Stage Dive: Lick Part 16

I caught his bare hand, inspecting it. "You don't have a ring."

"No, I don't. We'll have to fix that."

"Yes, we will."

He smiled. "Hey, Mrs Ferris."

"Hey, Mr Ferris."

There wasn't enough room in me for all the feelings he inspired.

Not even close.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

We spent the afternoon back down in the recording studio with Tyler and Mal. When David wasn't playing he pulled me onto his lap. When he was busy on guitar, I listened in awe of his talent. He didn't sing, so I remained in the dark about the lyrics. But the music was beautiful in a raw, rock 'n' roll sort of way. Mal seemed pleased with the new material, bopping his head along in time.

Tyler beamed behind the splendid board of b.u.t.tons and dials. "Play that lick again, Dave." My husband nodded and his fingers moved over the fretboard, making magic.

Pam had been busy while we'd been upstairs, starting on unpacking the collection of boxes. When she made a move to return to the job in the early evening I went with her. Unasked or not, it wasn't fair that she got lumped with the task on her own. Plus, it pleased my inner need to organize. I snuck back downstairs now and then as the hours pa.s.sed, stealing kisses, before heading back up to help Pam again. David and co remained immersed in the music. They'd come up seeking food or drink but returned immediately to the studio.

"This is what it's like when they're recording. They lose track of time, get caught up in the music. The number of dinners Tyler has missed because he simply forgot!" said Pam, hands busy unpacking the latest box.

"It's their job, but it's also their first love," she continued, dusting off an Asian-style bowl. "You know that one old girlfriend that's always hanging around the fringes, drunk dialing them at all hours and asking them to come over?"

I laughed. "How do you deal with never getting to come first?"

"You have to strike a balance. Music's a part of them that you have to accept, hon. Fighting it won't work. Have you ever been really pa.s.sionate about something?"

"No," I answered in all honesty, eyeing up another stringed instrument I'd never seen the likes of. It had intricate carving encircling the sound hole. "I enjoy college. I love being a barista, it's a great job. I really like the people. But I can't sling coffee for the rest of my life." I stopped, grimaced. "G.o.d, those are my father's words. Forget I ever said that."

"You can totally sling coffee for the rest of your life, if you so choose," she said. "But sometimes it takes time to find your thing. There's no rush. I was a born and bred photographer."

"That's great."

Pam smiled, her gaze going distant. "That's how Tyler and I met. I went on tour for a couple of days with the band he was in at the time. I ended up going right around Europe with them. We got married in Venice at the end of the tour and we've been together ever since."

"That's a wonderful story."

"Yeah," Pam sighed. "It was a wonderful time."

"Did you study photography?"

"No, my father taught me. He worked for National Geographic. He put a camera in my hand at age six and I refused to give it back. The next day he brought me an old second-hand one. I carried it everywhere I went. Everything I saw was through its lens. Well, you know what I mean ... the world made sense when I looked at it that way. Better than that, it made everything beautiful, special." She pulled a couple of books out of a box, adding them to the shelves built into one wall. We'd already managed to half fill them with various books and mementoes.

"You know, David's dated a lot of women over the years. But he's different with you. I don't know ... the way he watches you, I think it's adorable. It's the first time he's brought anyone here in six years."

"Why was the place empty so long?"

Pam's smile faded and she avoided my eyes. "He wanted it to be his place to come home to, but then things changed. The band was just hitting it big. I guess things got complicated. He could explain it to you best."

"Right," I said, intrigued.

Pam sat back on her haunches, looking around the room. "Listen to me rabbiting on. We've been at this all day. I think we deserve a break."

"I second that."

Nearly half the boxes were open. The contents we couldn't think of an immediate home for were lined up along one wall. A big plush black couch had been delivered. It fit the house and its owner perfectly. With various rugs, pictures and instruments strewn about, the place had almost begun to look like a home. I wondered if David would approve. Easily, I could picture us spending time here when I wasn't in cla.s.ses. Or maybe holidays would be spent touring. Our future was a beautiful, dazzling thing, filled with promise.

In the here and now, however, I still hadn't caught up with Lauren. A fact that caused me great guilt. Explaining this situation didn't appeal and nor did confessing my fast-growing feelings for David.

"Come on, let's go grab some food from down the road. The bar does the best ribs you've ever tasted. Tyler goes crazy for them," said Pam.

