The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (15 page)

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said. “Everything...okay?”

“What?” He zipped his gaze up, his brown eyes wide and far from okay. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, I just...I remembered I have to be somewhere. Like right now. Excuse me, I gotta...”

“Go,” I finished for him.

“Right.” Pointing to me gratefully for supplying the word he’d been searching for, he surged up from the floor where he’d been crouching. When he plowed forward to flee, he almost bumped the box he was toting right into my gut, so I leapt a step back to give him room, and he finally seemed to realize I was right there.

“Shit, sorry. Uh...” He looked into my eyes again, and I think he saw how worried I was, because he blew out a breath, and his shoulders slumped. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

I squinted, not sure what he was talking about. Not my fault that I’d brought a whole boatload of uncomfortable into our conversation, making him in such a hurry to leave? Or not my fault that—

“That she died,” he clarified. “Your mom. Seriously, just think up every scenario of everything you could’ve done that day. You know she still would’ve ended up...where she did. The only thing that might’ve changed was that you could’ve died with her.”

I took a step back at those words. I’d thought up different scenarios before, and in every alternate reality I’d created in my head, I’d been able to save her. But maybe Sticks was right. In all actuality, I probably wouldn’t have been able to keep her alive. Realizing that stunned me.

Sticks blew out a breath. “I really have to go. See you Monday? At practice?”

I nodded, distracted by the thoughts he’d just put in my head. “Yeah. Sure. See you then.”

I didn’t notice him leave. I slumped onto the nightstand, both my hands buried deep in my hair, and I wondered...was Remy right? Had my mother’s death been inevitable? Maybe I hadn’t been as culpable as I’d always worried.

I burst inside my apartment, the official Non-Castrato box cradled in my arms, unable to get my mind to stop spinning from everything I’d learned during band practice today...or rather everything I’d learned
after
practice.

Hearing about Asher’s childhood and his parents was enough to blow my mind. But then I’d spotted that song. That dreadful, amazing, life-altering song.

Ten hadn’t been on crack after all. A Non-Castrato song I’d never heard of before really, honestly, truly existed. And I knew why Asher refused to ever play it again. It was so personal, so revealing, so...

About me.

Well,
maybe
about me. Maybe not. I couldn’t be sure. Except all the details fit. Por Dios, how well the details fit.

Thoughts scattered into millions of pieces, I plopped the box on the side table where I always tossed my keys and purse, vaguely aware of Jodi on the couch watching television.

For all I noticed, she might’ve even greeted me hello. I have no idea if I replied. I was too busy digging back into the box to retrieve that song. Once I found it, the page trembled in my grasp as I reread the lyrics. Everything seemed right. And yet...I couldn’t believe it. The idea that Asher might’ve seen me once and been so overwhelmed by the encounter that he’d written a...a
love
song about me, fantasizing about an entire future full of what-ifs that could happen between us, was more than I could take.

“Jodi,” I started, still staring at Asher’s handwritten dreams, as I marched in front of her until I was between her and the television.

“Shh...” She waved me out of her way so she could continue watching the screen. “Check this out.” She motioned toward...holy guacamole, was she actually watching the
news
?

Who was this woman and what had she done with my roommate?

“They shut down Statesburg,” she said. “You know, that big prison not too far from here. There was some big, insider scandal about the last warden and some current and past inmates. I guess it was bad enough that they’re closing the entire place, and apparently there’s not enough room in the surrounding jails to house all their inmates, so they’re just...letting some of them go.”

“What?” I spun to gape at the news too.

“I know, right? Everyone who’s up for release or parole this year, is pretty much getting out. That’s like
fifty
new felons out on the streets with us. What kind of shit is that?”

“Scary,” I murmured, watching the screen as the newsman’s camera panned the outside of the state prison where the gates were opening to let out the last busload to convicts they were going to farm out to other prisons. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been going on for a couple weeks apparently. But the news just caught wind of it.”

“Statesburg’s like what, only twenty miles from here, isn’t it?”

“However far it is, it’s
way too close
.” Jodi shivered and hugged herself. “I’m investing in a fucking Taser.” Then she glanced at me and sniffed as she took in my mask. “And if I were you, I’d stay in that form for a while. If there were any rapists in the release, you’re far safer as a guy right now.”

I rolled my eyes, but the mention of my mask reminded me...

Sticks.

The band.

Asher and his song.

“Hey.” I sat beside her and tried to act causal. “Do you remember the night we went to Forbidden months ago and sang karaoke?”

“Sure.” Her attention returned to the television as she chewed on a fingernail. “We sang ‘All About That Bass,’ right?”

“Yeah.” That part I remembered. And it’s exactly what the girl in Asher’s song had sung...with her redheaded friend...aka, Jodi...maybe. “Was I still with Fisher then?”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yes. The douchebag told me my voice sounded like two alley cats fucking.”

“What a dick.” I wrinkled my nose, though yes, sadly, that sounded exactly like something Fisher might’ve said. But all issues with him were over and done. Now...I was too focused on Asher to think about Fisher. “Do you remember what I was wearing?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” She rolled her eyes. “You never wear anything exciting when we go clubbing. Just those stupid T-shirts you get from concerts.”

“I know.” I chewed on my lip and returned my gaze to the song, rereading the line about the pretty little Latino girl in the Incubus T-shirt who’d rocked Asher Hart’s world.

The news must’ve moved on to different, less interesting topics because Jodi suddenly focused on me. “What’s with all the questions, anyway? And what is that?”

She took the piece of paper from me, and I explained as she began to read it.

