Nocturnes (12 page)

Rearranging my skirt, I sneak a glance his way. The confidence from moments ago is still there, but it’s muted. Clouded. Unsure of itself. That blink of reticence tells me everything I need to know. I grab it and hold onto it like a vine swinging me across a mile-deep canyon.

He flips a hunk of wet hair to the top of his head and eases an arm along the length of the bench’s back with a sigh. Eyes closed, he turns his face to the sky. Water pings off the cliffs of his cheeks and nose.

Though his tough exterior would surely be insulted at the prospect, something tells me he’s just as lost as I am. Like recognizes like. Even when what we see is horrifying.

He’s my mirror.

And that scares the hell out of me.

I swallow and pull my drenched trench coat tight around my waist.

“Go, Lola. Just fucking go.” He doesn’t look at me.

My heart breaks. I pick up my umbrella, pop it open, and say, “It’s Eve.”

This time, the only sound that follows me as I rush to my car is that of falling rain.

Side A: “Comfortably Numb”

I stumble into the house sometime after two o’clock. Having nearly polished off the vodka in my flask on the walk home, I’m back in my Happy Place, which isn’t really happy so much as numb.

The kitchen light is on. I don’t bother looking to see who’s up as I veer for the stairs, feet tripping over each other, vision blurry.

“Rax?”

Goddamn it. Fucking Jinx. I keep walking.

“Rax, hold up a minute. Please.”

I stop, even though I shouldn’t. Turn, even though she’s the last person I want to talk to. Listen, even though I know what she’s gonna say.

“What.”

She closes the space between us and dissects me with her big, warm brown eyes. Her blond hair is loosely tangled. Nipples stand at attention underneath her plain white T-shirt, and her blue boy shorts give the appearance of innocence. I know better.

“I was wondering if we could talk.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s been a long night. I need some dry clothes.” I gesture to the puddle between my feet on the hardwood floor. “Maybe tomorrow.” I take a step away, but she stops me.

Brows lifted hopefully, she whispers, “Please.”

Breath hisses between my teeth, and I lumber into the kitchen, inadvertently tackling a chair when I lose my balance. I center my ass in the seat, square my shoulders, and wait for the inquisition to begin.

Jinx sits across from me and rests her forearms on the table. She scrapes absently at one of her fingernails. “It’s been a few weeks. I’ve tried to give you some space since the…breakup, but I’m worried about you.”

I laugh. Can’t help it. “Why the fuck do you care about me? You got what you wanted. Toombs is all yours. Now why don’t you two fuck off? Aside from the band, we’re nothing.”

She shifts suddenly in her chair as if zapped by a cattle prod. “I care. Toombs cares, though he might not say it out loud. When I look at him, I can tell. He still loves you. Maybe not the way he did before, but your friendship is important to him. He hasn’t been the same since you broke up. Something’s missing.” Her eyes meet mine and pin me in place like a nail through the balls. “It’s you.”

With a lot of effort, I break free of her gaze and look through the doorway into the hall. “I got nothing to say to him or you.”

“Okay, then. We’ll try this from another angle.” She straightens. “You’ve been playing some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard this week. It’s edgy, rough, in-your-face. Seriously amazing stuff. We all have a good feeling about where this album’s going when it releases.

“That said, tensions are high. Toombs and I are walking on eggshells whenever you’re around. Shades does his thing on bass, then hightails it out as soon as he’s finished laying his tracks, just to avoid the weird vibe in the studio. And Letty confided that she’s worried you’re heading for another run-in with alcohol poisoning.” She tips her head to the side.

I blow her off with a dismissive wave. “I’m fine.”

“
Are
you? Really?”

I shove my chair back and stand. “Fuck you, Jinx. What I do outside of work is none of your goddamn business. As long as I’m doing my job, you don’t have a right to attack me.”

“Whoa, I’m not attacking you. I’m simply asking if you’re okay. Jillian told you to lay off the drinking while we’re recording, but we all see you flounder into the studio every day with your faculties less than intact. I’ve noticed you sneaking drinks from that flask you keep in your pocket.” She gestures to my coat. “We’re…concerned about your well-being. That’s all.”

