“Because Charlie invited you?” I replied lightly.
“Hmph. I would have been more surprised to see him here than you. This isn’t his kind of place.”
“Have you ever been here?” I asked conversationally.
I pasted a smile on my face. I couldn’t have looked more suspicious if I tried. I wasn’t sure why I bothered with pleasantries. I blamed my mom. She’d always insisted that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and since she’d become a successful real-estate guru I figured she knew what she was talking about. But sugar-coating anything wouldn’t work with Tegan. He had an uncanny ability to read me.
Tegan arched his brow. “Once or twice.”
“Same. I like the retro vibe. It doesn’t look like anything’s changed here in thirty years.”
“Cut the crap, Dec.”
“What do you mean?” I bluffed.
Tegan fixed me with a blank stare. “Don’t waste my time. The only reason you’d buy me a beer is to butter me up or poison me. What do you want?”
I clenched my jaw and bit the inside of my cheek until it hurt, then grunted, “I need your help.”
He cupped his ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.”
“Fuck off. You did too.”
He chuckled lightly. “You look like you swallowed a razor blade. Those four words almost damn near killed you, didn’t they?”
“Actually, yes,” I huffed. “You don’t make anything easy.”
“Right back atcha.” He sipped his beer and gave me a sideways glance. “Since I’m a drummer and you need a drummer, I think I know where this is going. The answer is probably ‘no fucking way,’ but for entertainment purposes, why do you need my help?”
“Why should I tell you if you’re going to say no anyway?”
“ ’Cause that’s how it works. I have the upper hand here. You need something, I say ‘no,’ you grovel, I come up with a possible compromise…and because I love the way it sounds, I say ‘no’ again.”
I stared at the jagged scar along his jaw as I bit the inside of my cheek. “You’re a fucker.”
Tegan threw his head back and laughed. “Guilty. Hey, before you open your mouth, you should know that Charlie is the only reason I’m here. Don’t get the wrong impression and think we’re suddenly friends and I somehow forgot that you’re a piece of shit. I know you way too fucking well. So…what’s this favor?”
I pursed my lips, then shook my head. “Nothin’. I’ll figure it out.”
“Suit yourself.”
I expected a quick exit, but he didn’t budge. He faced forward and stared into space, seemingly lost in thought…while I stewed beside him. Damn it. I’d told Charlie I knew how to talk to T. Total lie. I had to figure something else out. I’d make a few phone calls. Or I’d swallow a little more pride and ask my mom for a loan so I could hire a studio musician.
Fuck, I was too old for this shit.
“Why are you still here?” I snapped.
Tegan arched a brow. “Just finishing the beer you so kindly bought me. And…I’m waiting for you to crumble. I can feel the tension radiating off you. Any second now, you’re going to combust and come apart at the seams. You’ll probably get belligerent, take a verbal swing at me, and goad me into wanting to punch your lights out. Somehow I’ll refrain, but it won’t be easy. The way I see it is…I’m here, so why not enjoy the show? It’s good to practice self-control once in a while.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not joking. You’re a fucking hothead. No one really knows ’cause you do that smiley thing all the time, but I can tell.”
I scoffed. “What ‘smiley’ thing?”
“The phony ‘nothing’s wrong’ thing. But something’s bugging you, and I bet you this beer it’s your drummer.”
I ground my teeth and inclined my head. “Cade’s injury is a major setback for us. I have a song I wanted to add to the final cut, but I need to record it like…yesterday, to make that happen. And if we’re getting on the road with Zero in January, we have to practice too. Basically, I need a drummer.”
“Me?” He pointed at his chest and blinked in faux surprise. “I’m already in a band. I can’t join another one.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” I shrugged.
Tegan snorted. “That’s all you got? Whatever?”
“I’m not fucking groveling for a temporary drummer.”
“How temporary?”
“A couple of days. Then Charlie or I can find a studio musician to take over.”
“Why me?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I huffed, slugging back my beer.
Tegan rubbed his hands together. “Cool. Let the groveling commence.”
I furrowed my brow and gave him my best death glare. He should have been quaking in his leather bomber jacket, but be looked suspiciously amused instead. Fucker.
“Nope. Not groveling. Stress and exhaustion are probably getting to me. It was a stupid idea.”
“Yeah, totally lame,” he agreed.
“The worst part is, I just gave you fresh ammunition. That’s gotta feel good, eh?”