Chapter Ten – Deacon
It was business as usual, or as much as business as usual could be with a shared girlfriend. We did a few podcasts, a few more interviews on radio shows. Ramona got everything set up for us, so we didn’t have to worry about any of it. We were monsters in the studio, recording song after song and leaving certain bits to the techno-wizards who could finalize the tracks. All of them, of course, had to sign NDAs, so they couldn’t take pictures of us or go public. Normal stuff when you were working on top-secret things in this business.
I think we were all handling it pretty well, and things were moving along nicely. I actually felt better about everything—better than I had in a long, long time. I think that was due less to the guys and more to Angel.
It was impossible to want to stick to myself when she was around. Just being near her made me feel better about life and the turns it had taken.
I wasn’t expecting to get a message from a private number one Friday night, giving me an address and a time. That’s it. No explanation, nothing of the sort. When I searched the address, I found it was a bar.
I only needed one guess as to who wanted to meet me in a bar. Someone I hadn’t seen or spoken to in a very long time.
Maybe I should’ve told the others, but I didn’t. I couldn’t, because what if my instincts were wrong and it wasn’t who I thought it was? Then I’d be meeting with a stranger—but I really, really didn’t think a stranger would send me an address with a time to meet.
Luckily, it wasn’t too late, so my excuse to the guys and Angel was that I was going to pick up dinner. Usually, when we ordered takeout, we always got it delivered to the Redborne, but I didn’t know what I wanted, so I had to go there and see it for myself. A white lie, but a necessary one.
None of them stopped me. None of them thought twice about it. Angel even gave me a kiss before I left, but I was too busy wondering what this was about to really lose myself in that kiss.
I got in my car and drove there. It was just before six-thirty, so the bar wasn’t quite as packed as it would be in a few hours. Friday nights, and these places in the city became overrun with people trying to drink their problems away. I should know; I’d been one of them for a while. Losing myself in the bottle had been the only way I could keep going after what happened.
I was able to parallel park in front of the bar, and I got out and headed inside. This particular establishment was on the first floor of a three-story building, not directly downtown but on the outskirts of the city, where the skyscrapers were dwindling and older architecture had taken their place.
The inside was just as dated and worn as the outside. Small, barely room enough for the bar, a pool table, an old jukebox, and a few wooden booths opposite the bar. Nothing fancy. When I walked in, the air itself reeked of booze.
I saw who I was meeting immediately. He was sitting in the far corner, in a booth facing the door, so he’d seen me the moment I’d walked in. He was already nursing a beer; if I had to guess, I’d say he’d go through a lot more of them as the night went on.
Let’s just say I’d learned my habits of avoidance from him.
I made a beeline to him, and it was only when I slipped into the seat opposite his that his gaze finally fixated on me. Green eyes like mine, though his face was harder, squarer, and his stare was permanently narrowed, like he was always glaring, even when he wasn’t. It made him seem pissed off and unapproachable. He was about my same height, his six-foot-tall frame appearing hunched over in the booth. His black hair had been cut short, though it was a little greasy tonight. He wore his favorite leather jacket over a holey shirt.
My brother had looked better.
I didn’t know what to say to him, so I started with, “Hey, man.”
Pope—though I guess he wasn’t really Pope anymore, since he wasn’t part of Black Sacrament, but old habits died hard, I guess—took a slow swig from his bottle before saying, “I didn’t think you’d come, since you’ve been avoiding me lately.” He ran a hand down his face.
I could’ve said I wasn’t avoiding him, but it’d be a lie. I’d blocked him in an effort to keep my sanity. I couldn’t quit Black Sacrament and leave with him, even though the loyal part of me wanted to. Pope’s contract was dissolved due to his inappropriate actions; he’d only left quietly because otherwise the record label threatened legal action. It was one big mess.
And it really was all his fault.
“I didn’t want to,” I admitted, “but I figured you’re still my brother, so if you need help, I’m here.” I didn’t know what I could do for him, but I’d try. He was still family. He’d fucked up, but blood ran deep.
“Who the fuck said anything about needing help?” His mouth curled into a frown, and he outright glared at me. “I don’t need your fucking help.”
He sounded so bitter, so angry, even though he was only in a bed of his own making. No one forced him to get high, to get so high and so drunk and to make a complete fool out of himself while talking to a group of ladies. He did that on his own.
“Then why am I here?” I asked, wishing this was done. I loved Pope because he was my brother, but being here with him… it wasn’t what I’d call a fun time. He was still so angry about what had happened, jaded, pissed off; he needed to go figure out what he wanted to do with his life, not stick around here and wish things were different.
Pope set his bottle down on the table, though his fingers never left it. They tapped against the side of the glass. “I saw your new girl today.” The intensity of his stare made me uncomfortable, like he knew what was going on between us, between all of us.
“Where?” The only place Angel had gone was the hair salon. What were the odds he’d seen her right then? I didn’t even know where that hair salon was, so the odds had to be infinitely small.
“She was walking out of some hair place. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that.” The bitterness in his voice only grew when he said, “I can’t imagine her as my replacement, though. Or is Priest supposed to be my replacement?”
He knew we had fake names when we were in public, but when I threw a quick glance around, it was clear the few other patrons in the bar weren’t paying us any attention. I let it go.
