Slash and Burn Read online

  No way would he hold that shit against her.

  He reflected back over the previous night’s events. After the first round of orgasms enjoyed by all, they ate a few potato chips, of all things, and then had another glass of wine. Afterward, they fetched the body chocolate and started all over.

  Round two had involved penetration.

  Monica hadn’t gone that far, but she’d participated in other ways, and Nick found himself growing rather fond of the sweet girl. He could definitely see what Brina saw in her.

  Now, though, coffee…he smelled coffee. Oh, please let that be in this apartment.

  He found his way through the hall to the kitchen, and he realized the heavy cinnamon scent that had been in the air the night before had faded somewhat—either that, or the coffee aroma was overpowering it. He walked into the kitchen from the dark hallway, glad it wasn’t too bright in there. The overhead light was still on, the drapes closed, but he could tell from the quality of light behind the fabric that a storm had moved in. Shit. He hated driving the freeway when it was snowing because of all the fucking idiots who didn’t know how to drive in it.

  No way was he gonna say anything about it, though. He wasn’t gonna hang around all day just because of a little snow…didn’t want to wear out his welcome.

  He saw Monica sitting at the small table beside the island, and then he smelled the cigarette smoke just as he spied the white stick between her fingers. He never would have figured her for a smoker, because she hadn’t smelled like it before…but maybe that was why the place had been doused in spices the night before.

  When she noticed him, she pointed the smoky stick at him and said, “Why, yes, it was good for me.” She grinned and took a drag off the cigarette. “I made coffee. Help yourself.”

  “You’re an angel. I would love some.” He walked over to the counter behind the table and pulled a mug off one of the hooks underneath the cabinet, then took the carafe and poured the mug full of java.

  As if apologizing, she said, “I don’t smoke very often, but after a night like that, I had to celebrate.” He moved over to the other side of the small table and sat down. He nodded, afraid of saying the wrong thing. “You’re a nice guy, Nick.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She looked down inside her coffee cup as though reading a fortune in a crystal ball, and then she made eye contact with him. “You let me know that, even though you were here for Bri, you were gonna do your best to make me feel comfortable and cared for. I don’t think she’s ever brought a guy home who paid attention to me like you did. They were all about her.”

  Aw. Poor thing. That made him feel like a real shit, because—frankly—that had been why he’d come in the first place…but there was no way he was going to tell her that. “Well, I know you’re not into guys, but I wanted you to enjoy yourself, too. It was pretty obvious to me that Brina wanted us, all three, to enjoy ourselves, and so I wanted to introduce myself to you and, uh, go from there.” He figured now might not be the time to address Brina’s bossiness in bed and how she forced Monica to do things the woman was likely not comfortable with.

  She giggled. “If I were into guys, Nick, I think I’d go for you. What a gentlemanly thing to do.”

  He smiled. No, he knew now that Brina would never fully be his, and he had to give that notion up now…but why couldn’t he and Monica share her, fulfill her needs for both sexes? He’d be willing to share and to participate in a party like they had last night. Monica had been prepared to work alongside her girlfriend, to help her woman fulfill whatever was inside her that needed a man, and she’d discovered that she, too, could enjoy herself along the way.

  At least that was what Nick hoped.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’d never do that shit again if it was up to me, but I love Bri and I want to make her happy, and—once in a while—I’ll do it.” That answered his question. She put out the butt of the cigarette in the tiny glass ashtray beside her coffee cup and then placed her hand on Nick’s. “You’re welcome here anytime. I trust you.”

  Wow. That was huge. “That means a lot coming from you, Monica. You know, I don’t know you very well, but I can tell that you’re a caring, loving person, and I think you’re perfect for Brina.”

  “Shit. Thanks, Nick. That’s so sweet.”

  He swallowed some coffee and said, “Anyway, I should probably get out of here so you guys can get on with your weekend.”