I round the table and lean close to her face. “If you’re concerned, then why don’t you do something about it? You looking to get rid of me? Does Toombs want to be lead guitarist in this band? He can fucking have it if you’re gonna accuse me of shit that ain’t true.”

She pulls away. “So, the alcohol I smell on your breath right now came from…rotten potatoes? Cough medicine? Mouthwash?” She stands and pokes my chest. The shy girl she usually portrays has left the building. “Screw that, Rax. You have a
problem
. It hasn’t impacted the band recently, but—”

Heat sears my eyes and tightens my throat. I dodge into her personal space, inches from her lips. “That right there is why you need to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out of my business. As long as I’m supporting the band and delivering on guitar, my social life is
not
your concern.” I grit my teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to suppress the rage surging through me. How dare the fucking wench judge me.

Her lips tremble and eyes widen. We stare each other down for a few seconds, and then she looks away. “I do care about you, Rax. You may not believe it, but you’re more to me than just a coworker. You and Toombs changed me. Together. I think I’m a better person for the time we spent together, crazy and raw as it was. I hate watching you fall into a tailspin. I hate feeling helpless to do anything to stop it.” She flips her lashes upward, revealing tears at the corners of her eyes. “Somewhere underneath the hardass façade, you’re a good person who deserves happiness. I just want you to be happy.”

I’m not liking Jinx much right now. I especially don’t like how her words make me question myself.

“Jinx?” Toombs calls from the landing at the top of the stairs.

She bites her lip and darts out of the kitchen. I amble into the hallway behind her and glance up. Shirtless Toombs looks down at me, his expression neutral. My fucking heart squeezes inside my chest. Keeping my gaze on him, I pull the flask from my pocket, turn it up, and finish off the remains of vodka. He barely shakes his head, slides an arm around Jinx’s shoulder, and guides her back to their room. The door closes, and I’m alone.

Well, fuck if this night hasn’t been yet another new addition to the topsy-turvy segment of my life’s roller coaster from hell. Lola’s—
Eve’s
—unexpected shutdown while we made out in Jackson Square seriously fucked me up. Why’d she have to pull a Jinx and go all defensive? Like I needed
another
guilt trip.

Thanks to Lola’s clam-up, I walked away from our meeting feeling about two inches tall and wearing a “kick me” sign. And talking to Jinx afterward only reminded me of the shame that followed me bribing her into having sex with me. Which led to Toombs wailing on me for pushing her to do something she didn’t want to.

I rub my eyes.

Ever bother to think maybe it’s you, asshole?

Yeah. Daily. I know it’s me. I can’t fucking help it.

Now Jinx gets up in my shit with intervention crap. Why couldn’t Letty have said something? That way I wouldn’t even consider taking this crock of blame seriously.

Fuck it. I’m not taking it seriously regardless. Jinx doesn’t know shit about me. Toombs, either. Not anymore.

Lola doesn’t seem all that impressed with your excessive drinking.

“I don’t drink excessively.”

The front door closes. When did it open? “Bullshit,” Jillian says behind me.

Great.

I tack on a smiley face and say, “Look at you, Queen Bitch. Out partying without us? Pick up a little hot lesbian action for the night? You know we have to be up early for work tomorrow.”

Jillian sidles up and casts a long glance down my front. “What happened to you? Lose a bet? Or pass out in the gutter on Bourbon Street?”

“Neither. Finger-fucked a chick in the rain in Jackson Square.”

She lifts an amused brow. “What a letdown. I pegged you for a fuck-it-like-you-hate-it kinda guy. Lust ’em hard and leave ’em fast. What’s the matter, couldn’t get it up to fuck her proper?”

I ignore the gibe. “She’s a little old-fashioned. Taking it slow with this one.”

“I’ll bet sobriety does wonders for acute cases of limp-dick-itis.” She glances at my belt. “Just sayin’.”

Bitch.
“I haven’t heard any complaints.”

Jillian does a
tsk
thing that isn’t even a
tsk
. More like a combination of a grunt paired with a visual face-rake powered by physical force. My ass cheeks clench involuntarily.

“Well, I hope you washed your hands,” she says.

I wind an invisible crank next to my fist and slowly raise my middle finger. Then I lick it. Jillian shakes her head and mounts the steps. “See you at the studio. Eight o’clock sharp, Don Juan.”

“I’ll be there, Betty Crocker.”