When I didn’t say anything, Pope went on, “Did you guys have any say in it, or was this all Ramona and her mysterious team?” He took another sip, though his eyes never left mine.
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not. I just can’t believe it. I saw that video, by the way, your first live show at the Aegis after kicking my ass out. Was the kiss scripted, too?” He scoffed at that, as if he found the whole thing disgusting. “I can’t fucking believe the internet loves it.”
“You know how Priest is,” I spoke, my voice low. “He does what he wants.” It just so happened that night he’d only done it because, apparently, he’d seen Bishop kiss her before the show, but my brother didn’t need to know that.
“So, is it something for the stage, or is that asshole really putting the moves on her?” When I said nothing, he added, “Wow. Replace me with a chick he can bang whenever he wants. Good for him.” He sipped from his beer again, seething.
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s not? It feels like it. It looks like it. You’re sitting there, telling me I’m wrong?”
I told my brother what the others should’ve told me all that time ago, when Angel first had stepped into our lives: “You can’t hate her for taking your place. She never asked for it. This whole life is new to her.”
“Then she should get used to people hating her for no reason.”
I sighed. “What do you want? Why am I here?”
“What? I’m not allowed to want to see my brother?” When I only glared at him, Pope shrugged, his apathy evident. “I hope that girl of yours is ready for how crazy things’ll get. I assume you’re recording a new album now, but once it’s time to tour and heavily promote it, the real crazies will come out of the woodwork. She’s a pretty girl. I’m sure she’ll have lots of fans clamoring to get her alone.”
That last part sounded almost like a threat, although I supposed that could’ve been due to the way my brother was staring at me, like he wanted to intimidate me.
“She can handle herself just fine,” I said, an uneasy feeling growing inside me.
“Can she? Hmm. I wouldn’t be so sure of that. There are some real crazies out there, and I’m sure some of them won’t care about doing illegal things as long as they get what they want from her.”
“What are you saying?”
Pope’s green-eyed stare held my own, his mouth drawing into a thin line. “I’m saying you best watch out for your new girl, brother, because all eyes are going to be on her. We both know how crazy some people can be when they get a little… obsessed.”
Okay, that definitely sounded threatening. I sat straighter. “It’s a good thing she’s got me, Priest, and Bishop, then. We won’t let anything happen to her.” I spoke that with conviction. I meant it. Angel would never see any harm—from a crazed fan or otherwise—we’d make sure of it.
“You can’t be with her all the time. Mark my words. Sooner or later, your new girl’s going to find herself in trouble. That, or Priest will get tired of her and want to give her the boot. You think it was messy when I was forced out? Just wait until that thing explodes.”
“It’s not going to explode.” That was all I said, but the way I said it, coupled with the look on my face, must’ve told my brother something my words did not, because he leaned back and stared, his mouth falling open slightly.
“You’re not… tell me you don’t like her, too?” When I didn’t say anything to that, Pope laughed, though it was a strained chuckle if I ever heard one. “Dear God. That’s rich. Does Bishop have a thing for her, too?” He laughed again. “I take what I said back. When this thing explodes, it’ll blow up in all of your faces. It’ll be biblical.” He smirked, grabbed his beer, and downed the rest of it in two gulps.
This whole conversation wasn’t sitting right with me, and I was more than ready to leave. So, before I went, I rested my forearms on the table and leaned forward. My voice came out low and deadly when I whispered, “Leave her alone. Leave all of us alone. Whatever happens, it’s none of your business.” I got up and turned to leave.
But I only made it a few steps before Pope called out, “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything about B.S. is my business.”
I didn’t say anything back, resuming my walk to the door. I’d already spent too long here. I had to go get some takeout from somewhere and bring it back to the Redborne. Hopefully they’d believe me when I told them there was a line at the restaurant.
I didn’t want to lie to them, but I knew what the guys would say if they knew I’d met Pope. We weren’t supposed to meet with him or talk to him. He sure as shit wasn’t supposed to be stalking Angel, either, but how else could I explain the fact that Pope had seen her at the salon? The odds were too small to be a coincidence.
I walked out of the bar and headed straight for my car, and once I got in, I glanced back at the bar. I couldn’t see Pope inside, but I’d bet anything he’d gone for another beer. Maybe something stronger. Now that he was content with what he’d told me, basically threatening Angel, he could get wasted.
My brother was stupid if he thought I’d ever let someone get close enough to hurt her, whether it was a fan or him. She never really went anywhere by herself, except the salon. Everywhere else, at least one of us was with her, if not all of us. Bishop had gone with her this last time, but from what it sounded like, he couldn’t park anywhere close, so he’d had to drive away… and that had apparently given Pope enough time to do a little stalking.
Was he watching us all the time, waiting to make a move? Waiting to talk to us? To try to take things out on Angel because he stupidly blamed her for his own past actions?
I didn’t know if Pope would do something stupid. I wanted to say he wouldn’t, that he’d never try anything, never hurt her… but a man lost to rage and helplessness, a man who’d lost everything he’d worked so hard for, might have nothing to lose.
And that was a scary thought. I didn’t want to be forced to choose between my brother and Angel. I’d already had to make the conscious decision to choose Black Sacrament over Pope. Brothers were supposed to have each other’s backs through thick and thin, but that wasn’t how things were with me and Pope.
Man, this sucked.