inside of her eyes halted my breathing. “Of course it does. Aren't you scared?”
Thinking to myself, I considered my reply. I was only scared of one thing lately, but it wasn't something I was ready to admit to her.
Not yet.
“When I first played on a big stage,” I said slowly, “I was extremely afraid. That's normal.”
“I'm sorry, did you just try to call yourself normal?" The smile she wore was made from innocence and mystery. It took a concentrated effort not to curl my fingers into her thick hair, right there in front of the massive stage we'd soon perform on.
Perform.
This fucking girl made me want to create an entirely new meaning for that word. It would be glorious to bend her over and witness what we could do together. Lola's nearness made it a chore to stop thinking about wet sex.
Breaking the gravity between us, she looked at the large lights overhead. “It'll be packed in here, won't it?”
My fingers hooked into my pockets. “The concert sold out the day it was announced.”
“I wonder if Sean will watch me?” She spoke wistfully, like her question didn't need an answer.
I'd love to watch you from the crowd, too. “Barbed Fire is opening tonight. He should be able to see you from backstage if he hangs around.” The thought was a squirming maggot in my belly. Though Lola and Brenda had done their best to convince me that Sean Cooper held no resentment for me, I didn't want to see him up close.
The guy was as unwelcome in my presence as Johnny would be.
Rubber scuffed on wood; the toe of her converse sneaker digging into the floor. “Lot of pressure on me tonight. He'll be watching to make sure I don't make a mistake.”
Crinkling my nose, I tilted my head. “If it'd help, I can make sure he isn't backstage.”
Cold distress filled her voice. “No no! I want him there. I just meant, you know, it's a big deal. Performing tonight is... fuck.” She clasped the side of her throat. “It means everything to me.”
My chest ached with a yearning to pull her against me. Not so long ago, I'd have said the same thing she just had. Lola's existence, the way she'd come crashing into my life, had changed things. The music doesn't mean everything to me. She does, now.
I wanted to take her away and hide her from the world. I didn't want the crowd to see her like I did; talented, astounding... perfect.
Had I always been so greedy?
“Can I ask you something?” At my quick nod, she pushed on. “Did any of your family come to your first show?”
I hadn't expected that question. “My mother did,” I said softly. “She came to all of them for a while.” And if that bastard hadn't hurt her, maybe she could still—no. I had no intention of cutting my heart open here. Being vulnerable had its time and place. “Are you asking because you want to have your parents here? I'm sure Brenda could find a way to fly them out by tonight, if we tell her right now.”
Lola was shaking her head before I'd finished. “Don't worry about it. They wouldn't want—” Closing her mouth, she stopped herself.
“What?” Hunching closer brought us to eye level. “They wouldn't want to what?”
Her eyes became frosted glass. “They wouldn't want to fly. They hate airplanes, that's all. Can we go to the hotel? I'd like to clean up.”
The change of subject wasn't lost on me. Lola was hiding something. “Sure. Follow me.” Straightening, I led her back down the hall. It was a silent walk; heavy dread hung off of Lola like thick lace. What's wrong with her?
My plan had been to cheer the girl up by showing her the stage.
Now, glancing at her as we broke into the early daylight, I had the feeling I'd lifted her up just to drag her back down.
I just wished I knew what I'd done.
****
We rode in a simple black car, tinted windows hiding us from the world. I'd even slid on a pair of shades to help protect my identity. It was a fast trip, the Ramada was right up the street.
Lola said nothing as we drove, her hands wrapped on her guitar case and bag. Each tap of her nail on the solid wood sent ripples up my neck. She's miserable, and I just want to nibble her pouting lower lip. Wiping my mouth didn't remove the thought.