23. Chapter 17
Heavy Gloom
Dutch
I’m about three seconds from clocking this guy.
He must be some sort of super fan, the way he’s shoved his way to the very front of the stage.
From behind my kit, I’ve only caught a couple of glimpses of him during breaks between songs.
As the show winds down, he seems to be getting pushier, and I can hear it in her voice, the slight warble that says he’s making Rain uncomfortable.
The crowd can’t tell, but I can. My girl is rattled.
The bouncers near the front of the stage must have noticed at some point, because when the last round of applause fades and the curtain drops, the guy is nowhere to be seen.
Five seconds and I’m halfway around my kit, ready to check on Rainy, only there’s no sign of her.
She’s vanished like a tiny, purple-haired ghost.
God, her hair. I plan to buy Tina some flowers or some chocolates and shit.
Because whatever she did to Rain’s hair meant that it shone like the night sky lit by a trillion stars.
Mesmerizing. So much so that tonight I am going to dream of wrapping it around my fist while I sink my dick into the heaven that’s between those muscular thighs of hers.
That’ll be the reward for future-Dutch after I find her and make sure she’s alright.
Cohen and Dallas are both still checking over their guitars before they get packed away, so I call out, “Did you guys see where Rain went?”
“Who gives a fuck?” Cohen grumbles.
Fucker can’t fool me though, I know he was watching that weirdo too. It’s my brother who actually answers, though not with words; that would be too much of a damn courtesy, but by pointing down the hall towards the dressing rooms.
I tear off in that direction. After any show, the hallways of a venue are always busy, between techs and roadies, artists and their entourage, but the back halls of The Quay are surprisingly quiet tonight.
Great for me, because it means I don’t have to shove men out of the way as I careen towards her green room door.
I don’t bother knocking. She’ll be pissed if she’s in there, but I’ll find a way to earn her forgiveness later.
It turns out, I won’t need to be forgiven for barging in because the only person on the other side of the door is Tina, who takes one look at me and asks, “Where’s Rain?
” And because she’s clearly caught on to how fucked our whole band’s dynamic is, she follows that up with, “What did you dickheads do to her this time?”
Though I respect the hell out of her for having my girl’s back, I don’t bother answering.
Instead, I keep running down the hall and around the corner to where Dax, Cohen and my own dressing rooms are lined up in a row.
There’s no point in checking my own, and though I doubt she’ll be in either Cohen’s or Dax’s rooms, I still poke my head inside.
They’re both empty too. Leaving me just one other option.
The tour bus. Which, I could kick myself, is the most obvious and where I should have headed first.
Though it dropped us off out front this morning, our driver moved it to the back of the venue before the show started.
There’s loading bay doors there that make it easier for our roadies and The Quay’s technicians to load and unload our gear.
It’s closed already, meaning the crew have made quick work of tearing down.
Beside it is a man door and that’s what I race towards, but there’s another door on the far side of the hallway hanging open, and as I pass it, a man’s voice catches my attention.
The sound is too low to hear what’s said, and only when a familiar, female voice replies do I skid to a halt.
Rain.
My feet carry me towards her voice. The room is a glorified supply closet, full of racks of old sound equipment on either side.
At the very back, a man towers over my Rainy.
She’s cowering. She looks smaller than I’ve ever seen her.
She is trapped. This guy has her totally fenced in.
His arms are outstretched, palms against the wall, blocking her from getting away, all while he spews some shit.
“Scurried away in the night like a sneaky little rat,” he hisses at her. “Don’t you know you’ll always be mine.”
My fists were already balled. Now, they’re itching to clock this guy.
Rain’s voice shakes as she asks, “What about Resa?”
The guy finally lifts one hand, only to bring it near her face. And she flinches. She visibly flinches. That doesn’t stop him from leaning even closer.
“You’re mine, Rain, and I’m never letting you escape, especially not now,” he whispers. The words are sinister enough on their own to get me moving, but it’s the way he twists a lock of her perfect hair around his undeserving fingers that makes me see red.
It’s perfectly clear neither of them were aware of my presence until I’m ripping this dude away from Rain.
Her big eyes stare at me in shock, but I’m too busy dealing with the trailer-park homeboy in front of me.
Bad tats, wife-beater tank top and all. The second I see his face, I recognize him as the creep from the crowd.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I snarl over the rattling from the metal rack I send the guy crashing into.
“What the fuck?”
The guy tries to puff his chest as he rights himself. He even attempts to stand a little taller. As if this skinny bitch is trying to match me for size.