She doesn’t think I can pull it together, even though I’ve been nothing but awesome while we record. None of them do. Fuck ’em. I don’t need assholes who don’t believe in me.

I return to the kitchen for the bottle of vodka I stashed under the sink and take it to the parlor. Turning the bottle vertical, I guzzle a few swallows and wipe my mouth. I pull out my phone and open the photo app. The last picture on the camera roll is from a few weeks ago before the Toombs-and-Jinx drama. It’s a cum shot of a groupie Toombs and I banged on the bus. I used to document the women we fucked by snapping cum-drenched faces, dicks often included. Hell, sometimes I even caught our ejaculations in mid-spurt. Sort of like a badge of honor or some stupid shit. Proof that we’re as macho as our reputations suggest.

My stomach rolls. When Toombs and I were still friends, we fucked whomever we wanted, wherever we wanted, however we wanted. Always together. Except when I snuck around behind his back.

Toombs was always there when I returned. Like a loyal dog who had no idea his master was whoring without him.

I have an entire album of cum-drenched female faces licking at our cocks. Over two hundred pics. And not one of Toombs’s face. I toss the phone aside on the couch and knead my eyes with the heels of my palms.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You’re a sick fuck, that’s what.

I snatch the phone back and go on a delete spree, purging my phone of every degrading image. When I finish, I grab my bottle and head upstairs.

Quiet voices draw my attention to the room Jinx and Toombs share. Still unsteady on my feet from the evening’s drink haul, I carefully make my way over and lean my head against the door. Rushing breaths. Barely audible moans. Pops of kisses.

Toombs mumbles, “I love you, Gianna. So goddamn much.”

My skin crawls. Not with disgust or jealousy or even envy. More like sadness that I can’t be a part of what they share. Or maybe that Toombs and I never said shit like that to each other. I always assumed he loved me, but he never said it. Neither did I.

“I love you too,” Jinx says. Whispers of kisses and climaxes kick me in the nads.

They sound softer without me involved. Happier. Loving.

They deserve each other.

What do I deserve?

A hangover.

I go back to my room and take out my notebook. Gotta write down the lyrics that infiltrated my gray matter earlier with Lola. Not that I’ll ever do anything with them. But the nocturne—yeah, I think I could classify the tune as a nocturne—that keeps playing in my head…I might have something there.

Once the notes and lyrics are recorded in the notebook, I sink another few swallows of vodka, recap the bottle, and clutch it to my chest. Eyes closed, pillow plumped under my head, body paralyzed, I’m numb.

Just the way I want to be.

Side B: “Surrender”

I don’t know why I’m bummed that Rax didn’t show up at Nocturnes to see me dance. I told him to get lost last night, and the chances of him finding my ring after over a week are nil. It’s stupid and childish to expect him to come back after blowing him off. Just as well. I’d hate for him to get tangled up with Duane again.

Pulling the white thong out of the crack of my ass, I descend the staircase into Hell. Inspection first. I stand in the middle of the room, tapping my foot while I wait for Molly. Lots of nervous energy tonight. After last time, I almost didn’t come back. In a few minutes, Rico enters through the secret door. What the fuck is he doing here?

A tinge of bad luck hovers over me like a black cloud. Out of habit, I go to twist my ring and come up empty. Damn it.

The greasy city slicker strides toward me with the swagger I despise. The scorched smell of stale cigar follows him and gives my stomach a reason to lurch. I say nothing as he circles me, paying my body way more attention than it wants. He doesn’t just make my skin crawl. He makes it writhe.

Rico stops in front of me and studies me with his cold, dead shark eyes. “How are we doing, Lola?”

I play nice and give him what he wants to hear. “Ready to work.”

The corner of his mouth twists into a mocking smile. “I don’t think so. You don’t pass inspection. Get out of here.”

My jaw drops. I draw my arms up and look down the slope of my body. “What’s the problem?”

He spins me around forcefully and jabs a finger into the back of my knee. I keep my “Ouch!” to myself.

“Bruises. Care to explain?”

I twist at the waist for a better view and kick my leg backward. Shit. He’s right. They’re small, but you can definitely see them. Fuck. Rax. The park bench last night.

I inhale deeply. “I’m sorry, Rico. I must’ve bumped into something.”