Outrageous Proposal Part 51

"All right," said Gavin as he leaned, exasperated, between two empty chairs. "Let's just jump right the f.u.c.k into this can of worms." He again pointed his thick finger across the table at Duke. "What in the ever-loving f.u.c.k were you thinking with that little show you put on, huh?"

"I think you know exactly what I was thinking," said Duke. The tone in his voice betrayed that this, like everything else, seemed to be a G.o.dd.a.m.n game to him. "Just like the rest of the guys in this band, I've just about f.u.c.king had it with babysitting this Neanderthal." He nodded at me and my hands clenched into fists before I could stop it.

"Speak for yourself, a.s.shole," said Quinn immediately.

"Oh, excuse me, the rest of the guys except Noah's boyfriend Quinn..." said Duke, waving his hands sarcastically.

"f.u.c.k you, Duke, you h.o.m.ophobic piece of s.h.i.t," I said.

"Yeah, that's the behavior I'm talking about," said Duke.

"Both of you, shut the f.u.c.k up!" shouted Gavin. The room fell silent.

Gavin waited a few moments, taking deep breaths. "Duke, I get the capitalistic instinct, even from an artist, no sweat. However, what I cannot f.u.c.king wrap my head around is why you think it would be a brilliant idea to drop a bomb like this on the rest of your band now-and on yourself! You may have just destroyed any chance we had of having a controlled descent on this f.u.c.king disaster, and if you think it's not going to cost you-cost all of us-in both reputation and cold, hard money, then you are living in a fantasyland, my friend."

Watching Gavin work was like watching a master conductor in front of a symphony. He was a powerful man in the industry, but smart enough at business that we rarely had problems, or had to see him in any kind of damage control mode. This was unprecedented, and Gavin wasn't pulling a single punch anymore.

Duke didn't immediately fire back at him, which all of us recognized as him being more full of s.h.i.t than he wanted to admit. Still, he kept that s.h.i.t-eating smirk on his face, and scoffed in his chair. "Like I can't afford to take a hit if it means getting me out of this disaster of a band as fast as humanly possible. I'm not doing jail time for this son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Before I could snarl a reply, Gavin had his hand raised in my direction, but he was looking at Ash. "How about you? What the f.u.c.k's the deal with you and Jeff ducking me since the interview? Let's get all this hot garbage out on the table right now."

Ash and I had always gotten along, but we still weren't close. He had moved to Thornwood a year before he joined Quinn and I in a band, and Cut Up Angels got signed only two years after that. We had great chemistry in the studio, but my bond with him wasn't anything like it was with Quinn. Seeing him huddled there in that office chair, fuming with his arms crossed, it made me very nervous. Ash always divorced himself from band drama. But he didn't look divorced from this one.

"Duke's not wrong, you guys," said Ash, and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Next to me, Quinn started muttering to himself and shaking his head. Ash continued anyway. "How many times now have we had to deal with bailing his a.s.s out? And now this? Now-now you've f.u.c.king killed a guy, Noah! I mean, what the f.u.c.k!"

"Don't you sit there and act sanctimonious," said Gavin, turning his wrath to Ash. "You can b.i.t.c.h all you want about Noah's reputation, but that reputation has put money in every single one of your bank accounts. We've all benefitted from Noah, and now that s.h.i.t's getting a little real, all of you are jumping ship like f.u.c.king cowards? Is that what the hardcore scene is teaching kids these days?"

"Oh, suck my d.i.c.k, Gavin!" yelled Ash. Everyone fell silent, surprised.

Gavin pushed away from the table in anger, but still controlled enough to respond. "You are a f.u.c.king coward, Ash, period! And so are you, Duke! Jeff, you wanna chime in and tell me which team you've chosen to back?"

"He's not stupid, he's with us," said Ash with a snarl.

"Are you f.u.c.king kidding me, Jeff?" said Quinn, throwing his hands up in the air. "We've known Noah since high school! You're gonna let him face this alone now?"

Jeff shifted in his chair like there was a fire underneath it, trying to make himself as small as possible. He pushed his hair out of his face. "Ash is right... I mean... Noah, you killed somebody, man. You killed a guy. I can't... how are we supposed to be okay with that?"