After I told her everything and she skimmed over the song again, her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Remy. This is us. Asher Hart wrote a song about us.” Her wide-eyed gaze landed on me. “About
you
.”

I swallowed. “Yeah...it does appear that way, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean,
appear that way
? Puta, this is
...us
.”

Shaking my head, I had to deny it. It was just too...much. Way too much. “It might not be.”

“Oh, trust me. It
is
.”

“Jodi,” I whined. “It can’t be. What the hell would I do if this ended up being about
me
? I actually like him.”

“Then you tell him immediately and get yourself a ticket to the finest seat on the Asher Hart express, because wow... He wrote you a fucking song, puta. Fuck the boy’s brains out in gratitude.”

Ugh, of course she wouldn’t understand.

“Are you crazy? I totally can’t do that. I’m his
bandmate
now. He thinks I’m a guy. Dios mío, if he found out who I really am, he’d think the same thing Ten thought, that I knew about the song all along and this was just some fucked-up attempt to trick my way into getting close to him. Oh...fuck...me.” I set my hand against my forehead, the latex of my mask surprising me, because I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. “What am I going to do, Jodi?”

Since I wasn’t my roommate and all my answers didn’t end with sex, I vetoed the “fuck Asher Hart’s brains out” idea. Jodi and I compromised and decided we needed to head to karaoke night again, get some answers and learn the truth...or the constant wondering might drive us insane.

I have no idea why I went as Sticks. Asher had told me he probably wouldn’t recognize his Incubus shirt girl even if he saw her again and he most likely wouldn’t recognize me as the one girl who’d tried out for his band because of my wig either, but I didn’t want to risk it. So I pulled on my mask, fake torso and man panties, then Jodi and I went clubbing.

Grim wasn’t working tonight, so I wondered if this doorman was the Harper guy Asher had mentioned. When we reached the front of the line, I was already sliding my hand into my back pocket for my wallet to get our entry fee and ID, but Jodi had to go and point my way. “He’s with the band.”

I sent her a teeth-gritting glare, but the doorman burst into a huge smile. “Oh, are you Sticks, the new drummer? Hey, man, nice to meet you. I’m Harper.” He stuck out a hand to shake with me, so I cleared my throat and tried to get my “guy” on.

“Hey,” I said, doing the whole head bob thing men did.

Harper had a much better temperament than Grim had had. He didn’t ask for any identification, and he let Jodi and me through without charging us an entry fee.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” I said, glancing back, just to make sure no one was chasing us down for money yet.

Jodi grinned. “Of course it did! You’re a VIP here now. Let’s go see if we can get free booze too.” When she hooked her arm through mine, I tried to pull us to a stop.

“No, really. Let’s not push it.”

I was kind of loath to go anywhere near the alcohol right now. Asher was bartending, and that’s exactly where he’d be.

Sure, he was the reason we’d come here tonight, but now that we were actually here and I might actually learn he might’ve actually been attracted to me—the girl version of me—once upon a time, everything was just...yeah. It all had me repeating the word
actually
over and over in my head, and I had a sudden bout of actual stage fright.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to look into his amazing green eyes ever again.

Jodi didn’t seem to care what my nerves were going through, though. She clutched my arm harder. “This is why we’re here, puta. Time for answers!”

Dragged by the elbow, I reluctantly followed but argued with her the entire way. “You know, I’m not sure why we came here at all. He put every detail imaginable about his Incubus shirt girl in the song. And it’s not like I have a visible mole or tattoo or distinctive feature he might suddenly remember. Hell, he didn’t even recognize
you
as the sidekick who sang with me when he met you last night. So, really, what more could we get from him?”

“He didn’t say how long her hair was or if she was taller or shorter than said sidekick.” She pinched me in the arm, making me yelp. “And that’s for calling me a measly sidekick, by the way.
Puta
. I’m no one’s sidekick. I am my own force of nature, thank you very much.”

True that. But instead of apologizing, I laughed at her offense, because I knew that was what she wanted me to do, until suddenly, we were at the bar and nothing seemed so funny anymore.

“I don’t want to do this,” I whined, trying to back away while Jodi shoved me forward.

When I finally gave in to her, I went sprawling into the counter, smacking my gut against the edge and causing the nearest bartender to whirl my way in surprise.

He wasn’t Asher, thank God. But he
was
gorgeous, and having him see me sprawled like a moron against the bar made my face heat miserably inside my mask. I sent the hottie bartender an apologetic wince and waved. “Hey...sorry, about that.”

He squinted a second before pointing at me. “It’s Sticks, right?”

I nodded. “Right. And you’re...Mason?”

Grinning, he sent me a thumbs-up. “What’s up? Can I get you and your...” He glanced at Jodi. “...friend a drink?”

“I want a piña colada,” Jodi immediately announced.

Dammit! I scowled at her. Of course, she’d drink one of those right in front of me, when I was trying to be all manly.

“Sure thing,” Mason said and glanced at me. “Sticks?”

Since I had liked the Angry Orchard Asher had gotten me the night before, I asked for one of those.

Mason turned away to fill our order, and Jodi lifted onto her tiptoes to call into my ear, “I don’t see your man. Are you sure he’s working tonight?”

“Shh...” I waved her quiet. “He’s not my man, and yes, I’m sure.”

“Well then, where is he?”

I scowled at her but shook my head, not sure about that answer myself as I scanned the place too, looking for him and dreading as much as I relished the moment I’d catch sight of his longish dark hair with the corn silk blond highlights. Dios, his hair was amazing. Finger-gripping-while-you-screamed-through-an-orgasm kind of amazing.