maim. The guy was good—better than he'd been two years ago. Hearing his sound, his style, I knew Lola had learned from him.
My mouth twisted perversely at one fact:
Lola was better.
I wonder if he knows. Staring at his broad back, shoulders rippling with effort, I fought down a wicked grin. If he didn't know yet, he'd learn tonight.
I gave the band credit, though. They'd warmed the crowd up for us. Their singer, a guy named Thomas, stopped their set long enough to welcome everyone to the Fillmore. He said what he was contracted to, mentioning all the bands that were playing on the tour. And, especially, highlighting Four and a Half Headstones.
There were still plenty of people rushing around backstage. Standing off to the side, I didn't think anyone would notice me. A gentle cough proved me wrong.
Lola was wearing dark, ripped skinny jeans and a top that strained over her chest. It was similar to the outfit she'd worn in the promo photos. No question, Brenda had dressed her intentionally. My manager was doing her best to burn Lola into everyone's heads.
“Hey,” she mouthed, the music drowning her out. Her extra-tall boot kicked at the floor. Could she walk in those? Before I could say anything back, her blue eyes abandoned me, leaving a hole in me as they did.
She stared out at the brightly lit stage, absorbing her brother's performance as intensely as I had been doing. Leaning down, I spoke right in her ear; the way she gasped gave me a thrill. “They're playing really good.”
Lola's nose nearly touched mine when she twisted towards me. “They always play really good! You've been on the tour with them, haven't you heard them before?”
A hot flash crept up my neck. Normally I did sound check, then vanished until it was time for me to play. The other bands were just blurry noise in the background. I should have paid more attention. It didn't matter.
The only band that I needed to focus on was mine.
“Sure,” I said quickly. “Listen. We go on after the next group, come get some air with me.”
Brushing back her thick curls, she peeked longingly out at the stage. Barbed Fire had one more song left. I knew her answer before she spoke. “Not yet.”
Drums crashed, muffling my words. “You've heard them a million times. Why do you need to be here for this, too?”
A crisp frost inched along her lips. It stuck them into an immovable frown. “Because I want to be.”
Without a counter argument in my pocket, I just shrugged. “Fine.” My fingers touched my empty pack of cigarettes. “That's fine. I'll just—fine.” Even the small denials from Lola drove me insane.
Shoving around her, I hurried towards the side door that led to a small, walled off patio outside, a place for the crew to take their breaks. With a band on stage, the area was empty.
Slumping to the cold ground, I pursed my lips. My breath swirled, the closest thing to smoke that I had. I should have saved one damn cigarette. Fuck. I'm smoking too much. It was so hard to hold back. Lola was my new addiction, but when she wouldn't allow me to have a hit, tobacco was all that remained. It paled next to her.
Scratching my hair vigorously, I sighed. I'd told Lola that I didn't get scared before shows anymore. I wished I was scared, though. Feeling anything but starvation for a woman who kept resisting me would have been easier to handle.
Palming my forehead, I gazed up at the burning orange sky. An early moon dangled in the corner. The laugh that escaped me was unsettling. What the hell is this? What do I do with this fucking itch?
I'd have ripped my flesh from my bones if it allowed me to feel normal again.
Through the thick walls, the music died. Cheers replaced it; Barbed Fire had finished. It meant Lola would be celebrating with her brother. We'll be playing in front of that audience soon. In a short time, everyone would see Lola. Really see her. They'd bask in her fucking music, longing to celebrate with her when it was all done. I was going to lose her in a sea of eager fans.
Shutting my eyes, I thought about the elevator. Her lips had been so eager—I hadn't expected her to stop me. Buzzing with energy, I'd started to sing in my room afterwards. Together, we'd played a private show blindly through our hotel walls.
The music was