Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
BONNIE
Flirting with Gemma was a poor attempt at trying to get my mind on her and off the invasive thoughts of my stalker’s tongue.
I’m fucking rattled.
The last few days have been hell at focusing. I can’t turn my mind off enough to sleep. I’ve barely eaten. The only reason I’ve had anything to drink is because Mads keeps pushing it across the table toward me. He’s always been great at noticing when something is wrong, even if he doesn’t always ask what’s the matter or pry into things I’m not ready to talk about.
Each of these guys has saved my life at some point.
I don’t even want to think of where I’d be without this band.
“Hey, Bon, you need a break?” Mads asks on the com.
I’m in the booth, but my mind is in three other places.
I let my head hang and press the sticks in my hands to my knees, leg jumping in a jittering way. Five years ago, I’d have reached for a shot, a line, a hit on the vape, anything to calm the anxiety and silence the racing thoughts.
Breathe .
Fuck this breathing shit .
“No, I’m good,” I say, a thread of rage and frustration swelling inside me. “Play it back.”
Just play it back.
Fucking play it back.
I blow out an audible breath and stretch my neck. “Gothic vampires, right?” I ask as I meet Mads’ gaze through the glass.
He scoffs, smile widening. “Yeah. Horror movie rage. Do you need to hear it without playing again?”
I already have the basic rhythm track laid down from the day before. This is the performance line, the added embellishments to really accentuate the sounds. I swallow and shake my head, glancing down at the notes I’ve made. I know this song like the back of my hand. I’ve heard it in my sleep since we started fucking around with it on the plane from DeathFest.
The drumsticks twist in my callused fingers, and I hit the double-kick, setting myself up for this run-through.
“Hey. You got this, Bon,” Mads reminds me. “Fuck the noise.”
Another short, heavy breath leaves me.
“Fuck the goddamn noise,” I mutter. “Play it again.”
The next play-through is ten times better than the few before. Just fucking play . I let it flow through my muscles, focusing solely on the music. Just play . Every strike is an extension of a soul broken beneath the surface and begging to be stitched back together with the next hit. I’m so consumed with this run that I don’t notice the extra people stepping into the studio. This one feels right. This play feels natural. I can see the stage, people circling in the pit—
And a blue-haired stranger holding up the smiley face sign in the crowd.
The noise of the final cymbal strike rings in my ears. It fades with the haunting strings, the thump of the bass… I hang my head and repeat the four-counts, eyes closed, and in the darkness, I can see my stalker sitting on that stool at the party. Patiently waiting for her prey to come to her.
I know now… I was the moth. She was the flame.
And I played into her grasp perfectly.
“ That’s my goddamn girl! ” a woman says on the com as the music wraps.
“Hell fucking yes—”
“Holy shit , Bon!”
The com shuts off as I look up, finding Reed and Zeb high-fiving with both hands, Andi nearly screaming, and in the middle of all the commotion is Mads, who’s grinning like a mad scientist who just watched his creation come to life.
He leans down and hits the button again, letting the shrieks of excitement fill the booth. “Sick, twisted, and epic, Bed,” he says in his even tone. “Seriously. Fucking epic.”
My muscles relax, and I let my body hang, head falling back. A scream of my own frustration and madness leaves me, laughter mixing with it. The end of every song feels like this, and I can’t wait to play it onstage.
“Hey, bitch, I brought chocolate,” Andi says. “Come get a treat.”
I chuckle at her and stand. God, my legs feel like jelly.
Worth it.
“I thought we had a donut date this morning,” I say as I head toward the booth door, Andi’s presence a welcome distraction from the shit threatening to close in again. “What happened?”
“Your security,” she mumbles as we hug. “Not allowed to leave, right?”
“Damn Avie,” Zeb says without looking up from his phone. He’s already slumped on the couch, foot kicked up on the coffee table.
“Hey, you have the sheet we were working on?” Reed asks Mads.
Mads leans over the soundboard for a marked-up piece of paper and gives it to the singer. Reed takes a seat in one of the chairs and leans over his knees, heel tapping on the floor as he pours over the lyrics and notes he and Mads added for emphasis and direction last night. I can hear Reed singing the words under his breath, and I smirk as I look at Wren.
“Is it stuck in your head yet?” I ask her.
“Like an echo,” she mutters as she takes a photo of Reed. “Have to document his serious faces.”
Reed glances up through his shaggy hair, smirk licking at his lips as he continues singing softly. He winks at his wife before once again turning his attention back to the music.
