Page 23 of Feuds and Interludes
I was left sputtering on the top of the steps.
What the…? How the…? Why would he…?
“Shane! You coming, man?”
Dean stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands out.
I was so close to making this internal dialogue external that I took a minute to breathe deeply, shake off this…whatever it was. Irritation? Annoyance?
No. If I was honest with myself, I recognized it.
Lust.Attraction. Intrigue.
I couldn’t deny any longer that I absolutely didnothate this confounding man. There was a reason why he kept getting to me, and perhaps he saw it clearer than I did. I tended to stay in my feisty and furious mindset most of the time, which didn’t allow for tight relationships with anyone other than my band, whohadto deal with me. I was prickly. Abrasive, even.
Why the hell would the golden boy want to engage with me? And why did I want him to?
I held up a finger, trotted to my room, opened it with the key Rose had given me, and dropped my guitar and bags inside before locking it again, first taking a moment to smile at the place I’d lay my head for the next several nights. I loved the decor of these rooms. Morrison and Lydia had acquired an enormous collection of rock memorabilia over the years and they decorated the rooms thematically to make each one special. They usually gave me the one with the giant Led Zeppelin “Stairway to Heaven” mural. Dark-stained wood walls, thick drapes in case you wanted to sleep in, and a king-sized bed with a padded headboard and enough pillows to hide a body underneath looked so inviting right now, but it was work time.
I took the stairs quickly and brushed past Dean without giving his smart mouth an opportunity to talk shit.
“Everything okay?”
“Peachy.”
Dean laughed and jogged to catch up with my long strides. We headed out the front doors and down the gravel path toward the mess hall. We ate better at the compound than I did anywhere else, so we made it a point never to miss meals while we were here.
“You know, I think you and the cherub should just fuck and get it over with. No one is going to care. I don’t know why you just?—”
“Stop.”
Dean was the only one in my band I would even allow to talk shit about my personal life. Yeah, I did run the show a bit like a dictator from time to time, but the guys were with me because they liked me being in charge.
During a period of weakness—I don’t know if I should call it that or not, but a period when I was going through some shit, I tried to get the guys to make some of the decisions, take more ownership of writing songs. I was sick and fucking tired of everything being on me. They didn’t go for it, and we went right back to the way things were. Some bands do change it up, some are a democracy. But not Wicked Soul. I wrote the songs, Dean, Drew, and Tucker assisted with arrangements, and I liaised with our manager Jeff and the label.
I wanted my fingers in the business. I didn’t want what happened to Pops to happen to me. I wanted to make enough money that I didn’t have to worry about it, and so I could take care of the old man. So far, I’d met my goals.
“Come on, Butler. You going to tell me there’s not something there? Everyone sees it.”
“Stop. Seriously. We’re here to record. We’ve got a tight schedule, made tighter by this little hitch in our plans?—”
“Is that what we’re calling him?”
“Fuck off.” But it didn’t have any venom in it. Part of me was secretly thrilled to potentially get to see Stellar behind the scenes, maybe even get to watch Boone sing.
“All right, but if you want to scratch that itch, nobody’s gonna blame you. And frankly, I’d be happy to cover for you if you don’t want the other guys to know.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m touched.”
Dean cursed under his breath. “You need to be touched,” he muttered.
I let it go as we were nearing the mess hall and I knew that if I protested any harder, I’d make a total ass out of myself, and that wouldn’t be a great way to start our week here.
We were well cared for by the whole staff at Bolder Breed. Felix, Morrison’s chef, took extra care to meet everyone’s likes and dietary needs. Dinner that night was grilled mahi mahi, vegetables, and mashed potatoes, just enough to satisfy but not too much that we’d leave feeling like we’d had a heavy meal. Then the guys really wanted to go into Portland and see a burlesque show, and even though I wanted to get some rehearsal time in, I didn’t want to be a curmudgeon.
As we were walking back to the lodge together, Leland Elliot, Morrison’s partner, was jogging down the steps. We’d met years ago, and I always loved catching up with him.
“You guys go ahead,” I said to Dean and the others after they shook hands with Leland, and they were gone. Didn’t even hesitate to leave without me. Not that we went out together in cases like this, but for some reason it niggled at me. Dean checked to see if he had the keys to the rental SUV we’d picked up and waved as he ran off.
