Who He Is (FireNine, book 1) (7 page)

Stan came tumbling out of the diner and I was glad to see he had on his hat and his keys clutched in hand because the conversation between Montana and me was beginning to get a little awkward.

I didn’t want to talk about Gage with him. I didn’t really want to care. On the inside, I was excited as hell. If I would’ve known Gage didn’t sleep with anyone the night we were at the club, I probably wouldn’t have been so rude toward him the morning after. Of course I was still annoyed about him kissing a girl he didn’t know while dating Penelope, but at least it wasn’t me he was hurting. At least, during his whole night, I was somewhere on his mind.

That made me kind of giddy.

Ten minutes until the show.

That’s what the men kept yelling backstage, but it had been twenty minutes and no one was singing. The crowd was getting upset that FireNine wasn’t out there pleasing them. The opening act did their part and had to hit the road
asap.

“Where the hell is Deed? He should have been here an hour ago!” Ben growled through
clamped teeth. “I swear if he isn’t here in thirty minutes, he’s getting replaced. It’s only been three days and he’s fucking up already?”

“Ben, I’m sure he’ll be here,” I whispered. “Just calm down.”

There was one side of Ben I didn’t like: his impatient and pissed-off side. He could definitely hold a grudge, which was why I always aimed to be on his good side. He was a bit more emotional than the normal male (for obvious reasons), but he was also about business. When it came down to it, there could be no slacking off, no disappointments. Ben was about his money and he had his reasons to be. After getting robbed of everything, he had to get it back as best as he could. He worked hard for his living.

Ben
started pacing as the fans yelled and complained even louder. I think I heard every negative name in the book during our wait. “If we don’t start in two minutes, the show will have to be cancelled and we’ll have to give these people their money back,” a man with circular glasses and a broom-like moustache said to Ben. Ben nodded and the man walked off quickly with his clipboard and walkie-talkie in hand. As soon as Ben stopped pacing, the back door swung open.

In came Deed with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He had on a black T-shirt with the FireNine logo printed in bright orange. His hair was gelled and spiked in a few places, but his face was hard, edgy. A tall man followed in behind him, his face harder than granite. He had salt-and-pepper hair, his face was clean, and he wore a suit, proving he was about nothing but business. Neither one of them were smiling as they met up with us.

“Found him,” the man in the suit said, glaring at Deed.

“Sorry I’m late, Ben. I can explain later,” Deed muttered.

“Oh, you better explain later. Right now you all need to get your asses on that stage and please this damn crowd.” Ben clapped his hands and the boys gathered their instruments.

“Deed, what the fuck happened?” Montana hissed at him.

“Nothing.” Deed stole a glance over his shoulder at the man in the suit who’d just slid his fingertips into his front pockets. He was staring at Deed the entire time and it was making my skin crawl. It wasn’t a normal stare. It was almost like an “I’ll fuck you up” stare.

The boys stopped asking questions, shaking their heads as they marched for the stage. The crowd was still yelling and beyond impatient, even when the boys were getting set up. But then Gage leaned into the microphone and his voice filled the arena.

“Good evening, Texas,” Gage said, gripping the microphone with both hands. The crowd stopped ranting and went wild. There were some yelling, “I love you, Gage!” and others yelling madly over Montana, who’d winked and blew an air-kiss at the crowd, strapping his guitar around him. “There was a bit of an issue backstage, but it’s nothing we couldn’t handle. Shit happens, right?” The crowd hollered again, maybe louder this time, and I bit on a smile as he watched them with cheerful eyes, grinning widely. “We’ve got to make it up to you somehow, so I figured we could sing one of our newest songs. It hasn’t even been recorded in the studio yet, but you deserve it for sticking around.”

“What the hell is he doing?” Ben snapped, his hand on his chin. His foot was tapping and anger still had a hold of him, but I placed a hand on his arm, shaking my head.

“Ben, you’ve got to calm down. Gage is smart. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“This song,” Gage said, his deep, bedroom voice echoing across the large arena
and making the center of my legs clench, “is one we thought of while sitting in the garage. The title is ‘Promised Me.’ Sounds cheesy—we know.” Gage chuckled, shaking his head. “But the lyrics make up for it.”

Gage looked over his shoulder at his band brothers and they nodded, ready to play. Deed did a quick countdown with his drumsticks and the music blared. The crowd went wild as Gage strummed his guitar, singing i
nto his microphone. His eyes lowered and he leaned forward, winking, singing, his fingers moving rapidly along the strings. With a few words, he’d pucker his lips and I’d melt on the inside, craving another low, deep note of his voice.

“I can’t believe it,” Ben said, smiling. “It’s the song they were practicing in my garage. They said they weren’t going to sing it for another few months!”

“It’s getting a great reaction!” I yelled over the music.

