The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(20)

Both Sticks and Heath were silent, but by their expressions, they didn’t appear to be as annoyed by the delay. It seemed the new drummer was going to be as quiet as our lead guitarist.

Until I said, “What do you guys want to play first?” as I got my guitar ready.

Sticks was the first to answer, “‘Ceilings.’”

I zipped a surprised glance his way, not expecting him to speak up, but glad he had. “All right.” Rolling a finger his way, I told him to count us down since the drumbeat led with this song.

He instantly started in and I was blown away all over again by how good he was. I almost missed my cue when I needed to start singing. But once I got with the program, it was easy to immerse myself in the music. We sounded good together, better than we’d ever sounded when Rock had been the drummer. Sticks had a way of keeping us in sync with the beat he set.

We went through most of our original songs as well as the more popular cover records we usually played, and each one sounded better than the last. I called song title after song title, one right after the other, so into jamming that I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until Gally demanded a break.

I checked the time on my phone and nearly pissed myself. “Shit.” We’d practiced over three hours. “I need to get to work.”

Unplugging my guitar, I glanced at the newest member of the band, who’d not only kept up with us without a problem but had basically led us. I’d been a bit worried he might need more practice, but no...he was ready for stage action now.

Still making sure, I asked, “You sure you’re okay with playing live tomorrow?”

Excitement lit his eyes, which made me grin. I remembered the day before my first gig, how it’d felt as the eager anticipation thrummed through me. He was rocking some serious happy endorphins.

But he managed to keep it cool by nodding and merely saying, “Sure. Just tell me where.”

“Ever heard of the Forbidden Nightclub? We play there pretty much every Friday, though I’m trying to get us booked at other places as well.”

“Sure, I’ve heard of it. I’ve even been there once and sang on karaoke night. I saw on your website that you’d been there before, but I guess I didn’t realize that’s where you guys played regularly. Cool.”

“Yep.” I eyed him hard because I’d worked every karaoke night we’d ever had, and I didn’t remember his face.

I was about to say something, but Gally snorted. “You sang karaoke? How lame is that? Wait...was it ‘All About That Bass’?”

Sticks pulled back in surprise, gaping at Gally. “Excuse me?”

Pissed off because he’d only asked Sticks that to dig at me, I spotted an old basketball sitting in the top of one of the packed boxes and grabbed it so I could heave it at him. “Shut it, f*cker.”

He laughed and ducked out the way so the ball merely bounced off his shoulder. Hooting even louder as he dodged most of my attack, he bent at the waist and slapped his knee.

Sticks darted a curious glance between the two of us while a silent Heath merely shook his head.

“Okay, there’s some kind of inside joke in there, right?” Sticks asked.

I sighed. “It’s nothing. Just ignore him.”

“Can do. Easily.”

He said it so cheerfully that Gally stopped laughing to pierce him with a scowl. “Hey, know your place, newbie.”

“Oh? And where’s that? Sitting over here, snickering at you?”

I grinned and tucked my guitar into its case as the two bickered back and forth. Ripping my shirt over my head, I traded it for the black Forbidden Nightclub shirt I had to wear to work that I’d tucked away in my case. I wadded up the old top and crammed it into a side pocket before slipping the case’s strap over my neck so I could settle my guitar against my back. Meanwhile, Gally was trying to prove to Sticks that he was the better man by swearing he’d scored with more women than Sticks ever had.

“Come on,” he challenged. “Just give me a rough estimate. How many bitches you ever f*cked?”

I sighed, ready to take off and leave this quickly declining conversation when Heath finally decided to speak up, telling Gally, “You’re wasting your time on him with that line of questioning.”

“Oh?” Gally arched him a curious glance. “Why’s that?”

“Because he obviously plays for the other team. Dude just checked out Hart’s chest when he pulled off his shirt.”

“Say what?” Gally shrieked as he physically leapt a foot away from Sticks.

I whirled to gape at the drummer, shocked to be shoved into the conversation this way.

Sticks shrank lower into his stool, his eyes darting with fear like a cornered animal before he cried, “The hell if I did.”

I lifted my eyebrows. He was acting way too guilty to be telling the truth. “Are you really gay?” I couldn’t help but ask, “Because that would actually be great.”

“Say what?” Gally repeated, spinning toward me as if I’d lost my mind.

“What?” I glanced between him and Heath, confused by their shock. “It would give us more diversity since we’ve been accused of being such a cliché lately.”

And yes, that accusation from the girl still bothered me.

“Diversity?” Gally yelped “Shit, if we wanted diversity, we could’ve just hired that punk rocker chick who wanted to play with us.”