Say it Louder Page 7

  My soft innuendo cracks his expression for the tiniest grin on record.

  “Do I have to offer certain incentives?” Now my tone is playful, teasing. I flick my tongue out and wet my lower lip. I wrap my hands around the outside of his thighs.

  Silence. Our lips are inches apart but I don’t want to stop his confession with a kiss. I ask again. “Tell me.”

  Beneath Dave’s dark lashes, I see a flicker. Anxiety? Worry? I lean in and touch my lips to the corner of his mouth. I let my lips linger there, then draw them to the side, brushing against his mouth and his firmly sealed lips.

  My tongue darts out and wets his lips.

  “Tell me, Dave.”

  His hands move fast, plunging deep in my hair and he pulls my mouth to his in a voracious kiss. His lips part mine and his tongue plunges inside me, sweeping through my mouth with the taste of him, hot and raw and everywhere at once.

  I’ve done more than crack his resolve. I’ve smashed a dam and now his intensity comes for me in torrents. He pulls me against him, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, our breaths mingling, the taste of him hot and alive.

  Somehow I flipped a switch, flipped him from guarded to needful. Flipped everything I thought and planned about keeping my distance and looking out for number one, maintaining arm’s length because you never know.

  With people, you just never know who to trust.

  But with Dave? I know everything in that kiss about what he feels and wants and needs right now. And as much as he’s setting parts of me on fire, he’s also crossing a wide red line I draw around myself to keep me safe.

  That red line says STOP. HALT. DO NOT ENTER. WRONG WAY.

  “Stop.” I’m panting but I force the words from my lips. Instantly, they’re cold as he withdraws. He leans far back into the couch as if I’ve just burned him.

  Dave tucks his chin to his chest and rakes his fingers through dark hair. “Sorry. I’m—fuck. I knew I was going to fuck this up.”

  “Hold on there, buddy. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

  “You said stop.”

  “Yeah? And you went all cold and robot-y on me when I asked you a simple question.” I’m panting with want but anger rises like a shield to guard my heart.

  “You didn’t want me to … kiss you like that.”

  I bark a laugh. “Like hell.”

  “Huh?” Now Dave looks confused.

  “I said, ‘Like hell.’ As in, you bet your ass I wanted you to kiss me like that, and I wanted to kiss you like that, and I’ve been wanting it too damn much when I should be paying attention to other things.”

  “You did?”

  “I did and I do and now you’re spoiling the moment.” I get up off my knees and sit beside him on the couch. “But what really messed us up was when I asked you that question. And I’m not going to let a scorching-hot kiss replace a real answer from you.”

  He looks at me, and I know he remembers my question. But I’m still going to ask again. Apparently, I’m a sucker for punishment. “Why isn’t creating your thing?”

  “Because I’m not good at it!” he explodes. “Because I’m not the world’s greatest drummer. Any idiot with a few years’ training can tell. I don’t have the flash and pop of top drummers. I’m pretty sure our last recording producer wanted to sub in a studio musician instead of me. I’m dragging the band down, and they know it.”

  He hangs his head. I really have no idea what to say, so I just rest my hand on his shoulder.

  “My ex-girlfriend was the last straw. Now she’s a threat to every member of the band and some of their girlfriends. At least when I managed the band, I was contributing something nobody else can do. But now they don’t need me; they’ve got a professional. And now that Kristina’s bent on screwing up all of our lives, they don’t even want me around.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” I move my fingers from shoulder to spine, testing the wound-tight muscle that radiates tension and pain.

  “Really? Then why the hell am I tracking you down and begging to stay on your break-room cot rather than going to one of their houses?”

  I chew my lip. “That question did occur to me.”

  “Because I’m the bastard. I’m the one who’s been pushing them, and bitching at them, and trying to manage all of us into our next successful album launch because Chief’s doing fuck-all about it. He’s a PR guy, not a manager. We need a coach, someone who’s going to push us to perform, not a fucking press-conference organizer. That’s about all he’s good for. That, and fucking my girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend?” I choke out, thrown back into reality. That little slip tells me he’s nowhere near done with dealing with her.