  They heard a loud crash and Monica giggled. “She slid off the bed. Again. When the hell are we gonna get rid of those stupid sheets?”

  He heard a mumbled fuck down the hall as he heard Brina stumble toward the kitchen. She walked in and saw Monica’s hand on Nick’s. Then she leaned over and kissed Monica on the top of her head. “Holy fuck, you guys. I am so goddamned sore. I haven’t been fucked like that in a long time.” She walked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. “And then I come in the kitchen to the sweetest sight—my lovely girlfriend smiling at me and my new boyfriend continuing to look hot.”

  Nick felt his smile slide off his face as he witnessed the slight glint that appeared in Monica’s eyes. She’d been okay with the idea of Nick being an occasional guest, but Brina calling him boyfriend had been a bad fucking move. He didn’t know that he or even Brina could repair that damage.

  But she turned around, completely oblivious to her faux pas, a huge grin plastered on her face. She walked over to the island and leaned against it, almost hovering over the two of them like a vulture. Nick cleared his throat and said, “I was getting ready to leave…let you two get on with your day.”

  “What? You don’t feel up for more of the same?”

  He smiled but inside, he wasn’t feeling it—not at all. Not now. Brina had ruined the mood, all the good vibes he’d been feeling. He didn’t want to telegraph that, though. What had just happened was a good reminder to him of why relationships were a bad fucking idea—too much walking on eggshells, sidestepping, compromising…and apologizing when there was a fuck up. So he gave a small smile and downed the rest of his coffee. “Nah. I got stuff I gotta do.” He stood. “Ladies, I enjoyed myself. Thanks for the invite.”

  Five minutes later, he was on the road, wondering if he’d just escaped the claws of eternal damnation…or if he’d want to return sometime in his future. The idea of eternal damnation was awfully tempting.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE FIRST WEEK of January cast the immediate future of Val Hella in serious doubt. It turned out that Val’s stalker had been none other than one of Fully Automatic’s roadies, a guy named Kenny that the guys of Fully Automatic had nicknamed Rockstar—a hard worker, a wannabe band member without the talent or dedication to play anything, but he could look the part, what with his hair and tattoos, and he’d always seemed like a halfway decent guy, willing to do whatever the band needed to play wherever they were. He’d sometimes seemed a little off to Nick, and now he thought he knew why. The guy was off. Anyway, when Brad and Val had been on the western slope of Colorado visiting his parents, the guy had followed them there and tried to kidnap Val. Brad had managed to intervene but got stabbed in the lower abdomen for his trouble.

  They’d been toying with the idea of doing a few charity dates in January to warm up for the tour, but that idea was out the window and all those tentative dates were cancelled. The doctor told Brad and Val that he needed time to recover, and that meant a few weeks, not days, to heal. So, when they met for their first weekly practice the second week in January, Brad did his playing sitting down.

  Brina made eyes at Nick, but that was the extent of it. She didn’t even get him alone to talk to him.

  That told Nick all he needed to know, that it had been nothing more than a one-time thing and he needed to be happy for that one shot. It had been one of the best times he’d ever had (not that he could remember anything resembling bad when it came to sex), and he’d never forget it, but he did know that either Brina only liked to play once in a while or Monica
had put the kibosh on future playdates. Either way, it was over and he had to be satisfied with the memories.

  He could do that—there was some solid spank bank material from that night.

  At the end of practice that day, Brad looked pale and worn out. Nick pulled Val aside after they’d put everything away. “He gonna be okay or should we postpone more dates?”

  Val smiled. “The doctor says he’ll be okay by the time we have to hit the road.”

  “But what if he’s not?”

  She sighed. “I thought about that, too. If—” Nick could tell this was hard on her, because she’d been waiting so long to follow her dream again, and prolonging it was likely hell. He knew, though, that she was also worried about Brad. “We talked about it, and if he’s still feeling like shit the week before, we’re going to postpone the first few dates. We want to wait till it gets closer, though.”

