Sticks (Black Addiction #2) (10 page)

“But you’ve played with them, hung out a few times.” Dom very correctly pointed out that despite my oh-no-we-don’t-really-know-them, the gigs we’d played were a matter of public record. Pretty sure he’d even been at one or two of those gigs himself. I had no idea where the hell this was going to go.

“Yeah, more so in the past.” I tried to maneuver out of my lie. “They’re not really in our circle anymore. You know how it is when a band gets a major deal.”

I was so full of shit.

“Oh, really?” Dom asked like he couldn’t believe the nice guys he’d met had turned into assholes. Probably because it wasn’t true and despite their deal, Joey, Max, Rusty and Angie had all remained pretty humble.

“I just heard some shit today about them.” Dom lost interest in the menus, tossing them aside for a minute so he could give the subject its proper attention. “You know, word on the street sort of stuff.”

I was seriously contemplating asking Sara to pop a button or two to help derail the conversation. It would get us both what we wanted, and let’s face it, she’d be more than happy to take one for the team.

“What kind of stuff?” Sara obviously didn’t share the same sentiment as I did, that the less we spoke about it, the better.

“Come on, guys.” I laughed, ready to go to the alternate play where
I
popped a button. Hey, whatever it took. “We really want to talk about Black Addiction? Who cares what they’ve got going on? It’s probably bullshit anyway. Stupid industry talk.”

Yep, let’s go with that. Not like it wasn’t partly true, especially at a local level. Some of the bullshit backstage feuds between rival acts were worse than shit that went on in high school. Rumors could easily be downplayed especially if you didn’t buy into them.

“I want to know.” Sara leaned in, giving Dom her full attention and some extra encouragement. “What’s the gossip?”

I was literally going to kill her.

Black Addiction had gone through a label change—their latest deal being offered by rock heavyweights, Power Station. So it wasn’t likely the
gossip
could be about a deal. They had also just put out an album, which ruled out an upcoming release. The tour was imminent—but once again—not a secret, so that couldn’t be their big news either. And given I had slightly exaggerated how little I knew of the band to Dom, I’d assumed that any major developments would have been confirmed by Joey. Which left only one piece of major news. The collaboration between Joey and I. This one, not for public release.

“Sara, really?”

Could she not see how badly this could end? I was happy for it to stay a rumor, the lack of confirmation by either of us hopefully knocking any wind out of its sails. After all, it was the music industry; unplanned pregnancies weren’t exactly scandal material. What I couldn’t deal with was the news being out there before I’d even had a chance to tell my parents. The Chinese whispers guaranteed to reach their ears despite them not moving in the same circles. How the hell did it get out? Maybe I’d postpone killing Sara, and go back to my original vendetta.

Joey. Fucking. Shaw.

“Well the source I heard is reliable, I don’t think she’d lead me astray.” Dom smiled, the mention that the source was a
girl
not getting the same reaction from Sara. “And from what she said they are probably going to announce it soon anyway. It’s not like you can hide something like that for long. I mean, everyone is going to see it anyway.”

God damn it. It was definitely about me.

“Maybe this girl is just full of shit,” Sara snapped, picking up the forgotten menus.

Finally
, she got on the same page, the one where we stopped talking about Black Addiction and whatever it was that people were talking about. It didn’t even matter to me that jealousy had been her motivator, whatever it took. And I was totally fine with going right to Hell.

“Nah, she’s in tight with Max.” Dom shook off Sara’s rebuttal, which wasn’t going to earn him any favors with either of us. “Said she got it right from him. It’s pretty big news, why would Max lie?”

Another name to add to my list of kills.

Joey.

Sara.

Max.

My murderous rampage was going to be keeping me busy. It’s a good thing we got a jump on this song; I wasn’t going to have a lot of downtime in the foreseeable future.

“How is it anyone’s business?” I snapped, extremely pissed off, at what or whom was still yet to be decided. “Just because they have more visibility these days, doesn’t mean people are entitled to access their private life. And talking about it is only perpetuating the bullshit as well.” I couldn’t stop my mouth, the flood gates had opened as I continued to spew words. “I feel sorry for them, that parts of their lives are now open for public consumption. I’m pretty sure they didn’t sign up for having every single detail of their existence being thrown under a microscope. People should shut their fucking mouths and go on with their lives. Assholes.”