“Hey, I want you to listen again after Reed lays down his vocals,” Mads says to me, leaning against the soundboard. “See if there’s anything you want to add for the album track.”
“Does this mean I’m free until later?” I ask.
He chuckles. “This means the three of you need to get the fuck out,” he says jokingly to us. “I need this guy focused—not that he can’t do it with you three, but I need the H in his ADHD to hyper-fixate on this.”
“Believe me when I say that’s already happening,” Wren tells him.
Mads grins at her. “Maybe. But I do think we’ll be here a while.”
“Heard.” I stand up and reach a hand out to Andi. “So about that date.”
Andi laughs. “Are you inviting the big hunk at the door, too?” she asks, joining me.
“Depends on who this one has tailing her today,” I say with a look at Wren.
The redhead glances between us. “Oh, the date includes me?”
“We’re a throuple now. You’re the distraction. Andi is the getaway driver. I’m the thief,” I say. “You in?”
“Criminal activity and a donut date? It must be my birthday,” Wren says, and even though the words sound sarcastic, she’s genuinely smiling at us.
I chuckle and kick Zeb. “You coming?”
Zeb’s gaze shifts awkwardly toward Wren, and he clears his throat. “I think I’m going to take a nap,” he says. “Maybe cuddle the pups,” he adds about Wren and Andi’s dogs who are snuggling together on the massive sectional couch in the living room area.
“Mhm,” Wren mutters, glaring at him. “Anita has instructions to bite your balls off.”
Zeb scoffs. “She also had instructions to bite Reed, and now she sleeps on his feet at night,” he sounds off.
Wren presses her lips together in a thin line, then takes her phone out. “How far are we going?” she asks me. “I’m sure I have goons outside that would love to get out of their cramped car,” she adds in a tired tone.
“Bon, make sure to let Gemma know you’re going somewhere with Wren’s security,” Mads suggests. “Stay on her good side.”
I smirk at him to hide my nerves, reaching for my phone in my back pocket. “There are other ways to stay on her good side, but I’ll play nice because you asked.”
He huffs amusedly. And while Andi and Wren tell their husbands they’ll see them later, I take a look at my phone for the first time since breakfast.
UNKNOWN
I’m still thinking about the way you taste.
Will you come like that for me again, rockstar?
I gulp the lump in my throat, my neck heating.
Because I’m wondering the same thing.
I don’t text my stalker back. I can’t. I can’t wander into the rabbit hole that already has me so confused and dizzy that I’m not sure which way is up.
My thumb quickly taps back and over to Gemma’s number. I haven’t texted her yet, and the thought of opening up this thread has me both anxious and hopeful.
She’s good for you. A healthy distraction.
Hey. It’s Bonnie. I’m going down a few blocks to get donuts with Andi and Wren. Thought you might want to tell the beast you have watching the door.
Gemma texts back almost immediately.
GEMMA
I didn’t say you could leave.
I’ve never been a good listener. Wren’s goons are following us. I know how to kick someone’s ass if they try to kidnap me.
We’ll see about that tomorrow.
Fine. At the risk of me losing my job, you can go.
I want you to text me when you get there. And on your way back. And the beast outside is leaving to meet me, so please don’t do anything unnecessary. I’m trusting you.
I didn’t realize you were so overprotective.
Only when it comes to my things.
I’m fighting a smile.
Wow. You’re already claiming me? Take a girl to dinner first.
Ha. That’s probably a bad idea.
Why’s that?
Because you’re my client.
And because I don’t know that I’d make it to dinner with you.
It wasn’t my intention to have a full flirting session with her, but now that it’s happening, I can’t stop. I squeeze my thighs together to stifle the need for friction and curse myself for opening this door.
Shit. I won’t be able to look at her without thinking about this exchange from now on.
We could skip to dessert.
Enjoy your donuts, Bonnie.
I’ll see you tomorrow.
“That’s a new smile,” I hear Andi say.
I push my phone back into my pocket and grin crookedly at her. “Ah. It’s nothing. Funny jokes from Darcy,” I say about my sponsor.
“Yeah fucking right,” Andi says knowingly as we start out the door of the apartment. “That’s not the smile you use when you’re talking to Darcy.”
“It could be,” I brush her off.
“Yeah, okay. You said they were coming on Thursday to go to a meeting with you?” she asks about Darcy.