  “Ex.”

  But in one word, the damage is done. As much as I’d like to trust his pretty promises, I can’t let him get closer to me until he puts her completely in the past. “Dave, I don’t want to sound like a colossal bitch, but you’ve got some serious shit to work out. Why don’t you go home and deal with it?”

  He shakes his head like I’ve just suggested a root canal. “Not an option.”

  I cross my arms, walls back firmly in place. It kills me to say it. “Face the music, dude. You made me deal with that nasty woman Patricia, you go deal with nasty Kristina. Maybe in the next life they can go be roaches together.”

  “Or rats. That’d work for me.”

  “Too good for them. But you’re getting the spirit of it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When we meet up for band practice on Monday afternoon, I finally admit to Jayce and Tyler the gory details of what I saw last week between Kristina and Chief.

  Well, not all the gory details. The sound of flesh slapping flesh, my girlfriend screaming to be pounded harder, and Chief’s naked white ass pointing straight at me … those images are burned in my brain.

  I tell them that I threw Kristina out, but I think—from her texts—that she came back, so I’ve been avoiding my place. Tyler’s been a champ giving me a place to crash for a couple of nights, no questions asked, but I know he’s curious about what’s happening and I owe him the truth.

  I owe it to them all.

  I don’t tell them that I spent a night wrapped up in Willa’s bed, or that she told me to get lost until I deal with Kristina. Even when I went back and warned her that Kristina knows her address and might try to hurt her to get back at me, Willa just crossed her arms and marched me back out the door of her tattoo shop.

  “I can take care of myself. But you have to take care of your shit. When it’s done, you know where to find me.”

  Every day that ticks by has me further paralyzed by the fear of fallout from confronting Kristina. And I know I’m a hypocrite being frozen by what-ifs, when those are exactly what I told Willa to fight.

  Jayce’s face hardens when I admit I haven’t seen Kristina yet or thrown her out of my house for good. “You promised to get rid of her. The way I see it, this is even more reason to cut her loose.”

  “I will. I just don’t know how she’ll react.” My excuse is weak and they all know it.

  “I told you it doesn’t matter. Whatever she’s going to do to lash out at you and the band, we’ll deal with that.” The fierceness in Gavin’s voice dares me to defy him. “But right now, we’ve got to deal with the other half of the problem. Chief has to go. There are no two ways about it.”

  “What about the album release?” Jayce says. “We’re close enough to dropping it that switching managers could seriously complicate things.”

  “Remember that our label likes Chief. He doesn’t just handle our PR, he handles them, and that’s worth something,” Tyler adds. “If we lose him, we could be on shaky ground.”

  Gavin says we’re already on shaky ground—between his disappearing act and the unauthorized release of the song “Wilderness,” the label execs and their legal department have already given us too many warnings.

  And then there’s the tour. Chief’s main focus over the last few weeks has b
een organizing a seventeen-city stadium tour that would kick off next month. Jayce reminds us that negotiations could fall apart if we cut ties with Chief.

  “It has to be a business decision,” Jayce says, but right now I’d love to make it personal. Intense physical pain-type personal.

  “He fucked Dave’s girlfriend. That makes him untrustworthy. There’s your business decision,” Gavin argues.

  “I already pulled his contract. We can dismiss him for gross negligence. I checked with our attorney to be sure.” I skip over the part where I already told him he was fired as he was backing his half-naked ass out of my house.

  I also skip the part where I asked the attorney to look over Willa’s gallery contract. After he inserted clauses to limit the gallery’s rights to reprint her work for advertising purposes, he gave Willa the green light to sign.

  And just like that, Willa’s going to have her own show.

  “What are you smiling for?” Tyler looks at me strangely. “Looking forward to another night of my amazing cooking?”

