Chapter 11
Izzy
I paced the empty kitchen. I hadn’t spent anymore quality time with Beau. I’d sat in on his practices a few more times, but the guys were always there. They were nice and all, but I still wasn’t any closer to getting to know Beau.
And he still knew almost nothing about me.
To be fair to him, he was trying…kinda. He’d talk to me after practice, but inevitably the step-monster would barge in with some insane demand for his time and attention.
And he’d give it to her. Every time. Never once had he said, ‘I’m busy with Iz’ or ‘how about later.’ He’d get mesmerized by her gargantuan chest and wander after her like an overgrown puppy following its nose.
He didn’t have any time for me.
Why was I even bothering?
This was it. After tonight, I’d figure out my flight home, and put LA and this whole weird pseudo-father thing behind me.
I still had my whole life on pause back home.
Grad school.
Mom’s… My breath hitched. Mom’s everything waiting for me back home. The house, her things, all that paperwork. A huge hole opened up in my chest at the thought of how empty my life now was.
She was gone.
I’d never hear her laughter again.
Never feel her arms hold me tight.
Never have that soft place to fall again.
Never.
I couldn’t breathe.
Tears coursed down my cheeks, and I swiped at them impatiently. I didn’t really want to go to the concert, not now. I felt like such a loser tagging along with my—Beau’s—bandmates.
But the thought of staying here with my aching emptiness was almost more than I could take. I needed a distraction—anything to keep my mind off how empty my whole life was now.
I headed for my room and touched up my makeup, thanking the inventor of tubing mascara.
The bell for the gate echoed through the empty house.
I ran down the hall to the door and pressed the intercom. “I’ll come to you!”
“We’ll be here,” Malcolm replied.
My earlier angst was a forgotten memory as anxiety zipped through my bloodstream.
I’d spent so much time staring at my clothes hanging in the closet, but nothing had materialized that’d felt right.
So I might’ve slipped out earlier to buy this glittery little black dress.
With cap sleeves and an asymmetrical neckline, the sequined A-line dress fell to my knees but had a sexy slit to mid-thigh.
For some reason it’d leapt off the rack and just screamed Tin Gods plus orchestra.
Dresses in my size were almost always more miss than hit, but not this one. I’d decided to ignore the price tag. Who said money couldn’t buy happiness? Because I felt like a million bucks in it.
After grabbing my mini crossbody bag that held my phone, cards, and lipstick, I flew out the door. Flew because I coordinated my blingy dress with my favorite pair of Doc Martens.
Comfort first.
As I slipped out the person-sized gate, I found a fancy SUV idling at the curb, and I hustled over to it, uncomfortable at the knowledge that everyone inside was staring at me.
“Hey Iz!” Mal hollered from the other side of the rear bench seat and over a girl’s head.
I slid into the opening and closed the door behind me. “Hey.” I turned to the girl who looked to be my age and smiled. “Hi.”
The car pulled away from the curb, and I finally noticed the stranger in the front seat driving—a youngish guy who was every bit as large as Beau.
“This is Saylor, my wife,” Mal said, drawing my attention back to him. “Saylor, this is Beau’s daughter Izzy.”
I smiled. “Hey.” Then closed my eyes in mortification. I swore I knew more words than that. I just didn’t seem capable of using any of them at the moment.
“Hi, Izzy. I like your dress.” Saylor beamed at me.
Honestly, the switch in positive feminine energy was going to take me a minute, but I didn’t detect any hostility. I tipped my head toward her. “I really like yours.”
And I did. She wore a black, one-shoulder, short cocktail dress with ostrich feathers adorning the skirt. And like me, she’d paired her little black dress with black combat boots. She was the picture of a rocker princess.
“So how are you liking LA?” Saylor asked with an interested expression.
I…didn’t know how to answer that without sounding like an asshole.
“It’s been…complicated I guess. Less rain than I’m used to, for sure.” That wasn’t a lie. It hadn’t rained a single day I’d been here so far.
“Fortunately, since we’re going to an outdoor event today.” Saylor grinned.
I nodded with a little laugh. “For sure.”
Strained silence filled the cab. Mal leaned forward and murmured something to the driver, and soon soft music filtered through the SUV.
“Beau and Phoebe get to the event all right?” Mal asked as he wrapped an arm around Saylor’s shoulders and silently urged her to lean against his side.
I shrugged. “I guess. Haven’t heard from either of them since I left your practice this morning.”
