Drive(25)

“What the hell, Crowne?” one of the guys asked from the couch.

“She’s just here to watch us,” he said in a tone that told him there was no room for argument.

King Crowne had spoken. Still, I wanted the mic.

“She is going to sell a few articles to Austin Speak in a few months. I can profile you guys in one of them, if you all agree to it.”

Ben looked impressed. Reid’s eyes told me he didn’t believe a word I was saying. The two guys on the couch—one that looked like a hot Shaggy from Scooby Doo, and the other was a poster boy for Ink magazine with multiple piercings and gauged ears—shared a conspiratorial smile.

“She isn’t working for Speak,” Reid said as he walked over to the couch and took two hot beers straight from the carton.

“I had an interview with Nate Butler, the owner of Speak. He gave me six months to come up with a set of articles to sell.” Reid looked back at me with accusing eyes and then shrugged at the guys.

“Stay, baby, you’re welcome here,” Ben said as he walked up to me and threw an arm around my shoulders. Reid pressed a hot beer to my stomach in offering before I was ushered to the couch by Ben. Claustrophobia hit as I realized nothing else would fit in that room. The equipment was practically piled on top of itself. In a mere two steps, I was seated and silenced with a frothy hot beer. Ben made the introductions as Reid walked over to the drum set and inspected it.

“This is Rye,” he said, pointing to hot Shaggy, “and this is Adam.”

“Hey,” I said. “Stella Emerson.”

“STELLA!” Rye belted out. “Good movie! I love Rocky.”

Adam rolled his eyes and addressed me. “He’s better left stupid. Don’t bother to correct him. He’s indignant about being stupid.”

Rye furrowed his brow. “What, fucker? What did I say?”

“Told you,” he said with a chuckle. “Wrong movie, dick,” Adam said as he looked me over in a way that let me know I was his type. “It’s a Streetcar Named Desire.”

“Huh?” Rye said as he popped another beer.

“The movie,” Reid said patiently as Rye’s face twisted.

“Dumb as Chicken of the Sea Jessica Simpson, but plays the guitar like an old soul,” Adam said as he moved to stand. “What are we fucking with tonight?”

Ben tossed a yellow notebook on one of the amplifiers and nodded toward Reid.

“Wanna see if we can make this work?” Reid glanced over at it with a sharp nod before a painful attempt to tap on his set. It only lasted a frustrated minute before he chucked his sticks.

“You got it easy, remember that,” Adam warned.

The only sign of pain was the fast appearance of sweat that lined his forehead.

Ben interjected. “Don’t rush it, man. We’re talking weeks, and Jason said he was good for the next couple of gigs.”

Reid’s eyes met mine briefly. Maybe because he thought I would chime in, but I was done with the pep talk. Something about him behind that cheap set of drums had my curiosity piqued, and not just about his skill as a drummer, but about him. I had that lame women gene that made musicians seem like gods, but the wool had never fully been pulled over my eyes. I’d just been singed. I was safe for the moment, even with the full attention of hazel eyes and naturally stained, full red lips.

Ben watched us watch each other and sat down next to me. He smelled like green woods, and I found him adorable up close. He had that nice guy look with his cropped curly hair and beautiful sea blue eyes, but I knew he was the corrupting kind of nice guy. The kind that would leave you in a closet of a church pulling up your panties, wondering what in the hell happened.

Lexi was so screwed. I knew she would fall for him. I knew that second.

“So, where’s your friend?”

“Lexi.”

“She wouldn’t give me her name.”

“Because she’s smart. She’s not a game you want to play.”

Reid picked up the notebook and began to read the lyrics scribbled on it as Ben turned to face me, fully engaged.

“I’ll take her anywhere she wants to go.”

“She’d much rather see you sing,” I admitted honestly. “But I’ll give her the message.”

“How about I give her the message,” he said sweetly.

“Nope.”

He chuckled as he took the hot beer from my hand and swallowed it down before he gripped another can and handed it to me.

“What did you think?”

“How do you know we showed up?”

“I saw her the minute she walked in.”

Something about that statement hit me in the chest.

“Awwwww.” It didn’t come from me. It came from Adam. “I’ll make love to you.”

“Would you?” Ben asked in his best feminine voice. “Can we spoon after?”

“Can we do something besides chit-chat? I’m missing UFC,” Shaggy Rye said as he picked up his guitar and began hurdling through chords like the second coming of Jimmy Hendrix. I nearly spit out my beer. “Holy shit.”

Adam and Ben both looked at me with shit-eating grins. “Dumb but brilliant. Can’t tie his shoes but he can strip the strings.”

I watched as Rye plowed through what sounded like a warm-up.