The Fire Walker (17 page)

"Nothin' wrong with that."

"Dave," he said, holding out his hand.

"Dee," I replied, shaking it.

Another guy came up beside us and looked me up and down.

"Hey, this is Stu, our drummer," Dave said, elbowing his friend.

"Hey, mate."

"Hey, Australian?" Stu asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yep."

"Then I'm positive it's you."

I frowned.

"Yeah," he said. "
Rolling Stone
."

I grimaced. "Yeah, that's probably it."

"You're in that new Aussie band that's been kicking about. The Devil's Tattoo. I was reading that article today and when I saw you come in with your girl, I thought I recognized you."

I was in another country in the middle of nowhere and some guy had just recognized me. I probably should have been all over it, and on an ordinary day I would've, but I wasn't feeling it.

"What are you doing here of all places?"

"Holiday."

"And who's the girl? She your other half?" Dave nodded towards the bar.

I glanced over at Jessie. She was leaning across the bar, giving her order to the bartender and my eyes skimmed over her ass. "Na, I'm just giving her a lift."

"You just picked her up?" he scoffed. "Where do I find one?"

"Oh, no, I know her. It's just... complicated."

"Man, she wants you." Stu clapped me on the shoulder.

I shrugged.

When they wandered off to get ready for their set, Jessie sidled up to me, handing me a beer. "Making friends?" she asked with a smile. Her too perfect fucking smile.

"You know what I'm like."

"Not really," she frowned. "But, I can imagine."

With a shrug, I turned around and watched the guys I'd just met plugging in their guitars. A third guy had joined them, picking up a bass. As soon as Dave tapped on his mic to test it, the crowd seemed to mellow and press towards the stage. They must be well known around here, because people seemed to be amped to hear them play. This place was a tiny pimple on the ass of the world, so any band must be a good band when there weren't any others.

When they started playing, I kinda ate my words a little. They were pretty good. They played a few old school rock songs from The Rolling Stones and Deep Purple and some newer stuff like Nirvana and even The Killers. A bit of a mix of styles, but they seemed to know enough to pull it off. Jessie moved about next to me, swaying to the music, sipping on her beer and I was aware of every little thing she did. Her lips around the glass of the beer bottle, the scent of her trademark vanilla perfume, the way her eyes closed as she listened to the music.

When the crowd thickened down front, I angled myself partially behind her, pressing against her back. She said nothing and just kept on moving with the music, rubbing against me, driving me totally bat shit crazy. It made me wonder if this was a part of her plan to make things up to me. Or rather, get back into my bed, but my head was too fuzzy to even think about that coherently.

When the song finished and people around us began clapping, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back."

She looked up at me over her shoulder with her big fucking Bambi eyes and nodded.

Standing in front of the mirror in the men's room, I looked at my reflection. My face was flushed and I cursed the fucking day Jessie Ware had walked into that recording studio. It would be so easy just to take her home and fuck senseless, because that's the only thing my body wanted, but I knew she wanted more. If I did that and then dumped her at her door tomorrow, then I wouldn't be any better than she’d been.

Fuck, she hadn't even explained to me why she did it. Wasn't that why she came all this way? To apologize and try to win me back? I assumed so, because why would someone fly cross-country to say they were fucking sorry? Either that, or she was scared I would get her fired from Galaxy.

It couldn't work between us. We lived worlds apart and I couldn't get over that thing. Her fuck and run. That had scarred me deep enough that I could never forget it.

Looking at myself in the mirror I thought,
Get a fucking grip, Cosgrove. Don't fall for it
. That was the game, wasn't it? Planting a seed of doubt, cracking the ice and whatever other fucking metaphors applied.

Waiting another minute, I went back out into the bar and looked out across the crowd and instantly found Jessie where I'd left her. How could I not notice her in a sea of people? She was like magnetic north in a fucking blizzard. But, when my eyes fell onto her delicate body, my blood began to boil.

A guy stood beside her, talking in her ear and she was shaking her head, moving away. I could almost read his lips. Trying to buy her a drink, trying to pick her up, trying to convince her to go for a round out back behind a dumpster like a dirty fuck. She was having none of it, her expression was calm, but she was saying no. Trying to be polite about it when she should’ve slapped him one.

I began to move forward, weaving through the crowd, trying to keep my temper from boiling over. Every now and then I'd lose sight of her, this overwhelming pool of jealousy simmering in my gut. When I finally made it back, what I saw almost made me snap.

He was a fucking red neck hick, all up in her personal space, probably rubbing his disgusting cock against her leg and it made me sick. Sick that a pervert could have the fucking gall to pressure himself on a woman like that.

"I said no," Jessie exclaimed, trying to push him off, her voice beginning to sound panicked.

"C'mon," they guy said, his hand fumbling for her breast.

A synapse must have snapped in my brain, because I strode forward and pushed him off her with a violent shove. Before he had a chance to recover, my fist connected with his face, jarring through my bones. He fell backwards on his ass, parting the crowd like fucking Moses at the Red Sea.

"She fucking said no," I said, stepping forward to pull the asshole up but hands were on my arms, pulling me back. It took me a moment to realize that the hillbilly fuck had a couple of mates, but by that time, the guy was on his feet, sinking a punch into my gut.

Doubling over with a groan, I wrestled my way free and launched myself forward. I landed on top of the guy and started punching, blind with anger, the sound of flesh cutting into flesh ripping through the alarmed cries of the punters around us.

"
Dee
," Jessie shrieked at me, but I didn't listen.

