Page 51 of Composed
Riley shouts Hendrix’s name, drowning out my voice. “Definitely rich.”
Hendrix barks a laugh. “I told you so.”
She looks at me then, taking in my quizzing stare. “Riley assumed you’d live someone a bit nicer. You know the whole old warehouse thing doesn’t exactly scream rock star.”
“She’s not wrong.” I grin as the tautness in my shoulders lessens. This is a topic I can deal with. “Saint found the place a few years back. Made sense to have us all in one place, but with our own spaces. Not to mention, it's secluded enough that we don’t have to deal with fans trying to break in every day. So a win all around.”
“The fans really do that?”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I clench my teeth and hiss. “The number of restraining orders I have…”
Her expression softens. “You really are a rock star, huh?”
“I really am. For now, anyway.”
Her tongue sweeps out, caressing the sparkling silver stud in the centre of her plump bottom lip.
She strolls ahead of me. “Let’s try and keep it that way then, shall we?”
When she catches up to Riley, she links their pinkies together, her head dropping onto the shorter woman’s shoulder as if they’ve walked like that a hundred times over.
I rub my chest as a sharp breath lodges in my lungs.
Guess she really did create her own world without me.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and force myself to move after them, shoving the door of the control room open so they can pass.
Axel swivels on his chair at the intrusion.
A slow grin sweeps over his face, dimple popping as he watches the two women lingering in the doorway.
“Baby girl.” He jumps out his chair and launches himself at Hendrix.
She freezes, jaw tightening when he throws his arms around her and lifts her into the air. Saint watches the exchange, fingers never stilling on his strings, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Outside of myself, he’s the one I’m most worried about with this reunion.
Hendrix wasn’t just his best friend. She was his chosen sister.
They had a relationship even I didn't really understand. They just got each other on a level no one else could. Even though he knew this was happening—hell, he encouraged it—it doesn’t mean the image of her now, all grown-up, doesn’t sting.
I slip past Axel as eases Hendrix from her frozen state. Riley busies herself by perching on the couch and rolling a soft, glittery cube between her hands.
Saint looks up when I push the door open and squeeze inside the sound booth.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just peachy.” He pulls a joint from his leather jacket and slips it between his teeth. “You?”
“Want me to lie, too?”
He smirks as his thumb rolls over the flint of his zippo and a flame bursts to life. “Sure.”
“Peachy,” I echo, a chuckle slipping past my lips.
He sucks in a deep drag, then another. “She looks different.”
“That she does.”
