“Interesting,” Cole says. “You’ve got some surprises up your sleeve.”
“I can play some if you want,” Nate replies with pride in his eyes. “Just a few notes, I don’t wanna bother the other people here.”
“Sure, why not?” Cole says, leaning back in his seat. “Let’s hear it.”
Nate pulls out his guitar and puts the case away. The moment he begins to play, everyone’s watching him with perked ears and wide eyes, each note more beautiful than the one before. Cole’s noticed it too, judging from the glimmer in his eyes.
I smirk as Sam and I stare at each other, knowing these two are gonna be a great match.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late to save TRIGGER.
Cole
With my guitar strapped to my back, I meet up with the guys at TRIGGER’s last hangout … the club we first played at and the same one where Monica broke my old guitar. It’s a place filled with memories that I’m not ready to lose.
Tristan’s already there, drinking a Coke at the bar with Benji, who’s casually playing with his phone. I blow out a breath and head toward them. The looks on their faces darken when they spot me. Tristan shifts in his seat, ready to listen, but not for long.
“Took you long enough,” he says.
“I know, and I apologize.” I raise my hand.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing here, to be honest,” he replies.
“Yeah, I’m only here because I don’t want to stop playing,” Benji adds. “But I don’t like what happened here.”
“I know, guys, and I’m sorry,” I say. “Can I sit?” I point at one of the chairs next to Tristan.
Both he and Benji nod, but Tristan looks away once I sit down beside him.
“So are you inviting Michael back?” Benji asks.
“No,” I swiftly reply. “Not a chance.”
Tristan sighs out loud. “Why? What could he possibly have done?”
I throw him a look and rub my lips together. “I can’t tell you … but I can invite Monica in, and she can tell you.”
He frowns and looks at the door the moment it opens. Monica steps inside, clutching her bag.
“Hi,” she says, waving.
“What is she doing here?” Tristan hisses. “All she did was distract you from what was important.”
“She gave me something to fight for,” I retort, looking him directly in the eyes. “If it weren’t for her, I would’ve gone off the deep end, and you know it.”
He’s quiet for some time, and I know he knows exactly what I mean.
Monica comes toward us and looks at them both. “I’m sorry for ruining your band,” she says. “If I’d known this was going to happen, I would never have left that party the way I did.”
“The party?” Benji frowns. “You mean when Cole carried you back inside while you were passed out? That party?”
She nods and looks down at her feet. “I was … exhausted from crying. Crying over Michael and what he and his buddies did to me.”
Tristan shifts in his seat. “What did he do?”
“He attacked me,” she explains, her head held high. “Chased me into the woods behind the house, and watched while his buddies sat on top of me, egging them on to do … to do …” She chokes on her words again, so I jump off my chair and grab her hand.
“You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to,” I say.
“Thank you,” she replies with a genuine smile on her face.
“Michael tried to assault you at the fucking party?” Tristan asks.
Monica nods, and he immediately slams his hand onto the bar so loudly even the bartender is spooked. “I can’t fucking believe it. I trusted that motherfucker.”
“I didn’t,” Benji says. “You should’ve seen him alone with fans. He always went too far.”
“I know, but he only did it to willing fans. Not like this,” Tristan says.
“I knew he was like this,” I say, inserting myself back into the conversation. “And that’s not the only thing he did. You both know about the drugs. She did too. He even forced me to make sure she wouldn’t talk, or it would ruin our band.”
I look at Monica feeling the guilt sweep through me once again.
I wish I had never put her in that position.
That I had never treated her the way I did.
I was foolish, overcome with the protectiveness of the only thing I knew I had … my band.
But I didn’t know back then what I’d be willing to lose to keep her safe.
Everything.
“It’s my fault that it got this bad, and no, I can’t make up for the lost time, nor can I change what happened. Michael is out, and Mr. D kicked him out too.”
“I heard. He wouldn’t shut up about it.” Tristan takes a sip of his drink. “I had to mute him to stop the constant barrage of texts.”