Chapter Five – Angel
“I have here with me Black Sacrament, who’s finally back on the scene after a near year-long hiatus,” the radio show’s host rattled off. We weren’t at the studio; we’d called in to connect, and he’d linked us into the show.
Ramona had given us a basic script to go off of, meaning she’d gone over things we could say and things we couldn’t say. It’d been one week since the show, six days since the guys had basically told me they all wanted me. Every day more videos popped up, different angles from the show, duets with girls thirsting over the way Priest had grabbed me, pulled me close, and kissed me on stage. We were still trending, and Ramona said Black Sacrament’s music had gotten way more listens on Spotify and YouTube since the show .
I still didn’t know how any of that worked, but it sounded like a good thing.
I hadn’t told the guys what I thought about everything yet. I just… every time I thought I decided, I let my worries consume me and paralyze me into indecision. And the guys, for their part, didn’t push. They didn’t prod. They were letting me take time and think it over.
Hank, the morning host of the local hard rock radio show, went on, “Not with me with me, though. If you know Black Sacrament, you know that they keep their identities top-secret. Nobody knows who they really are, and I think that’s half the fun. Black Sacrament just had a show at the Aegis Theater where they announced their comeback… and also introduced their newest member: Angel. Is Angel on the line with us?”
Priest sat in the middle of the couch, holding the phone up, the speaker’s volume all the way up so we could easily hear. Bishop and Deacon were on his left, while I sat on his right. I leaned closer to the phone and said, “Yeah, I’m here.”
This was our first interview, if you could call it that, but it’d only be one of many. Once we recorded an album we’d have to pimp ourselves out, and that meant doing a lot of shows like this. I was nervous, but not nearly as nervous as I’d been for our first live show.
Hank went on about the contest that I won, some background info for those listening who had no idea. He then asked, “Why do you think you were chosen, above everyone else?”
“Honestly,” I paused, “luck.”
That got Hank to laugh. “I’m sure luck had something to do with it. I saw the videos of the Aegis show, and I’ve gotta say, you’ve got some vocal chords on you. A great voice. Not a voice I’d necessarily pair with Black Sacrament, but it surprisingly works. Were you ever doubtful that this would work?”
Priest answered this one: “Priest here. I, for one, can say I was never doubtful. From the first moment I heard Angel sing, I knew we were stepping into the next chapter for Black Sacrament, and I know I speak for all of us when I say I can’t wait to see where this goes.”
“We know where this is going,” Hank said. “You’re working on an album right now, aren’t you?”
“We are,” Priest said. “We’ve only just started, but it’s going to include some reworks of older songs and a lot of newer stuff.”
“If it’s anything like what you guys did at the Aegis, I can’t wait.” The host paused for a few moments, and then he asked, “So, is it true, Priest? Are you and Angel a thing? Black Sacrament has gone a little, uh, viral thanks to a certain kiss at the end of the show.”
Bishop spoke, “Let’s just say it’s complicated.” Ramona didn’t want us to shoot down the possible dating rumors since apparently the internet was shipping me and Priest, but we couldn’t outright admit to it, either.
Not that we were dating right now, because we weren’t.
“Complicated, huh?” Hank repeated. “I bet. Deacon, you’ve been awfully quiet. How do you feel about Angel taking your brother’s place and the complex situation between her and Priest?”
I glanced at Deacon. He was on the other side of Bishop, as far as he could be from me, and when I looked at him, I saw his head was angled off to the side, as if he was staring out of the windows on the far side of the room.
“I think,” Deacon took his time in answering, though he never drew his gaze away from the wall of windows, “Angel is an amazing addition to Black Sacrament.” A line rehearsed with Ramona. He didn’t say anything else, which the host noticed.
“You didn’t answer my other question, Deacon, so I’ll ask it again: how do you feel about the complicated situation between Angel and Priest?”
Deacon sighed, and I thought he’d repeat something else Ramona told him to say, but instead he said, “Let’s just say it’s more complicated than you know, Hank.” More complicated than he could know… what did that mean? What did Deacon mean by that?
