alive. My ears rang with our sound, telling me we were as good now as we'd been at our peak; before Johnny had started dipping into his fuck-up habits.
He'd never been as good as he'd been the day he auditioned, the same day we'd told Sean Cooper no. Lola's brother. I wonder what they talked about this morning. Had she said anything about me to him? Had the guy even asked?
It wasn't my business, yet at the same time, anything that had to do with Lola tugged at my curiosity; my need for her. Even now, just a few feet away, I wanted her. My skin boiled with my starvation, tongue tasting like delirium.
I actually almost missed a lyric. No one noticed, just me.
That was plenty.
Winding down an hour into practice, I kicked the pile of plastic bottles around the floor. Lola was sweating, the front of her shirt stained. The dark patch drew my eye to her heaving breasts.
Leaning on the bench, head tilted to the ceiling, her throat bobbed. The way she panted summoned filth from the base of my skull. Instantly, I recalled how she'd looked beneath me in the tub. Her parted lips, wide-eyes and hazy scent.
I'd heard her heart, her very blood, and still pressed harder against her.
Ruffling my hair, I fought down a wave of static-charged lust. I didn't have to work hard to sober myself, though, because Brenda pushed through the curtain. She looked at all of us but focused on Lola. “Good, perfect timing.”
“What's perfect timing?” I asked.
Lifting her brown eyes, my manager brushed past me. She still wore her ridiculously tall heels, the sharp bottoms tearing at the floor. “Come on, Lola, we're pulling the bus over for a minute.”
The guitarist lifted her eyebrows. “What? Why?”
“Our photographer is up ahead, he's with his crew in the parking lot of a furniture store.” Gripping her curved hips, Brenda tapped her toe. “Come on, be quick!”
Lola's sapphire eyes jumped to me. That expression was pleading. Is she asking my permission to leave? “Go, make it fast,” I grumbled.
Brenda fluffed her hair. “Relax. We're doing it right on the bus. They just need to clean her up first, then they'll take some shots as we drive. Easy.”
Saying nothing, I folded my arms and watched them leave the room. When their footsteps faded, Porter gave a sharp cough. “So. First time we've all been alone together since Lola joined.”
“Yup.” Colt rubbed his chin with a stick.
They were waiting for me to talk. I could see it in their eyes. Setting the mic on the stand, I dropped onto a bench. “Say whatever you need to.”
Poking at his bass, Porter watched the floor like it had words there to read. “She's good. I think she's gotten a handle on her nerves.”
Nerves. My lips twisted. Nerves wasn't the right word, but they didn't need to know that. I was entirely convinced that Lola was caught up in me. Her awkward moments were crafted from her blooming arousal.
“Forget about that,” Colt mumbled. “What's this photo shoot thing all about? Did I miss something, do we all need new head shots or some shit?”
Leaning forward, I gripped my knees. “Brenda says Lola needs some photos. Stuff for social media, that sort of junk.”
The two men nodded, happy to accept that answer. It was close enough to the full truth to be believable. “In that case,” the bassist yawned, “I'm going to grab some coffee. Pretty sure we got some instant stuff left in the cupboard, but we're running low. Papa needs his java.”
“I'll remind Brenda we need supplies.” My legs creaked when I stood. I was young, but lately, my stress and lack of sleep made me feel ancient.
Porter and I wandered towards the front of the bus. I don't know what I expected to see out there. Maybe a camera guy or someone doing Lola's makeup. Instead, a tall umbrella-light was parked in the aisle, blocking most of the path.
Porter paced in front of it, his hands held high. “Hey, come on, let me through!”
“One second,” Brenda snapped. She appeared beside me, dragging Lola by the arm out of the bathroom. Irritation had started to swim in my veins...
And then I saw her.
Someone, no doubt Brenda, had forced the guitarist out of her ratty pants and fitted top. In black jeans that revealed chunks of her skin all the way up the backs of her thighs, Lola was a sexual vision.