“A
very
great reaction,” Ben said, rubbing his hands together. “Terri!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Terri, a short guy with a large nose, square glasses, and cropped
black hair, hustled his way forward to get to Ben’s side. “You’ve got to record the performance. I’m sure Luke will love to hear this one.”

“Yes, sir.” Terri dashed away but returned in less than a minute, fidgeting with a video camera. My attention turned to Gage singing
exquisitely. He’d dropped his guitar to wrap his fingers around the microphone. His eyes shut and as the boys slowed down the beat, his voice came out powerfully. He was giving it his all.

…You promised me

You’d let it all go.

You swore to put me first,

But all I got was your worst.

So where the hell are you?

What the hell are we?

I needed you with me,

But you continuously destroyed me.

You promised meeee… so much.

The lyrics were heart aching, incredible, but I questioned where they came from. Had Gage been in love before? He mentioned to me that he wrote most of the lyrics. I was sure this song was his as well.

There was a lot about Gage that left me curious. I asked myself more and more questions abo
ut him each day. He had more within him that he wasn’t showing and I couldn’t help but think there was a reason behind it all. What was he hiding?

The boys were going out to another club, but this time I beat Ben before he could pull another mandatory night out. I told Marco to drop me off at the bus, deciding a little painting would do for the night.

I only painted when there was absolute silence or with extremely loud music. I didn’t know where Ben was, but I knew he wasn’t going to show up for another few hours.

The bus was quieter than usual, and with the crickets chirping outside the window, it made the night even better. It was peaceful. Humble.

When I started, I couldn’t stop. I finger-painted a lot. It was a unique technique I’d learned the previous semester. It wasn’t the simple child’s finger painting, either. There was complexity of my fingernails, the back of my hand to make it look rougher, and even the palm of my hand to smooth edges. There was a flowerpot full of tulips on the table next to my dresser so I went with painting that.

But then the front door of the bus creaked open and I paused on my next finger stroke. It slammed behind whoever stepped inside and then heavy footsteps started down the hallway. I knew there were a few security guards parked outside the bus so I got rid of the thought that maybe it was burglar or a murderer.

A heavy grunt filled the silence and I stood, placing my paint on the floor and going for the door. I wiped my hands on my apron as much as I could to get rid of the paint before twisting the doorknob and swinging the door open. As I looked out, a pair of legs dangled from the top bunk of the hallway.

“Gage?” I called, my eyebrows knitted.

Gage turned around quickly and nearly hit his head on the ceiling. “Ellie,” he breathed.

“What are you doing?” I laughed.

“Came to change clothes, but my suitcase fell behind the bed.” He turned around again and grunted as he pulled up his suitcase. “Got it.”

“Oh, okay.” I started to step back and close the door, but then Gage called my name and I paused.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, his eyebrow arched.

“I was just getting some painting done.”

“You really don’t go out much, huh?” he teased.

“Not really. I told you clubs and parties
aren’t really for me.”

Pressing his lips, he dropped his suitcase on the floor bef
ore jumping from the top bunk and landing beside it. “There’s a place here where they square dance every Saturday night. It’s fun.”

I frowned. “I’ve never square danced before.”

“Let’s change that.” He grunted, bending down to unzip his suitcase. His eyes never left mine. “Come with me.”

“Don’t you have to we
ar something cowboy-ish to an event like that?”

He smiled boyishly.
“It’s not required, but it makes the night much more fun when you do.”

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.” I shrugged. “I don’t own any rodeo or square-dancing clothes.”

Gage stood up straight and cocked his head at me. He then dug into his back pocket for his cell phone. “Most places down here don’t close for another hour or so,” he said, checking the time. “We have just enough time to buy something nice and make it there. Square dancing doesn’t start until ten.”

“Gage…” I giggled. “Seriously, it’s nice of you, but no.”

He frowned. “What’s your excuse?”

“For one, I have paint all over me,” I said, holding out my hands. “And two, it’s just really one
of the nights where I wanna relax and enjoy the quiet. I know when the boys get back it’s going to be a damn circus in here.”

“Ellie,” Gage murmured, taking a step toward me. He grabbed my right hand and looked down at it. “The paint will always be here. Square dancing in Texas only comes around every once in a while. We’re only staying here for one night. Why not embrace it?”

“I can always come back to Texas when I wanna square dance,” I whispered, trying my best to keep my breath from hitching.

He took another step near me
, reaching a hand up to cap my shoulder. “It’ll be fun, Eliza. I swear. Come with me.”

I noticed then that Gage only called me by my real n
ame when he was being serious. It made me feel kind of important… in an odd sort of way.

I stared into his pleading hazel eyes and soon the guilt
surfaced. Groaning, I removed my hand from his and took a step back. “Fine,” I sighed. “Just let me wash up.”

“Take your time, Ellie.” He winked at me before going for his suitcase again and I slowly made my way toward the bathroom, wondering how this night was going to turn out.