Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) (33 page)

“But I want to her to get used to sleeping with me.”

He shrugged, still looking doubtful, and stretched out beside Sugaree.

“I’m going to bed now,” she said, but he didn’t move and, when his eyes met hers, there was something in them that caused the heat to start pooling in her belly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said sharply, squashing the sensation.

“Like what?”

“You know. I’m not one of your frequent flyers.” She frowned. “I know it’s Christmas, but I hope you don’t think I’m going to have sex with you just because you gave me this puppy.”

He looked offended. “And I had to entice you with this puppy because it was so hard to get you to have sex with me the last time?” He waited until she flushed before continuing. “I’m not suggesting anything sexy. I just want to be with you. We slept together last Christmas,” he added when she started to shake her head. “Don’t you remember?”

“You were in Boston last Christmas.”

“And you were in New York. But we slept together anyway.”

Then she did remember. Oda had been upstate visiting her family and Denise was at Dan’s, so Shan had been alone. Quinn was spending the holiday in a similar solitary fashion and, when he called her on Christmas night, they’d talked for hours. She’d fallen asleep talking. The next morning when she woke up, the phone was still beside her on her pillow.

She hesitated, then tossed him one of her Mexican blankets and turned off the light.

And turned it back on five minutes later, when Sugaree wet the bed.

“I warned you,” Quinn said as they stripped the sheets.

She ignored him, going downstairs for rags and Lysol. She soaked up the small spot as best she could, then scrubbed it. They flipped the futon over and Quinn retrieved the comforter from his own bed while Shan remade it with the new sheets Denise had given her for Christmas.

When she finished, she saw Quinn fiddling with the little basket he’d given her along with the puppy. He removed its small cushion, lined the basket with a plastic trash bag, then covered the bag with a soft bath towel.

“What if she piddles on your towel?” Shan asked, amused.

He shrugged without answering and put the basket on the bed, then put the puppy in the basket. They got back into bed and Shan snapped off the light again. The puppy was between her and Quinn and she wasn’t touching any part of him, but she was very aware that he was in her bed, next to her. She found the soft, even sound of his breathing comforting.

“Q?” she whispered, after a while.

“Mmm?” He sounded drowsy.

“Do you ever think about that day?”

He didn’t reply right away. It was the first time she’d brought it up directly, The Act, and it occurred to her that he might not understand which day she was talking about.

“I think about it all the time,” he finally said, no longer sounding sleepy, and she knew that he understood her perfectly.

“You never mention it.”

“Neither do you.”

She was quiet again, for a time, then, “Q?”

“Yes?”

“What
do
you think about it?”

He was silent even longer this time and, when he spoke, his voice was low. “I think that it was mind blowing. Earth shaking.” He paused for an endless moment, then, “Life changing.”

“Oh.” Her voice was very small, but she thought he must be able to hear her heartbeat, which had accelerated to a gallop.

He wasn’t finished speaking. “But, if you’re going to change your life, you’ve got to make damn sure you’re ready for it.” He touched her, groping, and when he found her hand he took it. “You’ll wait for me to be ready, won’t you, angel?”

She didn’t reply, but she grasped his hand like a lifeline. When she finally fell asleep, she was still gripping it.

Shan woke the next morning to an insistent knocking at the room next door. “He’s not here,” she heard Denise call downstairs, then there was a tap at her own door. “Shan,” Denise said, opening the door, “do you know where…”

The words died on Denise’s lips when Quinn sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

A moment later Dan appeared behind Denise, looking startled, as well, when he saw two occupants in the bed. “Er…phone for you, Q,” he reported. “Sounds like a ball-busting bitch.”

Quinn was nonplussed. “My mother?”

“She’s the only ball-busting bitch I know,” Dan said, heading back down the hall.

Quinn climbed out of bed and squeezed past Denise. “Excuse me.”

“There is no excuse for you,” Denise said, not moving an inch.

Quinn used his elbow to propel her out of his way. “Dan’s wrong,” he grumbled. “We all know about his thing for ball-busting bitches.”

When he went downstairs, Denise turned on Shan. “Tell me you didn’t fuck him just because he gave you that puppy.”

