The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (The Half Shell Series Book 3) (16 page)

“Excuse me. I’ve got to go.”

Nicole leans forward, bringing her face too close to mine, and the strength of booze on her breath is overpowering.

“Neil is an interesting guy. It is the first time any of us have met him and he doesn’t mix with anyone. He just kind of stays in his own zone. No one knows what to make of him. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard tonight.” She laughs again, then puckers her lips, mildly contrite. “Well, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Backstage gossip always turns out to be bullshit. Rule one on the road. Never believe a thing you hear. Always bullshit, but it gives everyone something to do and chatter about while we all sit around doing nothing.”

OK, if that is supposed to make me feel better, she failed dismally. I stand up.

“I need to go.”

I’m about to make my escape when an arm drops heavily around my shoulders and a large body blocks my path. “You going to introduce me to your new friend, love?”

The iconic Vincent Delmo is hovering over me. I don’t know if the way he’s holding me, too familiar and touchy-feely, is meant to intimidate or excite me. It does neither.

Nicole glares up at him and shrugs. “God, you are such a lecher. Get away from the girl.”

Tension, serious tension between them. Vincent lifts my pass hanging from the canvas strap on my neck. His brows shoot up. “Christian Parker? Are you Jack’s girl?”

Shit! He says that in a way that tells me they’re friends, though I didn’t know it and I find it hard to picture Jack hanging out with
him
. Vincent oozes ego-inflated jerk.

His stifling presence eases into a more respectful distance from me.

I smile stiffly and nod.

Nicole is suddenly overly alert. “Christian Parker? Really?”

“Yes,” I say, clipped.

In a flash Nicole is laughing uproariously and I am so ready to be done with this, but Vincent Delmo won’t release his hold on me and his body is blocking my exit route.

He glares down at his girlfriend. “Are you fucking drunk, Nicky? Stop messing with Jack’s girl.”

She stares up at her boyfriend. “I’m not laughing at her. I’m laughing at you, love. She used to be with Alan Manzone.” More laughter. She’s hugging her middle, practically in tears. “Do you know who she is with now?”

Vincent looks embarrassed and pissed. “No, but I’m sure you’re not going to shut the fuck up until you tell me and the entire world.”

“The kid,” she says, excited and harshly gloating. “This is Neil Stanton’s girlfriend, Vinny. The kid is fucking”—she can hardly get the words out—“Manny’s toss-overs and you’ve been chirruping all night that you think he’s gay.”

She curls on the couch and surrenders to her laughter. My entire body is covered with a burn and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I don’t know which is worse: hearing myself called
Manny’s toss-overs
or having them spread such a ridiculous, vicious rumor about Neil our first day on tour with them.

She says, “Manny’s toss-overs. Most definitely not gay, Vinny.”

Vincent grabs Nicole’s arm and jerks her from the couch. “Shut the fuck up. You’ve said enough. You’re embarrassing us both.”

“Go to hell,” she screeches, struggling in his hold.

Vincent glances down at me. He looks sincerely apologetic. “I’m sorry, love. She’s drunk. She’s a mean drunk. Don’t take her seriously. My apologies.”

He starts dragging her out of the room and Nicole fights him the entire way, hitting his arm over and over again in a flurry of wayward fists.

I stare at the room, wishing I could drop through the floor since it’s obvious by the stares that more than a few people heard them.
I want to die. That’s all there is to it.

I search the room trying to find a safe place or a friendly face. Why in the hell did I ever think joining Neil here would be a good thing? I’d forgotten how awful the music world can be, though I shouldn’t have. And I can’t believe that I did.

Oh no, I should have remembered before I came here with Neil.

A flashing memory rises in my head of being trapped in Alan’s bedroom, being forced to hear Kenny Jones say
he fucked her and dumped her thirty minutes ago
. The icky feeling runs across the surface of my flesh, just as it did that night in New York, bringing with it other things I’d forgotten as well.

When Alan and I weren’t alone, it was awful. He was a different guy, the circle around him was dreadful, and shocking and hurtful moments jumped out at me from everywhere.