"That's a brilliant idea. I'll just let him know we're going. Do I need to change?" I had on the black jeans and tank top, a pair of Converse. The only shoes I'd been able to find among Martha's buys that didn't feature four-inch-plus heels. For once, I looked almost rock 'n' roll-a.s.sociated. Pam wore jeans and a white s.h.i.+rt, a heavy turquoise necklace around her throat. It was casual in theory, but Pam was a striking woman.

"You're dressed fine," she said. "Don't worry. It's very relaxed."

"Alright."

The sound of music still drifted up from downstairs. When I went down there the door was shut and the red light s.h.i.+ning. I could see Tyler with headphones on, busy at the console. I'd forgotten to charge my phone with all the recent excitement. But I didn't have David's phone number so I couldn't have texted him anyway. I didn't want to interrupt. In the end, I left a note on the kitchen bench. We wouldn't be gone long. David probably wouldn't even notice.

The bar was a traditional wooden wonderland with a big jukebox and three pool tables. Staff called out "h.e.l.lo"s to Pam as we walked in. No one even blinked at me, which was a relief. The place was packed. It felt good to be back out among people, just part of the crowd. Pam had phoned ahead but the order wasn't ready yet. Apparently the kitchen was every bit as busy as the bar. We grabbed a couple of drinks and settled in to wait. It was a nice place, very relaxed. There was lots of laughter and country music blared from the jukebox. My fingers tapped along in time.

"Let's dance," said Pam, grabbing my hand and tugging me out of my chair. She bopped and swayed as I followed her onto the crowded dance floor.

It felt good to let loose. Sugarland turned into Miranda Lambert and I raised my arms, moving to the music. A guy came up behind me and grabbed my hips but he backed up a step when I shook my head with a smile. He grinned back at me and kept dancing, not moving away. A man spun Pam and she whooped, letting him draw her into a loose hold. They seemed to know each other.

When the guy beside me moved a little closer I didn't object. He kept his hands to himself and it was all friendly enough. I didn't know the next song but it had a good beat and we kept right on moving. My skin grew damp with sweat, my hair clinging to my face. Then Dierks Bentley came on. I'd had a terrible crush on him since age twelve, but it was all about his pretty blond hair and nothing to do with his music. My love for him was a shameful thing.

Dude One moved away and another took his place, slipping an arm around my waist and trying to pull me in against him. I planted my hands on his chest and pushed back, giving him the same smile and headshake that had worked on the last. He might have been only about my height, despite the huge hat, but he was built solid. He had a big barrel of a chest and he stank of cigarette smoke.

"No," I said, still trying to push him off me. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, darlin'," he yelled in my ear, knocking me in the forehead with the brim of his hat. "Dance with me."

"Let go."

He grinned and his hands slapped down hard on both my b.u.t.t cheeks. The jerkoff started grinding himself against me.

"Hey!" I pushed against him, getting nowhere. "Get off me."

"Darlin'." The letch leaned in to kiss me, smacking me in the nose with the brim of his hat again. It hurt. Also, I hated him. If I could just wiggle my leg between his and knee the a.s.swipe in the groin, I'd be able to even the playing field. Or leave him writhing on the floor crying for his mommy. An outcome I was fine with.

I shoved my foot between the two of his, getting closer to my objective. Closer ...

"Let her go." David miraculously appeared out of the crowd beside us, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Oh, s.h.i.+t. He looked ready to kill.

"Wait your turn," the cowboy yelled back, pus.h.i.+ng his pelvis into me. G.o.d, it was disgusting. Puking could happen. It would be no less than he deserved.

David snarled. Then he grabbed the man's hat and sent it flying off into the crowd. The man's eyes went round as plates and his hands dropped away from me.

I skipped back a step, free at last. "David-"

He looked to me and in that moment, the cowboy swung. His fist clipped David's jaw. David's head snapped back and he stumbled. The cowboy dove at him. They landed hard, sprawled across the dance floor. Fists flew. Feet kicked. I could barely see who did what. People formed a circle around them, watching. No one doing anything to stop it. Blood spurted, spraying the floor. The pair rolled and pushed and David came out on top. Then just as fast he fell aside. My pulse pounded behind my ears. The violence was startling. Nathan used to get into fights regularly after school. I'd hated it. The blood and the dirt, the mindless rage.

But I couldn't just stand by, caught in a cold stupor. I wouldn't.

