Chapter 29
(Steel)
“That’s a hell of a view,” I said as I stared out at the mountain range that ringed the valley the lodge sat in.
“It’s one of the many reasons we love it up here,” Rebel said as we stood beside the snowmobiles, ready for a day of tear-assing all over the trails.
“And every time we’re preparing to go into the studio, this is where we’ll come?” Kit asked, awe in his voice, as he took in the view that had been lost under the cover of darkness when we’d arrived last night.
“Yup,” Rebel explained.
“Always for three weeks?”
“Give or take,” Rebel said. “Once we managed four, but that was only because we were forced to cancel our Florida dates due to a hurricane.”
“It’s amazing,” Kit said. “I can see why you’d want to sequester yourselves up here.”
“It’s us now,” Rebel reminded him, “and yes, it is.”
“How’d you find it?” I asked.
“Ozzy’s dad,” Rebel explained. “His company came up here on a teambuilding retreat. He kept going on and on about how amazing the trails were and how peaceful it was to hear owls at night, instead of sirens. When we needed a place to polish the songs for our second album, Ozzy asked his old man if he remembered the name or where it was, and he did, so Ozzy booked it and kickstarted a new tradition.”
“I’m definitely ready to see those trails,” Kit declared as he headed for the canary yellow snowmobile we’d left for him.
“Alright, Tweety-Bird, stick close and don’t get lost out there,” Rebel teased. “I’m sure there are hungry cats lurking. Bobcat sightings are common around here.”
“You just had to go and mention that, didn’t you?” Kit grumbled as he put his helmet on.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“That’s the kind of information you keep to yourself until we’re back at the lodge sipping cocoa,” Kit declared. “Not right before we take off.”
Rebel just shrugged and donned his helmet too. “Oops.”
“I do not believe your oops,” Kit said before he closed his visor.
With that, we were off, Rebel in the lead, snow flying around us as we took off. Wide trails meant we were never in any danger from the branches of the trees that bordered them. Someone probably spent a great deal of time out here just making sure there were no threats to riders.
When we shot into a clearing, Rebel did a series of donuts before racing towards the trail on the other side, leading us on a wild ride filled with well-marked curves that kept us from losing track of where we were supposed to be riding.
He took a left halfway up the side of the mountain trail, slowing his speed, so I did too, waiting to see where he was leading us now.
I’d already lost track of how long we’d been out here in the whirlwind of motion and snow, but the lingering tension from last night’s concert and Rebel’s encounter with Knightly had finally bled away.
Having to stay at my post through it all, unable to text, not knowing if the altercation had been resolved, had weight heavily on me the whole time I was escorting Jagger away from the merch booth and onto Blissfully Immune’s bus.
Still, I’d done my job, never hesitated, and earned Sully’s respect and praise in the process, as well as the morning off when Rebel said he wanted to go riding as soon as it was light enough out to be safe.
I’d wondered, when we’d first set off at breakneck speeds, if he was trying to outrun his demons and the memory of what had taken place the night before, but when I saw the shimmering ice on the half-frozen waterfall, I realized that he’d been eager to get somewhere specific.
Here.
Parking at the base, he pulled off his helmet, shook off his hair, and grinned when Kit nearly forgot to kill the engine in his haste to get off and get a closer look.
It was only when he accidentally gunned the throttle that he realized his error, one leg on the seat, the sudden jerk nearly sending him into a snowdrift.
“Holy shit!” he sputtered once he’d finally dismounted properly and yanked his helmet off.
“You were about to be a song lyric,” Rebel threatened.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kit muttered as he stared up at the falls, in awe of the deep, frozen blue hues and the slow-flowing water that ran out beneath it.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Rebel said as I withdrew a thermos of hot cocoa from the backpack I carried.
“That’s an understatement,” I said as I passed him a cup.
He passed it to Kit instead of drinking it, so I passed him another and stood beside him as we stared up at the waterfall.
“I guess you could say it’s my thoughtful spot,” Rebel admitted. “Up here, anyway. Leave me anywhere long enough and I always ferret out a new one.”
“Good to know,” Steel said. “Will make it easier to find you when you wonder off brooding.”
“I do not brood.”
“Dude, you have brooding down to an art form. You get this whole scrunchy face thing going, right about here,” Kit said, walking over to stand in front of Rebel and run his finger from Rebel’s forehead down to the middle of his eyebrows. “Lots of wrinkles and a great big pout.”