I tried to imagine Hank’s face as his answer sunk in, but I’d never met Hank before, so I didn’t know what he looked like. I knew, on the other hand, that both Priest and Bishop had glanced at Deacon to wordlessly ask him what he was doing. What he’d said wasn’t part of the script.
“More complicated?” Hank echoed, sounding confused. “What does that mean? Are you saying—are you saying there’s more to this than just Priest and Angel?”
“I’m saying maybe Priest isn’t the only one who likes Angel,” Deacon rattled off, frowning to no one in particular.
Hank was quiet for a while. “I… wow. Okay, wasn’t expecting that. Look, we’re almost out of time, but I love having you guys on the show. I’d love to get you here again.” He did a end-of-interview spiel, and then we were off the hook.
As Priest set the phone down on the coffee table, everyone turned to look at Deacon. His hair was drawn back in a low, loose pony, a few tendrils short enough to escape and frame the squareness of his jaw. His green eyes were still fixed on the windows, and even though he was scowling, he appeared unbothered by what he’d said.
“You know Ramona will hear that,” Bishop spoke carefully.
“Yeah, so what?” Deacon shot back. “I don’t care about our script or whatever the fuck she wants us to say.” Quieter, he added, “And I only said the truth.”
Priest shrugged, and then he got up and stretched, as if talking to Hank on the phone had been a physical workout or something. “Whatever. Let the world think whatever they’re going to think. Now that that’s done, I’m going to work out.” He flexed his muscles and winked at me before walking away, leaving me with Bishop and Deacon.
To Bishop, Deacon huffed, “Don’t worry. If Ramona’s pissed, I’ll tell her it was all me. You’re off the hook.” He got up and left the room.
It was just the two of us now, just Bishop and me. My gaze fell to my lap, where I fiddled with my fingers. I could feel Bishop’s eyes on me, and I knew he was probably waiting for me to say something.
What was there to say? I still didn’t know… I just didn’t know. I didn’t want to agree to try and then have it blow up in our faces. How awkward would that be? Alexa said I should get all the dicks, but it wasn’t about the dicks. It was about them and me and the way they made me feel.
But what if that turned sour? Ugh. I just couldn’t shake the nagging doubts.
“Hey, you want to get out of the suite today? Go do something fun?”
I looked at Bishop, finding he was smiling at me, those adorable dimples on his cheeks. As much as the worry consumed me, the moment I spotted those dimples, they all faded away, completely forgotten. It was like some weird superpower.
So I said the only thing I could: “Sure.”
Doing something fun turned into a whole day affair, not that I could complain. He drove us to the large park in the center of the city, where we walked and got hotdogs for lunch. Ice cream for dessert, naturally. He told me about his life after he’d moved away, and I told him how my life changed after he’d left.
It was like we were just two friends catching up, no expectations of something more. It was actually kind of relaxing.
After the park, he took me to the movies. He let me pick, and we loaded up on every candy imaginable. I went for the current comedy that was showing, figuring I’d avoid the chick flick and the superhero movie—the former had been lame lately, and the superhero movies had gotten kind of same-y. Too many of them, all the time, everywhere you looked.
Since it was an off-time and the movie had been out a while, we were the only ones in the theater. We chose middle seats on the highest row.
After we got situated—and opened all of our candy—Bishop leaned over the armrest and asked, “Having fun?”
I met his hazel stare. Though the theater room wasn’t exactly dark yet, it was still darker than your average room, and it made his eyes look more brown than anything else. I swore his eyes changed color depending on the light.
“I am, thank you,” I said, giving him a tiny smile. On the giant screen before us, advertisements played, but neither of us paid any attention.
“Good,” he spoke with a nod. “I know things have been… a little weird lately, and I know you’re in your head ab out it all, so I wanted to remind you that things don’t have to be super stressful all the time.” His arm inched over the armrest between us, his hand finding mine. His fingers curled around my hand tentatively at first, but when I didn’t pull away, their grip tightened.
