“Go home.”
Yep, something was not right.
“Is Linnie okay?” I repeated.
“Stel a, nothin’ you can do here. Go home.” Oh hel . Something was definitely not right.
“Buzz cal ed me. Said Linnie overdosed. Did she overdose? Is Buzz in there?” I asked.
“I’l talk to Buzz. He’l cal you in the morning,” Mace responded unhelpful y.
I felt fear begin to tear at my insides and I started to move around him, pul ing Juno with me.
“I need to see Buzz,” I said.
His fingers wrapped around my upper arm in a way that couldn’t be ignored. I stopped on a lurch, Juno stopped with me and I stared at his hand for two beats then up at him.
“Take your hand off me Mace,” I said, my voice soft and low, my meaning clear.
He gave up the right to touch me a year ago. He gave up the right to tel me to go home. He even gave up the right to pet my damn dog (maybe that last was pushing it but I felt like pushing it at that moment).
He didn’t move his hand, in fact his fingers tightened. It didn’t hurt but it certainly made his meaning clear too.
“Either you go to the van or I carry you there. Your choice, Stel a.”
He meant it.
This pissed me off.
I didn’t get pissed off very often. I didn’t have the time.
My life was music and my life was the band. When we weren’t playing, we were loading or unloading our gear.
When we weren’t loading or unloading, we were rehearsing. When we weren’t rehearsing, I was finding us gigs. When I wasn’t finding us gigs, I was practicing guitar.
When I wasn’t practicing guitar, I was getting my bandmates out of trouble. When I wasn’t getting my bandmates out of trouble, I was hanging out with Juno and cooking fabulous, gourmet meals-for-one because Juno was a big dog with not a lot of energy thus she didn’t do much so I had to find some way to amuse myself and Juno liked the scraps. When I wasn’t hanging out with Juno and cooking, I was shooting the shit with my girlfriends on the phone or meeting them somewhere.
The rest of the time, of which there wasn’t much, I was sleeping.
As you could see, I didn’t have time to be pissed off.
But real y, who the hel did he think he was? He couldn’t break my heart one day and then get in the way of me and a member of my band the next.
Nunh-unh.
No way.
No one got in the way of me and my band.
I leaned into him.
“Tel me what’s going on,” I demanded on a quiet hiss.
“Buzz’l cal in the morning.” He kept attempting to blow me off.
“What the f**k is going on?” I demanded on a not-at-al quiet shout.
I felt rather than saw the eyes that turned to us.