“What the fuck are you? How the hell did you get back here?” I demand, stepping into the guy’s space again, and though he tries to hide it, I catch the way the weasel backs up a step.
He points to Rain, and even before he says a word, the slimy smile that comes over his face tells me whatever he says, I’m about to be more pissed off than I already am.
“She invited me. Didn’t you, babe?”
My eyes flick towards Rain, who is actively shaking her head, so I know this guy’s full of shit, but he’s not done.
“Rain, there is my girlfriend. Comin’ up on three whole years. Almost our anniversary, isn’t it, babe?” He finishes on a self-satisfied chuckle.
Boyfriend. He really is her boyfriend. The question from the guard earlier today replays in my head, and a minute amount of surprise must flash across my face, because the idiot in front of me smirks again.
“Rain,” he tsks, feigning hurt, “You didn’t tell them about me? Always keeping secrets, aren’t we?”
Behind me, Rain utters a nervous little squeak.
When it’s the three of us, she’s nothing but attitude; then this pathetic excuse for a man shows up, and she’s hiding in the corner acting like a wild critter that’s been kicked.
Na-ah. I’m not having that. Add it to the list of mysteries I will have to solve later, once I kick this guy’s ass out of here because I am one-hundred-percent done listening to this loser.
We might have put out the album titled Skids In Skateparks, but this chump is a real-deal skid if I ever saw one.
“Get out.” I bare my teeth and spit the words in his face. He doesn’t move, so I grab the straps of his tank top and shove him out the door. “I said GET—THE—FUCK—OUT!” I toss his ass out into the hallway before bellowing, “SECURITY!” At the top of my goddamn lungs.
Meanwhile bitch-ass-boyfriend scrambles to his feet. He curses at the sound of footsteps but gives one last look over my shoulder at Rain.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be seeing you real soon,” he taunts before he scarpers away. Two security guards pass, and I point them after him. Fingers-crossed they catch and beat the shit out of him so I never have to see his face again.
Meanwhile, I round on Rain. She’s still hunched at the back of the room. Smaller and more unsure than I’ve ever seen her…well, almost.
The thing is, I’m too angry to comfort her. Too frustrated that she gives me shit at every second of every day, and yet that guy, she doesn’t say a damn thing to defend herself?
It’s past eleven and the building is nearly deserted, so no one is around to hear me shouting. At first, she doesn’t utter a word in her own defence. Which is just fine by me, because I’ve got plenty to say.
“Him, Rain?! Are you fucking serious?”
I can’t help but throw my arms in the air and shake my head. “You’re seriously dating that guy?!”
Her lower jaw twists, she licks her teeth, and she’s striding back to me and jabs me in the chest. Oh, now she’s all piss and vinegar.
“You don’t get to question my choices, Dutch. You weren’t there!”
Fuck her accusations. I push back against her finger until her back hits the wall again. Unlike that bastard, I don’t cage her. I won’t. I never could. But I will correct her. Because she’s fucking wrong about one thing.
“I was there. Rain. I wanted to be there, and you goddamn know it! Grams knew it! So don’t accuse me of being absent. That was all you, baby girl. You’re the one who was fucking MIA.”
That shuts her up real quick.
Just like every other time I’ve mentioned Grams, she clams up. I shake my head because I can’t believe what I’m about to say.
“You know what, Rain. That asshole was right. Always keeping your secrets. I hope they’re good company, because right now, I’m done.”
I back up, back away, before smashing my fist into one of the metal shelves.
The pain doesn’t register, though I’m sure it will later.
I’m so fucking angry. Not at Rain, not really.
But I have to walk away before I say something I can’t take back, before I confess to things I know she’s not ready to hear.
So I rip myself away from her and stomp down the hall.
I need to collect some shit from my dressing room, and it’ll give me a chance to cool off before I have to share a bus with that frustrating woman for the day-long drive to our next show in Mont-Royale.
Halfway there and I’m still fuming, so much that I don’t notice anyone coming towards me until I crash into them.
“Whoa, Dutch. What the hell, man.” Cohen is close enough to me in size, or at least height, that our little collision doesn’t trip him up too much.
“Sorry,” I grunt, ready to rush past him, until Cohen grabs me by the arm and stops me.
“Did you find Rain?”
What a goddamn question.
“Yeah, I found her.” I clamp my lips shut before I go running my mouth. Only my pent-up frustration can take so much, so when Cohen asks, “So where was she?”
I answer the only way I can think to, “With her fucking boyfriend.”