Rock Me Deep (41 page)

But how could I explain to Sean that he'd reminded me too much of my father?

“Nothing,” I said flatly, “You didn't do anything.”

“Then why? Was I really so bad at guitar? Was that enough reason to—”

“No, that wasn't the reason.” Grabbing my forehead, I dug through the waves of migraines. I was feeling the exhaustion from my overnight trip home, but more so, the emotional drainage from searching for Lola.
Honesty.
“I knew guys like you. Men who couldn't handle the idea they weren't made for greatness.”
Men who tried to destroy those better than them.

Looking over, I saw Sean staring straight ahead. I said, “You're better now than you were when you auditioned." Those blue eyes flicked my way. “But your sister is miles better.”

Sean snorted with laughter. He allowed a tiny smile onto his face. “Yeah, I know she is.”

“Do you hate her for that?” In my mind, I pictured the rage on my father's features. How his mouth had writhed like a python, his knuckles coated in my mother's blood.

Sean lifted his eyebrows high. “Hate her?
Lola?
” The engine rumbled softly, the van slowing as we crawled up a hill. “She's my little sister. I couldn't hate her if I tried."

Warm compassion filled me as I listened to him speak.
I judged him wrong.

Sean was nothing like my father.

“There,” he whispered, turning the headlights off. I saw the small, barely lit motel sitting in the parking lot below us. It was the color of stained teeth, the flickering sign threatening to die after each burst of light.

All at once, my blood began to stir. “You think they're both here?”

Sean removed his seat belt in a hurry. “If they aren't, I don't know where else to look.”

His words were heavy.
If Lola isn't here, then we have no trail.
Pushing the door open, I flared my nostrils in the putrid air.
She has to be here.

She just had to.

Quietly, we approached the building. All the doors faced out into the parking lot, some missing numbers on their cracked fronts. Sean and I prowled beneath the window sills. Every room looked empty through the drapes; nothing but still shadows.

Are they not here?
My heart was crumbling with a wave of distress.
Where do we go next, what do we do?

What do I do?

Touching my pocket, I felt my phone. The idea came to me like a live battery on my tongue. Squatting down, I began to dial in the dark. I was hoping to hear ringing, any noise at all through the motel walls. For a long time, there was nothing. Crickets sang, and in the far distance, a car honked.

Looking over, I saw Sean had his phone out as well.
He can't be trying Lola, too, can he?
As her number went to voicemail again, I caught a sound that stopped my breath.

“Fuck!” A gritty voice shouted a mere two rooms over. “Shit shit shit, now they're calling me, dammit!”

Sean looked me in the eye.
He had Johnny's number.
Together we moved, uncaring who saw us now in our blooming excitement.
He's here, she has to be, too!
We didn't have a plan, but that was fine. Both of us wanted the same thing.

A shared look was all it took; together, we rammed our shoulders against the motel door. Inside, I heard Johnny cursing—it just fueled me more. The door was made from old wood. In two, three hits, Sean and I took it down.

And then, there she was.

Lola, whose beautiful blue eyes were boggling at me not in disbelief—no, she had
known
I would come for her—but in satisfaction. If it was fate or divinity or some other fucking magical thing that had brought us together in life, I didn't know. I didn't care. All that mattered was that she was mine.

I would never lose her again.

In that tiny room, I froze my acid-green eyes on Johnny and felt the moment for what it was. Here, we both realized... here was where he'd pay his dues.

Lifting his hands to protect himself, he backed into the wall. “Drez! Wait, man! Hold on!”

Distantly, I remembered the day I'd kicked him out of my band. How I'd sucker-punched him, watched him flail and backpedal in an attempt to escape my wrath. That day, I'd only wanted him gone.

I wanted much more from him now.

Lola's scream was muffled scream around her gag. I'd grabbed Johnny up by the front of his shirt without realizing it, and even better, I'd slammed his skull into the wall, making the room—my marrow—quake. Again and again I smashed his body into the hard surface, trying to break him into tiny pieces.

True fear boiled in his eyes. The sight of it brought a smile to my lips. "This is for hurting her," I whispered, but it came out like a snarl. I don't know if he understood me at all, especially with how his eyes were rolling. Was he blacking out?

