Page 30 of All Right No
“That isn’t what I said.” She sagged onto her bottom and took off her sandals. Hell, she needed cooling off too now. “I simply meant that maybe considering the circumstances it would be in your own interests to be a little less critical.”
He snorted. “All I’ve done is tell the truth. Is it my fault that neither of them can take a bit of constructive criticism? That bridge is shoddy, and they both know it.”
“It has nothing to do with the fact Xane’s standing in for you?”
Hurt flashed through the blue of his eyes. A nervous pulse throbbed in the side of his jaw.
“Ash?” she prompted.
“Whose fucking side are you on?” He gave another snort. “As if I need to bloody well ask. Xane can never do any wrong, and you think the sun shines out of Mister Perfect’s arse. Well, he ain’t perfect, Ginny. But, you know, if you’d prefer to be with him, go ahead.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the studio.
Ginny refused to rise to his goading. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time in recent weeks that Ash had implied she was hankering after Spook. Silly sod was clueless. She and Spook were wholly incompatible, and not because he was celibate. She’d managed to piece together a decent enough picture of Spook’s kinks and preferences from talking to him and being around the band. Allowing anyone—particularly a man—control over her… Yeah—wasn’t happening.
“Is your self-esteem really that crushingly low?”
Ash huffed again.
Dear God, Iain Willows hadn’t just snatched Ash’s ability to play guitar from him, he’d hogtied him with anxiety and taught him to believe the worst of everybody and everything.
“I’m on your side, Ash. I hope that you realise that. As for Xane and Spook, I know Xane can be volatile, but Spook isn’t. Not from my experience, so when he’s upset, I figure there’s a reason for it. Are you sure you’re not being a teeny bit over critical? Can you swear that?”
“They’re looking for ways to push me out. Xane hasn’t even tried to correct what I’ve been pointing out. He’s just played it in the same substandard way over and over. They say it’s my fault, but he’s equally unwilling to bend.”
“However, you’re not usually involved in the process at this point, are you? Black Halo’s music is normally attributed to Geist and Mortensen, not to A. Gore.”
“Sometimes I have been,” he snarled defensively. “I’ve always given my opinions and spiced things up a bit when we’ve worked on the guitars.”
“And is this spice what you feel is missing from Xane’s playing?”
He squinted vexatiously at her.
“I’m just saying that he’s not you. Expecting him to mimic you exactly is asking too much. He plays one way, and you play another. When you play this track when you’re back on tour, you can add that magic.”
“When,” he scoffed. “Don’t you mean if? I’m not going to magically mend come December, am I? There’s no guarantee I’ll ever recover.” He rubbed at his fingers as though the joints ached. “And you’re wrong about Xane. He could easily duplicate my sound, but he’s choosing not to, because he knows I won’t be touring with them. It’s going to be him playing lead guitar, and he’d rather keep it simple so that he doesn’t have to bend his mind around singing and strumming at the same time.”
“Ash, you can’t be snippy about the fact they’re making contingency plans. What do you expect them to do? They can’t put the tour off indefinitely, and if you’re not fit to perform, then someone else has to stand in for you. Surely it’s better that it’s Xane than some random other person?”
“Maybe,” he grouched, failing to convince.
Oh boy was Spook right about Ash’s ego being bruised.
“Why not let them get on with things the way they’ve always done, and concentrate on making sure you’re ready to rock with them when the time comes? Have you actually played anything recently?” Ash often reassured her that he was trying hard when she asked him about his guitar skills, but Spook’s assertion that he hadn’t even picked up a guitar since July worried her. The way Ash’s gaze scuttled away from her confirmed her worst fears. He wasn’t practicing. “When was the last time you did any finger exercises?”
His shoulders curled giving him a defensive hunch.
Never, that’s when. She knew perfectly well the envelope containing the exercises from the physio was still in their room unopened. She’d let it go because she thought he was working his fingers by practicing his guitar skills. “Ash, you have to try. You promised when you stopped taking your pills.”
“I am trying,” he snapped.
“Are you?”
Was he?
“I’m doing my best. You’ve seen the hours I’ve been putting in with Xane and Spook on the new album.”
She had, but that wasn’t what she’d asked, and he knew it.
“Maybe the album shouldn’t be your priority. Maybe—”