A strong hand grabbed my arm, halting my forward momentum.

"No," said Mal.

Then he and another couple of guys stepped in. Relief poured through me. Mal and Tyler wrestled David off the cowboy. Another pair restrained the b.l.o.o.d.y-faced fool who bellowed on and on about his hat. G.o.dd.a.m.n idiot.

They hustled David out of the bar, dragging him backward. Through the front doors and down the steps they went while his feet kicked out, trying to get back into it. And he kept right on fighting until they threw him up against Mal's big black Jeep.

"Knock it off!" Mal yelled in his face. "It's over."

David slumped against the vehicle. Blood seeped from one nostril. His dark hair hung in his face. Even in the shadows he looked swollen, misshapen. Not half as bad as the other guy, but still.

"Are you okay?" I stepped closer to check the extent of his wounds.

"I'm fine," he said, shoulders still heaving as he stared at the ground. "Let's go."

Moving in slow motion, he turned and opened the pa.s.senger side door, climbing in. With a mumbled goodbye Pam and Tyler headed for their own car. A couple of people stood on the steps leading into the bar, watching. One guy held a baseball bat as if he expected further trouble.

"Ev. Get in the car." Mal opened the door to the back seat and ushered me in. "Come on. Cops could be coming. Or worse."

Worse was the press. I knew that now. They'd be all over this in no time.

I got in the car.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Mal disappeared as soon as we got home. David stomped up the stairs to our bedroom. Was it really ours? I didn't have a clue. But I followed. He turned and faced me as soon as I entered the room. His expression was fierce, dark brows down and his mouth a hard line. "You call that giving us a chance?"

Whoa. I licked my lips, giving myself a moment. "I call it going out to pick up some food. The kitchen was running late so we got a beer. We liked the music so we decided to get up to dance for a couple of songs. Nothing more."

"He was all over you."

"I was about to knee him in the b.a.l.l.s."

"You left without a f.u.c.king word!" he shouted.

"Don't yell at me," I said, searching for a calm I didn't have in me just then. "I left you a note in the kitchen."

He shoved his hands through his hair, visibly fighting for calm. "I didn't see it. Why didn't you come talk to me?"

"The red light was on. You were recording and I didn't want to disturb you. We weren't supposed to be gone for long."

Bruised face furious, he walked a few steps away then turned and marched back. No calmer from what I could tell despite the pacing. But at least he seemed to be trying. His temper was the third person in the room and it took up all the d.a.m.n s.p.a.ce. "I was worried. You didn't even have your phone on you, I found it on the f.u.c.king table. Pam's phone kept ringing out."

"I'm sorry you were worried." I held out my hands, out of excuses for both of us. "I forgot to charge my phone. It happens sometimes. I'll try to be more careful in future. But David, nothing was going on. I'm allowed to leave the house."

"f.u.c.k. I know that. I just ..."

"You're doing your thing, and that's great."

"This was some sort of f.u.c.king punishment?" He forced the hard words out through gritted teeth. "Is that it?"

"No. Of course not," I sighed. Quietly.

"So you weren't trying to get picked up?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." Slapping him upside the head wasn't out of the question. I kept my clenched fists safely at my side, resisting the urge.

"Why'd you let him touch you?"

"I didn't. I asked him to move back and he refused. That's when you arrived." I rubbed at my mouth with my fingers, fast running out of patience. "We're just going around in circles here. Maybe we should talk about this later when you've had a chance to calm down."

Hands shaking, I turned toward the door.

"You're leaving? f.u.c.king perfect." He threw himself back onto the bed. Laughter wholly lacking in humor came out of his mouth. "So much for us sticking together."

"What? No. I don't want to fight with you, David. I'm going downstairs before we start saying things we don't mean. That's all."

"Go," he said, his voice harsh. "I f.u.c.king knew you would."

"G.o.d," I growled, turning back to face him. The desire to scream and shout at him, to try to make some sense of this, boiled over inside of me. "Are you even listening to me? Are you hearing me at all? I'm not leaving you. Where is this coming from?"

He didn't answer, just stared at me, eyes accusing. It made no sense.

I almost tripped getting back to him, my feet fumbling. Landing on my face would be perfect. It was exactly where this was heading. I didn't even understand what we were fighting about anymore, if I ever had.

"Who are you comparing me to here?" I asked, every bit as angry as him now. "Because I am not her."

He kept right on glaring at me.