It is going to be the same here. Neil will be a different guy when we are not alone. Life on the tour will not exist without regular doses of heart-crushing and awful. I shouldn’t have done this. I should have moved back to Santa Barbara. I should never have brought myself here.

I lift my chin, somehow managing composure, and work my way through the people to the tiny circle of Josh and the rest of the band. I internally contain a shudder, since they don’t look very welcoming and they’re not making the slightest effort to hide that they’d heard that ghastly scene.

I look at Josh. “Do you know where Neil is?”

He tosses down a sip of his drink. “He’s where he is before every performance, Chrissie. Somewhere quiet where he can think.”

“Can you tell me where?”

Josh glares at me. “Leave him the fuck alone. Don’t run to him and dump your shit all over him. For one day can you not fuck with his head?”

My cheeks color like a burn. We stare at each other, but it’s Josh who breaks off first, lowering his gaze to his drink.

“Go out the door and go left,” Les says, surprising me. “Just keep walking. You’ll see him eventually. He’s sitting alone in one of the exit tunnels. That’s where he usually goes to psych himself up for a performance.”

“Thank you, Les,” I say quietly, then head toward the door.

The hallway is less crowded and I can see that road crew has started clearing a path for the guys to get onstage. I peek into exit tunnels, and then ahead of me I see one of the security team standing in an archway and I know that is where Neil is.

I hold up my pass, but the sentry doesn’t let me through. He says, “He doesn’t want to be bothered.”

I peek around his hulking form and beyond him I see Neil. He’s sitting almost on the floor, crouched, back against the wall with hair tumbling forward. He’s still, perfectly still, and he looks intensely quiet, a touch sad—though I don’t know why he would be sad, tonight is a big night for him—and definitely nervous.

Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. There is something about how he’s sitting that screams he wants to be alone.

“Five minutes,” blares a voice from the walkie-talkie.

The security guy looks in at Neil. “Five minutes, man.”

Neil looks up and sees me. “It’s OK. Let her through, Clive. That’s my girlfriend, Chrissie.”

Clive steps out of the way. I make my way down the concrete decline until I reach Neil. He doesn’t move. He just sits there. I don’t know what I’m seeing, what this is. But it makes my distress, that hideous scene with Nicky which made me want to run to the safety of Neil, seem instantly insignificant.

Josh’s voice fills my head.
Don’t run to him and dump your shit all over him.
I crouch down until we’re at eye level and silently I reply,
I’m not going to, Josh. I love him. Why don’t you get that and leave us alone?

“Hi.” Neil’s voice is faint, nearly all breath. “I was wondering where you were.”

“I was wondering where
you
were. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “Just thinking.”

He takes my body in his hands, turns me and then sets me with my back against him. He instantly surrounds me with his legs and arms, and I’m suddenly reminded of the night in his van when I confronted him and he told me his history with Andy Despensa. He feels just like he did then, as if he’s filled with troubling stuff he doesn’t want to share and is embarrassed over.

He lets out a long, shuddering breath and buries his lips in my hair. “I’m scared, Chrissie. I’ve never performed in front of such a large crowd. I don’t want to fall on my ass. I don’t want to do this.”

His words don’t surprise me, though I’m not exactly sure how to deal with this. This is new for me. Neil unsure, doubting himself.

“Then don’t. We can fly home.” I close my hands around his wrists, stretching out our arms and making a silly flapping motion. “Then you can surf. And I can do nothing. If you don’t want to do this then don’t.”

A reluctant laugh fights its way out of his chest. Good. I’ve amused him.

“You can do nothing, rich-girl. I have to work.”

“Then go out there. Work.”

His laughter comes a touch less strained. He melts into me, his hands gently caressing my arms. “You are a pretty cool girl. Have I ever told you that? You’re not blown away by any of this. You don’t get impressed. Nothing will ever pull you into the hype. Wherever you are, you are always just Chrissie.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing being
just Chrissie
,” I say in a silly, exaggerated way, and Neil relaxes into the wall, laughing.

He kisses my head. “A very good thing. You are the only thing real in my world right now. Don’t change. Not ever.”