Silence.

Both Sara and Dom sat dumbfounded with their eyes glued to me, my anger running out of steam, as did my argument.

“Ummm.” Dom looked at me awkwardly, no doubt putting two-and-two together. “I heard that they got a gig at CJ’s.”

“What?” My mouth dropped open making the only word out of it sound distorted. My brain misfired on the information he’d volunteered.

“Black Addiction is playing CJ’s? How the fuck did they score that gig?” Sara completely missed that I looked like I was having an aneurism and continued to dig for details. The jealousy over the source shelved in favor of information.

“Well, that’s what I heard.” Dom confirmed, his eyes carefully examining me like he was trying to visually extract why I acted like a mental case.

While Sara was ignoring it, I didn’t get so lucky when it came to him. He added another piece of information, his eyes on me as he added, “I think it will be announced later this week.”

“Oh. Well . . . I guess that’s good.” I had no idea what I was saying. Not that I really cared, it wasn’t valid at this point anyway. What mattered was I drew as little attention to myself as possible. Something I should have thought about before I opened my big, fat mouth.

“Wait. What did you think I was going to say?” Dom refused to let me off the hook.

“No, nothing. Congratulations to them I guess, it’s a tough gig.”

“Seriously, what do we have to do? Someone needs to tell me the fucking criteria.”

It was as if Sara was in a conversation all by herself and that’s where I’d left her. I had my own hole to dig out of; I wasn’t looking to borrow extra trouble. Besides, it’s not like she could arouse any more suspicion that I somehow had a secret. Nope, I had taken care of that all by myself.

“Obviously you had something in mind, you had a pretty strong reaction. After all, you don’t really know them
that
well.”

Dom wasn’t stupid. He was fairly observant considering. I guess when you stood a head above most of the population you gained a certain perspective.
I’m a giant and I can see through your bullshit.
Sadly,
I was going to have to add him to my kill list. He knew too much.

“No, really. Nothing. I just hate social injustice. We need to stick together.”

I was so full of shit.

And what’s worse is that everyone in the room knew it.

“If you say so.” Translation: I’m going to be a gentleman and let this go, but we both know you are hiding something. Oh, and you’re a lying asshole. Okay, maybe the last bit had been just me, but that’s exactly what he should be thinking.

“I panicked,” I admitted, unable to continue with the spiral of lies anymore. “Yes, we know them. I’m sorry, I thought you were going to say something else.”

If Dom had been anyone other than the nice guy that he was, I wouldn’t have cared what he believed. Hell, I didn’t live my life by anyone else’s standards, but I hated seeing that look on his face. He would eventually find out and remember that at this moment I chose to flat out lie rather to respect him and trust he’d keep my secret.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” The weight of my body sagged against my chair, wondering if I shouldn’t have tried to bluff my way out of it.

“Kenzie, we’re tight.” Dom gave me a slow nod. “If you need me to lock something down, you can take it to the bank I won’t breathe a word to anyone else. Now, what’s going on?”

“It’s fine, Kenz. He won’t tell anyone.” Sara smiled, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “Because if he does, I’m going to Bengay his underwear. Every single pair.”

“Fuck, Sara.” Dom coughed, the smile creeping on his face. “At the risk of the inferno that will be my ball sack, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Not even the band,” I warned, not needing there to be a loophole somewhere.
Oh, sorry. I thought you meant other people, not these people.

“They are included in the collective of
everyone
, Kenz. Spill.”

“I’m pregnant. Joey’s the father.”

On the upside, I was getting a lot more efficient with my announcements. By the time I got around to telling my parents, it was going to be a cakewalk. All right. Maybe that was being slightly optimistic.

“Wow. I didn’t even know you guys were dating.” He sat up a little straighter, the news obviously not what he was expecting.

“We weren’t.” Unless by
date
he meant having hot sex, and then yeah, that’s exactly what we did. “Not in the traditional sense anyway.”

“Does he know?” he asked slowly, my initial explanation lacking.

“Yeah, he knows. I just don’t want everyone else to know right now.”

“He being good to you, Kenz? The boys and I can have a word with him if he isn’t.” The caution in his voice wasn’t manufactured, and I had no doubt that if I gave him the nod, Joey would find himself black and blue in a gutter.

