Page 11 of Accidental Fire
“Arlo, what’s wrong? Is it the song? You wrote the damn thing with me.” He’d been so fucking moody lately. I didn’t know what to do with him.
“I hate that song,” Arlo snapped.
“Dude, that song is making us a lot of money. The best thing for you to do is learn to play the fucker and push down any emotion you have about it. She was a fucking bitch. Let her go and quit associating her with the song. If you can’t play it, then we’re fucked.”
The door opened, and Goldie stepped inside. “What’s going on, Arlo? You’re over Brittany, right? She didn’t want anything to do with you when you didn’t have any money until she found out you’re in a band and will probably make an assload of money in the future, so now she wants you back? Don’t be stupid, Arlo. Play the fucking song and forget about her.”
“She said she loved me,” Arlo mumbled, not glancing up. I saw a tear slide down his cheek and into the collar of his shirt. Poor guy’s heart was broken.
Part of me wanted to smack the piss out of him because that girl was a fucking gold digger, but Arlo couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept it. “She asked you for money to pay her parents bills last August, Arlo. When you told her you didn’t have it, she told you never to call her again. She walked. You should have figured out what a terrible person she was then.”
Arlo shot me a look that could have killed me dead, so I stood and walked out of the room, leaving him to Goldie. My phone chimed in my back pocket, so I reached for it, seeing an alarm that it was time to meet Kit Hansen.
I walked into the sitting area of our room and loaded my guitar into the case, closing and locking it. “I’m going to The Offbeat. Try to talk some sense into him for me.”
Goldie didn’t answer, so I went to the door, turning to JD and Hardy. “Be at the venue by six-thirty. Lauren will be there with our clothes.” I didn’t wait for a response.
I took the elevator to the first floor and walked out the front door to find Dagr Blix, or Yeti, his codename, waiting with a sedan. “I’m ready. The rest of them should be at the club by six-thirty.”
“I’ll relay the message,” Yeti acknowledged.
I shoved my guitar into the back seat of the car and climbed in after it. I’d eaten an egg that morning, and considering I didn’t want to puke before the show, I’d refrained from eating anything for lunch.
We showed up at The Offbeat ten minutes later. Kit Hansen’s red truck, which he was using to haul our equipment, was attached to the trailer in the drug store parking lot across the street.
Once I was out of the sedan, I walked to the back door of The Offbeat with Yeti behind me and rang the bell. I was surprised when Kit answered. “Hey, you’re here. I talked to the manager, and he has an office we can use. Follow me, please.”
I stepped into the club and the door closed behind me. I followed Kit up a flight of stairs to an office. There was a leather couch inside, so I walked in, placed my guitar case against the wall, and sat down. I had no idea what to expect, but I was willing to try anything so I didn’t feel the urge to empty my stomach before I went on the stage.
“So, I’m here. What’s next?” I was a little afraid of what was coming, but if there was any hope to keep from puking, then maybe it was worth it.
Kit smiled. “Come sit on the couch.”
I did as he said, sitting on the brown leather couch facing the gorgeous man. “Okay.”
“I need you to close your eyes and listen to me. Take a deep breath, pulling in as much air as you can…”
Kit talked me through an entire session of breathing exercises, and the fact that he had my hand on his chest again had me listening to every word he said. I’d never met a man like him before in my life, and I was completely stunned by his calm voice and caring demeanor.
“Three, two, one. Open your eyes, River.” I did exactly as he said, opening my eyes to see his kind smile.
“How do you feel?” Kit asked.
I grinned. “I feel pretty good. I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been before a show without smoking. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Just remember to stay in the moment. Don’t think about the audience. Think about playing with your band as you would in practice.”
Kit shook my hand and left the room. I was feeling great about going onstage as I left the manager’s office and headed downstairs to the dressing rooms.
The smell was already permeating the hallway as I walked down the corridor, opening the door to a foggy view. “Ah, where the hell have you been?” Arlo asked as he handed me the pipe I used, freshly packed and ready to smoke.
“I…I’m not gonna smoke tonight.”
Everyone laughed, and JD pointed to the sliding door that hid the toilet. “So, puking it is,” he taunted, bringing another round of laughter. I should have known they’d figured it out.
“No, uh, I’m trying some breathing exercises,” I said.
Arlo laughed. “You just want the teamster to suck your dick. The show’s sold out, you know. They were trying to talk Marsh into playing another night.”