  “He probably shouldn’t have practiced today, huh?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Well, next week we’ll have to make sure we don’t practice unless he’s a lot better.”

  Brad walked by, behind Nick, but he’d apparently heard part of the conversation. “So I’m not ready for practice yet. I’ll rest more this week and I should be better next. Let’s not get all freaky about it now. I still have three solid weeks to rest and I should be a thousand times better by then.” Nick nodded but felt a little dubious—he trusted Val’s judgment, and he also knew Brad would die to make that woman happy, so he guessed that a lot of Brad’s countering was actually an attempt at putting on a happy face.

  “Main thing is you get better. If that means no practice for the next two weeks, then we don’t do it.”

  Brad grinned, and even though it looked strained, he could tell Brad was in good spirits in spite of the fatigue he felt. “Wanna see the bandages?”

  Val smiled. “Oh, honey, that’s gruesome.”

  Just then, Brina walked through the kitchen behind them all. “Well, I’m gonna hit the road. Everything okay?”

  Val decided to clear the air and told Brina that they were all worried about Brad’s recovery and that postponing tour dates was a likely possibility. “I’m cool with whatever. Just let me know.”

  Val said, “I think Nick has the right idea. No practice for two weeks.” Brad started to open his mouth but Nick could see the pained expression. “We’ll practice extra a few days before tour. We can do this. If you need extra practice time, guys,” she said, indicating Nick and Brina, “feel free to come over anytime and use the studio, and I can join you, but you,” she continued, looking at her husband, “are going to take it easy. You can play this stuff in your sleep, but you won’t be able to do squat if you don’t heal. So, please, honey, for me? Please just rest and get better.”

  Brad let out a small chuckle. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” She looked at Nick and Sabrina. “You both okay with that?”

  Nick nodded. Things had felt a little weird, a little strained that day anyway, and maybe more time would alleviate that oddness. He was ready for things to go back to the way they had been, and next time they probably would be.

  And, if not, he’d just bang his drums harder.

  * * *

  In spite of everyone’s worries, the time to go on tour came, and Brad was healthy and ready to go. Nick hadn’t expected a really nice tour bus, but—of course—Brad would spare no expense when it came to his wife. It was almost as nice as the newest Fully Automatic one.

  When they got on the road, their first overnight stop was to be in Texas. Nick knew it would be warmer there than in wintry Colorado, and he was looking forward to nice weather. Brina, however, was surly and seemed to be keeping the spirit of the season in her heart. What the fuck was wrong with the woman? First, she was hot, but she was mostly cold and…dismal. Except for that cozy night with her and her girlfriend, Nick found the woman to be confusing, sullen, capricious…and she wasn’t worth his time. Besides, he was pretty sure that progressing any further with whatever they’d been doing could potentially break Monica’s heart.

  They all sat near the front of the bus in the little area that passed for a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one. It was as roomy as a bus could get, but Nick knew that, by the end of the tour, they’d all be stir crazy and ready to kill one another. That was the way it went. Sometimes tours overseas eliminated that because they’d stay in more hotels in foreign countries. Having their own beds and bathrooms did wonders for frayed souls, even when they were feeling homesick and road weary.

  That didn’t explain Brina’s mood, though, and he was surprised. She should have been happy today, of all days, because she’d become excited at an infectious level about playing for big crowds. Now, she acted like she was going to her best friend’s funeral. Maybe later he’d pull her aside and see what was up, because it made no sense.