  I snap back to the present. “I just want to be done with Chief.”

  “You think you could handle some contract stuff until we get a new manager?” Tyler asks, and suddenly all eyes are on me. I was the manager before Chief, and now they’re looking to me to deal with the aftermath.

  “Yeah. It’s not Chief’s band. It’s ours. The label will deal with me.”

  Gavin spreads his hands. “Then we’re in agreement?”

  Tyler nods first, then Jayce. Good.

  Gavin turns to me. “You want to go to his office and deliver the news with me?”

  “You’re going?”

  “I’m not letting you go alone and get your ass thrown in jail for beating him to a pulp,” Gavin retorts.

  “Not that he wouldn’t deserve it,” Jayce adds. “Prick.”

  “I appreciate the support,” I say, and I mean it. Like whoa I mean it, and for the first time in too long, I feel like I do actually have their support.

  ***

  “No matter how badly you want to make this personal, Dave, this isn’t.”

  Gavin places a steadying hand on my shoulder, no doubt seeing the rage that wants to spring from my chest. Since I saw Chief slinking out my front door half-dressed, I’ve fantasized about the dozens of different, satisfying ways I could beat the shit out of him.

  “Don’t tell me it isn’t personal when I caught him fucking my girlfriend in my bed,” I seethe.

  Gavin gives my shoulder a gentle shove, knocking me back a step as we ride up the elevator to Chief’s office. “No. This is about choosing a manager that better fits our creative direction. We don’t need one more drop of bad press.”

  Gavin’s expression softens and I know he feels guilty for setting off the first firestorm in the wake of his muse Lulu’s overdose. When he admitted that he had a part in it, things went south fast for our band.

  We were stunned, frozen, almost incapacitated. Gavin had always been our bright main sail, our fearless leader. I was the rudder. Working out of sight, making a thousand tiny corrections to keep us on the right course no matter which way the wind blew.

  When Gavin fled, I stepped in. It’s how it always was—if Gavin got too drunk or crazy or was just too hungover from partying the night before, I navigated us safely home. And I was the one who pushed back on his drinking and smoking weed so that we’d get sharper and more focused.

  Gavin and I step into an elevator lobby and a pretty receptionist invites us to take a seat. She calls Chief, but her eyes never leave us. She knows who we are.

  I cross my arms and spin around, ignoring her, surveying the framed album covers on the walls. Our first two major label releases, Beast and Feast, are up there among impressive company, A-list names that routinely top the charts.

  “Guys?” Chief cocks his head and we follow him to a small conference room with a kickass view of Midtown. He sits. We sit. He pours us each a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. It’s all very civilized.

  “Before we start with what’s on your agenda, I’d like to apologize,” Chief says. “You caught me in a compromising position, and of course I’d like to make it right.”

  “How could you?” My voice is hoarse with anger, and I mean it both ways: how could he violate my trust, and how could he possibly make it right?

  Chief takes my question for its second meaning. “I’d like to suggest we have a cooling-off period. I’ll take a step back from daily management, we’ll bring in a producer to work with you guys more closely on getting the album done and out the door, and then we can work together again once everything’s back to normal.”

  He smiles, his white teeth and skinny beard and balding head looking very content. Very comfortable. I want to knock the comfort right out of that sack of shit.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gavin says, giving me a warning look that says he’ll handle this. “I think our relationship has run its course. We have an immediate termination clause in your contract. We’re using it.”

  “This close to an album release? Don’t be stupid.” Chief snorts.

  “No, stupid is screwing the girlfriend of one of your clients.” Gavin says.

  “You don’t shit where you eat, Chief,” I add. “I hope a couple of bangs with Kristina’s skinny hips and fake tits was worth it for you.”

  “I’m this close to getting you a sold-out stadium tour for fall.” Chief’s index finger and thumb are an inch apart. “If we go our separate ways now, you’d jeopardize that. You don’t want to do that to the band, do you, Dave?”

