Slash and Burn Page 7

  Objectively, yeah. She was gorgeous. A rare beauty, and what made her all the more beautiful was that she didn’t see herself that way at all. And once they’d begun performing steadily as an indie band back in the day, she’d begun showing off her assets, much like she was doing now, and she’d honed her body to make it that much more desirable. She also wore heavy makeup onstage, emphasizing her striking eyes and full lips, and the tats and piercings she’d added over the years had made her a metal goddess.

  Brina was serious competition, though. He couldn’t wait for the rest of the world to see her sling her bass live. Hot damn.

  In the meantime, though, he had to convince Brina that caution was in order. “Maybe so, but I think she’s gonna have to step up her bodyguard detail.”

  “You serious?”

  “Dead serious. She shouldn’t fuck around. Not anymore. Online is one thing, but in person? She’s lucky she wasn’t kidnapped or raped…or even killed.” Finally, he got the reaction he’d expected from her—a reverent fear of the situation.

  “Yeah. If that happened to me, I think I’d want a full-time bodyguard too.”

  He nodded. “You’re right, though. It was probably inevitable. She might have had the same issues if she’d been in Fully Automatic when we got picked up by a label.”

  “Why’d you guys kick her out of the band anyway? The woman’s got some serious vocal chops.”

  Nick smiled. “We didn’t kick her out. You don’t know the whole story?”

  “What do you think, genius?”

  God, he loved her sassiness. “I’ll tell you then. She started having vocal problems and had to have surgery. The label was getting pretty antsy for us to record and Val just couldn’t do it. Plus, at the time, she wouldn’t have been able to afford surgery, even if she’d wanted it. So she dropped out, not wanting us to blow our chance, and—as you know—Brad sang most of the vocals. On the last album, they let Val do a guest spot, but everyone involved was against bringing Val back in, even though she was an original member.” Well, not completely original. But she’d been there in the beginning and pressed them. Their lyrics before had simply been something they’d thrown in to make a song. Val wrote words with meaning, making the band whole. She’d had such a strong influence on them that it was no different today, even though Brad wrote most of the lyrics, and Ethan wrote a few. “So Brad negotiated with the talking heads and got Val a deal. This deal. And, yeah—maybe she would have had the same problems if she’d been with us from the beginning, but I don’t know. Fully Automatic is about the entire band. Val Hella…well, it’s Val. You, me, Brad? We’re decoration.”

  “Oh, fuck that, Nick. You really feel that way?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m here to support a good friend. I don’t feel particularly invested in it, though.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t. See, this goes right back to what we talked about the other day. Your attitude sucks. Do you remember when I said this band isn’t about you or me…or even Val, even though her name’s all over it? No…it’s about the music. It’s about what we do together. Not just me on my bass or you at the drums or Brad shredding. It’s us as a team.” He saw her nostrils flare, even though she wasn’t acting particularly angry. “I hope you don’t feel the same way about Fully Automatic.”

  “Of course, I don’t.”

  She shook her head, appraising him with her fiery eyes. “You asshole. You’re lucky Val considers you a friend. If she only knew how you felt about her band.” She started walking away.

  Maybe she was right. He was tempted to stop her, to grab her arm and turn her around, maybe even mash his lips into hers again.

  Instead, she made him feel like he had a whole lot of soul searching to do.

  Chapter Eight

  OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Nick did what Brina had inspired him to do—he searched inside himself, and he came to the conclusion that Val Hella would always be a fun side project for him, but he would never be as passionate about it as his original band. There was no getting around it. It wasn’t his baby. That said, he did take it seriously, and he would do anything for Brad and Val. Anything. So Brina could kiss his ass. She was dead wrong about his motivations.

  On that note, nothing happened between them sexually, and he was starting to care less. She was too hot and cold, too high maintenance. He didn’t want to walk on eggshells every time he opened his mouth around the woman. Fuck that. There were plenty of women out there who wanted Nick Channing as he was…and he would gladly give himself to them.

  Val’s stalker stepped up his game, and Brad announced all of a sudden that he and his family were leaving town for the week before Christmas. They were going to some stupid ski resort off I-70 and then they were headed over to the western slope to visit his mom and dad. On the way back, they were going to spend time with Val’s family and then hand little Chris over to Ethan and his significant other, Jenna, to spend time with them and their baby. So, the entire band was taking a two-week break from practice. The tour was all set anyway. They would be hitting the road mid-January, so they’d practice a couple of days before that and then start the tour. For now, they were going to chill and enjoy the holidays.

  Nick planned on going home to visit his family on Christmas. He’d drive over on Christmas Eve and come back on the twenty-seventh. No way did he want to spend any more time than that. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, because he did. He cared about them very much. The problem was that they were all fucked in the head, and the day he’d left for Denver with the Fully Automatic crew was the day he’d been freed from those shackles.

