Page 6 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

Why is it when you solve one problem, another pops up in its place?

Figures the hottest girl in here tonight is someone I can’t have. My happiness at Becks finally making a friend is shattered by the fact that she happened to make friends with an absolute knockout. I mean, Isabella is smoking hot. She has that Phoebe Cates look fromFast Times at Ridgemont High. Fuck, she was hot in that movie. And that red bikini scene? I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I wonder what Isabella would look like in a red bikini. Any bikini. No bikini.

Okay. Now I have two problems.

I suppose this is my fault. I can feel her watching me. I never should’ve flirted with her. James warned me earlier to stay away from Becks’s new friend. But when a girl looks like that and stares at me with those big brown doe eyes . . . well, how was I supposed to know she’d be the one woman here, other than Becks, who’s off-limits?

Why is she off-limits? Because I don’t do long-term. I don’t do dating and I don’t do relationships and James is well aware of that. He knows I’d leave her in the morning and doesn’t want mydumb ass creating drama for his girl. And Isabella is no groupie—she’s a writer. A journalist. A journalist who wants to write an article aboutus. I’d doom us all if I fucked her and ditched her. Besides, we need this. Things have been rocky since landing in San Fran four months ago. I suppose it was naive to think the band would take the world by storm overnight, but hey, a guy can dream, right?

So, even if the thought of stripping her down and fucking her brains out backstage is all I’ve been able to think about,she is off-limits.

Sweat drips down my nose as my arms start to burn, the droplets hitting the top of the snare drum, which promptly fly off when I hit the top with my drumsticks. Everyone is on fire again tonight, and I hate to admit that I might be showing off a little more than usual considering Izzy keeps pointing her camera my way. Damn, she would’ve been a sure thing too. The way her breathing sped up when I got close to her. Her gorgeous pink lips pouting when my eyes lingered on them. She’d look so pretty on her knees, looking up at me with my cock in her mouth.

Fuck, no.

I need to knock that shit off right now. My eyes scan the crowd and spot a few women farther back. They’re attractive enough. Both blondes, or at least, trying to be. One with massive tits and . . . okay, I think I’m cured. There’s plenty more women out there who are available, and if they look my way I might just . . . yeah, that flirty smile right there? They’re interested. But even as I feel the excitement of burying my face in that chest later, I can’t help but look back at the gorgeous brunette in the front row, her face hidden behind a camera.

Why is she taking so many pictures? Is she a photographer too? Shaking my head, I lick the sweat off my upper lip. Okay, time to focus. Last song is coming up, and it’s complicated. James wails on his guitar, fingers flying so fast they blur. Key shoutsinto the microphone as he strums along with the chord progressions, and Joel plucks at those bass strings with surgical precision.

As the final notes crash, there’s an eruption of noise from the modest crowd. Even though I search desperately for the dark-rooted blondes, my eyes manage only to find one face in the crowd, and it’s still half-hidden behind a wide lens.

I’mthe first to leave the stage, springing out of my seat and tucking my drumsticks into the back pocket of my jeans. The greenroom is at the back of the bar, which is where I grab a bottle of water from the cooler on the table and crack it open, draining the entire thing in one gulp. I’m overheated, and not just because I played for an hour and a half straight. I need a distraction. Something or someone to focus on. But then I hear the raucous laughter heading toward me from down the hall and before I know it, Key is bursting through the door, one arm triumphantly raised in the air and the other around a pretty waitress I noticed earlier.

“Dave,” he says a little too loudly. “Where the fuck did you go? You shot out of there like you were going to hurl.”

I slam the bottle onto the table and wipe the dregs that dribble down my chin.

“I was thirsty as a motherfucker. What’s all this?” I ask as Joel stumbles in with a few more girls, followed by James and Becks and . . .

“You guys were incredible!” Isabella says, a stunning smile brightening her face.

Key and Joel look pleased as punch, the dickheads, but they’re quickly distracted by the girls now hanging off their arms.

“Do you really think so?” Becks asks her friend.

Isabella grins. “Of course! I’ll admit, I’m not super familiar with thrash metal, but I don’t think there was a song played tonight I didn’t like.”

There’s something too chipper about the way she says it. She’s probably never listened to this kind of music before in her life.

“I guess you won’t have to lie in your article then,” James teases, pulling Becks back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

Her chin lifts indignantly, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I would never lie. I have journalistic integrity, thank you very much. My ethics are beyond reproach.”

Both girls giggle, and fuck, a dimple appears in Izzy’s left cheek that’s so fucking adorable I want to gnaw on her face.

“You were really rockin’ out there,” a voice purrs in my ear.

I turn, and the big-breasted “blonde” from earlier settles into the seat next to me, her hand resting on my thigh. She sits a bit awkwardly, positioned to best show off her assets, even though I’d already appraised them as spectacular from afar.

“Thanks. Are you having a good night?” I ask, my voice a bit flatter than I intend.

Her hand slides a little higher up my leg and a sly smile pulls at her lips. “It’s getting better by the minute.”

I should say something back. This is normally soeasy. She’s clearly into me, and while we don’t even know each other’s names, she doesn’t care what mine is. Blondie’s just here to fuck a musician, and I wonder briefly if I could get through the whole night without ever learning hers.

“I’ll be back. I’m just going to run outside for a smoke,” Izzy says, then turns and starts toward the door.

Without meaning to, I find myself standing abruptly.

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