Chapter 8
Fake dating – apparently includes the actual act of going on a date. Who knew?
Gibson
I groan as I roll over in bed. I’m exhausted and my head hurts. But I didn’t drink last night. I was with Mercy. What happened? I remember having an allergic reaction but the rest of the night is a blank. How did I get home? I—
Whoosh! Water rains down on me.
“What the hell?” I jump out of bed.
Cash, Dylan, Fender, and Jett surround me. Jett’s holding a bucket. I glare at him.
“Why did you douse me with water? I was sleeping.”
“You were supposed to be at the studio rehearsing for our upcoming tour,” Cash points out.
I was? What time is it? “Sorry. I forgot to set my alarm.”
“Because you were drunk,” Fender grumbles.
“What?” I rear back. “I wasn’t drunk. I had an allergic reaction.”
Dylan snorts. “An allergic reaction? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“You know I’m allergic to peas.” When they continue to glare at me, I motion to Jett. “Tell them.”
“I don’t know what peas have to do with anything.”
“Because Mercy put peas in her fettucine alfredo.”
Fender grunts. “No one puts peas in fettucine alfredo.”
“Mercy did.” I point to my cheek. “You can probably still see the rash.”
I remember scratching at my cheek before Mercy gave me some antihistamines and I promptly passed out. I probably shouldn’t have chugged half the bottle but I haven’t eaten peas since I first found out about my allergy.
Dylan leans close to inspect my cheek. “He does have a rash.”
“Remember the time he tried a veggie burger and didn’t realize it contained peas?” Jett laughs. “The rash practically covered his face.”
I glare at him. “It’s funny I was in agony?”
He shrugs. “You laugh whenever I break a bone.”
“You jump off buildings on purpose. I don’t have an allergy to peas on purpose.”
“I bet Mercy felt all bad for you and kissed it better.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Or she would have if she were actually your girlfriend.”
Crap. I knew this was coming. I knew my bandmates would never believe I have a girlfriend. Especially a woman they’ve barely met.
But I need to sell it. Really sell it. I’ve seen the looks they think I haven’t noticed. I recognize the suspicion in their eyes. And I’ve dealt with Fender trying to hide my beer for months now. They’re gearing up to do an intervention about my drinking.
There’s no need. I’m not an alcoholic. Do I enjoy a beer or two? Hell yeah. I’m a fucking rockstar. It’s part of my job description.
But I’m not addicted to alcohol. I can go without it. In fact, I have. I haven’t had so much as a sip of alcohol since Mercy and I struck our deal. She doesn’t want me to drink? I won’t drink. Easy peasy.
“Mercy is my girlfriend. Why else would I have had dinner with Old Man Mercury?” I claim.
Jett snorts. “Try again. Everyone here knows you enjoy fucking with crazy people. And Old Man Mercury is as crazy as they come.”
My stomach burns at his accusation about Mercy’s uncle. “He’s not crazy.”
“Did you forget about his argument with the gossip gals?” He challenges. “He egged them on in front of the entire town.”
“The gossip gals enjoy a good argument.”
The gossip gals isn’t a derogatory title. The five older women – Feather, Petal, Sage, Cayenne, and Clove who have been dubbed the gossip gals – love the title. They even have t-shirts made up with the name.
“But what about when he—”
Dylan cuts Jett off. “We’re getting off track here.”
I don’t say anything since the track they want to be on is not where I want to be. I don’t want to be at the same racing circuit, let alone on the same track.
Cash nods. “Back to the subject at hand.”
My bandmates stare at me. If they think they can force me to talk this way, they’re wrong. I may have been susceptible to this tactic in the past but not when it comes to Mercy and our relationship. Fake relationship, I correct.
Mercy needs my help to get her uncle moved into a nursing home. I can’t let her down. I won’t let her down. Based on the hints Mercy made last night, I can guess a lot of people in her life have let her down before. I won’t be one of them. I know how it feels to be let down. I have no intention of making Mercy feel abandoned or uncared for.
