Page 35 of Speak of the Devil

He says, “We’re putting our guys on the bands to get you out of here safely. There’s a place where the SUV will pull in backstage to take you to the hotel.”

He looks at Nikki. “I want you out of here with these guys, no waiting for Tulsa. Knowing you’re secure makes it easier to focus on The Crow Brothers when they come off stage.”

Laird looks at his phone and plugs his ear when he holds it up to the other. “Hey, I’m okay . . .”

Nikki turns back to Tommy. “Laird was cut, and Shane has a concussion?—”

“Mild,” I add.

It doesn’t deter her. “What if Tulsa or I would have had my daughter with us? This is not safe.”

“It’s not common either,” Tommy says, “so let’s figure out what went wrong, why those fans of the other band were able to bust through the barricades, and how we can prevent it from happening again. I can’t do that right now, though. I need to get you guys out of here and then do the same for the Crows.”

Laird paces with his head down, and whispering, “I didn’t feel it. At worst, a little mark . . . You don’t need to worry. I’m safe. We all are.” He glances over at me. “We’re leaving now. I love you.”

Nikki grabs her bag. “Let’s go then.”

Laird and Nikkitake their job of babysitting me all night seriously, bugging the shit out of me on a rotation every two hours like clockwork. Nikki. Laird. Now I’m stuck awake at one a.m. on the East Coast, thinking about a woman three hours behind in a different time zone. Not that I wasn’t already.

She’s on my mind like a melody I’ve already memorized. Only she doesn’t know it’s my favorite song. Familiar. Comforting. Bringing me back to happier times. Is that what Cat does for me? Grounds me in some way that I haven’t had in years?

Though time with her makes me feel new, like discovering a passion and wanting to spend all your free time with it. I lookat the window where the heavy blackout drapes were kept open “for my benefit.” There are too many lights to see the stars from bed, but I know they’re there for me and hanging over her head as well.

Still not tired, I grab my phone, willing . . . wanting to make the next move with her. It’s not like we said we couldn’t contact each other. Wasn’t exchanging numbers a given that we would?

“Fuck it.” I run my fingers through my hair and then text her:

I couldn’t wait until the reunion to talk to you again.

Why’d I send that?It’s not funny. Fuck?—

Cat:

Who is this?

I stare at the screen a good minute, questioning everything from the details of our conversations to my existence in the universe. Does she really not know who it is or is she fucking with me?

Me:

. . . For real? My ego is wounded.

Cat:

I have no doubt that your ego will be just fine. Missing me already?

Do I tell her the truth or . . .

Me:

Is your ego feeling left out?

Cat:

My ego could use some stroking.

Holy fuck.Blood rushes from my swollen head, going south. Nurse Cate coming out to play was unexpected. I grin, rubbing my cock with images of her wearing nothing but that white coat coming to mind.

It takes me a few seconds to know how to respond. Was it an invitation? Only one way to find out.

---