“I won’t.” I turn in his arms until I can face him. I kiss him. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be great. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.”

“I love you, Chrissie.”

I spring to my feet and pull him up by his hands.

“We’re going to be OK, Neil.”

He loops his arm around my shoulders and we walk toward the main corridor.

“You ready to do it?” Clive asks.

Neil nods and starts to leave, but we’re held back by a tree-trunk-size arm.

“I’ve got to clear the hallway. Give me a minute, Neil.”

Neil starts to laugh as Clive raises his walkie-talkie to his lips. He turns me to face him, holding me in a sloppy drape of his arms.

I frown. “What are you laughing at?”

He shakes his head and puts his nose against mine. “This. It’s fucking nuts. I walked down the hall alone to get here. No one gave a shit about me.”

I make a pout. “I give a shit about you.”

He smiles. “Good. You’re the only one that matters here.”

A minute later we’re being escorted down the main corridor, the guys about ten feet ahead of us. The sound from the arena is deafening and Neil is lumbering beside me, still looking like he doesn’t want to go onstage. Excitement flutters start building inside me. I haven’t seen Neil perform in anything but a small club. He’s always gone out on the road without me.

The lights are shut off on the stage as we climb a short flight of metal stairs. Neil’s held back again, and his fingers clutch my hand tightly. His fingers do flexing motions around mine. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Then I feel the loss of contact and he is running on stage.

Clive points at an empty area just out of view of the audience. “You can stand here.”

The stark corridor below is flooded with people and the side stage entrances fill up. There is a deafening assault of guitars. The lights switch on. I try to keep up with the action in front of me. A raspy, powerful voice, velvety and yet haunting and laced with despair. A voice I know.

I spot Neil center stage, hugging a microphone, hidden under his unruly hair, but he doesn’t look at all like he did the last time I saw him perform. There is something supercharged about him, mesmerizing, coiled, and in control. It’s a sharp contrast to the Neil I found in the exit tunnel. A sharp contrast to the Neil I expected to see now.

I stare at him, unable to see anything else. Center stage adores him, and my skin grows numb with roiling emotions. Their music is raw and fresh, powerfully intense. The band is amazing, and Neil doesn’t hide beneath his hair on stage anymore. He is running wild, stirring the crowd into a frenzy. It didn’t even take one song and he has them totally engaged and with him.

There are stories all over the place in the entertainment press about how Arctic Hole is about to be the next big thing out of Seattle. But those stories are wrong. Neil and the band are not breaking into stardom. Christ, how could I get so much wrong? Miss so much about what was going on in Neil’s life? Simply not see? I was wrong about each and every thing I believed on the way to Seattle and then here.

Arctic Hole is not on the edge of breaking into stardom as a band. They’ve already broken, and it happened before today. Neil must have realized that. The guys know it. You can’t miss something like this, not when you’ve worked so hard to make it happen.

Arctic Hole has already made it. There is not a single reason why Neil should want me here. Every door is going to fly open soon. Opportunity everywhere. Possibilities everywhere. Girls everywhere. Whatever he wants everywhere.

Another guy would have left me in Berkeley in the past. Neil should have done the same. Instead, he brought me with him and I am
in love
with him for the first time in our life together.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The stage shudders from stomping feet throughout the stadium. Neil is on the last song of his set, and the stage’s wings are packed with bodies to the point of being crushingly overfilled. People started pouring in from the tunnels when Neil climbed the rafters.

Jesus Christ, what possessed him to do that?

Still-water Neil hanging from twenty feet above the audience, somehow with the microphone still in hand and singing, and then dropping into the crowd beneath him. It was insane, and oddly exciting; his command of the stage, and I couldn’t guess what he would do next. It moved the packed arena into something beyond frenzied. The crazier Neil gets the more they love him.

I should probably cut out now to the safety of the green room before the band breaks. With the way the stage sides are packed it is going to be madness to try to keep up with Neil once he comes off stage, but I want to watch this as long as I can. He’s put on an amazing performance tonight.

The cluster around me starts fidgeting, alerting me that people are going to be in motion along the wings soon. Across the stage, security is already in place to cut a path for the band.