  When he looked at them individually, his parents were good people. Together, though, they were a nightmare. It had been apparent to Nick at an early age that his parents loathed each other, and he had no fucking idea why they stayed together. In fact, when he’d been a teenager, he and his sister had weekly bets around how long his mother and father would continue being married. They fought constantly when he was little, which might have indicated misguided passion, but by the time he was a teenager, they mostly ignored each other. When they did speak, it was usually a one-word answer. They still argued once in a while, but they avoided each other for the most part. They had separate bedrooms and different schedules and often communicated to each other through notes or the children, and it usually only involved important matters that couldn’t be avoided.

  It sucked.

  Nick sometimes wondered if his parents had ever loved each other. They must have. Sure, it was easy enough to fuck someone without an emotional connection, but to live with someone, spend enough time with that person to create not just one life but two should have meant something, right?

  And they were still together, all these years later. His sister lived close by them and visited often. Nick wondered why she did that, and all he could figure was that she felt obligated, like she had to keep them together. Fuck that. At this point, they needed to either just deal with each other or leave, but he didn’t give much of a shit either way, because they were no longer his problem.

  Yeah, the more that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that nowadays, even as individuals, he wouldn’t like them much. Back when he was a kid, they both had qualities that made him love them, but he realized now that deep down he must not feel that way anymore, because it was like pulling teeth to force himself to visit. His sister was growing bitter and disillusioned too, and he just no longer wanted to be around it. He sent them all money a couple of times a year to alleviate any guilt he felt about not spending time with them and hoped it would be enough. This year, he’d spent Thanksgiving with Brad and Val and called his family, telling them his schedule was too busy to head over the mountains, spending five-plus hours on the road, just for turkey and some mediocre stuffing. He didn’t actually comment about the food, keeping those thoughts to himself, but he did apologize for not making it over.

  Since moving to Denver, away from the dysfunction of his family, he’d made
sure to visit at least twice a year—Christmas (or sometime during the holidays) and sometime in the summer. Every so often he’d pair that visit with the fourth of July to keep things interesting. As much as he loved the idea of his family, he couldn’t bring himself to see them more often than that. The few times he’d considered visiting more often, he’d quickly talked himself out of it. It was often because his mom would tell him over the phone how much she’d missed him, but then he’d get there, and it was like living under their roof again. Visiting as often as his mom asked would be sheer torture. Being around them made him feel miserable. It just wasn’t worth what it did to him internally. Twice a year, at least, he was able to prepare for and deal with.

  So, the day before he left, he bought presents and spent the afternoon wrapping them after failing to convince his housekeeper/ assistant that she wanted to help. She wouldn’t even take the extra money he offered, because she was getting ready for her own family celebration.

  The night before he left, Nick prayed for a horrible snowstorm to blanket the Rockies, rendering the roads impossible to drive on. The next day, though, he saw that the weathermen had been right—sunny skies, mild temperatures for December, and not even a few clouds. They predicted beautiful weather clear through the time he had to leave, so he couldn’t even make an excuse to leave earlier.

  This year, he sat back and observed, not wanting to draw any attention to himself, especially since the crowd was larger than usual. His mom’s sister and her family were there, and his dad spent most of the time in the living room watching DVDs. After a while, one of Nick’s cousins spent some time catching up, praising Nick on his successful career, even though he himself hadn’t listened to much of Nick’s work. “Extreme metal,” his cousin called it. Nick seemed to remember the guy being into classic rock—Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Deep Purple, and the like. He’d never been a metalhead, so Nick knew he wouldn’t appreciate the music. He’d take the good wishes, though, because that was probably more than he’d ever received from his immediate family anyway.

  Mid-afternoon on Christmas day, his mom, his sister, and one of his aunts were playing a board game with another cousin. His mom and aunt—her sister—were teasing each other at first, but it became mild bickering, and Nick could tell it was going to escalate. This shit was what he wanted no part of, so he found a way to end the conversation with his cousin and stepped out the front door.

  Fortunately, the weather was pretty mild, and the sweater he wore protected him from the chill in the air. He sat on the porch, debating if he wanted to walk around the block, like he used to as a kid, or if he just wanted to stay outside for an hour or two until he could head back in and graze the food. He decided he’d simply sit in the living room with his dad and watch whatever shit the man was playing on the television. It would be better than listening to his mother argue.

  A thought flashed through his mind: Maybe it was all his mother.

  He knew that wasn’t true, though. She might have instigated a lot of the fights, but his father had been a willing participant back then. Now he just seemed to tune out.

  Nick wound up sitting on the porch, looking out at the desolate branches devoid of the leaves that made the trees look fuller in the summer. They looked sad—maybe they were just as miserable being here as he was. He’d walked past those two Russian Olive trees hundreds of times as a kid without giving them a second thought…and now it was somehow comforting to dwell on them.

  He was wondering if trees had feelings when his phone rang. He sat up a little, lifting his rear so he could slide it out of his pocket, and then looked at the screen.

  Sabrina?

