Bullet(62)

I knew we’d stay and watch the other two shows, and I was glad about that. Last Five Seconds had become one of my favorite local bands, and I looked forward to hearing them again. They’d gained enough prestige that they were—for lack of a better word—the headliners of the show.

I left my encounter with Brad, trying to focus not on his words, not on Ethan’s problems, but on me. And, for now, I just wanted to lighten my mood. I wanted to just rock out for a while, and I planned to head out to the audience myself to do just that. But I decided to go around to the front by walking outside, rather than going through the backstage area. I didn’t want to face Brad—or any of my other bandmates—again for a while.

I approached the corner of the building. It was dark, but I saw a couple of guys standing by the side. There was intermittent light from some of the tall parking lot lights, but I couldn’t make out faces. I heard, “Nice tat,” and I knew it was directed at me, even though I wondered why the big deal over the one skinny tattoo. I looked over at the two guys and started walking toward them.

As I got closer, I was able to make them out. Zane was one of them, but the person who’d said something to me was Clayton. And even in the dark, he was as cute as ever. “You talking to me?”

“I’m talking to the sexy chick with the secret boyfriend who went and got herself a hot tattoo.”

Sweet Jesus…talk about forward. If I’d been single… “Ah…I see I’m talking to Jet.”

“The one and only.”

Zane grinned. “Hey, catch ya later. I gotta go see what * I can score.”

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Yeah, Zane was probably going to see if he could score a little action in the van before we bailed, but I knew he was leaving because he was uncomfortable with the flirting going on and probably didn’t want to be a witness in case Ethan asked later.

I leaned my shoulder up against the wall. I saw no harm in flirting. I’d never cheat on Ethan, but Clayton was cute and sweet and irresistible. He said, “So…I feel pretty f*cking stupid. I should have figured out who your secret boyfriend was a long time ago. Not so secret.”

I shrugged. “Yeah…not really secret, I guess. Uh…he’d just wanted to keep it under wraps for a while.”

The look on his face told me he wasn’t going to venture any further. “So you finally got some ink. Planning to get more soon?”

“Probably. When I can afford it.”

“Ah, yes. There is the cost. If you want quality and cleanliness, you should pay well.”

I nodded. “So…got any new songs I should listen for?”

“Fuck, yeah. We always have new shit to play. Keeps it interesting.”

“I’ll be listening for it.”

“Front row? Should I look for you?”

“We’ll see.”

He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. Oh, no…it was dangerous. It was his Jet smile, and it made my toes curl. “Boyfriend be with you?”

I smiled back, but I hoped mine seemed as innocent as I tried to make it. “Guess we’ll have to see.” I stopped leaning on the wall, intent to get the hell out of there. “He’ll definitely be around, so behave yourself, Clayton…I mean, Jet.”

“Got that right, sexy. See ya around.”

Oh, God…the way his voice purred. It was a good thing he wasn’t vocalist for his band too, or Ethan might have had a hell of a time keeping me close. Fortunately, as I got a little farther away, I had an easier time controlling myself. Whew. I needed a bottle of water and the fresh air was helping too. What was it about Jet that got my engines revving?





Chapter Twenty-six



I MANAGED TO stay faithful…through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year, even seeing Jet at the occasional concert, including one of ours at which he wasn’t playing. I guess he was trying to gauge the seriousness of my relationship with Ethan.

Well, it was serious, even though it was heated and stormy. Ethan was often moody, and he continued indulging in various substances. He managed to maintain from day to day, but there would be days he’d just lie on the couch, seeming to contemplate the meaning of life, and I knew he was just baked out of his gourd. I took Brad’s advice and didn’t lecture Ethan about it, much as I’d wanted to.

I was in denial, though, if I’d thought he was staying faithful to me. The fact that he never had a condom on him should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t. That he couldn’t be found frequently should have been another. There were no undeniable signs—no times he’d be on the phone and push me away or hang up suddenly, no weird hickies on his neck, no girls getting in my face to challenge me. There was just the tiny doubt in my mind that I easily pushed aside.

But at a particular show we were playing in January, I could deny it no longer…not that I had a choice. Ethan was trashed—he’d been drinking, that much I knew, but he’d taken something else and was in one of his near-comatose states, one of the ones that made me nervous for his well-being. He’d stumbled offstage and nearly passed out, but Brad and Nick helped him up and out. When I went to the van to check on him, though, he was gone. And when I asked Nick about it, he just shrugged his shoulders.

I made my way back through to the front of the house. The next band hadn’t started yet, and I started asking people I knew if they’d seen Ethan. I was getting worried. What happened if he passed out somewhere and really did go into a coma, or what if he lost consciousness and choked on his own vomit? I’d read too many stories over the years of musicians killing themselves with their drugs, and if I could help it, Ethan was not going to be one of them.

I went backstage again near the bathroom area. There were some musicians hanging around talking, guys I’d met multiple times before. I asked them if they’d seen Ethan. I think by then most of them knew we were a couple. All the guys said no…except one. He didn’t say anything but kept looking at the bathroom door.

The backstage bathroom was a unisex one, a tiny, cramped space with just a toilet, a small sink, a mirror, and paper towel holder. Even the trashcan was small. I walked over to it and knocked on the door. I didn’t want to make Ethan uncomfortable or make him feel like I was invading his privacy, but I had to know he was okay.

There was no answer, so I knocked again. I heard a moan, and it sounded like Ethan, and I just assumed the worst—that he was lying in a pool of vomit, dying.

I tested the doorknob, grateful it wasn’t locked, or I’d have to beg someone to help me knock it down. The room was so tight, I almost accidentally rammed the doorknob into the redhead’s skull. Yep, that’s right. Ethan was up against the wall with a skinny thing on her knees, his dick in her mouth. And not only did I see it, I know a lot of the guys behind me saw it too, and I’m sure a good many of them were cheering him on in silence.

I felt…so many things. The first was anger. I was angry that I’d been worried when I really hadn’t needed to. And then I was embarrassed…which I wouldn’t have been (at least as much) if other people hadn’t been around. Last, though, I felt betrayed. Alone. Unloved. This man had sworn his love to me. No, he’d never promised fidelity nor had we even discussed it. I’d just kind of taken it for granted. I’d given him my virginity, for heaven’s sake. The least he could do would be to tell me he planned on drinking from other wells.

I didn’t say anything. I just closed the door and backed away. Yeah, he saw me but all he did was roll his eyes.

I just went to the van and cried. Hours later, the guys joined me—long after the tears had stopped—and Brad asked if everything was okay. They’d been looking for me, and Brad was worried. I shrugged and told him I was sorry.

Nothing from Ethan. Nothing.

So I decided it was over. But he had some stupid hold over me. The next day he begged for my forgiveness and told me he loved me. He called me his muse, for God’s sake, something he hadn’t called me in a long time. His eyes even welled up with tears when he said it was the drugs—they impaired his judgment. He couldn’t quit them, though, and that’s when he also said he couldn’t quit me.

I considered it for a day or so. Did I really want to send him the message that it was okay to shit all over me?

I loved him, though, and poison or not, I couldn’t turn him away.

He tried to be better. For the next month, he’d eased off on the drugs and been close to my side, but I was stupid to think he would change. I believed it, though, with everything in me. It would take more than a little indiscretion to change my mind.

* * *

My eyes were closed. Oh…that felt nice, so tantalizing. A warm mouth on my nipple, my areola, the tongue teasing its tip. And somehow it was all magnified, more intense than usual. Oh, God. And I heard hard and heavy music in the background…maybe Suicide Silence. I couldn’t quite tell.