By the end of it, we ended up playing a full two-hour show when benefits usually landed under ninety easy.
We even dragged McCoy up for the encore set. Two hulking bass players crammed on the little stage was comical. Both were long-haired and wore their basses low. They played back to back, as “The Chain” rumbled through the club with its heavy bass line.
Jamie and Lindsey harmonized, and the room sang along with us. Fleetwood Mac was a good way to bring the night to a close.
After the show was sheer chaos.
The booze was flowing, and Lindsey, Jamie, and Teagan were passing around a bottle of champagne between them. I snuck a beer from one of the roving waiters, trading it for a set of my sticks.
The party was only beginning as a few auctions would happen after our set. I’d bet we could get good money for that Warlock. Jamie wouldn’t give it up though. That was her baby. I was still shocked she’d handed it over to Donovan to play. But then again, Jamie was impulsive by nature.
Understatement.
We all headed off to the side stage. Harper was waiting for McCoy with a beaming smile. What would it be like to have a woman look at me like that? Like I was the singular best thing that had ever happened to her? I knew they’d been together for years, and still, all that love and adoration between them.
I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted that until…
Nope. Still not going there.
I pulled a cold beer out of the chest waiting for us and handed one to Jamie.
“Food,” she said between gulps. “I could eat an actual cow.”
“Don’t talk about cows like that.” Teagan shuddered. “I don’t want to think about cute little Elsie as my burger.”
I had the strongest urge to sling my arm over her shoulders and drag her close, but my skin was prickly with annoyance and lust. It was an ugly mix that I couldn’t deal with right now. Instead, I kept fucking drinking.
At least we’d be fed. And maybe I could keep my mind off Teagan.
Donovan was nowhere in sight. In fact, I didn’t remember seeing him at the encore.
Couldn’t blame him there. He’d probably be inundated with questions after that guitar craziness. I wondered just what kind of Pandora’s box Jamie had opened with that one.
Oz came up behind Teagan and mooed.
She elbowed him, and then shoved him at Daisy. “Your boyfriend is awful.”
Daisy wrapped her arm around his back. Hell, she didn’t even seem to mind he was covered in sweat. Rather, she grinned up at him with little hearts shooting out of her eyeballs. “I know. Isn’t he awesome?”
Yep, I’d had just about enough of that.
I snagged another beer and headed for the stairs that led to the dressing rooms in the cavernous basement of the venue. Maybe I should have gone with two beers.
Fuck.
Eight
I was surrounded by a bunch of clowns. That they were some of the most accomplished, ass-kicking rockers in the business didn’t change that one bit.
“No, no, I’m serious.” Jamie’s face was remarkably earnest. “I learned on a pickle.”
“I can’t see how that’d help you, unless you’ve been unfortunate in your sexual conquests.”
Lindsey looked up at Nash, sitting beside her in the huge circular booth with his arm slung around her shoulder. He sipped ice water and smirked at Jamie’s oral sex tales. “Why do you encourage her?”
“Entertainment.” He tugged on the end of Lindsey’s shiny blond curls. “What’d you learn on, duchess?”
She elbowed him hard in the gut.
“Why, how dare you?” Jamie fluttered her lashes. “She was saving herself for Jesus before you, Irish. Turns out just wearing black does not make you a man of the cloth.”
“Absolutely not. Osmond wears black often, and he has never taken me to church.” Daisy giggled where she was cuddled into Oz’s side.
“That’s because you like me best not in black.”
“White then? To bring out your angelic side?”
Lindsey shook her head. “Who gave James alcohol? She’s bad enough dry.”
“Oh, I am never dry.” Jamie leaned back in the booth. “The best part was my grandma taught me.”
The music, laughter, and general revelry in the club post-show was loud enough that I wasn’t sure I heard her. I took another sip of my Blue Lagoon—I was only allowing myself two drinks tonight, due to my loose lips when I veered into three territory—and leaned toward her. My top gaped precipitously, and she wiggled her tongue at me as I grabbed for it. “Come again?”
“No coming was involved, High Tea. It was my grandmother. What kind of family do you think we are?”
Michael Shawcross, one of the guitarists in our fellow touring band, Warning Sign, cocked his head. They hadn’t been part of the benefit tonight because they were based in California, but a few of them were in attendance to show their support before we disembarked for Philly next week. “Now this sounds like a story I need to hear. You’re saying your grandmother—”
Lauren grinned. “Taught her how to blow wood, and not instruments.” She was the wife of Warning Sign’s keyboardist West, and one of their occasional keyboardists herself. She shrugged as her husband gave her the look.
I got the same one often for saying inappropriate things, but not from my significant other, since I was as single as a dollar bill.
But I loved being unencumbered. All the time. When I was at a packed table surrounded by couples, I didn’t yearn. No sir. Whee, yeehaw, freedom.
Lies. So many lies. Maybe I’d take a page out of Jamie’s book and dance on a table to forget all the crap today, incredible show aside.
Since my dancing talents came from enthusiasm rather than actual skill, I drank some more. I wasn’t drowning my sorrows tonight, just marinating
