Chapter 20 – Lumen
Chapter Twenty
Lumen
“It’s not just mini golf that I suck at,” I say, laughing.
My score on the side-by-side mini basketball game is abysmal compared to Kincaid’s.
“You landed a few.” He chuckles, bending down and putting a coin into my machine before moving behind me. “You were at an unfair disadvantage because of your height.”
He slides his palms down my arms, cupping my hands, and my eyelashes flutter.
Leaving my cardigan at the table was an excellent call.
Kincaid is always serious and commanding. It’s surprising that he’s also affectionate. Okay, this might not qualify as affection, but he is more touchy-feely than I expected when I met him.
The basketballs fall, and he guides me to pick one up. My head rests back against his chest as I toss the ball at the net.
It misses, but it gets closer than I did when I was trying alone.
He leans with me as I grab a second ball, taking another shot. This one hits the rim, and I grin, picking up another ball.
“All right,” he says as we work together to try to get more points. “What was I saying before we got distracted?”
“About your family,” I remind him.
We were lamenting our shitty home lives while growing up. It’s crazy to realize that he grew up less than an hour away from where I did. While I spent most of my childhood in St. Pete and Clearwater, he was right over the bridge in Tampa.
“Right,” he says gruffly. “My grandmother was amazing. I miss the hell out of that old lady. After she died, I got the hang of looking out for myself. My dad sold her house, and rather than putting any aside to help me pay for college, he and my mom blew it all on drugs.”
He shrugs, patting my hand.
I jolt.
Shit.
I froze while he was talking, and I only have the chance to throw one more ball before the game shuts off.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wouldn’t have done well in college, anyway.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Want to keep trying with this one or move to another game?”
“Let’s try something else. That way, I might have a chance at beating you.” I grab the bucket of tokens.
“Uh-oh.” Kincaid booms a laugh. “Are you competitive, Lumen?”
I laugh as we make our way down the row of games. “Not usually, but I can’t let you destroy me at everything.”
We settle on air hockey, and I pick up the wand.
Goalie?
I’ve heard it called both.
Whatever the handheld thingy is called, I pick it up and the game starts.
“My dad told me that he had a college fund set aside for me,” I say, slamming the puck back toward Kincaid.
“Once I graduated, that money was nowhere to be found. Not that I was shocked. I worked through most of high school to buy my own clothes, piano lessons, and school supplies. He wasn’t abusive or anything… Just more unreliable, I guess.”
“It was only you and your dad?” he asks.
I nod, slamming the puck back. “My mom left when I was about to turn thirteen. She couldn’t handle his drinking or the constant cheating while he was on the road.”
I miss blocking in time, and Kincaid scores. I grab the puck and put it back on the table.
“What kind of work did he do?”
“He was a musician.” I laugh a little hysterically. “Not anyone you would know, but it mostly paid the bills. He played at some festivals and state fairs—that kind of thing. He moved to bars, clubs, and lounges when my mom left because he needed to be around to make sure I made it to school.”
At least he stuck around and tried. Despite all his faults, I’ve never been able to forget that.
“Jesus, have you talked to her since?” he asks, not bothering to hit the puck.
“Yeah.” I nod as my jaw slides from side to side. “She got remarried—has two kids that I’ve never met. She calls three or four times a year. Just enough to assuage the guilt that she abandoned me with an alcoholic.”
Kincaid’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “If that was me, I’d tell her to go fuck herself.”
“It’s something I’ve considered on more than one occasion,” I say, forcing a laugh.
“But she’s always the victim. Have you ever met someone like that?
I’m not allowed to talk about how miserable things were without her because she immediately one-ups me by repeatedly drilling into my head all the awful things my father did to her. ”
“Okay, but that was the man she chose to have a child with. You’re the innocent one in all of that.” He drops his wand, abandoning the game to circle around the table to stand by me. “I’m going to reiterate my earlier statement. Next time she calls, you should tell her to fuck off.”
That’s easy to imagine.
I’ve daydreamed about doing exactly that many times.
In reality, I don’t have all that much family, and some part of me is still that little girl who really wanted to be able to count on her mom. Despite knowing she’ll never be that person, the thought of burning that bridge is scary.
My dad won’t make it much longer. Once he’s gone, I won’t have any family outside of aunts, uncles, and cousins that I barely know.
“What should we play next?” I ask to change the subject. “You bought way too many tokens.”
“Well, we better get to it.” He wraps his hand in mine, reaching around me to grab the bucket. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
My silly heart races.
Something about Kincaid’s energy screams that he has a big dick, and he knows how to use it.
“Okay,” Kincaid says as the limo comes to a stop in front of the VIP entrance to the club. “I’m going to head out first. Don’t move to slide out until I’m blocking you. The paparazzi will do anything they can to get pictures up the bottom of your dress.”
“I’ll come out with you,” Riser says. “That way we can block them from straight ahead and the side the door won’t cover.”
“They are pretty despicable about trying to get inappropriate photos,” Parish says, shaking his head.
The door opens and Kincaid slides out, followed by Riser. They were both on the right bench, while Mal and I are on the back seat this time.
“If we’re ever not with you, keep your knees together. That way, they’ll just get pictures of your thighs instead of your pussy,” Malcolm says, patting my shoulder as I prepare to move toward the door. “It’ll be fine. K and Riser will cover you.”
