Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Cole · Now
Iris – New Found Glory
The sound of a door slamming shut has me poking my head out into the hallway.
Saint stands outside the flat opposite mine. He slips a hand into the back pocket of his dark wash jeans, his gaze locked on the wall.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
He swings his head side to side. “Nothing.”
I sniff the air, but there’s only the lingering scent of chemicals from the cleaners today.
“Are you off your tits right now?” I tilt my head, scanning his face for any signs of intoxication.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s got loaded randomly on a weeknight. But he tries to stay away from the hard shit when we’re home. Theo has never loved his penchant for snorting snow, so he sticks to bud and nicotine as much as he can.
“No.” He scowls and waves me off. “I was just checking all the flats out. Me and Theo were talking about maybe moving.”
I poke my tongue into my cheek, my lips twisting. “A floor up?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, as if the idea of moving into another flat in the same building you already live in makes all the sense in the world. “Your floor’s shit, though. So we’ll stay where we are.”
I rub my aching temples. “Okay, then.”
“What are you up to? You busy?”
“I was just gonna chuck some clothes on, then probably head into the studio.”
“Cool. I’ll hang with you. I feel like we never spend any time together anymore.”
“We’re together every day.”
He shoves past me, and drops onto my couch. “You can show me what you and Rix have been up to.”
I snort, tightening the towel around my waist and slicking my damp hair back. “There’s not much to show. She’s back home at the minute, so we’re on a pause.”
He nods, licking his legs up on my coffee table. “Oh is she? I had no idea.”
“Yeah.” A frown tugs my lips as he stares at the black TV screen. “Back tomorrow, I think. We haven’t spoken since she’s been gone.”
“Cool cool.” He raps his knuckles on his thigh.
What the hell is happening right now?
I’ve known Saint since we were five years old, and he’s always been a pretty weird dude. Throw in his tendency to smoke weed, snort coke, and drink more beer than he probably should, he’s never been someone I’d consider chill. But this might be the weirdest I’ve seen him in a long time.
When he doesn’t say anything more, I head for my bedroom.
I pull on black sweats and a matching hoodie before shoving my feet into black converse. Pocketing my phone in my pocket, I scoop up my keys and hook them around my thumb.
Saint follows me out of my flat and down into the live room, where he sets up on the couch, acoustic guitar in his lap.
“Show me what you’ve got so far,” he says.
I toss him a pile of sheet music.
He scans them with a cocked head and whistles. “This is… different.”
“Yeah, it was Rixie’s idea.” I drop beside him, and grab a pen, tapping it against the sheet he’s currently holding. “That’s something we scrapped when we were writing Jaded. We didn’t think it would work back then. Rixie said it would now.”
“Do you trust her direction?”
A smile pulls at my lips. “She’s never failed me before.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” He twists the tuners, his thumb plucking the strings. Then, he starts on the chord progression, gaze dipping as he follows the sheet music. “Shit this is good. It’s still got that grit, that bounce that makes it us, but there’s an ache behind it. More mature, more haunting?”
“Exactly what I said. The underscore is gonna be on the piano. Really elevates it, actually. Don’t know why I never thought of adding piano in over the last couple years.”
Saint’s lips curl into a grin. “She’s still got it.”
“Yep.” She really fucking does.
“Lyrics?”
“Nothing yet. My brain is still awfully quiet.”
“You’ll get it. Something just needs to tickle the recesses of your mind.”
I scoff. “Yeah. Because it’s that simple.”
He only hums as he strums his way through the composition.
Three hours pass with Saint playing and me scribbling any changes he makes to the melody onto copies of the sheet music.
Saint isn’t big on the writing, but it helps to have the guy who actually has to play the lead guitar add his two-pence. There are things he can play that Hendrix wouldn’t have thought to add, and vice versa.
A sharp shrill pierces the air when I shoot up to grab a drink.
Saint grins at the name flashing over his phone screen.
He swipes his thumb and presses it to his ear. “Teddy.”
I jerk back as Theo practically screams, “Baby,” down the phone.
“Fuck me.” Saint tugs it from his ear with a wince. “Inside voice, love. Where are you at?”
He nods, brushing a thumb over his lip. “Okay. On my way.”
I hear my name shouted, and hike a brow at Saint.
“Yeah, alright.” He jumps up. “Be there in twenty. Love you.”
He ends the call, shoves his phone in his pocket, and folds his arms over his chest. “Come on. We gotta go collect my very drunk wife.”
I snort and tug the sheet music closer. “I don’t think so, dude. That’s all on you.”