Someone called out to me. I ignored them. Twisting, feeling Johnny claw at my wrists, I threw him onto the busted linoleum floor. He belonged perfectly on that scuffed, filthy ground. He'd never looked more at home.

“Drez,” he coughed, red streaking his nose. The blood rolled down the bruise on his cheek, over the scabs of old cuts. They looked like claw marks; nails. Had Lola done that?

Reaching down, my fingers trapped his jaw. Johnny struggled but a single knee on his chest pinned him in place. He smelled like vomit and whiskey and revenge. Sweet fucking revenge.

“Drezden!” Her voice was pure, I couldn't ignore her. Lola was leaning on Sean—he'd untied her. As always, she wore no mask, her pale skin twisted in a grimace of fear. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

Her terror reached into me and plucked at my heart. Johnny was wheezing, gawking up at me. I tried to recall how this husk of a man had once called himself my friend. From the start, there had never been the connection between us that Colt and Porter had. Johnny was a wild card, too wild.

I should have known better.

“Drez,” Lola asked again, firmer. “What are you going to do?”

Squeezing Johnny's cheeks, digging in my nails, I ignored him and kept staring at her. I wondered what she saw in my face. Inside, I felt the wretched talons of the monster I knew I could be. It was hungry, and here, now, lay the decadent chance to taste victory. To chew at a sweet piece of vengeance.

Swallowing, I said, “I'm going to do what I promised. I said if I ever saw Johnny's face again... I was going to break his fucking jaw.”

Under my grip, Johnny stiffened. Closing her tired eyes, Lola turned away. It was like she was giving me permission to be the brutal beast I knew I could be. But before I could pull back my fist, she said, "Is this the real you?"

My lungs went still. I couldn't move anything, not even an eyelash. Johnny was shivering; no longer fighting back. He had nothing left for me. What had I even wanted from him?

Is this the real me?
Hadn't I gone to face my father to prove I was nothing like him?

For a moment, Johnny's horror looked too much like my own mother's.

Flexing my fingers, I turned away from him. I left him whimpering on the floor, his occasional moan punctuated by a curse word.

“Call the police,” I said bluntly.

“No need,” Sean said. Nodding his head, he drew my attention to the distant sound of sirens. “Brenda must have called them like she said she would. That, or someone else in this motel did when they heard the fight.”

My head bobbed, but I wasn't listening. I was fixated on Lola—on her wide eyes, on her bruises and her smile and how her wrists were raw and red. She met me halfway, not caring about the blood I left on her cheek when I cupped her face.

Her mouth opened, but if she'd wanted to speak... I didn't let her. I buried my lips on hers like she was the first sip of water after days in the dessert. Lola, my fucking beautiful, wonderful Lola.

She tasted like victory.

“Drez,” she whispered, but I ate my name away.

Cradling her in my arms, inhaling her scent until it made my senses blind, I listened to her heart beat.
Mine. Mine, mine, and mine again.

Lola is mine.

And I finally deserved her.

****

T
he police arrested Johnny, taking all of our statements down. It was smooth and professional. Well, minus the one guy who asked me for an autograph.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked Lola, unable to stop touching her for even one second.

Her smile was soft. “I'm fine. My right shoulder hurts a little, but it's nothing. I'm just... I'm just so sorry about all of this.”

“Don't be sorry,” Sean said, approaching us in the parking lot. “You didn't do any of this. Johnny was the one who went unhinged.”

“I still feel awful that the show was ruined,” she mumbled.

Grabbing her chin, I made her look at me. “I don't give a shit about the show, okay? I only need you to be safe. The rest is pointless otherwise.”

Sean chuckled, eyeing the time on his phone. “Too bad we can't have both. Show should have started an hour ago.”

“We should go there anyway,” Lola said, staring between us. “Maybe even just to tell the fans we're sorry. Just... something.”

I guided her towards Sean's van. “You want that to happen? We'll make it happen. Come on, let's move.”