  She was an obvious drain to the energy of everyone else. Even Gracie and the kids—along for the tour—were excited and upbeat. Frankly, Nick thought Gracie had the worst part of the deal. She had to sleep in a bunk (not a biggie—he’d been doing it for years) across from the one where Chris would be sleeping. There was one master bedroom for Val and Brad, and the plan was for Hayley to sleep with them, although they knew that half the time, she’d wind up with Chris or even Gracie. That left the top two bunks for Nick and Brina. Nick didn’t care much for top bunks, and it would have driven him crazy if he’d been claustrophobic, but it was a tour bus. They weren’t built for comfort or luxury (although he knew there were mega-famous pop stars who defied that notion). He’d seen some unreal ones. But their tour buses—the ones for Fully Automatic and now the one for Val Hella—were made for practicality: a place to eat, sleep, and shit while getting from one destination to another. Even the driver would sleep on the bus on one of the couches. And they’d agreed to one hotel a week, already booked in advance along with everything else. All they had to do was follow the itinerary.

  They left at the crack of dawn and Gracie looked tired—again, though, her mood was thousands of times better than sourpuss. Nick had been watching the kids play, full of endless energy, and had been considering letting his head drop back and drifting off, but instead he asked her, “You all right?”

  Gracie turned her head from the kids as well and said, “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just checking. You look tired.”

  She grinned. “I am tired. I was up way too late last night trying to decide what to pack. We’re gonna be gone long enough that I wanted to be triple sure I had everything I need. Plus, we’re going to be in some places that are cold and others that are really warm, so I wanted a variety of stuff to wear. And I knew I couldn’t pack too much. There’s only so much room for everything.”

  “Don’t sweat it. If you forgot something, we can pick it up.”

  “Sure. No big deal to pick up a toothbrush, but if the weather’s seventy and I only packed sweaters…”

  “Yeah. Stop worrying, kid. You got this.”

  The expression that covered Gracie’s face then was a mixture of a frown and a smile, a little of each. But then it became all smile and Hayley jumped on her lap, babbling something about mama. Nick looked over and saw Chris on Val’s lap, and she was tickling Chris by pretending that he was her guitar and she was playing notes on his tummy. The boy’s laughter was infectious and the entire room began laughing.

  Except for Brina.

  Nick didn’t miss that. He’d definitely have to get her alone to see what the hell her damage was…and see if there was any chance of repair before their first show tomorrow night.

  * * *

  They stopped for breakfast in Raton at a little café. It was mid morning and the first thing Nick noticed when he stepped off the bus was how windy it was…and that made the air biting cold. He was ready to head inside and down a cup of coffee—or five, if they had time.

  Nick had no idea if the roadies and their equipment were already on their way or if they were lea
ving tomorrow, but he guessed they too would hit the road sometime today. Yeah, the band themselves were important, but without the equipment and instruments, the show would not go on. They were just as important as the tour bus he was on, only lower profile.

  He saw breakfast as the perfect opportunity to talk to Brina, but she was quiet and wandered off. She didn’t even stick around long enough to sit at a table with them. Nick thought her absence was quite noticeable, especially since Vince, the bus driver, was even seated at the table. So Nick asked Brad to order him some biscuits and gravy and a couple of fried eggs, and then he decided to seek Brina out.

  She couldn’t be on the bus. It was all locked up and he’d seen her get off. And he didn’t expect to see her outside, because she was wearing thin clothes and only a black leather jacket that didn’t look like it had even kept the original cow that had worn it warm. But he was going there first anyway, like retracing the scene of the crime. He figured he had about ten to fifteen minutes before breakfast would be served, and then he was going to give up and hope she showed up when it was time to leave.

  As he stepped out the glass doors, though, he happened to see her walking along the building’s perimeter. Unpleasant or not, he wanted to talk to her. This mood was bearable today, but they couldn’t be having these negative vibes tomorrow.

  Part of it was that he blamed himself. He felt like he’d been a big part of the problem, because she’d been acting very differently since their little rendezvous. Sure, she’d been hot and cold before that, but now she was all cold…and Nick couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had something to do with that. If he had, he needed to do what he could to rectify it. “Hey, Brina.” She looked up and he walked over. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed her eyes were bloodshot. Oh. It was the first time he’d ever seen her looking sad. “What’s wrong?”