Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(5)

“Maybe she’s busy,” Miller suggested.

“She’s been acting f*cked up all day—no, all week. Let’s just play.” I threw my guitar over my head and mechanically tuned her.

“That’s what you get when you deal with uptight *,” Vin said.

I didn’t even have the energy to fight him on that. I couldn’t figure out what Ari’s f*cking deal was. She had never struck me as the kind of girl who would sneak around and avoid me. My favorite thing about her was her f*cking mouth. She wasn’t afraid to say the shit that everyone else held back. She couldn’t start acting like every other chick, or I was going to lose it.

“This might not be the best time, but—” Miller started.

“Then, save it,” I growled. “We’ve already lost most of rehearsal.”

Miller glanced between McAvoy and Vin. McAvoy shrugged, and Vin just looked irritated. Vin needed to keep his stupid mouth shut. Nothing good ever came from a conversation with him.

“Bro, we need to talk about meeting up with Hollis,” Miller continued.

“I don’t want to talk about Hollis right now.”

“We need to get serious about what is going to happen. If you don’t have your head on straight about this, then we need to know now.” Miller crossed his arms over his chest.

As a united front, he stood with McAvoy and Vin.

“Chill, Miller. Grant’s in. He’s always been in,” McAvoy said. “Look what he did with the EP.”

“Are you f*ckers forgetting the time he said that he didn’t even want to get signed?” Vin asked. “I didn’t f*cking forget.”

I slid my hand back through my hair and cursed under my breath. “I explained that shit, and I’m in. Just don’t say anything to Ari about it yet.”

“How can we? She’s not f*cking here,” Vin said.

My eyes traveled around the garage, and I gritted my teeth. No, she wasn’t. “Thanks for reminding me, *. Now, can we play?”

The guys didn’t argue with me as they picked up their instruments and began playing our regular set. Breathing heavily, I opened a bottle of water and guzzled it before we got to work on the new song I’d given to Miller last week. “Life Raft” was the first song I’d ever written for the band, but with the way things had been going with Ari, I’d been incredibly inspired to put pen to paper. Now hearing the words I’d written about us made my anger simmer until it was boiling over. The fifth time through “White Hot” did me in.

“Fuck this. I can’t play this shit anymore.” I removed my guitar strap and thrust my cherry red Gibson back onto her rack.

I didn’t miss the glance that Miller and McAvoy shared before agreeing we should take a break.

“If you have something to say, why don’t you just say it?”

McAvoy shrugged. “You’re acting like an *.”

“What else is new?”

“Normally, I’d say let’s go get f*cked up and find you some ass to make it all better, but…” Miller said.

“But what? Let’s go.” I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door. “I’ll drive.”

The guys followed me out without complaint. Even if they had one, I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t care that I was acting like an *. I’d been in a shitty mood all day. I’d thought that the EP and rehearsal would have helped things, but it hadn’t. So, now, I was going to go back to things I knew worked for numbing the pain and dousing the anger.

We walked into The Ivy League and grabbed a table in front of the empty stage. A hot waitress sauntered over to our table with a round of beers. Her tits bounced in her tight white tank top.

“Hey, guys. My name is Kat, and I’m new here.”

Vin chuckled behind me. “*.”

I cracked a smile, and she blushed deep red.

“I, uh…brought you these from Hurst.” She leaned over and placed beers in front of us.

“Thanks, Kat,” I said, reaching for my beer.

She pushed her dark brown bangs out of her eyes. “You’re Grant McDermott, right?”

“The one and only.”

“I love your music,” she crooned.

“Well, why don’t you pull up a chair and tell us all about it, *cat?” Vin said. He raised both his eyebrows at her.

“*cat,” she mumbled. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Ignore Vin. He’s a five-year-old stuck in a ’roided-out body,” Miller said.

Kat giggled and leaned her hip into my chair. She had on this skimpy little skirt, and all I could think about was how a couple of months ago, I would have grabbed her by her waist, tugged her onto my lap, and found my way up that skirt.

But somehow, I couldn’t harness that feeling. All I could see was that her hair was the wrong shade, her lips were too full, her eyes were too brown. She just wasn’t Ari.

I stood abruptly, forcing Kat to take a step away from me. “I’ve got to take a piss. Here, Miller will take care of you.” I pushed the girl onto Miller’s lap and then left the table.

I skipped the public restrooms and walked backstage. Hurst, the owner, was lounging in the back room. I nodded at him.