“I’ll show you a pout,” Rebel said, but the fake puppy-dog eyes he attempted to give just made us both laugh.
“Not bad,” Kit replied, snickering, “but nowhere near your best.”
“Meh.”
“Seriously though,” Kit said, pressing in close so we had Rebel sandwiched between us. “How are you doing after last night?”
I was glad he’d asked the question that I was dying to ask, because being apart from them last night had gutted me.
Because I’d been on duty, the only message I’d received from Rebel was a short and sweet one telling me he was okay.
From my vantage point, I’d seen things nearly come to blows, then the crowd shifting to let Sully, Kit, and Rebel through as he’d escorted them away from the situation.
Jett, Vale, and a couple of roadies had escorted Knightly from the venue, and things had been a bit tense and uncomfortable backstage after that.
When everyone had loaded onto the buses, I’d been too far away from Rebel to see if there were any marks on him, but I’d sure as hell checked at breakfast, even with him grumbling and batting at my hands.
“He never touched me, and for the record, I can hold my own,” Rebel had muttered beneath his breath when I’d been fussing over him.
I didn’t doubt that, but he should never have to, especially not with a friend.
That Knightly had escalated from words to attempting to put his hands on Rebel had resulted in Draven issuing a persona non grata edict, baring Knightly from future events.
The email had arrived not long after we’d boarded the buses last night for the drive here, accompanied by a picture of Knightly so everyone would be able to identify him.
“Numb,” Rebel finally replied. “I’m not even pissed at him anymore; I just want him to stay the fuck out of my life.”
“Why the hell did you ever let him stick around this long?” Kit asked, beating me to the punch.
I’d been wondering the same thing too and always noticed a shift in Rebel’s mood after he’d had any sort of interaction with him.
“It’s not like I have a lot of friends,” Rebel said. “Not real ones, anyway.”
“And you thought he was?” I asked, cutting Kit off when he snorted and started to say something.
“He’s always been a dick,” Rebel admitted. “Back when his band was headlining, they pulled some pretty hardcore pranks on some of the bands they toured with. For whatever reason, he sort of took me under his wing, would get me up on stage with him for sets, that kind of thing.”
“Is that what he meant when he said you owed him?” Kit asked.
“Yeah. The whole Acoustic Hellscape thing sounded a lot like him wanting to recapture his glory days, and I’d have been fine with that, seriously, like working with him and Cole and Davy on an album would have been pretty badass if he hadn’t gone about it the way he did.
All the stuff he was yelling last night, about the money he’d already spent on the project and how he wasn’t going to get any of that back, coupled with what Cole said about the lyrics being rough, strikes me as being rushed and poorly planned out. ”
“He sounded desperate,” Kit said.
“He’d have to be to come at me like that,” Rebel replied.
“Do you think he’ll keep coming?” I asked.
He shrugged, patting down the pockets of his parka, looking for his vape.
“Here,” I said, passing him mine after he’d checked a couple zipped pockets without answering me.
“Thanks.”
“Thank me by telling me the truth,” I said. “Is he a danger to you?”
“Look, I’ve never seen him act like that before,” I admitted. “I’ve seen him heated in the past, and yeah, we’ve exchanged words a couple times, but it’s never come to blows the way it almost did last night.”
“Still didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out.
He shrugged again and took another puff.
“Because I don’t have one. I don’t know if he’ll turn up at another event or if he’ll drop in when I get home.
I never know what to expect when it comes to him.
We won’t talk for a couple weeks, then he’ll send a dumbass meme or dick pics and a message asking if I want him to meet me at one of our upcoming stops.
Most times, I tell him no, because he never knows when the fuck to leave and always winds up pissing the rest of the band off. ”
“Like he did with me at the bar,” Kit mused.
“That was a bit much, even for him. He’s usually a bit… subtler when he’s trying to talk people into something.”
“Something tells me he’s sweet-talked you into a lot of things,” I said.
Sighing, Rebel squirmed, took another puff, and handed my vape back.
“He and I, there was a time when I…” Rebel began, words trailing off.
“You know that there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me stop loving you, right?” Kit asked, framing his face with his hands so Rebel couldn’t look away.
I felt him shiver before sliding gloved fingers through Kit’s hair, gripping the strands as he tugged him in for a kiss.