Page 41 of The Final Deal

Devil

–Fight The Fade

Stayingin the studio for the past week has been cruel and unusual punishment. Normally, Zak and I are night owls and Adrian is an early bird, so I thought I could make this work in our favor—just stay up well past Adrian’s bedtime, like usual, and sneak into the house so I can be with Zak. But with Adrian keeping his eyes peeled so far open and “accidentally” falling asleep in the living room half the time, Zak and I have resorted to video calls most nights, even though I’m literally fifty feet away from him on the same property.

“You should wear a skirt,” he says all chipper from my phone set on the nightstand beside the bed in the studio. “A short one.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, perched on the bed as I swipe on a second layer of mascara.

“You know.”

“Mm, no, not really.”

He snorts softly. “So I don’t have so much in the way when I sneak you out.”

Smirking, I cap my mascara and switch it out for the purple lipstick in the small makeup bag sitting right beside the phone on the nightstand. When I glimpse at the screen, Zak is focused on the mirror in his bathroom as he inserts gold studs into his lips; his long hair flows in crazy waves down past his shoulders; and he’s wearing a black Rob Zombie shirt.

I know why he asked me to wear a skirt—I just like making him say it out loud.

I rise from the bed, only in a tank top and panties, to search my clothes. I pull out a black skater skirt that hits mid-thigh on me. “You got lucky this time, mister.”

He leans over with a smirk, planting his palms on the counter. “Don’t I always?”

Adrian huffs with displeasure in the driver’s seat and wrings his hands around the steering wheel. He can be mad all he wants, but he needs to learn: if Zak can tolerate being in the same room as me for an extended period for band shit, then he can manage a twenty minute ride in the same vehicle.

“Babe.”

I blink and find Zak holding up a stick of gum over his shoulder. Always prepared. “Thanks.”

He holds out a piece toward Adrian. “Chicle?”

Adrian glares at the gum before turning to the road.

Zak shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I’m not going to let it slide. “Dree, what’s been up your ass lately? Besides me.”

His dark, sunken eyes flash to meet mine in the rearview. “I’m exhausted from watching your ass and makin’ sure you don’t become vampire chow again.”

Patience, I remind myself.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I pick it up with a smile prepared to show on my lips, thinking it’s Z texting me from the front seat and smarting off with something, but the name that displays on the screen flips it all upside down.

I’m getting real fucking tired of chasing you.

The autopilot in my brain takes over as I quickly type out a response to appease him for now.

We’ll talk tomorrow.

I long press the conversation and delete it altogether. I can’t risk Zak or Adrian seeing any trace of his name.

Adrian parks along a crowded street a few blocks away from the Alamodome, where our long-time friends of Bottomdweller just headlined a show. We go all the way back to our first tour as supporting artists, sharing roadies and a manager in our early careers. It’s been a hot minute since we’ve crossed paths, so we’re overdue to hang out.

The three of us fall out of the truck, and I start to move toward the doors until Adrian appears beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders.

He taps my chin to turn my face to him, and he presses a quick, gentle kiss on my lips. “I love you, princesa.”

I lean my head against his shoulder and squeeze his hand hanging over mine. “Love you, too.”

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