Page 26 of Shame Me
His response was a mere raised eyebrow.
“I…don’t want to hold you guys back. If you can make it without me—”
“Nope. It’s all or nothing.” Zack took a step back toward the rest of us, looking at both Braden and Cy before facing me. “I decide who’s in my band, not some sleazy executive who just wants to make money off us. You guys are my best friends and we’re in this together, win or lose.” Placing his hands on my shoulders, he said, “That includes you. We make it together or we die trying.”
I managed a small smile as a feeling of guilt coursed through my veins. While I appreciated his loyalty—because he had mine, regardless of my unrequited feelings—I felt like it might be misguided. Maybe there was a reason why there weren’t many women in hard rock and metal. And regardless of how I’d begun to chafe against a lot of male attitudes I’d encountered, this was a personal subject, affecting the livelihoods of people I cared about.
My second family…these guys right here.
In a gesture of solidarity, Zack let go of my shoulders and stuck out his hand. Like we always did before a show, we band members piled our hands on top of his. When Zack said, “Let’s do this!” we didn’t have a show to perform, but wedidhave renewed hope that everything would be okay.
And what did we know? Maybe the representative would talk his bosses into giving us a listen anyway.
It wasn’tlong before we all headed out to the auditorium so we could catch part of the show. The house was packed, though, so we had to stand along the back wall. “I’m gonna get something to drink,” I said between songs.
The band playing wasn’t half bad, but the guitarist was the asshole who’d called me a roadie and a groupie earlier, so I didn’t want to like their music. After making my way out of the crowd and into the lobby, I asked for water and they told me a ridiculous price. This wasn’t abar, I reminded myself, where I could get a glass of water for free. This was avenue, and everything had a price. Ultimately, it was how we got paid. Still, I hadn’t brought my cash from backstage—and if I went backthere, I had access to free bottles of water anyway. So I just said, “I forgot my money. Thanks anyway.”
But there were three guys behind me and one of them leaned forward and said, “Put it on my tab.”
“Oh, no—thanks anyway.” When I turned, I was nearly bowled over. I’d hardly noticed this man before but now I took him in in all his glory. Ocean-blue eyes framed by long dark lashes, the beginnings of a beard, and short-ish hair that was growing out—and the combination made him absolutely gorgeous. He was tall too—not as tall as Zack, but still much taller than I, and he nearly took my breath away.
“Nope, I got this. Make it two, please,” he said, his debit card already out.
The cashier handed us both a bottle of water and I told the guy, “Thanks a lot. I—”
“Happy to do it.” As we turned away from the counter, he nodded at his friends but kept walking with me. “I know this is gonna be a weird question, but you look kinda like the drummer from the last band.”
Laughing, I said, “That’s not a question.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. So are you or do you just look like her?”
It was then that I remembered this particular venue had asked for our picture and they’d displayed it on their website when promoting tonight’s lineup—so it was possible he’d seen that. Otherwise, even with the big screens, I found it hard to believe he would recognize me.
Still, he was right. “I’m her. My name’s Dani,” I said, holding out my right hand.
“Cooper.” When he took my hand, he shook it but then held it for a bit. “I have so many questions.”
“About what?”
“Aboutyou. About what got you into this business. Where you’re from, how long you’ve been doing this…”
“I could tell you all that, but don’t you want to get back to the show?”
His smirk was endearing, but his next words were what won me over. “No. I’ve seen Decadent Honey before. They suck.”
Although I thought the same thing but for entirely different reasons, I wasn’t going to say it. “I hope you don’t feel that way about the rest of the bands.”
“No way. I wouldn’t be here if I did.” Just a few seconds later, his friends came close, and he said to them, “I’ll meet up with you guys later.”
He and I wound up standing near one of the entrances into the auditorium, and I leaned a shoulder against the wall. He really did want to know all about me and the band. But it was loud enough that we had to keep repeating ourselves, especially when people would enter or exit the auditorium.
But I remembered my dressing room was quiet. Finally, I asked, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Like where?”
“To the back of the house. It’s better insulated from the noise.”
Nodding, he walked a couple of feet to the trash can, tossing in his empty water bottle. “Yeah. How much time do you think these guys have left to play?”