  I clamp my teeth together, my jaw ticking and stomach roiling. I can’t let him get to me.

  But Chief pushes a little harder. “They already know you’re a controlling jackass. Do you want to be a selfish bastard too?”

  I jump from my seat and my fist comes from nowhere, connecting with Chief’s jaw. My legs hit the table and send the glasses flying, shards and water spraying everywhere.

  “Calm down, for fuck’s sake!” Gavin’s got one hand on Chief’s chest and one hand on mine, forcing us apart, and Chief’s face purples with anger. A vein bulges at the side of his forehead, his lip bleeds freely, and I can tell he’s ready to hit me the fuck back into next week.

  “This is over. You hear me? Over.” Gavin’s chest heaves as his head whips between the two of us. “Chief, you’re going to agree that we’ve parted ways to go in another creative direction. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, or else we might need to share our real reasons for looking elsewhere with your other clients.”

  “There’s no need for threats. We’re all adults here.” Chief spits blood on the once pristine conference room carpet, now littered with shards from shattered water glasses. “I know how to quit when I’m ahead. But I’m not sure Kristina does. You’d better be a lot more careful cutting ties with her.”

  Gavin growls and gives me a push toward the door. “I say, let her do her worst. And just like Dave fought for me when I was running scared, it’ll take a lot more than that lying bitch to take Dave down.”

  “Don’t bet your ass on it,” Chief says.

  Gavin grabs the door handle as we exit. “I’m betting the band on it.”

  ***

  “That went well,” Gavin says, his voice light and a grin creeping as we take a crowded elevator back to the street level. It’s the lunch rush and I’m glad to be out of that sterile conference room air and spilled onto a hot August sidewalk.

  I flex my fingers. My knuckles are already swelling.

  “You’re going to catch shit from Tyler for that,” Gavin warns.

  I nod. “Pretty much guarantees I’ll be off beat.” I’ve ruined my fist for practice, but making the break from Chief is satisfying.

  “You know you’ve got to go home and talk to Kristina, right?” Gavin gives me a hard look. “You can’t camp out at Tyler’s forever. And you promised Jayce that you’d cut her out of your life completely. Can’t do
that if she’s still living at your house. Even if you’re not.”

  We need to go back to Tyler’s place to regroup with the guys, but I can’t show my face to Jayce until I’ve ended things with Kristina.

  Maybe the cop car was a coincidence. Surely if the cops were looking for me, they would have shown up at Tyler’s place?

  “No time like the present.” I hail a cab to Brooklyn.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She’s curled up on the couch she bought, with the tablet she bought, and her eyes flick up as I step inside.

  “I told you to get the fuck out.”

  “And go where, exactly?” Her tone is regal, mocking me.

  “Crawl back under a slimy rock?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fuck that. You know things haven’t been good with us for a long time. I was lonely. And bored. Chief was a good listener.”

  I slam the door, the sound reverberating off our walls. Check that, my walls. My house. “Don’t even pretend that makes it OK.”

  She huffs out a breath like I’m taxing her patience and lays the tablet beside her. “Look, maybe we’re not in love, maybe we haven’t been in a long time. But we make a good team. I’ve contributed just as much to making Tattoo Thief a success as you have. Organizing appearances, making nice for media. You need me.”

  “I don’t need shit.”

  She stands and walks around the couch, her hands perched on her hips. “No, you do need me. While Gavin was messing with a junkie and Jayce was fucking anything with tits, you needed me to keep things going. Behind the scenes.”

  I grind my teeth, trying to understand her angle. “We had a manager for that. He failed us. You failed us. You can’t call this anything less than a betrayal, Kristina.”

  Her eyes soften and she steps toward me, bringing her thin frame close to my chest. And my body betrays me, knowing hers too perfectly. She wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me toward her. “We can get past this. It was just a—thing. A fling. It didn’t mean anything.”