Chapter 25 Darby #2
Her eyes narrow. “It’s that music I heard in Big Bertha, isn’t it? That’s why Henrik looked so annoyed when I mentioned it.”
“Not annoyed,” Henrik says from behind me. “Just surprised you were still interested in me after hearing Ren at his best.”
Her attention shifts to him, and I watch the way her eyes widen, her mouth soft and so damned tempting. “What... Oh.”
She drags her gaze back to me, stepping back slightly so she can take a better look at what I’m wearing.
Our costumes are simple. Basically hockey practice gear in black, though of course we use Jason-style white hockey masks.
I don’t have my skates or mask on yet so she doesn’t have the full effect, but I can see the wheels turning in her head.
Of course I’ve got a few bonus items to my get-up as well that I haven’t donned yet.
I can’t tell if she’s turned on—or if she thinks the whole thing is cheesy—like a bad rendition of High School Musical.
“Wait, wait, wait.” She shakes her head, her brow furrowed. “You skate and sing? At the same time? Like Ice Capades?”
I can’t help but nod, grinning like a fool.
Henrik grunts. “Fuck that Disney shit. We’re more Friday the 13th on Ice.”
“Do you play at events or tour?”
“Nope. We’re incognito—that’s why we wear masks.
No one knows who we are. We livestream a full-length show to YouTube every week, and bonus videos we record and edit throughout the week.
Leland’s our sound and video guy, but he also plays guitar.
I write the songs, play the keyboard and a little guitar, and do the main vocals.
Doyle’s the drummer, which leaves the bass guitar to the Mighty Zon. ”
“Vocals,” he snorts. “That’s a nice way to say screaming.”
“Not all of it’s screamo,” I protest, laughing. “We do a little death metal mixed with softer elements.”
“While skating.”
She still sounds skeptical, not that I blame her in the slightest. “You’ll see. We all played hockey more than we did music, so I mixed them in a more theatrical performance.”
“Yo,” Doyle calls down from his platform.
I can tell from that single word that he’s pissed. “Take a seat at the fire, Darby. We’ll get started in a few minutes.” As I pass Henrik, I drop my voice. “Did you tell him about our guest?”
“No,” he admits. “I figured you or Lee did.”
Fuck. I’m guessing not. I jog around the boulders and up the stone steps to find Doyle waiting for me. Arms crossed, his lips tightly compressed like he’s barely holding his shit together.
People see Henrik and assume he’s the meanest, toughest guy in our group, and they’re not wrong.
He’s the muscle, the bodyguard without needing anything but his size and his roar to calm everyone down.
But Doyle’s the one with the shortest fuse and he’s fucking brilliant.
He’s not physical. He wouldn’t start a bar fight like me.
But he’ll blister your hide up one side and down the other without breaking a sweat.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Henrik has a guest tonight.”
His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare like he’s trying to smell through my bullshit. “No fucking way. First of all, we don’t do guests. Ever. That was my rule for participating in this venture. Second, not Henrik. I don’t believe it for a single second.”
“I swear, man. Her name’s Darby. I thought he filled you in, or I would’ve warned you before you got here. It’s serious. He plans to make her a part of his life, which he can’t do without telling her about the Ice.”
“You didn’t bring her here.”
I wince before I can conceal it, making his hands fist at his side. “I did but not like that. Her car’s at the Mooseville sign. She pulled off the freeway in the snowstorm. I just happened to be coming down in Big Bertha and picked her up. I dropped her off at Henrik’s, and they hit it off.”
Doyle rolls his eyes and snaps, “Yeah right. You must take me for the biggest fool ever born.”
“It’s the truth. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”
Doyle whirls around and yells down at Henrik. “Where’d the broad come from?”
The bass guitar in the big guy’s hands makes an ominous electronic squawk as if he’s about to squeeze it into a million pieces. “Her name’s Darby. Don’t make me come up there and rearrange your face. She’s from Denver.”
“She’s yours?”
“Damned straight.”
Doyle turns back to me, slightly mollified but still pissed. “I’m not happy about someone outside of our group being here. This is all supposed to be secret.”
“He loves her,” I say quietly. “If she’s going to stay, she needs to know what we do.”
His eyes narrow, searching my face. “You’re into her too. Holy fuck, what a shit show. I don’t relish setting all your broken bones when he’s done with you.”
I can’t resist poking the bear just a little. It’s my nature. “Wait until Leland’s in on the action. Maybe you’ll be into her too.”
Doyle rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his stool. “That’ll be the day.”
Yes. Yes it will. I glance down at Henrik, who’s glaring up at the platform. Eyes narrowed, waiting to see if he needs to come up and kick someone’s ass. I give him the thumbs up and trot down the stone steps.
It’s show time.