AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I tiptoe to the cash register, set the shakes there, and continue in the same fashion to the back room. It’s not even a room, but more of a lobby. There is no door to peek through. My best bet is to stay in the narrow hallway, hiding in the shadows, and I’m very good at that.
Hal sits on the coffee table, surrounded by guitar cases. Blackmore is sprawled out on Hal’s worn-out leather couch, playing guitar, as seems to be the state he’s always in. Holding my breath, I resort to good old eavesdropping. I need to get a better feel of the situation before I announce my presence.
“The more I think about it,” says Hal, “the more I believe you two are meant for each other. You’ll make her fly again, and she’ll mend your broken heart.”
Is he talking about me? He’s going to get his behind kicked for sure, that meddler.
Blackmore huffs. “I don’t have a broken heart.”
Hal smirks. “You’re right. Your heart isn’t broken. It’s pulverized. Juliette took it, ground it up, and scattered it on the crossroads.”
What luck! Hal’s digging all the secretive little barbs out of Blackmore. Hold on. Does he somehow know I’m here? No. Hal’s showing no signs he’s aware of me. No glances, nothing. I slink a step back all the same.
“Don’t talk about Juliette,” Blackmore growls. “Not when he’s here. Not ever. Nobody has any idea what happened, but you all think you’re aware of every private detail.”
Hal claps Blackmore’s shoulder. “Anger is good, you know? And whatever it is you pretend to be over—”
“All right.” Blackmore grabs Hal’s hand and crushes it in his grip. “When you get a therapist license, let me know. Until then, shut up.”
Hal jerks his hand away and flexes his fingers. “You’re crap when it comes to being the real you. You know that, right?”
“Nobody cares about the real me. I don’t care about the real me. Who needs genuine, vulnerable Jace Blackmore with feelings?” He pretends to shudder. “I’ll just stay a devil.”
Does he truly believe that? If so, that’s sad.
“I love the vulnerable you,” Hal says to him. “It gives me hope that one day you’ll turn human.”
“Aw.” Blackmore throws his arm out, inviting Hal for a hug.
They laugh. About Blackmore’s heartbreak. Honestly, I didn’t expect anything different from Hal.
In the corner right ahead of me a door opens. It leads to the bathroom, and out comes—
“Shane O’Neal?” I exclaim. What is he doing here?
Shane freezes with one foot still in the door and a bunch of damp paper towels in his hands, and all three guys whip their heads in my direction. Blackmore even sits up on the couch.
I stick my hands in my jacket pockets and step into the room with as cool an expression as I can muster, feeling stupid for sneaking around in the first place. What was the point? Still, I got the most fascinating glimpse into Blackmore’s life.
Shane drops the towels into a trash can in the bathroom. The door closes with a sharp click, visibly snapping them out of their stupor.
“Laurel.” Hal’s eyebrows shoot high. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“Um…” A sleek guitar catches my eyes. Matte black with sensuous red trim, it calls my name like no other guitar has in years. I rush over to its case and lift the instrument. “What is this?” I check the head for the brand name. “Venom Guitars? Never heard of it before.”
“It’s Shane’s brand,” Hal explains. “He designed them himself, and they sound extreme.”
I need an amp. Blackmore’s guitar is already plugged into a small one next to him. I do the unforgivable—yank the cord out of his instrument while the amp is still on. The guys flinch at the ear-splitting pop that follows.
“Hey!” Blackmore chides me.
“Laurel!” Hal joins.
I chuckle and plug in my guitar. The guys cover their ears.
“Don’t you know to never mess around with the cords when the amp is on?” Shane scolds me.
I respond with a crunchy riff from a metal classic by HydraPower. Oh wow. This may be the best guitar I’ve ever played. Smooth neck, slinky strings, perfect body cuts. The sound… The sound is soul-crushing. I could play this all day.
