Beat (Life on Stage 2)

Who knew blowing off a woman would be more difficult than picking her up? After a quick bite to eat, Duff is steering the ladies back to the hotel room we’re sharing tonight, only I have no desire to join in on the festivities.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open at our floor. “Think you can host the party without me for a little while?” I ask, my arm holding the door in its pocket, allowing the trio to step out of the car, but I don’t join them.

“You’re not coming?” Pale Eyes giggles. “I was hoping we’d both be coming.”

“I need to take care of something. Duff will entertain you while I’m gone. Right, Duff?”

Slinging an arm around each woman’s neck, he grins from ear to ear. “You won’t even know he’s gone. I’m that good at entertaining.”

I remove my arm, letting the elevator glide closed. After an hour with those two, I’m positive neither will be upset I have no plan on returning. A night with any member of the band and a signed-postcard departing gift would be enough. The face that came with the evening wasn’t important to them.

Inside the lobby bathroom, I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror. What the fuck am I doing? Everything I’ve ever wanted is right in front of me. Playing to sold-out stadiums, women with expectations of nothing more than a good time, traveling with a band of guys who are as passionate about music as I am. And I’m doing what? Leaving a very ready and beautiful woman and instead fucking up the chance of a lifetime by going down on the lead singer’s girl while he sleeps five feet away.

Inhaling a deep breath, I gather my thoughts, tuck them away in the back of my mind and do the only thing I know I won’t regret doing in the morning. Getting shitfaced in the bar.

The next morning I wake sprawled between two chairs in the dark lounge. Vaguely, I remember Brett trying to get me to vacate the bar at closing time, but by then I wasn’t even capable of putting one foot in front of the other. A wad of bills stuffed in the bartender’s hand later, I was in the quiet, dark bar—just me and my good old friend Jack. Daniels, to be specific.

A jolt of pain grips my skull as I straighten to upright. The new position arouses the slumbered headache that’s been lurking in the back of my head. “Fuck,” I grumble. My mouth taste like shit, my body aches from sleeping on a goddamn chair, and if the empty bottle wasn’t next to me reminding me of just how much I drank last night, there’s a good chance I’d think I had a brain aneurysm detonating in my head right now. Not to mention, my bladder might explode if I don’t get my shit together and go in search of a bathroom.

Elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands and let a string of curses fly before finally standing my ass up. What the hell time is it anyway?

The artificial light in the hallway causes a throb behind my eyeballs. That’s new. I squint to shield my retinas from the fluorescent glow and find the nearest bathroom. After relieving myself of a gallon of alcohol, I realize it’s still early in the morning and I haven’t slept for very long. Unfortunately, my natural alarm clock doesn’t seem to have an off button, and has gotten me up somewhere between drunk and hung over. You’re supposed to sleep through this shit.

Not surprisingly in the city that never sleeps, the lobby is alive. People come and go, some still sporting the dressed-up attire of the night before, others looking ready to start a new day. “Coffee?” I ask the woman at the front desk. She directs me to a nearby Starbucks inside the hotel.

I stop at the glass front door, peering in for a long moment before Lucky even sees me. Her eyes jump at the sound of the bells rattling to announce a new customer. Her beautiful face looks conflicted, a mix of relief and uneasiness. Exactly the way my insides feel. She offers a hesitant smile and drops her eyes to the table in front of her. Two coffee cups.

“Good morning,” she offers uncertainly when I make my way over.

“That for me or your boyfriend?” My voice is flat, battling against the unevenness I feel inside of me.

She flinches. “It’s for you.”

I nod and take the seat across from her. We stare at each other, me trying desperately to hold on to my dignity and her reflecting back the pain I’d been clinging to as an excuse to wallow away my own sins since last night. The weight of the silence becomes too heavy. “Sleep good?”

“Not really. You?”

“Barely at all. I might have went at it a little too hard last night.”

The facade she was putting up crumbles as she stares at me, speechless. Her lips screw in disgust. She abruptly stands. “I realize I’m not one to talk, but I don’t need to hear the sordid details.” She’s striding away before I can replay exactly what I said that she misinterpreted.

Fuck.

I grab her arm. “I meant I went at drinking a little too hard last night.”

Her face changes, but the anger only softens to hurt. The pain in her voice causes my chest to ache. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any right…I…I should go,” she whispers.

“I slept in the bar last night. By myself.”

Her eyes are weary. “You don’t have to explain…”

“I know I don’t. But I want to.” I lean in and lower my voice. “I watched him kiss you and I wanted to hurt you back.” I search her eyes. “Did it hurt to think of me being with another woman?”

Her eyes are so expressive, she doesn’t even need to respond verbally. “Yes.”

“Then stay. Have coffee with me. Let me show you that starting our day off together is the way it’s supposed to be for us.”

She holds my gaze. I watch as a million thoughts fly through her mind until she lands on the one that matters. A small, but genuine smile tempts her lips and she sits back down. I breathe again.

We spend the next few hours sipping coffee and falling back into our daily routine. The hurt and fear behind us, I hate to leave our little bubble. I chance getting caught and weave her fingers with mine on top of the table before I speak softly. “I need you to choose. No more hiding. I want to kiss the hell out of you in public, whenever I want.”

Her eyes jump to me. I’m determined to stand strong, keeping my gaze fixed and resolute. “We’re leaving Vegas tomorrow night and then there’s a break for a few days once we hit California. I want you all to myself. Go away with me. Tell him it’s over before then. We’ll figure it out after that. But I need you to choose, Lucky.”

She considers my words, or more likely, the words I’m not saying. Choose me, or choose him. One or the other, because there’s no going back anymore. We’ve crossed the blur line.

Uncertainly, she nods. I walk away with a knot in my stomach, knowing what she’s likely walking into in L.A., if she doesn’t choose me. Ryder is planning on making things permanent.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lucky

Dylan has never been a neglectful boyfriend, but the flip side is, he’s also not a very doting boyfriend either. Until today. It’s almost as if he senses I’m on the threshold of making a decision about us and has decided to pull out all the stops. Or maybe he just feels guilty about having to leave tonight after the show for a business meeting up north with sponsors.

“I made us reservations for noon today. We have to be downstairs a half hour before that.”