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. "I already f.u.c.king told all of you why you should 'be okay with it,'" I said, rising to my feet. "I didn't just shove some random f.u.c.king fan off-stage to be a d.i.c.k-that motherf.u.c.ker had a blade, and he was going straight for Quinn!"

From his seat, Duke let out a sarcastic, exaggerated groan. "This bulls.h.i.t again? You are so f.u.c.king full of s.h.i.t, Hardy!"

"Why in the h.e.l.l would I make it up?" I said. "I've never blamed anyone else for my fights before."

"To save yourself from getting the lethal injection?" he snorted.

Quinn leapt to his feet. "Don't you even f.u.c.king joke about that, you piece of s.h.i.t!"

"Who's joking?" said Duke. "Your boyfriend is a G.o.dd.a.m.n murderer, Quinn, whether you choose to accept it or not."

"The motherf.u.c.ker had a knife," I said again. "Crazy a.s.sholes rush stages all the time, you f.u.c.king know that, Duke. Remember Dimebag Darrell? Remember Gordy? This isn't even the first time Quinn and I have been attacked!"

Duke threw his hands in the air like a preacher. "Then where's the f.u.c.king proof, Noah? Where's the knife? How come in every single video that has come out of that G.o.dd.a.m.n festival, not a single one shows us he was carrying a knife?"

"I don't have any G.o.dd.a.m.n clue, I'm not a psychic! But I know what I saw-and I know what the truth is. And I will f.u.c.king prove it. I'm not gonna sit here and lie to appease a bunch of f.u.c.king cowards who I thought were my brothers. I did what I had do to, and if I got a chance to do it over, I would f.u.c.king do it again."

Duke got up and shoved his chair into the table. Gavin shouted at him, asking where he thought he was going, but Duke just bored his hateful glare into me as he straightened his jacket and stalked around the table.

He came to stand three feet in front of me, a death wish if I had ever seen one. I felt, but didn't see, Quinn hop to his feet next to me.

Duke's voice was low. "You're a f.u.c.king animal, Hardy, and you always have been."

Anger fueled adrenaline roared through my muscles like molten heroin. My vision darkened to a tiny tunnel, and suddenly it was Duke, and only Duke, that existed in my universe. And I wanted to destroy him.

Quinn's hands dropped on my shoulders, and I heard his voice in my ear. "Noah, don't. Don't let him win."

If he hadn't had his hands on me, Quinn couldn't have stopped me. His words meant nothing. But in that moment my rage was so consuming that if I moved, I couldn't be sure I wouldn't hurt him in the process. And he d.a.m.n well knew it, too.

Against every instinct screaming in my lizard brain, I shut my eyes and forced myself to not give a s.h.i.t about painting the walls with Duke's blood. It wasn't exactly working, but I also wasn't moving. That's a win, in my book. I wasn't a f.u.c.king miracle worker.

In the dark of my mind I heard Duke laugh at me before he walked out of the room, and my teeth clenched so hard at the sound, my jaw began to ache.

By the time I felt calm enough to open my eyes again, Ash and Jeff had scurried out of the room, too. Quinn's hands were still on my shoulders. He waited with patient eyes when I turned around. "You all right?"

"Not even a little," I growled.

"You handled that like a champ, Noah," said Gavin. He stood by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the line of yellow sunrise trying hard to burst its way through the gray cloud cover. "You putting him in the hospital is the perfect origin story for Duke's solo career. You can't engage his bulls.h.i.t. There's no way for you to come out of it clean."

"I will break the teeth of the next man who says his name," I said. As I dropped heavily into one of the chairs, Gavin and Quinn exchanged a glance, but neither of them fought me.

"So, what the f.u.c.k do we do now?" said Quinn, crossing his arms.

"This band is done," I said. "There's no coming back from this. It's over."

When Gavin didn't break in to correct me, Quinn got an ugly look on his face and punched me in the shoulder. "Don't f.u.c.king say that man, this isn't over. Are you quitting?"

"Do I have to quit?" I said, waving an arm around the empty room. "Quinn, you're the only one still here! This band was over the minute that motherf.u.c.ker crawled up on our stage."

Quinn shook his head and paced along the table. "I can't believe this is happening." He turned to Gavin. "We have to get Noah on TV to tell everyone his side of the story! Let's end this stupid press moratorium and get him out there. People will understand once they hear it was in self-defense."

