Page 5 of The Devil's Tattoo
Before we could get into a fight, Frank reappeared withanotherguy.
“This is Chris,” Frank clapped the guy on the shoulder. “Bass playerextraordinaire.”
“Hey,” he said and shook my hand. He seemed nice enough. He had sandy blond hair that fell into his eyes and a kindsmile.
“Oh, you were in the support, right?” I asked, suddenly recognizinghisface.
“Yep. EmptyHands.”
Frank sniggered, and Chris shot him a warningglare.
I shrugged. “I like it. It’s acoolname.”
“Thanks, you’ve got a lot more tact than those assholes,” Chris said. “It was nice to meet you, Zoe. I gotta go take care of the gear.” He shoved Frank’s shoulder playfully and disappeared into thebandroom.
“Drinks?” Deeasked.
“Shit, yeah,” Frankdeclared.
“I dunno…” I began tocomplain.
“C’mon, Zoe! Stick around for at least one more drink.” Dee picked me up around the waist, so I had no other choice but to agree. He seemed to have let go of his earlier outburst, and I wasthankful.
The security guard came in and attempted to push the last few punters out the door as we went into the barnextdoor.
I knew staying around would mean a high likelihood of the guys from the band sticking around, as well. I felt a bit on edge about it, especially knowing I was tingly at the thought of a certain guy. The last time I met someone from a band I liked, they turned out to be a real idiot, and then it kinda ruined their music for me. I couldn’t listen to any of their records without thinking about how much of a twat thatguywas.
“That Will Strickland fucker keeps staring at you,” Dee whispered in my ear. “Bythebar.”
I glanced covertly to my left, and there was Will Strickland himself with the wild, curly hair quicklyglancingaway.
“If he so much as talks to you, I’m punching him intheface.”
“Dee, I admire your protectiveness, but I don’t think that’ll be anissue.”
“Why?”
“He wouldn’t talk to me in the firstplace.”
I could see he was torn between reassuring me of the opposite and his obvious need to keep scumbags awayfromme.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Iknow.”
“I reckon we could give them a run for their money,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“What’s that meant to mean?” I turnedaround.
“I reckon we could form a band ten times better than The Stabs. Hey, Frank? Wanna playdrums?”
Frank’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. “DoI?”
“Zoe, you can belt out a tune.” Dee looked at me with his big eyes, the same way he had when we were twelve when he wagged school and wanted me to coverforhim.
“Shit, Dee. There’s a difference to fronting a band and singing like an idiot in the car.” Shit. The last time I’d sung in front of a crowd wasnever. I was already breaking out inarash.
“C’mon, Zoe! Just give it a shot. Just one shot. I’ve got some songs we can work on.” Those eyesagain.
I began to crumble. “You are a manipulativeasshole.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Pick you uptomorrowarvo.”
“Tomorrow?” Somehow, I reckon he already had this planned and was waiting for the right moment to drag meintoit.
“No time like the present.” He slapped me on the back, and I choked on my cider. “Hey, that Chris guy plays bass, right?” He looked around the bar and wandered off when hesawhim.
I’d just been manipulated—Dee style—into joining a band…as the frontwoman.