Mal scowled and muttered something under his breath then said in a louder tone, “Well, you won’t find any stuck up shit with the rest of us—aside from Leif. He can be an ass. But Ryker is good people, and so far the kid seems to have his head on straight.”
My heart jumped at the reference to Hunter. I don’t know what it was about him, but I wanted to know more. Wanted to spend time with him. Might’ve wanted to rub up against him like a cat.
Not that I was going to say as much to these two.
“So it’s going good with him?” Saylor asked as she looked up at Mal from her place tucked into his side.
“Hunter?” Mal lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah, I like him. He’s got a good sound and keeps up with us. Leif is still being an ass about him though.”
“Is it like an initiation kinda thing?” Saylor asked.
Mal shrugged. “It’s a Leif is an ass kinda thing. That’s why I’m putting him and Ryker in the other box. I’m so over his shit, and I don’t want him giving the kid a hard time tonight. Tonight should just be about fun and music.”
“Leif will come around.” Saylor sighed. “He was the one who was pushing to keep you guys together. He’s got a vested interest in you all. I mean, he gave up a lucrative deal to stay in the band, right?”
“Did he? I’m starting to wonder if the deal is really off. Kinda feels like he’s setting the kid—and us—up for failure so he can fuck off and play solo artist.” Mal scoffed.
I stayed silent throughout the exchange, but my eyes grew wide as I took in this information. Poor Hunter. He had probably felt like he’d finally made it, and now—
“Sorry. No more shop talk.” Mal cleared his throat. “So what’s life like for you back in the Pacific Northwest? You got a job?”
“Or a boyfriend?” Saylor teased gently.
I filled them in on the generalities of my life—school, social life, etcetera—careful to keep clear of the obvious landmine of my loss and my weird relationship with my long-lost father.
The rest of the drive was nice. Got to admit, I thought Mal was one of those guys when I first saw the huge age difference between him and his wife. But I got it. He was a little immature while she had maturity beyond her years. They met in the middle.
And the love they felt for each other was obvious, but not in a skeevy, why-are-they-doing-that-here kinda way. It was in the quiet moments, like how he held her hand on his thigh. Or how she’d smile up at him with hearts almost visible in her eyes. They loved each other deeply.
I’d never had that.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt that way about a guy—wanted him near, couldn’t wait to hear about his day.
God, I really needed to get laid.
We pulled up to the venue then around to a separate entrance. I watched all the security and crowds with wonder. How was this my life? Even if I was on the perimeter.
I slipped out of the car first, followed by Saylor then Mal. A huge roar went up when Mal exited. Flashes went off, and we were quickly guided to a patio around the side.
A tall, slatted wall provided some privacy while a vaulted wood and steel roof kept us protected from the late evening sun.
Mal kept his arm around Saylor’s shoulders while he talked to a woman in a white polo and black pants with a lanyard around her neck.
She was clearly fangirling, with her free hand pressed against her chest.
Mal smiled charmingly, and Saylor didn’t seem to mind as she engaged in their conversation too.
I, however, felt like the proverbial third wheel.
Standing a few feet away, I rocked back on my boot heels and took in the crowd.
I’d never been so aware of my size as I was at the moment.
Was everyone in Hollywood skinny and gorgeous?
Slender legs and voluptuous breasts seemed to be the common denominator for all the women on the patio.
At least my dress fit the mood, even if it was the only double-digit size here.
I needed a drink. Something to keep my hands busy. And maybe get me a little toasted, lose some inhibitions.
Because I felt so very tightly wound and completely out of my element.
“Here you go.” Saylor popped up in front of me, holding out a lanyard.
“Oh. Thanks.” I slipped it on.
“You’re in the same box as us and the new guy. Want to get a drink?”
“Yes, please!”
Saylor laughed and hooked my arm in hers, making me feel not so alone as we galloped away from the patio and toward the event.
“What about Mal?”
“Eh, he has to gladhand and be a rock star. I’d much rather find something to eat and drink. I think we have dinner waiting in our box.”
That wasn’t the only thing waiting in our box.
Hunter sat at a small, linen-clad table with an empty collapsible mesh chair opposite him. The other side of the box had a similar setup.
I should probably have taken in the barbecue food laid out, or the amazing architecture—the all-wooden boxes around us making up the outdoor amphitheater, and the shell-like stage literally only feet away.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The tattoos racing down his right arm, the way his black tee stretched over his firm chest, and the boyish way his blond streaked hair fell over his forehead.