Gavin sighed and looked at Quinn in a way that made my headache flare behind my eyes. "Buddy, look, I know this is frustrating to hear, but it's not that easy. Noah's not just facing the end of his career; he's possibly facing a prison sentence for manslaughter. He might be looking at ten years inside. You get that, right?"

Quinn only stared at him.

"Every single thing we do or say about what happened at the festival has the potential to come back and ruin Noah's trial. Unintended consequences, kid-what we do to save the band might end up sending Noah to prison. I know you want to go toe-to-toe with Duke over this, but we have to face it, boys-he has the drop on us. He has more room to maneuver and less to lose. What we have to focus on now is keeping Noah safe and out of prison."

Prison. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, what if I went to prison? How long could I even survive with my level of fame? Something told me most of the dudes inside weren't eager to be friends with some jet-setting rock star.

"Noah saved me," said Quinn, quietly.

"I know," said Gavin. "I know, Quinn. I'm sorry. I wish that mattered like it should.

"Everyone thinks Noah's the monster, when it's been Duke this whole time. Who gives a s.h.i.t about your old bar fights? I can't believe that's all it takes for people to think he would murder someone."

"I know," said Gavin again. "I still wish I had had more power over that deal you signed with him. Somehow I saw something like this coming."

"We all did," I mumbled. "It was just always a question of when, and what."

"But it wasn't your job to keep away the industry predators, it was mine. My failure," said Gavin. When both Quinn and I looked up at him, he turned toward the window. "I'm good at this business because, really, the music business is about people-knowing what they want, what they need, and what they're going to do next. My point is it's my job to know people, and I know you, Noah-this isn't you. You are a good man. And Duke is not. I saw that, and I should have put a stop to it. I should have kept him away from both of you."

Gavin's words filled me with an unnamed, difficult emotion. I couldn't look at him.

"If we had some proof of the truth of what happened, things would be different. But we're shooting blanks here."

"Ten thousand people at that festival and we can't find a G.o.dd.a.m.n lick of proof," I said to myself. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I guess it was just the angle. Most people could only see the guy on stage from behind, wouldn't have seen him holding a knife in front of him," said Gavin.

The three of us fell quiet and listened to the high-rise wind blow by the window. Sunlight crept across the harbor, glittering off the water.

"Try to keep your mind off things," said Gavin finally. "Get some rest, you two. Stay off the Internet. I'll have someone keep an eye on the other guys. Let's just try to have some peace before we find out the real damage."

"Meaning?" I said.

"Whether or not they're going to file charges against you."

Glad I asked.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Quinn. "Not like this."

~ Eleven ~

Laurel

I was a bundle of nerves as I waited for Noah at the Graveyard Club that night. The day he got the call about the band meeting, he was so despondent afterwards that he didn't want to fool around or play like goofb.a.l.l.s anymore. He seemed like he wanted to be alone, so I excused myself for my imaginary job in the city and went back to the hotel. I'd spent most of last night and all day looking for more news about Noah's charges, or Duke's announcement, but n.o.body had a scent on anything fresh. I seemed to be the only one who even knew there was a meeting happening.

There was little chance anything good was going to happen at a meeting like that. When Noah showed up-if he showed up at all-he probably wasn't going to be too happy. But I'd be here, anyway.

My nerves were on fire for a secondary but equally important reason-important, at least, to myself, and my sanity. After I left Noah's and returned to the empty, anonymous solitude of the hotel, a sense of pain and loneliness washed over me that was unlike anything I'd felt before. Loneliness, of course, was never new, not to me or any professional. But that night, something was deeper about it; more permanent. Maybe it wasn't that the loneliness was any greater. Maybe it was just that, in comparison to how happy I had been with Noah, it might as well have been the abyss.

These sensations didn't register to me. I hadn't longed for a serious companion in years. I loved my job, and I loved the freedom I had to keep things on my terms. None of them ever wandered into my thoughts when they weren't around, unless it was because I was h.o.r.n.y and needed the material. But the second I left Noah's house that night and climbed into my chilly rental car, he haunted my mind. He still hadn't left it.

