Crude: A Stepbrother Romance (14 page)

I raise an eyebrow at him; “Huh?” I’m really not in the mood for any of his games right now, or this little tit-for-tat back and forth we do; “Knox, I-”

“Put some clothes on, we’re going out.”

My face wrinkles; “
No
, we’re not. And I
am
wearing clothes.”

Knox makes a skeptical face as he looks down at my sweatpants and t-shirt. I’m suddenly much more self-conscious of how I look right then than I feel like I should be around him; as if I suddenly
care
what Knox Shepard thinks of my outfit.

“Like, some
real
clothes, Paige. And your dad’s in Atlanta for that meeting, right? And my mom’s out doing wedding stuff.”

He winks at me, and suddenly I can feel that creeping, forbidden heat spreading through my body as I find myself staring at his lips. I shake my head quickly; “Knox, I warned you, what happened before is
never
happening a-”

“Oh, get over yourself, princess; I’m not talking about
that
. We need to get you out of this house though.”

“I’m working.”

“Well, work at having some fun for a change.”

I grin in spite of myself, and slowly, reluctantly, I can feel my willpower starting to crumble. I frown; “OK, hypothetically, what sort of
fun
did you have in mind?”

Knox’s lips part in a big shit-eating grin, like he’s gloating or triumphant that he’s managed to wear me down like this; “Just put some clothes on and meet me in the driveway.”

*****

“Not a freaking chance.
No way
.”

I’m standing in the driveway in jeans and I hope is a nice enough “going out” tank-top, just staring and shaking my head at Knox. Knox who’s standing astride his motorcycle grinning as he holds out the spare helmet to me.

“Oh c’mon, hop on McCauley.”

“I am
not
getting on that thing.”

He rolls his eyes; “Oh live a little.”

“I want to live a lot, actually, which is why I’m not getting on.”

He laughs; “I’ll drive slow, I swear.”

“Have you been drinking?”

Knox rolls his eyes; “Do I look suicidal?” He shoots me another look, and once again, I can feel my defenses failing under that piercingly blue gaze. Once again, I can feel myself saying yes when I ought to be saying no, and before I can second guess that anymore, I’m swinging my leg hesitantly over the bike and getting on behind him.

Knox cranks on the engine with a guttural growl, and suddenly I’m shrieking and grabbing him tight around the waist as we go roaring down the driveway like a bullet. I’m squeezing my eyes shut and probably still screaming into his back as I hug him fiercely for dear life as we go barreling onto busier and busier roads, and it’s then that I realize we’re heading downtown. We thunder through city streets, but it’s when we come to a shuddering halt that I look up and feel my pulse jump even higher, as if that was even possible after that ride.

We’re at the Music Hall; the place where he saw me play; “What- Oh my God, what are we doing here?”

He grins as he turns off the bike and swings his leg over it before he reaches into one of the side bags and pulls something out. I’m frowning as he grins and passes it my way, but then I shaking with rage as I realize what he’s holding.

It’s my songbook; the one I write all of my ideas in, all of my little snippets of lines and ideas and feelings, and it’s
right there
in Knox Shepherd’s hands.

“
Where
did you get this!” I sputter, snatching it out of his hands.

“Your room, obviously.”

“You
stole it
?”

He rolls his eyes; “I didn’t
steal
it; I’m giving it to you right now aren’t I?”

“
Why?
”

He looks up at me, and he’s grinning this huge grin; “Because you’re going to use it.” He nods up at the sign across the marquee out front, and it’s only then that I realize what the hell is going on here.

The neon sign, the crowd of smokers out front, the muffled sound of music coming from within. It’s Friday, and as I glance at the poster in the ticket window outside, I confirm what I already know: It’s open mic night, and suddenly, I’ve got a
very
good idea of what we’re doing here.

“Knox, no, I’m not-”

“No excuses, princess. Now get your ass in there.”

*****

“
I’m not doing this!
” I hiss at him in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Shh!
” Knox whispers with a grin over the whiney voice of the guy dressed in too much black on stage who can’t play his acoustic guitar; “Don’t be rude, Paige.”

“I’m seriously not getting on that stage,” I whisper harshly back. I’m shaking, and it’s this heady mix of both fear of the unknown and the raw thrill of being able to just
play
what I want to play.

“Sure you are.”

“Knox, you don’t-”

“Oh, hang on, I brought you props.”

“Huh?”

Knox digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out a brunette wig and thick black-rimmed glasses.

I snort a laugh; “Seriously?”

“Hey, if it helps with the stage fright by hiding behind these, then yes.
That’s
how much I want to hear those fuckin’ songs again, OK?”
He looks at me as he holds out the wig and the glasses, and I’m suddenly struck by how sincere he looks. And the thought of playing those songs is suddenly much more tempting than the fear waging it’s battle inside my chest.

