didn’t work, but once my reputation was in place as a fighter, the line to kick my ass grew to the length of a city block.
“Stop it!” Riley says, stepping between us. She’s done this a number of times. Either she doesn’t like violence or she’s worried about Romeo’s pretty face. Probably both.
The door creaks open behind us.
“What the hell?” Sam says calmly. “Why don’t you assholes just meet in the ring once a month?”
Romeo whips toward him. “What were you doing in there?”
Sam’s brows rise. “Dude, can I use the toilet without you crawling up my ass?”
While Romeo’s expression turns thunderous, I try to keep a straight face. I’m not sure if Sam overheard us or if he’s that lucky, but his answer was spot-on.
Riley edges up next to Romeo. “Let’s just finish packing up the van and go.”
He looks cynically at Sam, then at me, but finally says, “Grab something.”
To keep the peace, we follow orders, grabbing anything within reach, and head out into the alley. Back inside, done with Romeo and his shit, I toss my bag onto a chair in the narrow room behind the stage, take a deep breath, and charge into the crowd to find Allie.
The bar/club is still hopping. Instead of going straight to the bar, I walk the perimeter of the room, searching for that head of rich auburn hair. A minute in, some chicks stop me and ask for pictures. Two pose on either side of me while the third girl, a hot blonde, takes a photo with her phone. I decline the blonde’s offer to buy me a drink, explaining I’m meeting someone. I only make it a few more feet before more fans stop me. They gush. I smile. They hang on me and it takes me almost ten minutes to detangle myself. This shit is getting ridiculous. We’re a local college band, not fucking U2.
Usually I like all the attention.
Not tonight.
I’m starting to think Allie took off when I notice her, and her friend, standing at the far end of the bar. I’m hit with a wave of relief, then nervousness. Both are foreign emotions. I push up my sleeves and swagger over to them. Allie’s looking simple yet smoking in tall boots, low-rise jeans, and a tight tank top.
Over a sip of beer, her gray eyes meet mine.
“Hi,” I say stupidly, stopping a few feet from her.
She blinks and lowers the beer. “Hey.”
I almost say “hey” back, like an idiot. We stare at each other, as though there’s nobody else in the club. Her expression is a little dazed, but she doesn’t look away.
“Well hello, Justin!” The shrill voice of Allie’s friend pulls me back to reality as she wraps an arm around Allie’s shoulders. She points a finger at her swelling cleavage. “I’m Allie’s roommate, Holly.”
Giving her a smile, I nod.
“The band was freakin’ awesome. Betcha hear that all the time though.”
“Enough.” I glance at Allie, who’s now studying her beer cup like it holds the answers to life’s biggest questions.
“And your singing,” Holly says, fanning herself. “Amazeballs. What was the one song you did with the violin?” she asks innocently, but there’s a gleam in her eye. Allie tries to nudge her inconspicuously with an elbow in the ribs.
I glare at cleavage girl coolly. I’m fairly sure her tits are fake. “‘Iris’ by the Goo Dolls.”
“Yes! That’s the one! You sang it so beautifully. Emotion poured out of you.” Allie isn’t trying to keep her elbowing inconspicuous now. She’s going crazy with it. Holly lets out a little gasp and squeezes closer to Allie until the attack elbow is locked between them.
“Dude, where’s my shot? My beer?” Sam says, stepping next to me. Allie finally looks up from her cup at the newcomer.
“Well hello.…” Holly’s lips curl into a seductive smile.
“Sam,” I fill in. I hope these two hit it off so Miss Silicone Tits will back off. “This is Allie and Holly.” I point to each girl.
His eyes do a double take on Allie, probably recognizing her as the girl I sang “Iris” to, and then do a double take on Holly’s chest. He grins at her tits. “Hello back at ya.”
Holly unwinds her arm from Allie’s shoulders. “Did I hear shots?”
“Absolut?” Sam says.
“Lemon drops?” she replies.
They both laugh and stroll away to hit the bar.
Glancing past me at the roomful of people, Allie chews on her lip ring.
“So…,” I say, sidling up next to her and leaning on a stool. “I’m more interested in your opinion than your friend’s. What’s the verdict?”
The ring disappears into her mouth as she sucks on it. Damn that’s hot. She watches the dance floor, where a few people sway drunkenly in pairs, their bodies tightly wrapped around each other’s. “The band is really, really talented. And you’re not too bad,” she adds, her lips curving into a slight smirk.
I snort at her repeating my own words about my singing. “Guess I can live with ‘not too bad.’”
She finally looks at me. “You’re actually really, really talented.”
An “excuse me” cracks into our bubble.
We break our locked gazes to find a group of women surrounding us.
“Could we get a picture, please?” the one at the front asks.
This is getting out of hand.
“Please?”
Allie gives me a look that says,
What’s my problem? I hate fucking cell phones with their fucking cameras at the fucking moment.
“Yeah,” I say. “Sure. Of course.”
They take turns grouping around me, pressing their tits against me, and “accidentally” brushing my ass, until I’m completely pissed off. Though this is ordinarily amusing, Allie waits to the side, watching the wannabe paparazzi with a guarded expression. Not a good sign.
Once they leave, Allie has her phone out.
I slide next to her. “You want a picture too?”
Her pierced brow rises. “It’s getting late. I need to get home. Early morning.”
After all the shit I went through to get her here, along with the plans forming in my head, not the words I want to hear.
She glances around. “You see Holly?”
I give a halfhearted glance around the bar. “No.”
Allie takes a big swig of beer and sets the cup on the bar. “She’s my ride.”
My brows rise. “And she’s doing shots?”
“She’s been drinking less than me. I think.” She waves a hand. “We can get a cab, but I really need to find her. Need to go.”
I stare at her, wanting, wishing, and hoping.
“The band was really great though. You were great. Thanks for the tickets.” She gazes around uncertainly.
Glad for the excuse to touch her at least, I grab her hand. “Come on, I’ll help you find her.”
Hand in hand, we wander around the huge club. The crowd is finally thinning out. Between her slightly glazed gaze, her slow gait, and the way she’s absently leaning on me, I’m starting to realize Allie is a bit drunk. Sam and Holly are nowhere to be seen though we keep searching. I’m guessing they’re out back smoking weed, which reaffirms the thought Allie should not be riding home with her friend. I’m pissed I didn’t drive. Instead, I caught a ride with Romeo, and he took off with Riley as soon as we shut the back door of the van.
Allie is starting to get fidgety. Her hand grips mine with an edge of anxiety. We’re taking a second turn around the bar when I spot Gabe sitting in the corner with his girlfriend. Just my luck that the bastard is the only one around whom I can ask for a favor.
“Hey, come here for a second.” I lead her toward the corner, but when we’re a few tables away, I say, “Wait here. I’m going to see if I can hook you up with a ride.”
