Page 93 of The Devil's Tattoo
Chapter22
Three monthslater...
The dayafter our last gig, Will took me down to the police station, and we both lodged ourstatements.
I told them everything from the beginning. The day Jason had come home and told me about his cheating, his assault, and the slander that had followed. Even Dee came and gave his statement, though he hadn’t been a direct witness. They said without substantial evidence, there wasn’t much they could do to pursue a charge for the earlier assault, but they could seek a conviction for the previous night. With the statements from Will and the bouncer from the bar and some CCTV footage, they were able to pin a charge. It went to court a few weeks later, but he got off with a caution and a mild goodbehaviorbond.
It wasn’t ideal, but hopefully, it would serve as a deterrent. He had a record of sorts, so next time, he wouldn’t get off so easily. To top it all off, I now had a freshly stamped and sealed restraining order. Unfortunately, reality didn’t always see the bad guys goingtojail.
It took a week before the bruise on my hand went down so I could play guitar again, but the one on my face took a little more timetofade.
In the two weeks before The Stabs went off to Europe, Will spent every moment with me outside of rehearsals. He was true to his word and stuck by my side. He made everything brighter in the wake of suchdrama.
He didn’t hear from Mish again, and I hoped it was for good. And to date, there hadn’t been a peep out of Jason,either.
For the two and a half months he was away, Will sent me messages and emails, updating me on everything that was going on and all the things he wanted to do with me when he got back. It was lonely without him, but the time apart had done us the world of good like I’d hoped. It gave us both time to readjust and get our heads on straight. And when the skies cleared, both our worlds were still full of each other. I still hadn’t told him that I was in love with him. That was one declaration I was saving for a face-to-face encounter because tomorrow he wascominghome.
Right now, Dee was hovering inside the front door of my apartment, jumping from foot to foot like an impatientchild.
“Zoe, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to drag you out to the taxi over my shoulder, caveman style,” he exclaimed. “The meter’srunning.”
“Bloody hell,” I cried, scooping up my keys and sunnies. “You’re such a tight ass,Scrooge.”
We were off to the radio station Absolute for an interview. They’d picked up our record as album of the week, which meant they were playing all the songs from it at least five times a day. Massive exposure. We’d even been in the week before and recorded little sound bites explaining the meaning behind each track they played before each wenttoair.
The station was located just outside the CBD in Melbourne, so we decided to get a taxi straight there, and that way we didn’t have to worry about parking the rusted heap of junk Dee liked to callacar.
Hurrying me along, he bundled me into the taxi, and he was way too amped for a little radiointerview.
“What’s going on?” I asked as the driver pulled out intotraffic.
“We’re gonna be late,” Deereplied.
“Since when do you care about beingontime?”
“I’ve always cared about beingontime.”
“Dylan, I’ve known you since you were twelve, and you’ve never cared aboutpunctuality.”
“Damn it, Zoe!” he exclaimed. “Don’t call me that. Now you’ve ruined my mystique with the taxidriver.”
“I don’t think he cares,” I said, catching the driver’s eye in the mirror, and he only shook his head with a smallchuckle. “See?”
“You’re going to the airport tomorrow?” Dee asked, blatantly changing thesubject.
“Yes, of course,” I scoffed. “I can’t waitanotherday.”
“Blech.” Dee pretended to throw up. “I was gonna offer to come with, but if you’re gonna be all Sucky McSuck Face, then I’llstayhome.”
“Don’t be such a child.” I laughed at his reaction, knowing he was just beingdramatic.
“I love you, Zo,” he said with awickedgrin.
Scowling playfully at him, I said, “I know you’re playing games with me,Dee, and I’ll let it slide this time. But if you’re playing some kind of prank, know that I have a meanrighthook.”
“Oh man.” He groaned, throwing his head against the seat back. “I really don’t think my mystique can take a black eye fromagirl.”
I burst out laughing, and even the taxi driver stifled one ofhisown.