“Dom, that’s sweet, but he’s been really wonderful about it. Honestly, I couldn’t have hoped for better.”

“Good.” He seemed satisfied, happy he wasn’t going to have to bust some heads. “So that’s what you thought their big news was? That news of you and him had somehow gotten out.”

And the penny dropped. My over sensitive tirade suddenly made sense. My motives less noble, being it had been my own ass that I was trying to protect.

“Well, there wasn’t much else it could be.” I didn’t bother giving him and Sara the rundown on how I’d deduced
my
news had been the only possibility. Now, when I think about it, it was a little conceited. “He didn’t mention the gig, but I haven’t really spoken to him in the last few days.”

“I thought you said he was being good about it?” Dom’s eyebrow rose, wondering why if Joey had shared bodily fluids he wouldn’t share his good news as well. Valid.

“He is. The not talking part was my doing.” I still wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do. “I just need a break to take a breath. Just for a minute, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Dom shifted in his seat, his big frame looking slightly awkward. “Look, honestly, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s like you never told me, but I’m glad you did.”

“Thanks, Dom. You’re one of the good guys.” I reached out and gave his knee a squeeze.

“Don’t let that shit get out, I have a reputation to uphold as a mean ass motherfucker. No one goes to listen to a rock band if they are
bunch of nice
guys.” He gave me a grin.

“I guess we both have a secret to keep then.”

“And Sara, you keep your hands off my underwear.” He leveled her with a stare.

“Said like a man who hasn’t had the pleasure yet.” She blinked slowly, her hand moving suggestively down her chest.

“Jesus, girl. You’re going to kill me.” He coughed, the smirk a hint he was enjoying it as much as she was.

“You want me to leave so you can screw already?” I offered, feeling suddenly like the third wheel.

“Yes,” they both echoed before erupting into laughter.

“And you call yourselves my friends.” I scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Just for that I’m going to stick around and make you suffer.”

Radio Silence.

Not a fucking word.

I’m sure she totally expected me to cave, but I had kept my word and hadn’t dialed her at all in the last couple of days. Not to say I wasn’t tempted—sure, I’d scrolled my contacts a few times—but I stayed rock solid and focused on everything else. Unfortunately for me, other than the gig we had lined up, there wasn’t much going on. Which meant I had to distract myself in other ways. Probably was always going to end badly.

“You want to go get a burger or something?” Max toweled his hair as he walked into the living room.

His semi-dressed state clued me in that he hadn’t decided exactly where he wanted to be heading just yet. The night was still young and we had no fucking plans, and sitting at home wasn’t our usual speed.

“Okay, honest opinion.” I swung around from my seat in front of my laptop. “Do you think my hair looks like the dude’s from Gossip Girl?”

“Excuse me?” The toweling off stopped as he looked at me like I’d asked him to lick my balls. The stunned confusion not exactly what I’d expected.

“My hair.” I pointed to the stuff covering my head, like the words were obvious enough. “Do you think it looks like that douchebag’s on the show?”

I’m not sure if Max just wanted to yank my chain, or maybe just string me along a little bit more, because other than goldfishing like an idiot, he didn’t answer.

“Of course, I’m taking their word that this dickwad is even a real person,” I added indignantly, pretty convinced that it was really some elaborate prank. “What kind of name is Chace Crawford? I bet he wouldn’t even know what a pussy is, let alone be allowed inside one.”

“Okay buddy, stay with me. I’m going to call 9-1-1.” Max’s feet got moving pretty quickly, closing the gap between him and me. His eyes locked on me the whole time. “Do you remember your name?” The words were slower than they needed to be, like there was something wrong with my hearing.

“Max, I’m serious.” I waved him off, wondering why the dude couldn’t just give me an answer. It was pretty simple, either yes or no. And if anyone was going to give it to me straight it was the guy in front of me.

“Joe, are you stroking out?” Max’s eyes darted left and right like the walls might give him some extra info. “I don’t even know what to do with that information.”

“Look, I don’t know who this fucktard is but I’m not liking that people are comparing him to me. Even if it is just hair—straight up, that show sucks balls and I want no part of it.” Seriously, who was this piece of shit and why were people playing contrast-and-compare with us? The more I thought about it, the more it pissed me off.