I tried to joke, “Who said I was stressed?” But even now, feeling his hand wrapped around mine, it was like flashing lights were going off. Big and red and obnoxious, reminding me that, yes, I was in fact stressed.
Stressed about my new life. Stressed about the guys and what I wanted. Stressed about making the wrong decision and destroying everything they’d all worked so hard for. No pressure, right?
“I can see it on your face,” Bishop said, his smile gentle as his hand squeezed mine. “If you don’t want to, if you don’t feel anything, then… then there’s no pressure, you know that, right? You can say no. You can always say no.”
I bit my bottom lip. “It’s not that I don’t feel anything.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s… it’s just weird, right? A group of guys doesn’t always date the same girl.” Unless we were talking about my sister’s reverse harem books, then you’d think men outnumbered women ten to one with the number of harems being formed left and right.
Bishop’s shoulders went up and down once. “Who says it has to be weird? I mean, sure, it’ll take some getting used to, but it’s only weird if we make it weird, right?”
In a way, he was right, but that wasn’t my only trepidation. “What if something goes wrong and one of you decides you can’t share, or if I decide I don’t want to do it anymore? What if I’m just a wrecking ball, here to destroy what’s left of Black Sacrament?” I only said the band’s name because we were alone in the giant, semi-dark room.
“If one of us decides that, then it’s on us, not you. And like I said, you can always say no. We’d never hold it against you.” His hand squeezed mine again, and he leaned over the armrest, inching closer to me as he added in a whisper I barely heard over the volume of the advertisements playing, “And you’re the furthest thing from a wrecking ball.”
I turned my head toward him as I asked, “What am I, then?”
The smile Bishop gave me right then was the gentlest, yet happiest smile I’d ever seen on him. It made the butterflies go crazy in my stomach. It even made my heart flutter. “I’m still figuring that out, but when I do, I’ll let you know,” he whispered.
Before I could say anything back, his other hand lifted and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. That same hand drifted lower, dropping to my jawline, where a single finger traced its edge all the way to my chin, leaving tiny sparks in its wake.
My breath caught when that same hand swept around the side of my head, his fingers entwining in my hair. Bishop leaned closer. His lips pressed against mine with a slow and steady eagerness I felt in my core.
Kissing Bishop was like coming home. His lips, the way he held onto me; every part of it was warm and kind, a place you never wanted to leave.
And I didn’t. The last thing on my mind as Bishop kissed me was pulling away. Now that I knew what kissing him was like, it was so unbelievably easy to lose myself in it, in him, in the way he could so effortlessly consume me.
Bishop pulled his mouth off mine to pant, “I swear I could kiss you forever, Maggie.” My heart leaped when he used my real name, swooning. It was a good thing I was already sitting down, otherwise my knees might’ve grown too weak to be of use.
“Is that why you brought me here? So we could make out?” I grinned against his lips, and he responded by nipping at my bottom lip.
“I wasn’t expecting the theater to be empty, so no, this is just a welcome surprise,” he said, and then he kissed me again—but harder this time. So hard my head spun from the power of his hunger and passion.
Kissing Bishop, kissing Cody… that’s when I knew. That’s when I had my answer. Or, really, the guys’ answer. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t ever walk away from them. Maybe it was naive of me to think, even more naive of me to want them, but I couldn’t imagine a life where I never kissed any of them again.
I wanted them all. I needed them all. My heart constricted any time I thought I might have to choose or, worse, walk away from the three of them. Priest’s flirtiness. Bishop’s familiarity and warmth. Deacon’s hot and cold exterior that only hid the depths of his true emotions. I couldn’t pick one.
I had to have them all.
I… I think I might have more than silly crushes on them.
Bishop only tore his mouth off mine once the actual movie started, but even then, about five minutes through, we decided we’d rather kiss than pay attention. By the time the movie was done, my lips were sore, but you know what?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.