“I thought we had practice for the tour,” I say as I plow through them to get to my closet.
“And I thought you were smarter than this,” Cash says.
I snag a pair of jeans and put them on. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what we mean,” Dylan says.
I sniff the t-shirt on the floor and rear back at the smell. Nope. Need another one. I dig through my drawers, grab an old Cash the Sinners concert t-shirt, and slip it on.
“Let’s go.”
I attempt to herd my bandmates out of the room but they aren’t going anywhere.
“Can I at least get a cup of coffee? I have a massive headache.” When everyone sighs, I’m quick to add, “I always have a headache the day after an allergy attack.”
Jett moves to let me pass and I make my way down the stairs to the kitchen with them hot on my heels. I don’t know why I thought getting coffee would be a solo endeavor.
I make a coffee and take a fortifying sip before turning around and leaning against the counter to face them. I’m all out of delay tactics.
“Out with it.”
“We’re worried about you,” Dylan begins. “We know drinking helps you to forget your family.”
I growl. “This is not about him.”
“Nevertheless, we’re worried about how much you’ve been drinking,” Cash says.
I knew this was coming. It’s the whole reason I agreed to the charade with Mercy in the first place. I thought – apparently wrongly – if I had a girlfriend, my bandmates would get off my back about my drinking.
“I’m not currently drinking,” I say.
Jett points to the clock. “Because it’s 9 a.m.”
“Weren’t we supposed to be at the studio at eight?”
“And now you’re dating this girl no one knows about,” Cash continues as if I hadn’t spoken.
“You’ve met Mercy. I brought her to the party.”
Jett crosses his arms over his chest. “And we’re supposed to believe she’s your girlfriend? You barely know her. You’re giving up our bet for her?”
I shrug. “Maybe I realized our bet is childish.”
Fender grunts. It’s his favorite means of communication. We didn’t dub him grumpapottamus for no reason.
“Fender agrees with me.”
Jett rolls his eyes. “And since when do you care what Fender thinks?”
Fender growls.
“I’ve always cared.”
“Didn’t stop you from stealing my food,” Fender grumbles.
I don’t deny it. Before Fender moved in with Leia, he kept our refrigerator stocked. Why would I go grocery shopping when there was plenty of food in the house? Waste of time if you ask me.
“This is bullshit!” Jett yells. “Are you guys not seeing what I’m seeing? He’s totally lying about everything! Mercy isn’t his girlfriend. And he hasn’t stopped drinking.”
“I did have to carry him to the car last night,” Fender says.
I don’t remember him carrying me to the car. At least now I know how I got home last night.
I inhale a deep breath to remain calm. Getting angry won’t help matters.
“Because I had an allergic reaction. I wasn’t drunk at dinner with Mercy and Mercury. I wouldn’t misbehave in front of them.”
And I wouldn’t. Mercy deserves my respect. Getting drunk and disorderly at a dinner with her uncle would have been totally out of line.
Jett snorts. “Because you would never get drunk and embarrass yourself.”
I feel anger well up in my body. How dare he? So much for staying calm. “I didn’t say I never get drunk!”
“Because you’d be lying!”
I stomp toward him. “Who do you think you are? You’re not exactly a saint.”
Dylan shoves his way in between us. “Enough.”
I glare at him. He’s always Mr. Peacemaker. Sounds boring to me.
“Let’s give Gibson a chance to prove he’s serious about Mercy and he’s done drinking.”
I scowl. I didn’t say I was done drinking. I’m on a break is all. But I don’t contradict Dylan. I don’t need these yahoos on my back about my drinking.
“I am,” I declare.
Dylan studies me. “He’ll go on another date with Mercy soon and then we’ll figure out how serious he is.”
I need to go out on more dates with Mercy? I thought her showing up at band activities would be enough for these guys.
I glance around the room. Judging by the looks on their faces, it’s not. Guess I’m going on a date for the first time in ten years.