“She requested your presence,” he says, giving me a look. “And I’m not much in the mood to disappoint a drunk Teddy. Not when she promised she’d be screaming my name later.”
I gag. “Disgusting. I really need you two to keep your sex life to yourselves.”
“You’re only jealous because you aren’t getting any. If I remember correctly, you used to be all about the PDA life. Remember that time at the Fall Out Boy concert.” He arches his brows, and my arse falls to the floor. “You and Rix got real handsy in that crowd.”
I boot his shin before I stand.
There is no way I’m about to talk about Hendrix and our past sexual encounters to my oldest friend. It’s nobody’s fucking business. Even if we did sometimes make it their business.
“Are we going to get your wife or what?”
“Knew you’d see it my way.” He tosses my keys at me before tugging the door open. “You’re driving.”
I roll my eyes as I follow him to the garage.
He punches a postcode into the Satnav, and sinks into the seat when I pull out of the parking space.
It takes less than fifteen minutes to swing into a spot at the back of a lively nightclub.
I shift into neutral, unlocking the doors.
Saint hops out and tugs a hood over his head before he shoves his hands inside his hoodie pocket.
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as Simple Plan plays through the speakers.
“What are you doing?” he asks me.
“What are you doing? Go get your wife then we can get out of here.”
“I’m gonna need a hand with this one,” he says before rounding the bonnet. He tugs my door open, kills the engine, and pockets my keys. “Let’s go.”
I smack my head against the leather and groan. “You owe me for this.”
“Whatever you say.” Saint taps on his phone screen as I follow behind him.
A black door swings open, a bouncer popping his head out.
Saint nods, passing something to him, before we slip past.
We’re pretty used to this game by now. Sneaking inside places, cash trading hands to keep our anonymity while we do. Most people don’t really care if celebrities are in their midst, but we’ve dealt with some crazies in our decade long stardom.
I jog up the stairs after Saint, and into what I’m guessing is the VIP area. “Fucking hell. Slow down, dude.”
I round the door, only to freeze at the sight of Hendrix.
“Hey, Rock Star.” A wide grin sits on her face, gold glittering in her green irises.
She moves to take a step forward, but slips.
Saint snags her by the waist and hauls her upright.
I don’t move. Not when he perches her against the arm of the couch and pecks her forehead. Nor when she looks as if she’s going to drop to the floor. Not sure I can.
Her skin glistens under the bright, dancing strobes lights, her shoulders swaying in time to the loud pop music playing around us. Though I’m pretty sure it’s more to do with the champagne bottle in her hand, rather than her ability to follow a single beat right now.
“Hey, Rixie.” I look past her shoulder, eyeing Saint who looks pretty pleased with himself as Theo curls herself in his lap.
I turn back to Hendrix, my pulse thumping as I take her in. Leather pants, tiny black top, crisp red lips.
Heat licks at every inch of me. “Thought you were back tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” She forces a laugh. “Drove down today so I could check into my hotel and be at the studio bright and early tomorrow.”
She glances down at her black and silver watch, a grimace twisting her lips.
I follow the movement.
The room blurs when I spy the white-beaded bracelet curled around an all-too-familiar black and grey tattoo.
She never covered my microphone…
She claps a hand around her wrist, shielding it from my view. “Don’t think I’ll be up bright and early after all, huh?”
Saint shoots up, sliding Theo to the floor with a lingering kiss.
“We should probably get back. I think you two have had more than enough to drink tonight,” he says, gaze dancing between the two women. “Did you have fun?”
“So much.” Theo slurs.
“Good,” he says, tapping her arse as she links arms with Hendrix.
He turns to me when they stumble down the stairs.
I choke on air. “She still has the tattoo, Saint.”
“Is that so hard to believe?” His gaze flickers to my wrist. “You didn’t cover yours either. Seems you both needed something to hold onto.”
“I don’t even know what to do with this information.” I tug at my sleeve.
He rocks my shoulder and nudges me forward. “You don’t need to do anything with it right now. We just gotta get her back safe. Worry about everything else tomorrow, yeah?”
I pull up outside a dingy hotel in Camden.
A frown tugs at my lips when I scan the street.
I turn to Hendrix, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “You’re staying here?”
“Yep.” She pops the P.
Bitter air blasts me in the face when she shoves the passenger door open.
Theo and Saint huddle together in the back, whispering God only knows what into each other’s ears.
I clear my throat.
Saint’s eyes snap up and meet mine in the rearview mirror.