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The lights are low, and there’s a dude playing guitar in the far corner. He’s not great, but he’s not that bad either, and I almost feel a little sorry for him as I slide into the only free seat next to Quinn.
I remember the days of playing your heart out to a room full of drunken souls who are only half-listening to you anyway, trash-talking the entire time, and you wish you could tell them all to go to hell if they weren’t the ones paying your rent that week.
“Hey, look who’s here.” Jaxon glances up at me, picking at the soggy label on his beer bottle. “The bitter bitch of the eastside made it after all.”
I don’t even bother justifying his smart remark with a reply. I scowl at him and then gesture for the waitress to bring me a beer. She nods politely before scurrying away again toward the bar. She knows what I want. Cassie’s been looking after us for years, and she respects our privacy. Even a whiff of the paparazzi hanging around and she’s calling them out.
“What’s happening?” I ask, glancing across at Quinn.
He looks back at me for a few seconds and the stupid big jerk is giving me a sheepish look that pisses me off. Really pisses me off. There’s nothing to feel sorry about. I haven’t done anything wrong.
“Stop looking at me like you want to fuck my ass.” I shove his shoulder with my fist. “You’re not my type. What’s so important anyway?”
Quinn exchanges a glance with the other guys, a look I can’t interpret, and his inked arms are taut where he grips his beer bottle with both hands. My jaw tightens. Leaning back in the seat, my eyes skate across the booth, and it’s in that moment that I suddenly feel like an outsider in my very own band. They’ve already been talking about things, without me, I can tell. And my defenses fly up as fast as a security screen at the First National Bank.
I give them all what I’m hoping is the angriest look of all time, but they all just stare back at me, unimpressed.
They want answers.
But I don’t have them yet. I won’t have them until tomorrow morning, and that thought makes me want to throw something across the room, and simultaneously, get so stinking drunk I can’t stand straight anymore.
“Just keep calm, alright…” says Kael, waiting for me to look at him. He wipes his hands down the sides of his face. “I know we’re not allowed to talk about,you-know-what, being thatyou-know-whatis completely off limits. But can someone please explain to me how this happened?”
Cassie walks back over to the booth. She gives Quinn a shy smile as she places an icy-cold beer down on the table in front of me, and then she quickly walks away again.
What part of‘We aren’t supposed to talk about it’doesn’t Kael get?
Especially when the fucking waitress could have just overheard us. Where would that have gotten us? Up shit-creek, that’s where. It’s not exactly rocket science.Jerk.
I narrow my eyes further in his direction and notice him shrink back slightly under my steely gaze.
“Jesus, settle down. I’m just saying… this involves all of us. We’re a team. If one of us goes down, then we all go down.”
“Hey!” I bark, slamming my hand down on the sticky tabletop. “I’m notgoing downfor anything.” His beer topples over, but he grabs it right before it spills. “Push me on this, and I’m just in the mood for you and me to take it outside.”
A deathly shadow passes over Kael’s face, there and gone in an instant. “I’m not fighting you over this, Reed. I’m on your side. Don’t you get that? We’re all on your side. But you have to keep us in the loop and let us know what’s going on. We need to talk about this, as a band.”
I exhale languidly, completely emptying my lungs. Kael’s right. I know he’s right. But it shits me to no end to admit that Kael’s right. It’s my least favorite thing to do.
Cold Neptune is tight though. We always have been. So, I guess I do owe them some kind of explanation.
“Alright, but not here,” I tell him with a quick shake of my head. “Not now. We can meet somewhere before rehearsals tomorrow afternoon after I’ve had my meeting downtown with the mediators. I’ll know more then. I have no clue who this woman is or why she’s doing this to me. But I didn’t steal shit from anyone, and I’ll prove that without a question of a doubt when I meet with her tomorrow,” I say quietly.
“Is Sal working on it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Okay. That’s a start.”
Jaxon picks at the basket of cold fries sitting on the table in front of him. “Do we even know this chick’s name?” he asks, shoving a couple of fries into his mouth. “We could check her out on social media?”
He chews loudly.Disgusting.
Before I can answer him, the house lights brighten slightly and the guy playing guitar thanks everyone‘for coming out tonight and supporting him.’
Only one person claps.
Poor bastard.