The kid on stages finishes his whiney song, or at least I’m pretty sure he’s done from the staggered and small bouts of dull claps around the quiet room.
 

“I-” I’m shaking my head and stammering; “Knox, I don’t know-”

“And up next, we’ve got Jessica Jackman!”

Knox suddenly elbows me; “Oh, yeah, by the way, that’s you.”

HUH?

He grins; “I know you’re all about the secret names and all that spy shit.”

The adrenaline suddenly spikes through me like rush of freezing cold water, and I’m suddenly not able to move at all, standing there in the shadows on the edge of the stage.

“Well get up there, princess!”

“Knox!” My hands are twisting around each other as I dart my eyes between him and the stage; “I- I can’t-”

“Paige-” He grabs me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes; “You can do this, I know you can.” He winks; “Now get up there and knock them off their asses!”

I’m moving in slow motion then, turning and climbing the three steps to the small stage holding my songbook in my sweaty hands. It’s dead quiet in the room as I sit at the keyboard, and the silence is deafening when I cough nervously into the microphone as I open up the book on the stand in front of me.

Oh God, I can’t do this.

There’s a hushed stillness when I look up into the dimness of the audience, seeing only stony, judging faces of people lowly lit from the lights of the stage.

No way
.

But then my eyes land on Knox, and he’s grinning at me as he nods his head vigorously; “Woooo!” He shouts aggressively; “Yeah, Jackman! Play the fuckin hits!” There’s a ripple of laughter through the crowd, and I know they’re laughing at what they think is some sort of asshole heckler, but for some reason, it’s all the break in the tension I need.
 

It’s the push I need, and I just let go.

“I wrote this about falling and getting back up.” My hands are on the keys, my eyes focus not on the crowd but on the microphone in front of me -
 

...And then I just
play
.

And when I’m playing and pouring my heart out on that stage, there’s a stillness and a sort of peace that just comes over everything. Everything else melts and drops away when my fingers start to move, and when I open my mouth and let the words come out - the words and the voice that I keep hushed or silent back at home - it’s like nothing else in the world matters.
 

It’s just me and the words and the music then. I’m blind to the rest of the room, hear nothing but the sound of my voice, and feel nothing but the power in my own music and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I’m drifting away on it; wordless and alone in my own head, and no one is watching.

And when I’m done, I sit back, and I know no matter what, I’ve found a peace and a fulfillment inside that no one can take away from me; not ever.

It’s utterly silent in the room for what feels like forever but is I’m sure more like a second. And then very suddenly, it’s
not
just me up there. It’s
not
just me playing for myself with no one else around, because suddenly there are
lots
of people there.

And they’re cheering.

Holy shit.

They aren’t even just cheering, they’re going
wild
. People are up out of their seats and clapping and whistling and screaming my name, and for a moment, it’s so
sur
real that I can't even believe it.

But then my eyes land on Knox, standing right in the middle of them all grinning at me as he claps, and I know that it
is
real. He throws his fit up in the air, making the rock-n-roll devil horns as he whistles at me, grinning his face off at me.
 

And I know nothing can take this feeling away from me.

“I can’t believe I did that.” She’s biting her lip and grinning at me in the neon glow of the marquee sign outside. A couple exits the venue and cheers when they see her, making her blush and shyly thank them as I hand her the spare helmet.

“Was I really OK up there?”

I stare at her;
is she seriously even asking that?

“Um,
yeah
, princess, you was very fucking OK up there.” She blushes and pulls the helmet down over her head, tendrils of her hair framing her face in the blue glow of the marquee; “Your dad should really hear this, you know; he’d probably change his tune.”

This girl was fucking
incredible
up there; like, holy
shit
good. I mean I knew she had it in her, or at least I guess I sure hoped she did. But damn if she didn’t just
kill it
in there!
 

She shrugs; “Eh, he doesn’t want to.”

“His loss,” I say with a shake of my head, swinging my leg over the bike and starting the engine.

“Hey, Knox?” I pause with my helmet halfway on, turning towards her as she slips onto the bike behind me; “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me do that.”

I grin as I pull the helmet down and rev the bike beneath us; “Hey, that’s what I’m here for, McCauley; pushing your buttons.”

*****

I can feel her stiffen as soon as I do when the bike pulls around the bend in the long driveway to see Joe’s car parked right alongside my mom’s and the lights on in the great room downstairs. I quickly pull the bike into my little corner of the driveway and turn it off, and in the silence that descends after, I can hear her breathing heavily behind me.
 

So much for being in Atlanta…

“Oh
shit!
” She’s gasping; “Ohshitohshitohshit!”

I laugh, pulling my helmet off; “Wow, no swearing at all to getting it all out at once, huh?”