“Dude, I think you are having some kind of psychotic episode.” Max’s ass sunk into a chair beside me, and if he was faking concern, he was doing a pretty good job of it. “Let’s retrace your steps and see if I can’t get my friend back. Now, help me, help you, Joe.”

I’ll admit that possibly without context it may have seemed like a bogus question. Even more so because I generally didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought. But having to keep busy and having no real purpose today was the reason we were even having this discussion.

“I can’t call Kenzie,” I confessed. The whys of the situation not needed, considering he’d agreed I should give the phone tag a break. “Which shouldn’t be hard, except that now she told me I can’t, all I want to do is call her.” It even made less sense saying it out loud. “And that is complete BS because you know if anyone isn’t going to call back a girl, it’s me.”

For most guys getting the hey-don’t-call-me was like winning a golden ticket. Not to be an asshole, but the pressure of remembering to call was a lot of wasted anxiety. And why were these calls even important in the first place unless it was to hook up again, in which case texting was just as efficient. And in the past I’d shrugged the responsibility on more than one occasion, Max or Rusty riding my ass about being disrespectful.

“I’m not sure
that’s
a redeeming feature, but for the purpose of the exercise, sure I’ll agree.” Max rolled his eyes, knowing I was right.

“So, I needed to do something else to distract myself.” I started to fill in the blanks, giving him the added info as to how I found myself where we were. “And Rusty was flapping his gums the other day about how shit I was doing was turning up online. Even though we both know that shit wasn’t my fault, it’s not like I can stop it from happening.”

“And . . .” Max waved his hand urging me to continue.

“Which reminded me I hadn’t Googled us in a while.” Something I had no shame in admitting. After all, it was important to stay connected with our fans, and see what they thought.

“So I did a search and found some fan groups on Facebook. Did you know there’s a group called
I want to ride Max’s cock
? It has five thousand members, dude. Your dick actually has a fan page.” I pointed to the laptop, happy to pull up the page if he needed further proof. “I may have
suggested
that mine was bigger, because you know I like to tell the truth, but these girls were convinced you’re packing like an eighteen-inch shlong.” It really was the charitable thing to do, not to be malicious but because if anyone’s dick needed the love it was definitely mine.

“How the hell does the size of my dick have anything to do with your fucking hair?” Max’s voice rose in frustration, his eyebrows bunching together as he spat out the rest. “You’re making less sense as we go along. And I really hope that you logged in with an alias, and didn’t announce to the word that Joey Fucking Shaw was discussing my cock in a chat room. I don’t think the PR department has enough spin to come back from that.”

“Please, what do you think this is, amateur hour?” The big guy really needed to give me more credit. It wasn’t my first rodeo pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I sure as shit didn’t want to signpost I was so bored I was jerking off online. “I’m BigTits69; they think I’m a chick from Rhode Island.” I nodded proudly, thinking I’d been pretty convincing as a girl. I even had a profile pic, that’s how committed I was to the cause.

“I’m ninety-nine percent certain I’m going to regret asking you to continue, but go on, BigTits69.” Max shook his head, not appreciating the genius of my profile. Seriously, it was two of my favorite things. The name was freaking perfect.

“Well, I got bored with your dick—”

“Okay, that is a sentence you can never say ever again.” Max jabbed a finger in my chest, cutting me off before I could continue. “Like for real, Joey. I don’t care about the context. Never. Not unless you want to die.”

“You’re such a fucking pussy.” I blew out a breath wondering why he was being such a sensitive asshole. It’s not like I was asking to see his dick to blue tick it for verification. “Anyway, whatever.”

I tried again; hoping this time the bastard would let me speak.

“I got bored with—”

“Joe.” He warned.

“
Someone’s
dick, who isn’t you,” I amended, hoping he’d be happy.

“Dear God, please just give me a sign I should let him live.” He shook his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose as I cracked a grin.

“And I found another fan page,” I continued, ignoring him. “This time about
me
, and not to brag or anything but I had a thousand, two hundred and fifty-three more than yours.”