Lola was warm on my lap in the car. As far as I was concerned, if we stayed like this, the drive could go on forever. I felt... whole. On reflex, I linked my arms around her waist, whispering in her ear. “I'm the one who needs to apologize. You would never have talked to Johnny if I had just told you what you wanted to know.”

Shifting, Lola's hair tickled my cheek. Her lips pressed to my forehead, hands cradling over mine in her lap. “It doesn't matter now.”

“It
does
matter now,” I declared.
It has to matter.
“I took care of everything. I'll tell you every single thing about me now, Lola. Everything.”

Her body knotted up. “Took care of...?”

“
Holy shit!
” Sean shouted, the van turning onto the street where the Paramount theater was. I didn't need to ask what was wrong. The mob outside was massive.

Pressing my phone to my ear, I dialed quickly. “Brenda,” I said when she picked up, “What the hell is going on?”

“Drezden! Please tell me you're all okay!"

“We're fine," I said, eyeballing the shouting people outside our windows. "Lola is with us, we're right outside. Tell me what's going on."

The edge of her voice wavered with excitement. “We managed to delay the show. Everyone is super pissed, but we did it. Can you—I mean,
would
you guys still play tonight?”

Lola had been leaning in, listening to the call. Grabbing the phone from me, she shouted into the receiver. “Yes! We'll do it!”

Sean was staring at me, slowly shaking his head in wonder. “Tell me what's happening.”

Pulling the phone back from Lola, I allowed myself to smile. “Guess the show must go on.”

Rolling down the windows, we parked the van where the security teams guided us. The walls of fans, all screaming a mixture of joy and anger, tried to swallow us as we approached the venue. All we could do was wave, knowing it was impossible for those people to understand what any of us had been through.

It's good we were able to wash all the blood off at the motel.

Wouldn't that have made an interesting photo for the news?

****

P
orter and Colt smashed me in a hug when we got backstage. With Lola, they were far more gentle, their voices merging as they asked too many questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Did Johnny really do this?”

“Are you sure you want to play?”

“What happened to him, where is he now?”

It was Brenda, slicing between them and shoving them aside, that ended the parade. Turning, she held Lola by the shoulders, stared into her stunned face. “You really want to play tonight?”

Gulping air, Lola narrowed her eyes. “Yeah. I'm ready.”

“How did you manage to delay the show for us?” I asked in wonderment.

Her ruby lips coiled upwards. “I promised everyone free tickets to your next show. Better than trying to handle angry refunds on this, trust me.”

Out in the auditorium, the roar of the crowd grew. They were savage, starving for what they had longed for. I understood their feelings.

We did a quick wardrobe change; clean clothes for Lola and myself, makeup to hide some of her marks from the tussle with Johnny.

I wanted to know more about what had happened, but really, the details didn't matter.

Lola was safe now.

“Here,” Brenda said, offering the girl her purple guitar. “Take it, tune it, do what you need to in ten minutes.”

Hoisting the instrument into place, Lola's face twisted in a brief flinch. She saw me looking, then glanced away hurriedly. “Listen, Drez. That new song... can we even perform it?”

“I know all the words by heart.” I took a slow step towards her, studying how she held the guitar. “You could probably keep the tune close enough that no one would notice. They haven't heard it before to compare, after all.” She was focusing on her fingers, the floor, everywhere but me. “That's not the issue, is it?”

She said nothing.

“Lola... what's wrong?”

Hanging her head, her dark hair covered her face. “I think my shoulder is hurt bad. Holding my guitar, it's painful.”

Brushing her tresses aside, I tried to read the pain in her blue gaze. “You still want to do this?”

“Yeah. If I can. After everything, I really want to try.”

My lips closed on hers, the kiss a mere blink. “Then let's try.”

Voices were calling out around us, people telling us where to go, what to do. For a moment, we stayed there and only existed with each other.

The cheers outside the curtain took it all away.

Together we moved, standing on our marks, straightening up to handle the wave of energy. Behind me, Porter and Colt settled in, their faces all smiles. It was unfair to them to lead with our new song, something they had no part of, but...

Looking over, I saw a bead of sweat on Lola's temple.
If she's in pain, I want to give her this. She wants it so badly.