Scared to admit what might be happening to me, a dark voice in my mind was saying a prayerful chant that Noah wouldn't show up tonight, so I didn't have to face how completely unguarded I felt around him. And so I didn't have to feel the pain when he finally left again. And so I didn't have to face the other fears the ones that constantly reminded me about what he was going to do, and how he was going to feel, when he eventually learned the truth about me. Ignoring those feelings were hardest of all, but professionally, the most important ones to keep at bay. I had a job to do, and that's why I was here in the first place. The feelings I was developing for Noah had to be kept separate from that, didn't they?

"Another round!" I said as Kevin pa.s.sed by. I downed the rest of the beer in front of me before Kevin could put the fresh one down. He just laughed as he refreshed my round.

The Graveyard Club was jumping tonight, already more packed than I'd seen it so far. A touring metalcore band was headlining the show tonight, and their bigger fan draw meant the show was still going to get crazier before the night ended. Kevin had two extra bartenders helping him out, and so far, there hadn't been a hitch with the service.

Noah came in behind a group of five or six young guys showing up for the concert, sinking into the crowd and maneuvering his way around, edging against the wall. Already I could see the sad darkness on the rim of his eyes that betrayed his heavy thoughts. He met my gaze across the room and gave me a soft smile, pushing his way through the crowd until he stood next to my stool.

Noah bent down and pressed his forehead against mine. He kissed me softly. "Hi, sugar."

"Hey," I said. The nickname made me smile every time. "I was wondering when you'd show up. How did the meeting go?"

Noah closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose.

"That bad, huh?" I said, running a thumb over his cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Noah blinked a few times, thinking. "Maybe later. I'm too f.u.c.king p.i.s.sed to talk about it right now. Are you staying long?"

"I've got all night," I said. "I'm all yours."

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "I want to check out a couple of these sets. I'm going to go grab a bottle from Kevin and make sure he doesn't need any help. I'll be back."

"Okay. I'll go get us some s.p.a.ce in the crowd," I said.

Noah kissed me, biting my lip with gentle force. "I'm glad you're here." I got off the stool and he gave my a.s.s a playful smack before he turned and headed for the back room.

I found a spot near the back wall with a decent view of the stage, well out of the range of the mosh pit. The dudes hanging out tonight were pretty huge, some of them Noah's size, and I didn't have any interest in throwing around with them. There was a constant flow of people into and out of the crowd as the band's set continued; people hitting the facilities, getting beer, or going outside to smoke, the movement never ended. I tried my best to ignore it and enjoy the show when a tall body came to a stop next to me.

At first I didn't think anything other than the general awareness of someone in my personal bubble, but that was just a consequence of being at a packed underground show, so I quickly brushed it off my mind. But then this creeping sensation moved along my skin and I turned to look.

The dude was tall, thin, and dark-haired. Judging by his eyes, he had been drinking for many hours before he even got to the show, but there was nothing fun about the drunkenness on his face. He leered down at me with something in his gla.s.sy eyes that looked almost like hatred.

Immediately I gave him a sour look. "The f.u.c.k is your problem?" I yelled at him over the music as I took a step to the side to add some distance between us.

"You got my f.u.c.king d.i.c.k hard," he slurred at me, stepping closer.

Oh, f.u.c.k. My heart started racing and I stumbled two steps back until I hit the wall hard. Before I could reach out and grab the hoodie of a dude standing in front of me, the drunk guy stumbled forward and pinned me against the wall with his body, leaching his fetid breath into my face.

"Get the f.u.c.k off me!" I screamed, but my voice was just one of many screams in the hardcore din, and in the dark corners of the club it was near impossible for anyone to tell that what was happening wasn't right.

The drunk guy ground his body against mine. I made a desperate bend for the pocket knife I kept strapped inside my combat boots, but he countered faster than I expected and yanked me by my hair to keep me upright. His other hand ripped its way up my shirt and over my breast as he lowered his mouth over mine and forced his tongue past my lips. My body froze at the shock and speed of it.

Feeling bile rise in my throat, I did the only thing I could and bit down on his tongue. He yanked his head away and howled, but the grip he had on my breast and hair only tightened. When his nails dug into my sensitive skin, I screamed in pain.

In the dark strobing lights, suddenly the drunk was falling backwards with wide, surprised eyes. He released his death grip on my body and his hands flew out to the sides, trying desperately to find some balance, and failing. He hit the floor on his tailbone hard and instantly writhed like a worm on a sidewalk after a rainstorm.