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"It sounds like an accurate comparison to me," Jett said.
Strike leaned back and made a face at the drummer. "I feel very attacked right now."
Jett grinned. "If anyone can take it, it's you."
Strike sat back down and they started trading playful insults.
"So anyway," I said, trying to remember what we were talking about before we were interrupted. "You think Hales is just spooked by what the press might do to her if we were together?"
"All I'm saying, is that you've seen what the press does to people." He shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Part of her job is to try to prevent them from doing that us. Which as you know, doesn't always stop them. Sometimes it just slows them down. But she's seen the worst of it. Would you want to be on the receiving end of their malarkey? You know as well as I do, they could turn on you at the drop of a pin."
"Isn't that, drop of a hat?" I asked.
"It's like a drop of a hat," he agreed. "But it's even lighter. And much pointier and painful if you step on it."
"I feel like that makes a lot more sense than it should," I said. "You're right though. It's no wonder she was pissed. Not to mention that she has to work with us. She might feel like Strike is just the tip of the iceberg of what we might put her through."
“It may be.”
"You might be right," I said reluctantly.
"You know what I think," he said. "I think the best one to talk to about this is your sister. She knows how it feels to be on the outside. She's already had a taste of what the press is like. Bit of a baptism of fire, if you ask me."
"Yeah, it really is." I felt bad for Mel. I'd read some of the bullshit the press had said about her. Not to mention random strangers on the Internet. As far as I could tell, she and Jude were staying off social media for a while. That struck me as a very good idea. Reading too much negative stuff about yourself couldn't be good for anyone. I tried to avoid it for that reason.
"I'll try to talk to her," I said. "Hayley, I mean. And Mel." It was possible Hayley wouldn't be able to get past the press, or the looks from the guys.
It occurred to me she might never have wanted to get past it begin with. This whole thing might just be one way. If it was, I still wanted to talk to her and clear the air. I didn't need her permission to go on living my life, but I wanted it. I'd pressed pause on certain things and I wouldn't press play again until we'd had it out. Even then, because scenes from the other night kept replaying over and over in my mind. Not just the sex, but the dinner and… just being with her. Spending time with her.
Seeing her hurt and angry, the look of disbelief on her face when Strike made it clear he knew what we did. I winced to think about it.
I thought I was in love before once or twice, but neither of those times felt like this. I didn't want to get her out of my head. I wanted to find her seat on the plane and swap with whoever she was sitting with, even if I had to give them a pile of money to move. Even if she didn't talk to me, I would have been happy to sit beside her, and watch the sky go by.
"Looks like our boy has got it bad," Nate remarked. "Who would have thought it would take a girl like her, to get you to want to settle down. I figured you'd go for someone wild."
I frowned. "Really? "That's the kind of girl you think I'm into?"
He looked thoughtful. "Actually, nah. I don't think you could keep up with a wild girl. I don't think you'd want to."
"I'm not sure if you're insulting me, making a compliment or what." I rubbed my chin. I needed to shave. Or let it grow out more. The last time I shaved was for Mel's wedding. I couldn't really walk her down the aisle looking like a scruffy rock star. Now, I could use more scruff.
"Just making an observation," he said easily. "I think you two would be adorable together, but it sounds like you have some hurdles to get over first. And if you can't get over them, there's always beer."
I chuckled. "Good old beer, it never let us down. Unless we drink too much of it. Then beer sucks." Although, that was all our fault and not the fault of beer. Still, it was easier to blame alcohol then it was to blame ourselves, right? We were the ones who went right back to it and did it all over again. We might learn, some day.
"That's when it's time to switch to whiskey." He grinned.
I groaned. "A whiskey hangover would be worse than a beer hangover."
"You're not supposed to drink that much whiskey," he said. "You sip it and enjoy it while listening to the blues. And sitting out on your porch watching the neighbors pass you by. And every time they do, you give them a wave and greet them by name. If you know their names."
"You sound like an old man," I remarked.
"Just quoting Mamaw." He smiled. "You gonna tell me she's wrong?"
I pulled a face. "I wouldn't dare. She’s the scariest person I know." She was also the sweetest and the coolest. She was the one who taught Nate to play saxophone. Since he wouldn't officially join the band, we kept asking her. She also refused. Something about being surrounded by too much testosterone.
She had a point.