“Do I look naked?” Shan said, scooping up Sugaree.

“Thank God. She’s cute, but gratitude has its limits.”

Shan heard him talking on the phone as they came downstairs. “No, it’s okay,” he was saying. “What’s on your mind?…When?…Oh, wow…how did that come about?” He turned, saw Shan and Denise openly listening, and stepped into the closet, shutting the door behind him.

Shan took Sugaree outside and, when she came back in, Quinn was still in the closet. He emerged after about fifteen minutes and went upstairs without mentioning the conversation to anyone.

Eventually she heard him turn on the shower. Dan heard it, too, and looked at Shan. “This is huge, you know.”

“I know,” Shan said. “I’m so glad, although I can see how the whole situation evolved. She’s a little scary, isn’t she?”

“So is Quinn,” Dan said. “He’s just like her. That’s why they don’t get along.”

Quinn wasn’t scary that day, just preoccupied. He took Shan to the pet shop in Sunland as promised, where she selected some puppy chews, a ball, and a few squeak toys. He shook his head when she suggested lunch at their favorite burger joint and they were back home in an hour. He spent the afternoon wiring the new telephone, receiving several more calls, which he took in the closet, at least until he had the new phone working. After that, he commandeered Shan’s bedroom. She could hear him in there talking and he didn’t emerge until it was time to get ready for their gig.

That night they were playing Anti-Club on Melrose and, while they were setting up, he made an announcement. “I cancelled Thursday night at Bluenote.”

“What?” Ty groaned. “That’s New Year’s Eve!”

“You can’t cancel now,” Dave said at the same time. “They’ll never hire us again.”

“I booked them a replacement,” Quinn said, “because we have another gig.”

Shan noted Quinn’s cat-that-got-the-cream expression. “Where are we playing?”

“Disneyland.”

Dave’s nose wrinkled. “New Year’s Eve at Disneyland?”

“They have bands on every corner on New Year’s. Is that what we’re doing?” Dan asked, not looking particularly thrilled, either.

“No,” Quinn said. “It’s a private party. At Club 33. We’ll be opening for Valentine. Oh,” he added as everyone’s jaws dropped, “and the host is Brandon Terry.”

Dan and Dave went nearly catatonic. Shan and Ty were confused, but the others quickly filled them in. Club 33 was a VIP establishment located in the heart of Disneyland. It was members only, highly exclusive, and hideously expensive. The members could reserve the place for special events, like holiday parties.

Dan’s eyes were like saucers. “How’d you pull this off, Q? Did your stepfather have something to do with it?”

“He did,” Quinn admitted. “He and my mother are on the guest list.”

Shan gasped. “I’m surprised your mom would let him score us a gig like this!”

“Actually, it was her suggestion. They watched the Troubadour tape with me on Christmas and it was the Valentine tie-in that gave her the idea. I don’t think I ever mentioned it,” Quinn added, “but Jerrika James and Carole Grayson are George’s clients.”

Valentine was big-time, a chart-topping, blues-rocking quintet that featured one of the industry’s few female guitarists, Carole Grayson, who was among the best rhythm players in the business. Shan idolized her, but the band’s real superstar was their charismatic lead singer, Jerrika James, a sultry blond bombshell lauded for her hard-edged, expressive voice. They were bona fide rock stars and Quinntessence was going to open for them, in front of an audience of music industry bigwigs!

Shan was elated and threw herself into the preparations as the band geared up for what was undoubtedly the most important gig they’d ever played. For the next three days the house was a cacophony of guitar chords, drum licks, keyboard trills, and singing as they practiced nonstop, both collectively and on their own. Quinn obsessed over the playlist, repeatedly changing and rearranging the lineup. Shan fretted over her wardrobe, trying on one outfit after another, and could barely contain her excitement as the gig drew closer.

Then, on the morning of New Year’s Eve, she woke up with stomach cramps, a headache, and a wrenching, nerve-wrangling case of the jitters.
’Done jones,
she told herself, but the feelings didn’t go away even after she swallowed her dose and she realized that she was in the throes of the worst case of stage fright she’d ever experienced. The feeling worsened and by midmorning when the band arrived in Anaheim, Shan was a nervous wreck, wishing she had a real fix to blot it out.

