Bad Things(36)

Perhaps he has a point, I thought.

I’d had an aimless sort of existence, growing up. My mother, a slave to the illness of addiction, had only ever lived in the present, which, I supposed, was why I had my eye determinedly on the future, which I knew was not the typical frame of mind for a twenty-one year old.

My sister and I had been tossed around ruthlessly by our mother’s fickle way of life. She’d been so negligent that, in our teenage years, when she’d disappeared for a solid two weeks, social services had been alerted, which had led to an unfortunate turn of events. I had been so powerless, back then.

But not anymore. Nowadays, I had my own fate well in hand.

“Are you stewing about the bet you lost? Going to miss keeping that big, soft bed all to yourself? I’ll bet you’re a cover hog.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but I couldn’t contain my grin. I knew I should have been more worried about the fact that we were going to be sharing a bed, but I just wasn’t. It was strange for me, especially considering we’d only known each other a week, but I trusted him.

It wasn’t his fault that I was wildly attracted to him.

“I’m stewing about the fact that I won’t get to see you wearing one of my bikinis,” I shot back.

He laughed. “There’s always the next bet.”

We found ourselves out by the pool, past four in the morning, just lounging and talking. I thought that might have been my favorite thing of all about Tristan—that we could just talk forever, about everything, about nothing. There was never an awkward silence to be found.

“So tell me about this band. I know you’re the lead singer, and I know what instruments you all play. Tell me the rest.”

He snagged one of my bare feet. I started to kick him off, thinking that he was going to tickle me, but he didn’t, just rubbing at the arch. It felt so good that my eyes practically rolled up into the back of my head.

“God, your hands,” I moaned. “You are so good at that.”

“I aim to please. What do you want to know?”

“What are you called? Who writes the songs? When can I see you perform?”

“The band is called The Escapists. Kenny writes all of the songs, composes all of the music. This band was his baby from the start. We’ve all been friends since the fifth grade, but I was the last to join up. They needed a singer, and I can carry a tune.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t that into it.”

“I am. Now. To be honest, I wasn’t at first, but the guys changed my mind. I think we have a shot at making it.”

“Why do you call yourselves The Escapists?”

“It was the only name we could all agree on. I think it has a different meaning for us all. It makes me think of magic, which is why I liked it. Kenny relates to it because songwriting is his way to escape. It’s his passion. The rest of the guys, hell, who knows, probably a drug reference for them. But regardless, the name just seemed to fit us all.”

“What were you planning to do before you got started with the band? Did you go to college or anything?”

“I didn’t. I was a bartender for a long time, and then I got into the whole club promoting thing, which has turned out to be lucrative for me.”

“What about your card tricks? You live in Vegas, and you’re obviously talented. I’m surprised you didn’t pursue something with that.”

He sighed, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I did. For years, I did. That’s not something you can get into without some connections. Connections I didn’t have. Everyone in town can do card tricks.”

“Not like you.”

“Well, thank you for that, but any talent I have wasn’t enough,” he said, switching to rub my other foot. “It’s just a hobby, since I’ve found out very clearly that there’s no money in it for me.”

“That’s a pity. I’ve seen some of the shows on the strip. You could’ve given some of those old guys a run for their money.”

He laughed.

“So when do I get to see the band perform?”

“We should have a gig soon. Dean is supposed to be putting a few together, but I don’t have any specifics. You’ll know about it when I do.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, pudding.”

I grimaced. “Don’t call me that.”

He just laughed harder. “You told me you might say that, and that I shouldn’t listen to you.”