Page 72 of Shame Me
“That’s pretty vivid. And, yeah, I get it. I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times. The first time, he blew me off and the second time, he threatened to punch me in the mouth if I asked again.”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t about to tell him that Zack’s deflecting technique withmewas to fuck me. “I can’t figure out if he’s in denial or it’s really his only way of coping. The first time I talked to him about it, that night Cy and I switched rooms, he actually…opened up for a bit.” Although Braden probably suspected part of what was behind Zack dropping his walls with me, it wasn’t my place to share Zack’s confessions with him. And then I wondered—had even that night been a way to deflect my questions?
No…it couldn’t have been. That was probably the one and only time Zack had been completely honest with me.
I said, “I think it’s a combination of his thoughts and feelings, his inability to cope with them, and then the pressure of the road. This is his dream, and I think he might also be afraid of messing it up.”
“And having to wash dishes the rest of his life.”
“Yeah…but he doesn’t see that what he’s doing right now could lead to that result anyway.”
“Maybe we should do an intervention after the tour?” The way he asked it communicated that he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.
“Maybe. But who knows? Maybe once we get back and relax, he’ll settle back into his normal patterns of drinking.” Still not good but way better than the way he was doing it now. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. For a second, I considered ignoring it, but I noticed Braden going for his phone too.
“Tire’s changed and they’re on the way,” he said just as I read the same message on my phone.
I was grateful I wouldn’t have to walk in that freezing cold again. It would be bad enough darting to the bus from the door of the diner.
“Thanks, Bray.”
He reached across the table and touched my hand—again making me wonder if my instincts about his feelings for me were correct. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“Same to you.”
As we paid for our coffee and waited by the door for the bus to arrive, I couldn’t get my mind off Braden…if I’d been missing signals from him all these years. But, as we boarded the bus and hunkered down in our seats to sleep for the long drive to Illinois, I convinced myself that he was nothing more than a good friend.
And I was grateful for him.
CHAPTER 21
We had Thanksgiving off and spent it in Cleveland, Ohio. Mick had made a reservation for the entire group at the same time he was booking all our hotels, making me impressed with his foresight, and all of us had an afternoon meal together, with turkey, mashed potatoes, and other holiday fixings. And, aside from the fact that I wasn’t able to be with my family, it was the best possible Thanksgiving I could have had. I talked with my mom and grandparents for over an hour afterward and, that night, the four of us in the band microwaved frozen meals we’d picked up the night before and played cards, sitting in a circle on the carpeted floor.
I could tell from my friends that the road was getting to them too. Cy had dark circles under his eyes and Braden seemed pale. Again, I had the feeling that I’d gotten exactly what I’d wished for—a lean tour without many wasted days—and wondered if Name of My Killer always had shows like this, wondering if we could get some tips from them about how to handle the pressure.
Of course, they had a nicer bus than ours. They had bunks in theirs, so they were probably sleeping better than we were.
As Cy dealt the cards for our second hand, Zack got up and pulled a bottle of vodka out of his backpack. “Anyone want some?”
Inspired, I thought maybe this would be my chance to show him exactly what we were seeing, maybe give him a different perspective. “Yeah.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he grinned and picked up two of the wrapped plastic cups next to the tiny coffee maker. “Anyone else?”
Cy and Braden shook their heads—but Braden looked straight at me as if to ask,What the hell are you thinking?
I hoped my expression told him,I know what I’m doing.But I really didn’t. This had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. After sitting on the floor next to me, Zack poured a half cup for himself and half an inch for me. “No. I want as much as you’re having.”
Grinning, he raised his eyebrows and shook his head, but then he unscrewed the lid and did as I asked. I wasn’t really a fan of vodka, but I hoped he would get the message. When he handed me the cup and picked his up, he tapped it against mine. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I said, unable to resist smiling back. Inside, I was a jumble of emotions, but I hoped maybe bonding with him in this, the stupidest of ways, would help me understand more what he was going through—or, at the very least, show him our side.
As I took a sip of the vodka, I watched Zack—and he downed it in one gulp.
Which meant I had to do that as well. Down the hatch.
As I shuddered from the taste, a trail of heat burned down the center of my chest. I could’ve used that punch before I’d broken down and bought a coat after freezing my ass off inMinneapolis. Zack raised his eyebrows again but looked at Cy. “What’s trump?”
“We’re playing Hearts, so hearts.”