He’s very sweet, but I’m not sure he understands how dresses and skirts work. Or maybe female anatomy. Even if I do my best, it’s not easy to swivel both legs out of the vehicle at once.
That could be a personal problem, though.
I’ve seen celebrities and members of the royal family who managed it with no trouble. Unfortunately for me, I’ve never received any etiquette training.
The noise is unreal.
I never knew it was possible to hear the clicks of their cameras. They yell, asking questions and saying things to try to get a reaction.
Kincaid’s hand appears in front of me, but I think it would be easier if I could hold on to the doorframe. I still place my hand in his. He stays close until my legs are outside the vehicle and steps back to give me space to stand.
“See, nothing to it,” Kincaid says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Do you want me to try to block your face as we walk in?”
“No, I’m good.” I shake my head, glancing between him and Riser. “Let’s do this.”
Kincaid’s face breaks out into a dangerous grin that makes my lady bits stand up and take notice.
“Yeah, we’re ready to get out of here,” Tennyson says from inside the limo. “Just as soon as you fuckers get out of our way.”
I laugh as Kincaid slides his hand around my lower back, pulling me into his chest.
Riser steps back, and Kincaid spins around, standing at my side. His hand on my lower back is centering as the crowd of paparazzi comes into view. The label security guys wait on either side of the carpeted walkway.
There are roped barriers, holding back the press, but they push and shove, trying to get closer.
Riser pops up at my side as Kincaid guides us toward the security guards that wait in front of the VIP entrance. “It’s crazy. Right?”
“It is.” I nod and smile. “It’s also kind of amazing.”
He chuckles. “It’s definitely an adrenaline rush.”
The VIP section is amazing. It’s much less packed than the main club, but there are still a lot of people, including a shit ton of fans. They’re not shy about coming over to ask for autographs and pictures.
It’s not like I can judge.
I would have been one of those people if I had seen Liminal in the wild a year ago. Knowing them a tiny bit better, I can imagine how hard it is to not even be able to enjoy a night out without being bombarded by fans.
I’m sure that’s true for all celebrities.
Riser and I end up next to each other on one of the leather love seats. He mentioned that no one notices if the drummer skips the after-party, and I can better understand what he meant.
The number of fans who have gone up to Kincaid, Malcolm, and Tennyson is probably three times more than who have stopped to speak to Riser.
Parish is around the same level as Riser. I would normally attribute that to him being new to the band, but Tennyson joined at the same time.
It’s well known that women love guitar players, and they especially go feral for the frontman. Malcolm plays rhythm guitar, but he’s smoking hot and has killer stage presence.
The fact he and Kincaid regularly swap guitars mid-song, completing each other’s parts, might have something to do with why he’s so recognizable.
Or it’s that whole he’s incredibly attractive thing.
“How ya doing, Lumen?” Riser asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Bored of hanging out with us yet?”
“No, not at all.” I chuckle, letting my face rest against his chest. It’s a sneaky attempt to soak up his chamomile scent.
“Okay, I could have lived without mini golf, but I will go to my grave denying I ever said that. Malcolm was so excited to plan a night out for us, and I really did have fun playing the arcade games.”
I suck in deep hits of Riser’s scent, tilting my face up to try to see his. It doesn’t work very well, but breathing him in is calming, and I enjoy touching him.
While I love the rush of free energy that uppers provide, the comedown is always rough. The spiraling, ugly thoughts that seemed to magically disappear come sneaking back in full force.
It’s brutal.
Coke makes me feel pretty and invincible, like I’m on top of the world. It’s instant confidence in line form, and without that buzz, I’m starting to feel out of place. I wasn’t afraid or intimidated coming in past all the paparazzi, but I’ll have to deal with the pictures tomorrow.
Damn.
I wish I was braver without needing an artificial boost.
My hand lands on Riser’s chest, and I run my fingers over the design on his long-sleeve T-shirt.
“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have planned mini golf for a first date,” he says, laughing. It makes my face bounce with the vibration. “But he’s never planned a date before, period. Taking that into account, I’d say he did a pretty solid job.”
I push up and study Riser’s face.
“You know that for a fact, or you’re guessing based on what you know of Malcolm?” I keep my tone light and not accusatory.
“He mentioned it in the hotel while you were getting ready.” Riser’s dark eyes flit across my face as he studies me. “He likes you a lot. He was crazy hyped to take you on a date.”
Does it count as a date if the rest of the band tagged along?
I think it does.
Damn.
I peek over at Malcolm, checking what he’s up to. He stands with a small group of fans.
They’re all beautiful.
I’m not worried, though.
He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks like he’s trying to be professional without giving them any mixed signals that he might be into them.
I might be delusional, but that’s what it seems like to me.
I’m in so much trouble.
I like Malcolm a lot.
So freaking much.
Riser too.
And Kincaid.
A bead of sweat trickles down my back, and I bring a hand up to fan my face. Clubs are always hot, but this is kinda ridiculous. Sweating through my white dress would be crazy embarrassing.
“I’m thirsty,” I say, clearing my throat. “Can we get a drink?”
Riser nods. “You got it, beautiful.” His dark eyes sparkle, and my stomach flip-flops with giant butterflies.
He’s quieter and more reserved than Mal or Kincaid, but he’s every bit as dangerous.