Their deal included access to the park, which they were free to enjoy once they delivered their gear. They set out to explore Disneyland, with instructions to return at four o’clock for sound check, and it was unbelievably crowded. New Year’s was apparently a big event there and the atmosphere was loud and festive. Noisemakers were handed out at the entrance and there were bands everywhere, playing every conceivable type of music to crowds of people in party hats and mouse ears. Shan knew they’d never make it to most of the attractions, because the lines were interminable, and she was jostled and shoved as she followed her bandmates through the throng.

All day she was uncharacteristically silent, quietly freaking out within the confines of her mind. When they stopped for a snack in the Fantasyland section of the park, Dan checked his watch. “It’s almost one-thirty and we still haven’t gone on most of the rides.”

“I vote for Space Mountain,” Dave said.

Ty and Dan were in agreement, but Quinn hung back. When Shan walked past him, he caught her arm. “Go ahead,” he said to the others. “We’re going to check out the Haunted Mansion. There won’t be time for both, so we’ll find you later.”

“You don’t like Space Mountain?” Shan asked, just for something to say as Quinn steered her to a stately antebellum mansion gracefully flanked by weeping cyprus trees. The line looked infinite.

“Sure I do. It’s awesome,” he said as they took their place in the mansion line, “but this ride is really cool, too. Besides, it’s much more your speed.”

That irritated her. Why was it up to him to decide which ride she went on? Why was every decision always up to him? “You could have asked me first.”

“Why?” He shrugged. “I knew you’d hate Space Mountain. It’s a roller coaster.”

“Maybe I like roller coasters,” she said although she did, in fact, hate them. They made her sick, a weakness with which he was well acquainted since she’d thrown up on him once when they rode the Cyclone together after a gig at Coney Island. “Couldn’t you at least give me the courtesy of deciding for myself?”

He stiffened. “Fine,” he said, an edge in his voice. “Let’s go on Space Mountain
,
then. Did I mention that it’s high speed and entirely in the dark?”

Shan’s stomach flipped over. “No, this is fine. I just don’t appreciate you dragging me off without even consulting me.”

“Well, I wanted a chance to talk to you privately. What is your problem today?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she said coldly as the line inched forward.

“Yes, you do. Your face is about as subtle as a signal fire, Shan.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together.

“Okay. Be miserable, then,” he said dismissively. “Just don’t try to bring me down along with you. We’re at Disneyland, for Chrissake. It’s supposed to be fun.”

“That’s right,” she agreed, “and you’re ruining my fun.”

“I’m not doing a damned thing. You’re the one acting like a spoiled brat.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she snapped. The lady in line in front of them turned around and glared at Shan, who flushed apologetically. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Infant,” Quinn snorted, not quite under his breath.

They maintained a mutual mute hostility, standing side by side without looking at each other for the next forty-five minutes, which was how long it took them to get through the line. Shan wasn’t about to admit it, but Quinn was right, the attraction was really cool. Even waiting in the line was cool, because it wound past an atmospheric graveyard filled with elaborate headstones and sculptures of ravens and gargoyles. Tendrils of Spanish moss trailed down from the cyprus trees, brushing her hair when she passed underneath.

Once inside the mansion it became even cooler, with eerie, single-note organ music, shifty-eyed portraits, and a mysterious grandfather clock striking the hour thirteen. The sonorous tones of someone called the Ghost Host narrated their progression through the spooky manse.

A sudden clap of thunder made Shan catch her breath. The lights went out and a delicious shiver ran down her spine when she saw a skeleton dangling from a noose overhead, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Seconds later she jumped when the room resounded with a bloodcurdling scream.
Oh, this is
super
cool,
she thought, her spirits beginning to lift for the first time all day.

When they stepped back into the murky light, it was onto a moving platform shrouded in mist. “I thought we’d never get through that line,” she said to Quinn, breaking their taciturnity.

“I’ll pass your complaints on to the management,” he said and, when she looked at him, she saw that he was still seething. “Anything else you’d like to bitch about?”

Shan pointed her nose in the air. “No,” she said, climbing aboard the little black car apparently called a doom buggy. “I really don’t have to say anything at all.”