“Please, if you won’t take him, take me. It’s been good up till now, I’m not sure I want to go any further.” He lifted his arms up to the heavens in mock surrender; his voice bouncing off the ceiling like JC had the actual time to listen to his drama instead of doing important stuff.

“Which is where those girls were taking a fucking poll about my hair.” I scoffed in disbelief, like there couldn’t have been anything else noteworthy that people wanted to talk about. It had to be the lamest, fucking thing. “My
hair
, dude. On my fucking head.” I truly did not understand it, even explaining it to Max I was still freaking bewildered. “And it’s some asshole I don’t even know.” I hoped for his sake Chace Crawford and I never met up, but seriously there was nothing else?

“You get dick—”

“Jesus.” Max barked out a laugh, his head sinking into his hands.

“—and I get fucking hair. How is that even possible?” And if I hadn’t been masquerading as some chick, I would have totally demanded restitution. Seriously, my cock was fucking amazing.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say we need to retire
BigTits69
.” The grin crept onto his mouth. “Nothing good can come of it, in fact everything that does come from it is bad, bad news.” He gave me a tap on the shoulder, clearing his throat before he continued.

“Secondly, I get your life just got dumped on its ass, but I think there are more constructive ways to keep you from burning up the phone lines. Joe, who the fuck gives a shit what they think about your hair? Did you leave Black Addiction and join One Direction?” The last bit making him laugh.

“Fuck. You’re right.” I leaned back into my chair. Even though everyone was dead wrong—and I hated to be compared to whoever this douche monkey was—it shouldn’t matter. I was a drummer for fuck’s sake. What did I care what they thought of my hair?

“Look, why don’t you get changed, I’ll throw on a shirt and we’ll get out of here. Let your friends distract you.” Max’s hand clapped the back of my neck, his voice sincere in that he wanted to help.

“Well, I guess as dumb as it was to get bent over it at least I didn’t call her.” I shrugged, finding a silver lining. Because the whole time I was key tapping, I hadn’t even thought about calling, which had been exactly the plan.

“True.” Max grinned. “See. It wasn’t a total waste.” His hand gave me a little shake before he removed it and popped me in the arm. “We just need to work on a strategy for your downtime. Get you a hobby or something and keep you out of trouble. We can’t have you going all keyboard warrior whenever you need to be distracted.”

“Hey, but all that aside.” I’ll admit I was more than just a little curious. “Did you know about your dick page?”

“Hell, no.” He laughed, “And I’d prefer to forget most of this conversation and never hear about it again.”

“If I were you, I would totally embrace it.” The title and appreciation obviously wasted on my friend, but I’d be proud of it. Possibly even get a billboard just to promote it. Also, I’d have more followers.

“Anytime you want to stop talking about my cock would be good, Joe.” Max rolled his eyes, not seeing the wasted opportunity.

“Fine, fine. It’s done. Let’s get out of here and find something else for me to do.” Hopefully keep my finger off the dial a little longer. Maybe even get my head straight, the whole last few days creating a shitstorm of thoughts I had no hope of deciphering.

“And delete the profile.” Max pointed the laptop as he stood up. “Better to take temptation completely out of the equation.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll get rid of it.” I was so not deleting it. “It’s already gone.” My fingers tapped on the keys pretending to deactivate the account as he walked away, heading to his bedroom.

Like I’d do something that stupid. You never know when you might need to go incognito. Hell, I was keeping that baby in my back pocket for a rainy day.

“Joey.” He poked his head out from his bedroom doorway. “This is going to be fine. Trust me.” The subtext of what he was talking about not needed. The guy had my back—those words right there—proof enough.

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“Thanks, dude.” All I could manage.

***

True to his word, Max not only got us out the door but recruited Rusty to join us, the guy not spending much time with us now that he was happily part of a pair. Not that it bothered me; I wouldn’t be going out if I had that at home either.

While Alison was a sweetheart—as well as good looking— and we didn’t usually care if she tagged along, it was good to have a night out with just the three of us. It had been too long.

The bar, as we affectionately called it—had been a mainstay for us for a few years. It was where we used to hang out, writing song lyrics on napkins before any of the other stuff started happening. It was also the place we’d come while we were recording the album, unwinding with a few beers after grueling days in the studio. It was almost like a second home, the staff knew us all by name, and by drink order.