The other guys hauled me off their stupid fuck of a friend and I was on my back, a boot sinking into my side. Then a fist to the face and the coppery tang of blood in my mouth as my lip split against my teeth.

I vaguely heard Jessie yelling at me, then silence as the band stopped playing. Dave and Stu were pulling the three hicks off me, but not before the one that had tried to feel up Jessie grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted me half off the floor, getting in another punch. This time, right over my left eye. I fell backwards on the beer soaked floor, spots dancing in my line of vision, but I was too angry to give a fuck. When a woman said no, it fucking meant no.

I tried to get up again, to find the fuck so I could beat his ass some more, but hands were coiled in the front of my shirt. Long, almond toned, delicate fingers pulling me to my feet. I would have gone as far as to say an angel was pulling me to heaven, but that was probably from the repeated blows to the head.

Then, she spoke. "Fuck Dee, we've gotta get out of here."

I fisted my hands into Dee's shirt, pulling at him so he'd get off the ground. "Fuck Dee, we've gotta get out of here."

His lip was split and there was a cut above his left eye that was bleeding down his face. The other guy didn't look much better, but it had been three on one.

"Get off me," he hissed, shoving my hands away and scrambling to his feet.

"No," I said, pulling him through the crowd. "The cops are coming."

"How the fuck you know that?"

"You don't want to know," I grimaced. "If we don't leave then they'll probably throw you in jail for the night." I looked around for the other guys, but they'd already split. They knew the score, which probably meant they got into fights all the time for the kicks.

"I don't need you to protect me," Dee said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He only succeeded in smearing the blood more.

"Fuck you, Dee." I was sick and tired of his sullen woe is me attitude. Just when things were starting to mellow, he went and said stupid things like that. I grabbed his wrist and led him from the bar, people parting to let us through. Either he was surprised at my outburst or he had concussion, because he didn’t argue anymore. I hardly ever swore, but I’d had enough of everything.

Out in the lot the air was cool and refreshing after the melting pot of bodies inside. The coast was clear, the rednecks had disappeared into the sunset, so I turned and shoved my hand into the pocket of Dee's jeans.

"Hey," he hissed, trying to twist away from me.

"I'm just getting the keys," I scowled. "I'm not trying to feel you up." I pressed the button on the fob and the doors clicked open. "Get in."

He slid into the passenger seat, a scowl firmly etched on his face. My eyes ran over the trails of blood that had dripped down onto his shirt and made a decision.

As I pulled the car out onto the highway, I caught sight of the blue and red lights of a cop car in the rear view mirror. I'd been right, but didn't bother mentioning it.

"Where are you going?" he asked, catching on that we weren't going back to the motel.

"I'm taking you to the emergency room."

"Fuck no." He sounded majorly pissed off.

"That cut above your eye is nasty, Dee. It might need a couple of stitches."

"I said,
no
."

I cringed as his words sliced through me. I knew that he'd just walk away the moment the car stopped, so with an annoyed sigh I pulled over and did a U-turn to go back to the motel. I thought about the things I'd given up to even be here right now and white-hot anger simmered in my stomach. Dee just wanted to punish me, he never wanted to listen to an apology. He wanted to punish me and keep rubbing it in like a fucking child.

I pulled into the gas station and without a word, climbed out the car and went into the overly lit store, looking for some antiseptic wipes. If Dee was stupid enough not to go get his head looked at, I was going to make him clean it up properly. I didn't care how much he complained, he'd got into a fight to protect me. It was then that my thoughts caught up to me. He'd tried to
protect
me.

Maybe he didn't hate me after all? Things had started to smooth out so maybe it would be okay. By the time we got back to New York, maybe we'd be okay.

Looking over the meager selection in the medicinal isle, which was just a shelf tacked onto the candy bars, I grabbed a travel-sized pack of antiseptic wipes. I went up to the front counter, pulling change out of my pocket and practically threw it at the guy behind the register and stormed back out to the car.

Without a word, I drove us back to the motel, pulling into a spot in front of the door to our room. Dee was out and inside before I had a chance to lock the car behind me. Following him in, I went to grab his wrist.

"Just leave it alone," he said, knocking my hand out of the way.

Determined not to let him get his way, I pushed him back onto the bed with a hard jab to his chest. "Stop being such a stupid jerk and let me take care of you. It's not my fault you're too stupid to go to the hospital." He looked at me like I was either a crazy bitch or just plain mental. “Yeah,” I continued, seriously riled up, “when you push me I bite back.”

I pulled out the travel sized antiseptic wipes from my back pocket. The cut above his eye looked deep and who knew what nasty stuff was growing on the floor of that bar. Not to mention where that guy’s nasty hands had been. Cleaning the blood off with antiseptic was better than soap and water.

Pulling a chair over, I sat in front of Dee, our knees pressed together. Despite how pissed I was at him, the mere act of touching, even through our clothing, was electrifying. Biting my lower lip, I opened the wipes, took one out and began dabbing the cut over his eyebrow. As soon as the antiseptic hit the open wound, he pulled away with a hiss.

"Keep still," I murmured, putting my other hand on his shoulder and dabbing again, cleaning the dried blood away. I didn't know much about cuts, but this one didn't look that deep and he probably would’ve gotten away without stitches.

He sat there without complaint as I moved onto the cut in his lip and my thoughts instantly went to that night we'd spent together. I felt that place between my legs stir and my breath caught. Dropping my hands, my eyes flickered up to find his locked on me. I just wanted to press forward and push him back onto the bed and touch every part of him. I wanted to feel that fire like I had that night. I wanted to go back so badly and change everything.