  Yeah, they had each other’s number. They’d all exchanged them early on at Brad’s insistence. Maybe not crucial now, he’d said at the time, but once they were on the road, there was no telling when they’d need to reach each other in a hurry. Best to get that sort of thing out of the way while it was fresh in their minds.

  But not once had he and Brina called one another or texted. There had been no need, no reason. And buried in the morass that was his family’s strange way of living life, she’d been the furthest thing from his mind.

  One thing was certain. In spite of having had a bad taste in his mouth for her the last week they’d been around each other, she was a welcome distraction now. Her funkiness seemed downright normal in comparison to the heavy vibes in his parents’ house.

  He still considered letting the call go to voicemail just the same.

  But then he couldn’t resist. What the hell would Brina be doing, calling him late Christmas afternoon?

  “Well, hello, Ms. Moreno. What can I do for you on this fine holiday?”

  “I was hoping you could bring me a little Christmas cheer.”

  He pondered making a lame joke about his twig and berries and then thought better of it. A woman like Sabrina would never appreciate it or find it amusing. Then he wrestled with some humor around hung mistletoe and gave up. Brina didn’t seem to be the joking type, and she definitely didn’t seem to care much for Nick’s sense of humor. Better to be straightforward with the woman. “Really? What did you have in mind?”

  “Well…my roomie and I—that is, my girlfriend—were considering unwrapping a man instead of a Christmas present and feasting on him until we feel gorged.”

  Holy Christ. And here he was hours and hours away. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, mentally commanding his dick to behave itself, and said, “Babe, as much as I’d love to be part of your Christmas dinner, that ain’t gonna happen.” Holy shit. He’d called her that again, something she’d threatened to harm him for calling her if he said it again. Best to just keep talking through it and maybe she wouldn’t notice. “I’m hundreds of miles away on the western slope of Colorado.” Oh. He didn’t want to blow it, though. “I’ll be back home tomorrow afternoon sometime, but today is impossible.”

  He knew that was probably it. She’d called him in a moment of weakness, desperate, and she’d likely never do it again, but it helped his ego to know she wasn’t completely immune to his charms. Well, there wasn’t much he could do about it and, besides, he’d vowed to extricate himself from her strange ways. Even if he did hop in the car and drive the entire way back, he’d need a few beers to unwind and then, even though he’d be up for the fun (because he was never not in the mood for fucking), he didn’t know that he’d be able to perform well enough to merit another appearance.

  Yeah…two women. He needed to be well-rested and completely sober for that.

  Fuck it. He could hardly wait.

  He was still formulating his words when Brina said, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “I’ll be back in town soon. How about Saturday night?” Yeah, that’d be about right. It would give him a day for travel and a day to rest up.

  She was quiet for longer than she should have been, and he knew that meant he wouldn’t like her response. But when she spoke, she almost purred. “Yeah, we can make that happen, but you do know it’ll be more dangerous for you, right?”

  Nick’s cock nearly split his jeans as he drew in a breath and tried to think of a smart ass response…but, for once, Nick had no words.

  Chapter Nine

  DRIVING BACK TO the eastern slope of the Colorado Rockies, Nick felt relief as an almost palpable burden lifted from his psyche. Jesus. Every time he visited his family, he forgot how damaged they made him feel. It wasn’t until he was out of their realm that he began to feel like his normal self.

  His relationship with his family, his childhood, all of it—that was something he’d never be able to tell someone like Sabrina. He didn’t know that she’d understand—or even care. He decided he’d never give her the chance, even if it would help her understand him better.

  Nah…Brad, Zane, and Ethan knew because they’d witnessed a good portion of it after they’d formed the band. He figured Val knew some of it, too. The only person he’d feel comfortable talking about it with would be Gracie, the woma
n he considered his best friend, but Brina? No way in hell. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like any dirt she gathered about him would be used against him at some point in the future.

  Not that his family was dirt, necessarily…they were just sore points, wounds that would never heal. Since becoming financially stable, Nick had matured enough to analyze himself. He’d ruined the potential for many a relationship because he kept himself distant. He was happy getting laid and he didn’t even mind a semi-steady squeeze…but he was never serious (something that pissed a lot of women off) and he never let himself grow serious about anyone. The stupid sense of humor—that was one way to keep things from settling into the serious realm. He’d learned to make himself laugh and help others join in at an early age. It was much easier to make light of shit and smile than to drown in the quicksand created by his family. Their mood, even their day-to-day lives could cripple any well-adjusted human being, but Nick had determined early on to fight it. It also didn’t hurt that he’d been a short kid in his youth, and he’d been picked on by the class bully for a few years in elementary school. He’d figured out that he’d never be big enough to fight back (and he’d discovered that even that wasn’t true when he started weight lifting as a freshman in high school), but he could continue to hone his sense of humor. Several years of practice—simply by cracking wise every chance he got—and he developed a rapier wit, one to rival many a second-rate stand-up comic.

  By the time he started middle school, he was known for his humor. His seventh-grade teacher even commented on it and encouraged Nick to put together an act for the talent show.