I shook my head slightly. I couldn’t be having these kinda thoughts about him because one, he was my—Beau’s—bandmate, and two, no guy who looked like that ever looked back at a fluffy girl like me. Ridiculous.
Then I spotted the bottle on the table.
“Holy shit. Is that Dom Pérignon Brut?”
Saylor laughed. “Probably. Mal likes to spoil me.”
I knew what a bottle of it cost at a liquor store—my mom had splurged and bought some for my undergrad graduation. I could only imagine what the markup was on a bottle of it here.
“But there should be some water, if you don’t drink, and I’m pretty sure you can order a cocktail or a beer from…somewhere.”
I clutched at Saylor’s shoulders. “Girl, if there’s Brut, I’m drinking Brut.”
Hunter pushed away from the tiny table and stood up at our approach. “Ladies.”
Saylor skipped ahead. “Hi, I’m Mal’s wife, Saylor. I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Nice to meet you, Saylor.” He shook her hand. “I’m Hunter, the guys’ temporary drummer.”
Saylor cocked her head. “That’s not the way I heard it.”
“I appreciate that,” he replied with a large but fake smile before muttering under his breath, “pretty sure that’s how it’s gonna go though.”
I felt a pang in my chest at the naked defeat in his tone.
Because, unlike Saylor, I’d sat in on their practices, and Hunter wasn’t wrong. Leif clearly had it out for the guy—constantly nitpicking, arguing with everyone over inane stuff, stomping out of practice with a dramatic flourish.
Hunter was totally being set up to fail.
“Iz.” He turned to me, and I could’ve sworn a naughty little smile curved his lips just for me. “I like the dress.”
“Thanks.” I flushed. Hunching my shoulders, I shoved my hands in the pockets.
“Shut up!” Saylor shouted. “It has pockets?”
I turned to her and smiled sheepishly. “It does.”
“Okay, you have to take me wherever you bought that dress. It’s amazing!” she gushed.
I laughed softly. “Sounds like a deal.”
And then I remembered my earlier vow to leave tomorrow.
Maybe I should put it off for a day or two? I was making a friend here.
“We’re going tomorrow. Here, give me your number.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and tapped at the screen.
While I rattled off my number to my new friend, Hunter sank back into his chair and plucked a piece of fried chicken off the platter and onto his plate.
Champagne and fried chicken? Yes, please.
I sat down opposite him and gave him a shy smile.
He raised his eyebrows. “Hope you like barbecue.”
My eyes widened at the display of food. Ribs, fried chicken, brisket, corn bread, coleslaw, watermelon salad. I wanted to eat it all.
“Mal didn’t know if you liked sushi, so he ordered barbecue instead,” Saylor said from her tiny table next to us.
“For the record, there isn’t much I don’t like, but I love barbecue.” I grinned at her.
She smiled back and was just reaching for a rib herself when Mal popped up at the end of the box with his polo-clad superfan trailing behind.
“Baby, there you are!” He stopped next to her table and reached for her hand, pulling her up to stand next to him. “We gotta get backstage. Noah wants to talk before the show.”
“Uh, that’s great, but what’s it gotta do with me? Go do your thing.” She looked longingly at the pork rib.
“But I want you there with me. Don’t you want to meet the Tin Gods?”
“What I really want to do is eat. You distracted me from the snack I was making earlier, remember?”
“Oh, I remember,” he murmured as he snuggled into her hair. He murmured something I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—catch.
Instead, I exchanged uncomfortable looks with Hunter. Nice to know I wasn’t totally alone here.
“Fine,” she finally muttered. “But I’m hungry.”
“They have food backstage. And champagne.” He pressed a kiss on her cheek then turned to us. “The invite is open to you guys too. Want to come meet some Gods?”
I shook my head mutely. Honestly, I wanted a break from the third wheeling.
Hunter grabbed the bottle of champagne and topped up both glasses. “Next time. I’m pretty comfortable here.” He lifted the bottle toward Mal. “But thanks for the invite. Really.”
Mal opened his mouth, but the polo-clad employee stepped up.
“Sir, we need to go. Mister Hawker is pretty insistently asking for you.”
Mal closed his eyes for a beat then nodded. “All right. We’ll be back before the show starts. But feel free to help yourselves to both platters. It’s just the four of us in this box.”
Hunter lifted his glass again. “Thanks.”
Mal and Saylor were quickly escorted away.
Leaving me all alone with Hunter.