huge fan.” The way he says pleasure sends a shot straight to my lady bits, and a blush creeps up from my chest.
“Aww, thank you.” I say, his praise making my skin heat, “and you are?” I need his name.
“Alder. I’m the drummer for these assholes.” He says motioning with his head to the top hat guy and the bandana dude in the corner.
“Cool. I’m the drummer for these assholes for the next few months.” I smile. “You guys play here before?” I ask. Am I flirting? I think I’m flirting.
“Nah.” He says, shaking his head. “I cannot believe I got to meet you, though. Holy shit, you’re a legend, you know that right?.” His eyes hold mine, and I smile harder, a light laugh leaving me.
“It was really nice to meet you too.” I reply. “I wouldn’t classify myself as a legend. I appreciate the ego boost though.” I laugh harder. I can feel eyes on me, and when I turn my head away from Alder, I find Rhyit staring holes into the side of my head. Is he jealous? Oh fuck, he’s jealous. A green cloud might as well be sitting over his head with the look he’s giving me. Alder must notice I’m not looking at him anymore, and his eyes follow mine to Rhyit.
“Oh shit, I don’t want to get you in trouble with your man.” He says, sheepishly. He says that, but he doesn’t mean it. I’ve heard that line more times than I can count.
“He’s not mine.” I say, holding Rhyit’s eyes. He cocks his head to the side like he heard me. I shoot him a sweet smile and focus my attention back to the Viking in front of me.
“Really?” He asks, shock marring his face. “I saw the photos and the video from the funeral, I figured you guys were back together.” I shake my head. The photos of us have been circulating for days, Rhyit’s hand in mine, my head on his shoulder as we hold each other together.
“I’m only here because the label wanted a reunion tour, a united front I guess.” I shrug.
“He’s jealous.” He states. There’s no question behind it, he can see the jealousy written across his face just as easily as I can.
“Yup.” I reply, popping the p, pushing myself off the stool. My platform black combats only bring me to Alders chest–he’s massive. My foot gets caught on the inside steel bar of the stool, and I start to fall forward as I attempt to free my foot. In a split second, Alder wraps his arms around me, keeping me from hitting the ground.