“Yeah, the community center down on eighty-seventh has a weekly time. I found it when I was staying here a few weeks back. It was a nice place,” I say, stepping onto the elevator.
“One more reason you should take the vacant apartment below us,” Andi says pointedly. “It’s a whole floor suite like ours.”
“I need to stop at my place really quick,” Wren says, hitting her apartment floor number.
“Seems like a lot of room for just me,” I say.
“Come on, Bon. You haven’t upgraded since you guys made it big. It’s time,” she goes on.
“You just want me here for more dates,” I joke.
“I mean, it’s not the only reason.”
“Oh yeah? What, you need a babysitter coming up soon?” I tease.
Yet the sadness that clouds her eyes makes me regret saying it.
I realize Wren is standing behind Andi and gesturing back and forth at her neck as if to signal me to shut my trap, but I catch the motion too late.
I’ve clearly fucked up.
“Shit, Andi, I’m sorry—”
The elevator opens, and Andi gives me a solemn smile as we exit.
“No, it’s fine,” she says fast. “It’s fine. It’s… It’s fine.”
We pause at Wren’s door as she fiddles with the lock, feeling like shit that I brought up Andi and Mads trying for kids. They’ve been having such a rough go of it… Fuck .
“I just think it would be fun having you around,” Andi goes on like she’s trying to forget I ever said anything. “Not to mention safer. You wouldn’t have bodyguards trying to coordinate who to follow.”
“There it is,” I sigh, knowing they’re all concerned about my stalker.
Wren opens the door as Andi goes on, but I barely hear her upon entering their place. I love the smell of their apartment—petrichor and jasmine. A discarded, halfway-finished puzzle sits on their long dining room table. Overgrown plants spill out of pots in random corners, climbing vines and even a couple of small trees sit on their balcony.
“I love that you love plants,” I hear Andi say. “It always smells like rain here.”
I chuckle at the boards Wren and Reed have on their fridge—a plant schedule, cleaning chart, magnets that say whether the laundry is wet or dry, or if it needs folding or putting in, one on the dishwasher that says clean/dirty…
It’s fucking cute.
It might seem like excess to some, but when executive function barely allows you to get out of bed on some days and a shower feels like a chore, I get it.
I tap the laundry magnets. “Do these actually help you?” I ask Wren, genuinely curious.
Wren hesitates as if she’s deciding whether to lie or not. But I know she’s working hard on her unmasking, on how long she lied to herself about how well she was actually functioning, and the walls she had to put up to appear “normal” and in control, not to mention to push people away for fear of getting them killed because of her own mafia stalker.
“Ah… I would say nine times out of ten, yes,” she answers. “We still get behind some, though.”
“Washing day,” Andi says, leaning against the couch.
I furrow my brows. “What’s that?”
“When they get behind, they take a ‘washing day,’” Andi says, smiling at Wren. “Can’t even come over for dinner on those days.”
“Wash days are exhausting,” Wren says as she grabs a large travel cup from the cabinet. “We end up reorganizing the closets every time—actually, no, I reorganize while Reed finds several other things to organize, and then we both end up at like ninety percent done on all projects that we then have to force ourselves to finish before we can eat—”
“Or use the bathroom,” Andi interjects.
Wren twists her mouth as if she’s deciding whether to glare or not. “It’s a reward, okay?” she eventually replies.
Andi smiles fondly at her, then at me. “Mads likes to leave dinner in front of their door because he knows by the time either of them remembers they haven’t eaten all day, they’re on the verge of meltdowns.”
“And I don’t think we’ve thanked you enough times for realizing that,” Wren says, scooping a vitamin powder into her water.
“That’s so adorable,” I say, beaming. “So, if I’m your neighbor, you’ll bring me food, too?”
“All the time,” Andi replies.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out to read the messages on the screen as Andi asks Wren about her upcoming travels.
UNKNOWN
Another day away.
Are you avoiding coming home?
Or are you scared I might be waiting?
My jaw tightens, teeth clamping on the edge of my tongue.
Should I be scared of you?
That depends on you.
Do you want to be scared of me?
I consider the question, completely zoned out and staring at a speck in the granite countertop.
Do I want to be scared?
Yes.
I’ll be waiting in your nightmares then.
I don’t know if she’s being literal.
I’ve already sensed her in my room at night… hotels, my apartment. I swear, I even felt her here at the studio once. My heartbeat quickens at the thought. Shit, I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.
And I don’t know why I suddenly want to go home.