Page 11 of Take Me to Church
“It’s about time.” Simon stands on the stage, arms outstretched. “What the fuck?”
I glance around, looking for Lydia, but there’s no sign of her. “Where’s she at?”
Tate leads me back up onto the stage. “Probably hiding from your crazy ass.” He meets my eyes, expression serious. “You need to calm down.”
Out of all the men I think of as brothers, Tate is the one I’m closest to. We’ve been inseparable since our paths crossed fifteen years ago and he knows me better than anyone else in this world. Well enough to know that right now I’m on the edge of doing something really fucking bad.
“Whatever it is, we will handle it later.” He moves to his mic, grabbing his abandoned bass and slinging it over his shoulders. “Right now we’ve got a show to do.” He adjusts the instrument across his chest. “And nobody’s going anywhere until it’s over.”
He’s right. As much as I’d like to hunt Lydia down and force her to talk to me, there’s not really any rush. She’s got a shift to work and I’ve got music to play. I can take this time to get my shit together so maybe I’ll be a little less volatile the next time we talk.
And we will be talking.
I take my place at the front of the stage, strapping on my own guitar before tipping my head at the guy manning the sound booth. We quickly run through our check, rushing since Simon made us late getting here and I ate up what little time we had trying to talk sense into Lydia. We finish up, barely making it backstage before the doors open and excited conversation fills the bar.
Normally this is the time I love most. The anticipation. The adrenaline. The excitement. But right now I can’t focus on anything except for Lydia. The risk she’s taken.
“You look like you’re about to rearrange someone’s jawbone.” Simon tips back one of the bottles of water situated on the small table reserved for us. “Is that what we’re doing when we leave here?”
I work my own jaw from side to side, trying to force away the tension clenching my teeth. “I don’t know what we’re doing then.”
I’d like to say I’m not going to go out and start some shit — that I’m a better man than I used to be — but I’m not so sure that’s true anymore. I’ve tried to be an upstanding citizen. To put my old ways behind me the same way so many of my brothers have. But right now I want to hurt someone. Specifically the someone trying to take advantage of a desperate woman. It reminds me of just how much I like to throw my fists around. Just how much I like to dole out the kind of punishment too many people in this world deserve.
Tate studies me as he takes another swig of his water. “She the girl from the other night?”
I force in a deep breath, knowing it won’t help. “She is.”
“What girl?” Simon looks between me and Tate. “You know I don’t like being out of the fucking loop on shit.”
I rub one hand down my face, suddenly exhausted. “She came to us for help with her sister.” I keep my explanation as simple as I can. I don’t want to dig into the situation with Lydia right now. There’s not enough time to explain it. “We grew up together.”
Simon lifts a brow. “You grew up together?” He glances in the direction of the bar even though our view is blocked by blacked-out sheetrock. “Like hell you did. That girl’s at least a decade younger than you are.”
It’s a reminder I probably need.
Ever since she showed up in my office I’ve been looking at Lydia as something besides the little girl she used to be, and that’s a problem. For a whole host of reasons. “She has an older brother. He was my best friend growing up.”
Jeremiah and I had been inseparable. Not that I’d know him if I saw him now.
At least he better hope I don’t. Because if I do, he won’t be able to run fast enough to get away from what he deserves.
“This mean we’ve got a hunt coming up?” Simon’s lips pull into a slow grin. “I’ve been itching for a fight. Hopefully he’s a live one.”
“No.” The word is bitter on my tongue. “Her sister’s not in a position to reach out to us.”
One of Simon’s brows slowly lifts. “Not in a position to reach out to us?” His eyes narrow. “What in the hell does that mean?”
“It means they’ve figured out she’s a flight risk and they’re keeping her locked down.” I hate the way this has to be. Wish there was something I could do to change the facts.
But there’s not. I’ve fucking tried.
Simon rubs at the dark stubble peeking out across his jawline. “Such fucking bullshit.” He stands, pacing around the small space as the noise outside ramps up. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”
He knows exactly who they think they are. They think they’re above it all. They think they are the righteous ones. They dish out promises of salvation and threats of damnation to feed their own wants and desires.
“I wish we could sit here all night and come up with ways to fuck those pricks over, but we’ve got a show to do. And if we’re late, Stella is going to kick our asses.” Tate cuts the conversation short with a reminder of why we’re here.
Simon scowls. I know the rage he still holds close simmers just as hot as mine, and it makes me feel better that I’m not the only one pissed on Lydia’s behalf. That I’m not the only one considering breaking the rules we made. “Let’s get this over with.” He walks straight out onto the stage, leaving Tate and me to follow him.
