Page 12 of Shame Me
Cy muttered, “It was just a fucking joke.” But he was typing something in the search bar, not really engaging with the conversation anymore.
Had Braden managed to shut him down?
The thing was, I didn’t think Cy was a misogynist. Underneath his crusty exterior, there was a good guy. I knew it because I’d seen it, and I considered him a friend. And even if our small sips from the fame cocktail were getting to his head a little, I had to believe the good guy would win out.
“Damn straight, Bray,” Zack said. “Wearea great band already. And I didn’t invite you to join us ‘cause you were a girl. I invited you because you were one of my best friends, and I wanted us to make it together. There wasn’t one time when I thought you should bare some skin to get us more attention.”
I could barely hear my voice. “Thank you both.”
“I’m not gonna judge you, Dani. If you want to wear something skimpy, that’s fine. If you don’t, that’s also fine. You’ve become a solid drummer and I wouldn’t want anyone else banging the skins for my band.”
I had to fight back tears, because here were my two best friends, guys who’d known me probably better than anyone else—and they were validating my thoughts and feelings.
Cy said, “Word.” I all but ignored him, gratified nonetheless, smiling first at Zack and then at Braden.
Until I heard the sound of a motorcycle revving on the television. As I shifted my focus, I had to fight my anger as I knew it was just another way Cy was trying to get my goat. Four musicians on Harleys pulling up to a strip club, followed by a dancer sliding her backside down a pole—the beginning of Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” video.
“You’re such an ass.” With that, I stormed off to my room.
“I was just kidding, Dani. Lighten up,” Cy said, but I wasn’t about to turn around.
Still, I felt a whole lot better, especially as I heard both Zack and Braden telling our other guitarist that he needed to work on his timing.
I needed to figure out exactly how to reconcile my conflicting feelings—but I knew it would be impossible to do that in a discussion with my friends. It was something I’d have to discover on my own.
CHAPTER 4
It was so stupid…but I still couldn’t let go of it—feeling like I’d been dumped by Danny, a guy I’d kissed for a few minutes in the back of a car. I should have been thanking my lucky stars I hadn’t gone through with it, but instead I was berating myself for losing the opportunity.
If I was wanting to try acting slutty, I was quite unsuccessful in my attempts.
Again, I tormented myself, wondering if maybe I smelled bad, which would have been highly possible after being under those hot lights on stage, working my ass off for the better part of an hour. There was no getting around the fact that I perspired under those conditions. And he hadn’t turned cold until we’d disentangled ourselves. So that might not have been the problem.
Maybe it had something to do with my loyalty to the band.
No…that couldn’t be it.
I knew it had to be something else. Either I was a really bad kisser or I didn’t do the things I should have been doing while making out. I didn’t even stop to think that maybe he’d just wanted to get laid and the phone call had cockblocked him.
So one morning in a scene that was feeling familiar, I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee and filling out another application—this time for cleaning rooms at a nearby hotel. Then I searched online for information about how to be a good kisser. I had some techniques to try, but how would I know if I was any good without testing…and asking for feedback?
Even just thinking about it caused me to blush.
This was one of those moments where I could have used a good girlfriend…but no such luck.
After all that research, I got another cup of coffee and started scrolling through my phone, trying to decide what other jobs I wanted to apply to that day, when Braden entered the kitchen. Frowning, I didn’t notice him at first, because I hadn’t even been called for an interview for any of the recent applications I’d turned in. Later that day, I’d probably have to start pounding the pavement again, looking forHelp Wantedsigns.
Although his voice was soft, Braden said, “Morning, Dani.”
Finally, I looked up and nearly toppled over in my chair. “Holy shit, Bray.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” He was wearing a suit and tie, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail—and, for the first time since meeting him, I thought he looked completely like an adult. “You look good.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Sitting next to me at the table, he set his coffee cup close to mine. “I have an interview today for a customer service position, and my dad told me to look professional. He sent me money to buy this suit.”
“I had no idea. You look great!” The suit was black, his shirt white, and the blue tie gave it just enough color to offset the monochrome.
